#well we all know who’s at the BOTTOM OF MY LIST MY ENEMY—

[porcelainvino]

nah but like why am i lowkey a chris colfer fan now

[celestie0]

gojo satoru x reader | fake marriage au [18+]

in holy matriphony ch4. in a mother’s eyes

ᰔ pairing. fake marriage au - neighbor&realtor!gojo x nurse!reader (ft. choso x reader & suguru x reader)

ᰔ summary. gojo satoru is your extremely annoying next-door-neighbor who you're pretty sure is the most insufferable man you've ever met. given the fact that you exclusively work the night shift at a chaotic emergency dept, just got broken up with your boyfriend of seven years, and have been taking care of your sick mother ever since her multitude of diagnoses, yet somehow your neighbor is the main source of stress in your life should speak volumes. but when your mother's medical bills start to skyrocket to more than you can manage, and you learn that said neighbor of yours has the best private health insurance plan in the country, you ask him to enter a matrimonial agreement with you for the spousal benefits all in the name of saving a few hundred thousand dollars. but you'll have to see if suffering cohabitation w him is worth any amount of money.

ᰔ genre/tags. fluff, smut, angst, enemies to lovers (sort of), annoyances to lovers (that's more like it), small town romance, fake marriage, next door neighbors, lots of bickering, suburban shenanigans, slow burn, mutual pining, gojo likes to play house but you don't, hatred for the american healthcare system, gojo always forgets to mow the lawn, jealousy, an insane amount of profanity, mentions of cigarettes, depression/anxiety; btw gojo in this fic is in his mid 30s n reader is in her late 20s

ᰔ warnings. reader in this fic has a sick mother w alzheimer's & cancer so there is secondary medical angst!!

ᰔ chapter. 4/x

ᰔ words. 10k (omg a whole number...very sexy)

a/n. hellooo my ihm friends! hope you're all doing well. ahh i'm glad to finally be posting this chapter lolol. it's a littleee off tangent from what happens in ch3, but still has some important plot developments. it does dive into feelings of depression & anxiety, so just wanted to give a warning on that! but yea other than that i hope you enjoy and see you at the bottom!! :) also so sorry if there are errors i only had time to skim through it once :((

nav. ch1 :: ch2 :: ch3 :: ch4 :: ch5 (pending)

“Just go ahead and sign right here for me.”

You take the pen from the hospice nurse’s hand. It’s cheap black plastic with a pink fuzzy pom pom attached to the end of it with peeling glue. 

Your eyes briefly flit across the paragraphs detailed in printed ink until your gaze lands on the highlighted lines at the bottom of the page. Your signature. Spouse’s signature.

“We’ll need to have your husband come here to sign the paperwork as well, since he’ll have to add your mother on his list of dependents, but we can certainly get started on expediting this process for you since the insurance has already been pre-approved,” the nurse tells you as she accepts your signed paperwork and then neatly tucks it into one of the compartment holders. 

The afternoon goes by smoothly, with your mother surprisingly patient as she sits in the waiting room while you wait for the nurses to formally show you to her new room.

You thought that you could put off putting her in hospice for a little longer, because in all honesty, you weren’t prepared to let her go just yet. You weren’t prepared to not have her in the house anymore. But lately, she’s been putting herself in lots of danger, like attempting to take her own medications when she does not know the correct dosing, and forgetting things on the stove when she attempts to cook.

But the last straw was when you came home from a very brief run to the grocery store at night a couple days ago to see a handful of your neighbors out on the front lawn with your mother at their side. She had apparently gotten out of the house and walked down the neighborhood, then fallen on the sidewalk but was unable to get up. When your neighbors had found her, a miracle as they were just coming home from dinner and caught sight of her in the illumination of their headlights, they tried to help her get up but she couldn’t. She couldn’t even tell the firefighters that came by to help her what her name was, or what year it was, or where she lived.

It was when you realized you couldn’t even keep her safe anymore that you had to let go.

“Is that a wedding ring?” your mother asks, pointing a trembling finger to it as she lays tucked inside her new hospice bed, “are you married?”

You glance down at the ring Gojo gave you in the courthouse, almost surprised to find that you were still wearing it in good faith. “Yes, mom. I am.”

“Why am I here?” she asks you, “I don’t want to be here.”

You stiffen a little. Although you were mentally preparing yourself to answer these questions, the preparation didn’t make it any easier. “I know. I’m sorry. It’s just for a little short while, okay? The doctors want to run some tests on you.”

“Who are you married to?” she asks.

“To Satoru,” you tell her, “our neighbor.”

She lets out a small gasp. “The sweet boy who fixed our A/C?”

You roll your eyes. not sure why your mother has hyper fixated on that memory with Gojo when most days she’ll look at you like you’re a stranger. “Yes mom.”

“Oh, I like him,” she tells you with an affectionate nod. She hesitates slightly, wearisome of some other thought that flashes through her mind. “How long have you been married?”

You let out a small sigh. This is already a conversation you had with her a couple days ago, and it doesn’t feel good to lie to her. It was hard enough to do once, but to have to constantly lie to her over and over again over all the smallest things just so that she stays calm and safe and happy seems to drain you of all your energy and happiness you had left in your bones.

Little white lies, that’s what they are. Harmless ones. That’s what you tell yourself to absolve yourself of the guilt.

“I’ll come back soon, okay? I’ll tell you more about him some other day,” you say to her, speaking gently in the way an adult would speak to a child. The way she used to speak to you. You could never exactly pinpoint when those roles became reversed.

You finish discussing some more insurance matters with the front-desk nurse as she puts together a small folder of documents for you. While she works, you glance at the little counter shelf that includes a plethora of pamphlets on how to deal with the complicated feelings that arise from putting a loved one in hospice care, and dealing with the emotions of having a relative with advanced stage dementia. They are pretty brochures, lovingly creased at the folds as if looked through multiple times by people who walk in and out of this facility, but seemingly only few take them home. You slip one of each into your folder when the nurse hands it to you, manage the best smile possible, and then turn on your heel to head out the hospice doors.

The sun is setting outside as you take the walk back to your car, which was purposefully parked a half mile away to afford you the luxury of a melancholic stroll. Somehow, you feel like you’ve left a piece of yourself back at the hospice. A feeling you can’t quite shake from your bones.

Your feet stop walking somewhere along the sidewalk on their own, the street lights above you flickering brighter into life as the sky is now a dusty gray with only streaks of purple. There’s a liquor store you spot across a small parking lot to your right, and you’re guided towards it, but not without a sickening feeling in your chest.

When you open the door, the bell at the top jingles, and you glance to the right where you see a lanky young man playing some sort of shooter game on his phone by the cash register. You grab a bottle of vodka, a bottle of white wine, some packs of skittles, one of the mini pizza boxes at the hot food station, and then dump it all onto the counter.

The young man scans all your items without even so much as sparing you a glance, but does take a look at your ID, then says, “Total’s $68.65, cash or card?”

“Card.”

Just before you tap your card, something displayed behind the cashier counter catches your eye. Something familiar, something tempting, something you weigh in your head about twenty times within one millisecond all due to the cortisol coursing through your veins and you eventually say, “Uh, and could I get one of those, too?”

The cashier looks behind himself to what you’re pointing at before turning around. “Sure.”

The same jingle is heard on top of your head as you leave the store, now with a burning hot mini pizza box in your hand as well as a plastic bag that carries your candy and the two clinking bottles of alcohol.

“Oh!! omg, y/n,” you hear a feminine voice call out and you’re instantly wincing. The last thing you wanted was to be bothered right now. You just wanted to go home and get drunk and then pass out on the floor of your living room. But alas, the world is small.

You turn around to see Hana come running across the sidewalk lot towards you, and when she’s about a few feet away, she glances down at your hands and all the things you were carrying. You quickly shove your last-minute purchase into your jacket pocket with a shameful conscience, and try to hide the plastic bag of liquor behind your calves. There was no hiding the pizza box, but at least that was the least incriminating.

“Oh, Hana, wow! What a coincidence seeing you here,” you say to her, pressing your lips into a small smile.

“Yeah, I um,” she points over her shoulder towards the hospice that’s standing tall in the darkness of night, cells with windows illuminated with light. If you didn’t know any better, you would think it was a prison. “Remember I told you my friend’s mom is sick and she’s at this hospice?”

“Yeah,” you say.

“I was just visiting her mom with her,” she tells you.

“Aw,” you comment, “I see, I see.”

You adore Hana, you really do. She was there for you when the whole Yuna and Choso thing went down, picking your shifts up for a good week when you couldn’t stomach going into work when your ex-best friend’s stupid face was gloating in the halls over how she stole your boyfriend. Hana was there for you when you were a new hire and all the doctors were being bitchy about a “newbie in the ED”, but she stood up for you, even cussed the fuck out of one of attendings for the whole hall to hear when you were being disrespected by one of them. She’s someone you can beam about how hot the EMT and Firefighter men that stroll into the ED are, too. A priceless companion.

And even though you two have hung out after hours sometimes, it was still always a little awkward to see a coworker outside of work.

“What are you doing here?” she asks.

“I actually, um, was going to tell you at our shift tomorrow, but I just admitted my mom to the hospice too,” you say, “and…thanks a lot for telling me about it. I really appreciate it. It seems like a wonderful facility.”

Her eyes briefly widen with surprise before they soften once again. “Oh, that’s wonderful, love. I hope all goes well. And your little insurance scam worked! Good for you!”

“Shhh,” you hiss at her, looking around yourself with paranoia, “the feds are everywhere.”

She laughs, sweet in the air, before the sound settles and she looks at you with something reminiscent of well-intentioned concern. Her eyes flit to the plastic bag you were still holding behind your legs. “Hey…um, if…if you ever want some company when you come to visit your mom, just let me know. I hope you know you don’t have to do everything alone.”

You blink at her, sucking in a short breath to respond, but it only leaves you as a slight puff of air. There’s a silent gratitude that you give her, because it’s hard for you to express any feelings with words, but you’ve found that the people in your life who know you best can always read you without them. 

“Thank you, Hana,” you manage to say with a slight croak to your voice because you were fighting back tears.

She smiles at you. “Take care, okay? And see ya tomorroooowwwwww,” she coos at you, coming up to you to give you a small hug, a squeeze of your upper arm, and then she heads back towards the direction of the hospice.

You watch her walk away until you can’t see her anymore. And then you head towards your car.

When you arrive at your neighborhood, you park in front of Gojo’s house. You have a feeling that you won’t be able to bear the vast emptiness of your home now that your mother is elsewhere, and so you drag your feet up the stone stairs of his house with a heavy heart instead.

The spare key that he gave you weakly pushes into the keyhole with about as much force as your fingers can manage, and you realize they almost feel atrophied. 

The house is dark when you step inside, spare for the ambient street lights shining through cracked open blinds on the windows, and the curtains rustle gently from the draft of the AC, a chill that reaches you too by the time you make it to the staircase.

It doesn’t seem like Gojo’s home. A glance at the clock tells you it’s close to 8pm. You briefly consider texting him to ask where he’s at, why he’s out so late, when he’ll be home, and what’s for dinner, but you can’t even bring yourself to pull your phone out of your coat pocket.

Weak legs manage to take you upstairs and you’re about to pass through to your room when the slightly open door to the master bedroom taunts you, like a peephole into some other wordly dimension. Like the wardrobe in the chronicles of Narnia. A portal into your fake husband’s life.

With a palm pushing on the door, you slowly crack it open, and you know the anxious voices in your head are getting worse by the day when the creaking of the door hinges sounds like a lullaby to you. 

Was this an invasion of privacy? And did you really care if it was?

The room is big, with a king sized bed off to the left, sheets neatly made and duvet primly tucked under, like the way hotel beds are set up. You feel a slight flush of embarrassment when you remember you haven’t been making your bed in the mornings for the past couple days you’ve been living here so far, and you wonder if Gojo would judge you for something like that. If he’d think you were a messy or undisciplined person. If he would think less of you.

Truthfully, in a lot of ways, you still felt like a child. You barely weathered a lot of your formative adolescent years when dealing with your parents’ divorce, and you’ve had to put so much of your life on pause to take care of your mom ever since she got diagnosed. So here you were, in the body of a 29-year-old woman, yet still feeling so painfully juvenile. One that forgets to make her bed in the mornings, and on most nights can’t seem to stomach anything other than cereal for dinner. It was like you were still at a party that everyone else had left, except all it ever was is hell. Your life was such a stark contrast to the lives of other adults you’ve come across. The ones that wake up at six to go on runs, the ones that have paid off mortgages with five figures in their retirement accounts, oh god, the ones that meal prep, and the ones that, all things considered, have their lives together. The ones that don’t spend at least an hour of every day, in fetal position on their bed, sobbing until tears soak through the sheets of the pillow down to the feathers like bone, because you’re so overwhelmed with stress and preparing yourself for the grief of losing your mother which you know that, no matter how hard you try to save her from, will inevitably one day come. 

You used to cook dinner every night, make your bed every morning, and go to pilates on the weekends. Back when you were a little younger and healed and excited to live life. But now, you barely get by. Your priorities are with your mother. You can’t remember the last time you did anything nice for yourself, including something as simple as the luxury of getting to come home to a clean house because you hardly ever had time to clean it, not with all the doctor’s appointments you were driving your mother to, not with all the extra shifts you were picking up at the hospital to pay off your debt, not with all the times you felt too depressed to even get out of bed. 

But your mother is in hospice now, so you’ve made time, right? You’ve made the decision that everyone in your life has been begging you to finally do. So why do you still feel so empty inside?

By a quick survey of the room, you notice Gojo doesn’t really have many framed photos hung up on the walls or perched up on surfaces. None, actually. Only a contemporary painting above his bed frame and then a faded vintage horror movie poster plastered up near his desk. Not terribly odd, since in your experience most men don’t really do the whole “cluttering the house with millions of photos of their family” thing until they at least have a couple of kids and some purebred dog. The thought of Gojo someday setting up a little portrait photo at his desk with his wife’s—his eventual real forever wife’s, pretty face in it, posing with their two beautiful kids, makes an oddly melancholic feeling waft through you. You wonder if he would keep a two-by-two in his wallet, too.

Your feet move one in front of the other as your finger traces the surface wood of a dresser cabinet, something that looks a little vintage and oaky, in stark contrast to the modern minimalist vibe Gojo has set up in the rest of the room. A family heirloom, maybe? There’s no dust that coats your finger, which surprises you. If you were to run your finger across your dresser at home you’d have collected enough dust to snort down your windpipes like a recreational drug. But Gojo’s a real estate agent, making a living off of dressing houses up in perfect cosplay so that monetarily stable middle class families feel inclined to buy them. So you’re not exactly surprised he’s invested in keeping his own house in pristine condition too. 

There is a little bit of chaos, though. Like the shirt he has haphazardly hung over his chair at his office space over to the right. There’s a coffee mug sitting there too, porcelain and reflecting the moon light off, but upon peering inside you see that it’s half empty with stale coffee. He’s got pens sprawled across the desk, in a fashion that suggests he accidentally knocked them over in a rush, and slowly, like some grounding exercise, you place them one by one back into the paper mache pencil holder. It briefly occurs to you that he has a lot of paper mache containers of sorts around the house. You lift up the pencil cup, turning it in your hand until your eyes catch something written on it with glittery pink gel pen.

i luv u unkle toru! -yur BEST FREND 4EVUR juno!!! :D

A small smile makes it onto your face. The handwriting was messy, more like scratches than smooth lines, and nothing less than what you would expect of a child. You remember making paper mache and clay trinkets at preschool for your mom and dad when you were younger. And you’re sure if you were brave enough to open the box of memorabilia that sits in your attic some day, you’d see your own scratchy scribbled handwriting on them. An innocence that is long gone and buried, never again to be delicately placed on desks or counters for all the living.

The draft from the AC reaches you once again, brushing over your skin and causing a chill to shiver down your spine. It kicks at the curtains as well, causing them to ruffle up towards you, baring the dark outside world into the streets. And you notice in that momentary glance that there’s a roof just outside the window that overlooks the backyard. A roof? Spotted by a depressed woman going through a quarter life crisis? There was nothing more tempting than that. 

The window was easy to open, which only caused unease over the revelation of how easy it would be for someone to rob this house. You make a mental note to tell Gojo to get a ring camera or security system of some sort since he doesn’t seem to have one, but you can already picture him telling you something about how statistically low the crime rates are in this neighborhood compared to all the other neighborhoods, and then you’d tell him that it’s just for your peace of mind. But whether he’d compromise or not after that, you’re really not sure.

You take a seat on the roof, a little scared as you sit because of the slight slope, but it’s comfortable once you’re settled. You sit criss-cross-apple-sauce, staring out into the neighborhood of perfectly lined up suburban houses. You’ve got a better view into some neighbors' backyards, noticing that a couple of them had pools while some of them have big gardens. There's a cat resting up on a fence in the distance. A car drives by with headlights illuminating everything in its proximity briefly before zooming off. You glance up at the sky, and notice the full moon, but it’s too cloudy to see any stars. Or perhaps it was just the light pollution from the lamps making it difficult to see.

On instinct, your hand reaches inside your coat pocket for your phone, but your knuckles hit something else instead. A moment of brief confusion flickers through your head, but then you immediately recall the last-minute purchase you made at the gas station.

Your hand pulls out the object, and then you stare down at it. Squinting your eyes a little, because it’s a sight that feels familiar but also one you haven’t seen in so long: a pack of twenty Marlboro red cigarettes. 

You’ve tried a lot of things to manage your stress over the years. Excessively working out, eating a lot of sugar, going on six hour hikes to touch grass, flirting with random men at bars, fucking Choso until he was rendered speechless, multiple types of antidepressants, you almost tried smoking weed once with your roommate in college but you wimped out last second. But the habit that had gotten you through the years of 21 to 24 is held loosely in your hand right now. It’s been five years since you quit, but resolve was often a fickle thing. As the saying goes, once an addict, always an addict. 

There’s a brief moment of hesitation as you slowly peel the plastic off of the back, but then it all comes back to you like a reflex you’ll never forget up to where you slide a cigar up out and then pinch it between your two fingers. Forgetting to buy a lighter with the cigarettes is definitely something you would do, but because you remembered it was something that you would do, you remembered not to do it. The flick of the flame coming to life is ASMR you didn’t know you were painfully nostalgic for, and you balance the cigarette between your lips in that sort of movie-star way people used to obsess over back in the day. But just as you bring the lighter up to the end of the cigarette, and just before you can light it—

A hand shoots out in your periphery, grabbing your wrist and entirely stalling the movement.

You gasp, lips parting enough for the cigarette to fall from them and into your lap. The hand wrapped around your wrist is large and masculine, and you briefly consider screaming, but when you snap your neck to look at the perpetrator, you see Gojo crouched down next to you on this roof. You notice he’s wearing a black suit, a tie that was loosely secure hanging from his neck into the space between his spread thighs as he’s crouched, and whatever gel he had in his hair from earlier only barely remains as strands fall over his forehead haphazardly. He looks like he’s on the other end of a long work day. 

You blink at him, expression plastered with surprise, but his is only earnest. With breathtaking blue eyes that you realize he could easily use to surrender a person just by looking at them, like the way he’s looking at you right now. His lips are pressed together into a firm line, as if to suppress some emotion, but the slight crease to his brow makes you feel like you’re in trouble somehow. Like he was silently scolding you for something.

“I—” you stutter.

He lets go of your wrist and discreetly pulls the lighter out of your hand. And then his hand reaches for the pack of cigarettes you were balancing on your knee, but on some reflex that you don’t even think about, you try to snatch them away from him, and now you’re both tugging at the same pack of cigarettes.

“y/n,” he says, “let go.”

“No,” you say stubbornly.

He sighs and tugs a little harder. “Give them to me.”

“But—” you stammer, voice becoming softer to see if that’d work on him, “I’m…” Your grip on them tightens. “I’m stressed.”

He raises an eyebrow at you, then finally loses his patience and snatches them right out of your hand. He stands up from his crouched down position to toss the pack off to the side onto the roof somewhere. You’re surprised when he lets out a sigh and sits down next to you on the roof, as if he felt the obligation to. His legs stretch out in front of him, but still bent slightly at the knees, and he leans backwards with his body weight braced on his palms laid flat on wood paneling behind him. “There are better ways to relieve stress,” he tells you candidly. 

“Like what?” you ask, and just when he opens his mouth to speak, you clarify, “and don’t say sex.”

He shuts his mouth and his eyes flit up to the sky for a brief second. “Damn. I didn’t have a back-up answer.” 

You roll your eyes, releasing a deep breath, then draw your knees to your chest before resting your chin on top of them. 

“I didn’t know you smoke,” he says after a century-long minute. 

You wince a little, because you were half hoping he was going to just drop the subject all together. 

You bite your lip nervously and hug your knees to your chest tighter as if to hide yourself from him. “I don’t. Well, I haven’t. Um, not for a while.”

“Huh. I see,” he says.

Another silence passes, and as he shuffles next to you, the fabric of his suit brushes against the fabric of your coat, and you’ve become entirely too aware of the feeling.

“So,” he says, breaking the awkward silence, “your mom’s in hospice now?”

You nod, enthusiastic enough to where you won’t look like you’re entirely depressed about it.

“That’s good,” he says, “no issues with the insurance?”

You shake your head. “They need you to sign some papers by the end of the week though,” you tell him. “We’ll have to go in person.”

He nods slowly to affirm he’ll make time for it. “I really hope things get better for your mom,” he says, voice soft as he stares off into neighbors homes like you had been doing ten minutes ago. You see the cat that was resting on the fence get up, do a big stretch, and start walking along the length of the fence. Your eyes briefly glance at Gojo, and you notice his gaze is tracing the cat’s path. 

“My—” you start, hesitant all of a sudden by the vulnerability you already feel swelling within you, most definitely due to sitting with someone on a rooftop late at night, but you decide that you’ll be nice to him for once, “…my mom seems to remember you a lot. More than she remembers me.” You let out a small humoring laugh, as if that fact doesn’t completely destroy you. “She was blabbering to me again for the seventh time about how you apparently fixed our AC.” You try to bite your tongue, but can’t help it when you say, “although I’m pretty sure you just pressed a bunch of buttons until it started working again.”

“Yup. That’s exactly what I did.”

You roll your eyes and sigh.

Another awkward silence.

“Can I ask you a question?” you say.

“Sure.” His voice sounds deeper, like he’s sleepy. 

“Why did you agree to marry me? That’s not something people just do out of nowhere.”

He glances over at you, and you flicker your eyes to him. “Why? Having regrets?” he teases, with a slight nudge of his elbow to your side. 

“Just answer me.”

He lifts his palms up from behind him and leans forward, placing his hands on his knees instead. “I don’t know. If something I could do would help someone out that much, I wasn’t going to say no.”

You hum quietly, still confused by his intentions. But you’re too jaded to question them.

“It costs nothing to be nice,” he adds. 

You run soothing circles over your thigh through the fabric of your jeans. For some reason, your mind wanders to Choso. Thinking of all the years you wasted staying with him even though you knew his affections were long gone, just because you didn’t want to break his heart. Only to realize that you never had that privilege in the first place. 

“I think,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper as you draw your knees closer to your chest, “that sometimes it does.”

A gust of autumn wind breezes by, ruffling the trees that the two of you are at eye-level with at the moment. You're pretty sure you’ve completely lost Gojo’s interest at this point, where he’s finally too tired to deal with your oddly cryptic attitudes and overall generally displeasing vibe, assuming this based solely on his prolonged silence beside you. You’re ready for him to get up and abandon you here on this roof, left to ponder every single thing you’ve done wrong in your life. It was any second now.

“Sometimes,” he instead speaks up, and it’s so surprising to you that you jolt a little bit, “you can do everything right, and people will still find a way to fuck you over. But I don’t think that’s any reason to stop being nice to others.”

You glance over at him, your eyes widening slightly, but he just continues to peer off straight into the night. His blinks are slow, lingering on being closed for a moment before he opens them again, and you’re mesmerized by the sight. The skin under his eyes is slightly dark from exhaustion, heavy with character that makes you aware that he’s just a person too. And for what feels like the tenth time this week, you realize that he’s—…handsome. And for what feels like the tenth time this week, your heart flutters in your chest.

He scoffs suddenly and dusts his hands off. “I sound like a fucking youth pastor.” He lets out an exhale before suddenly standing up onto his feet before you can think more on it. He looks off into the night again and lets out another exhale that sounds more like a sigh this time. “God, it’s getting a lot colder these days. Might have to start running the heater.”

You blink up at him with no commentary to add. 

He looks down at you. His face is relaxed, but you can tell those eyes are distracted. A shimmering blue ocean in its own world while he attempts to stay present in this one. 

He holds his hand out to you, and you stare at it blankly like you’ve got no clue what he intends for you to do with it. But you finally take the hint and curl your hand around his palm so that he can pull you up onto your feet too.

You stumble a little, falling forward from the sudden blood flow to your brain, but he holds you steady by the strong grip of his hands on your elbows. He’s close to you, close enough to where you can smell the faint lingering scent of his cologne. Something different than that expensive one he wore to the courthouse, but it’s comforting somehow. A fragrance that’s more him. And you feel nervous as you look up at him underneath pale moonlight. 

He lets go of your elbows. You feel cold from the loss of his touch. But his right hand moves to gently hold your left hand in his palm, holding it curled as his thumb barely grazes the stone you wear on your ring finger; the one he gave you.

The way his thumb prods at the silver band is like he’s inspecting its quality, as if it has to pass some test to be worthy of sitting on your finger. Or maybe just any finger, if you were to quell the delusion. You’re not sure if he’s satisfied with his inspection.

“Where did you get it—” you blurt out.

His gaze flickers up to your face briefly before he’s back to examining the ring. “It was my mom’s.”

Your mouth gapes slightly in shock, heart dropping a little in your chest, and all of a sudden you feel guilty. Guilty that he put his mother’s ring on your finger for something that was fake, something that was essentially a business deal, something exchanged to you out of fraud when it was a precious family heirloom that should be exchanged with love. And maybe he didn’t care about it much, some people don’t care about the sentiments of objects. But your mind thinks of the oaky vintage dresser in his room, so out of place in the aesthetic of its surroundings, a decision you can only imagine him of all people, mr. “everything in this house has to look like an IKEA catalog”, would do if the dresser held some importance to him that was more than meets the eye. And so you’re compelled to think that maybe this ring did, too. 

“Why would you give me this?! You could’ve just gotten a cheap fake diamond ring from a pawn shop and called it a day,” you ask him, suddenly feeling burdened by it.

“Well I wasn’t exactly given much time to think of other options.”

“But—” you start, only to realize you have no counter arguments for that.

He lets out a huh noise, like the sound someone makes when they’re pleasantly surprised by something, as he looks down at your hand that he still held in his. “It’s kinda crazy that it fits you perfectly. I wasn’t sure.”

Your mind wanders to when he slipped the ring onto your finger in the courtroom, followed by the kiss. Soft, sweet, the lingering warm sensation of his palm on your cheek as he cupped your face, the same way those heartthrob actors do in all those romance movies and kdramas that you watch on Friday nights while snuggled up in a blanket, wondering when anyone will ever kiss you like that. You remember the ghost sensation of his hand hovering over the small of your back, fingers lightly grazing the nape of your neck, his frame blocking out everything around you as he kissed you, just to pull away and for the two of you to then pretend like it never happened, as if it wasn’t one of the sweetest kisses you’ve ever known.

You slowly pull your hand out of his, the moment feeling too tender for your liking, and you clear your throat before flitting your eyes up to his. 

“Rule #1,” you remind him with a soft whisper, “no touching.”

You purse your lips, watching his round eyes blink once, then twice, before he shoves his hands in his suit pockets. He rocks back and forth on his heels for a few seconds, nodding slowly in submission, and then he turns on them to head back to the house. You’re standing a little stunned from the abrupt ending to this trance of a moment on the roof, and you’re also a little surprised with how your chest is heaving a little bit with fast breaths, but you eventually snap out of it to follow him inside too. 

You two make it back inside the house, with little words exchanged. You pretend to not notice the way Gojo tilts his head at his desk, like he’s confused about why it looks tidier than when he left it. You’re prepared to feign innocence or ignorance, but he doesn’t press you about it. 

“Y’know,” he says from behind you, his chest briefly brushing against the back of your head as he pushes the bedroom door in front of you open so that you can head out into the loft, “those oversized 1800s-esque nightgowns you’ve been wearing around the house kinda make you look like a less-hot version of Ebenezer Scrooge.”

“Go fuck yourself.”

•┈┈┈••✦☽✦••┈┈┈•

“Sign right here for me, sir.”

You watch as the nurse slides the papers across the high-raised counter of the hospice nursing desk towards Gojo, his eyebrows narrowing as his eyes skim the words on the paper and land at the highlighted lines where he’s been intended to sign. You feel nervous for some reason, as if he’d suddenly find something disagreeable and refuse to sign, then take you to the courthouse first thing to finalize a divorce and send you off to prison while claiming he was blackmailed into the whole marriage in the first place.

Instead, he pulls a pen from the chest pocket of his suit jacket, clicking the end of it and scribbling his signature onto the paper with some jet black ink that looks like it takes a second to dry. How pretentious of him. The pink pom-pom pen was right there.

The nurse behind the counter continues to chat with him about something, blah blah dependents, blah blah tax claims, blah blah you’ll receive an itemized bill in the mail. You’re trying your best to eavesdrop in on the conversation, but most of your senses are being occupied by examining all your surroundings. When you dropped your mother off at the hospice, your feelings were at the forefront of conscience, but now that you’ve had a couple days to come down from that overwhelming emotional high, you’re here to scope out the quality of this place you’ve just dumped your mom at.

The facility is clean and sleek, with a color theme of red and an ocean blue across the signs, the furniture, even with the paperwork they hand out. All the workers had color-coded scrubs based on their occupation or specialty, and none of them had stains on the fabric. You take a glance down at the modest leather pumps you were wearing past the creases of the long skirt, and notice that the floor was shimmering off their reflection in a perfect polish. It wasn’t bad, this place.

“Thanks, you too,” you hear Gojo say to the nurse behind the counter. He has a professional smile on his face, but still kind and genuine, which makes the woman at the computer something bashful and unable to make eye contact. He folds something that looks like a receipt into his chest pocket before tucking his pen back in there too and then turns to face you. You make a mental note to pay him back for whatever he just paid for, at least once you move some money around. 

Your eyebrows lift, feeling a little dazed as you blink at him blankly.

“Alright,” he says, shoving his hands in his pockets, the sound of his shoes on the polished hospital floors satisfactorily tapping in your ears as he took a couple steps towards you, “where’s your mom’s room?”

“Huh?”

“What’s her room number?” he asks you.

“Y-You wanna go see her??”

“Of course I want to,” he says, “she’s my mother-in-law.”

You roll your eyes and pet the fabric of your skirt to smooth the wrinkles out. “You’re getting a little too invested in this role of fake husband.”

“I get to annoy you all day and ride the adrenaline rush of committing a federal crime,” he says, “of fucking course I’d get invested.”

You sigh, tossing some of your hair to behind your shoulder before glancing up at the signs, squinting slightly to locate the ward where your mother’s room is, before you hear an extremely high-pitched and somewhat catty feminine voice call out from behind you. You glance at Gojo’s face as he peers off to whoever’s behind you, and you see him visibly stiffen a little.

“Is that Dayton county’s sexiest realtooorrr???” the voice purrs, and you turn on your heel to see a blonde bombshell of a woman clacking her kitten heels down the glistening floors of the hospice, with another brunette bombshell just a few paces behind her. Bombshell #2 sighs something like “it issss” before they walk right up to your fake husband and take turns at giving him a playful squeeze of his bicep. You have to physically stop your jaw from dropping at the sight. 

“Wow! Ladies, so–...so great to see you two,” he says out of polite obligation, and you immediately clock the fact that he doesn’t address them by name.

Bombshell #1 turns to look at you, all of her hair moving as one solid entity with the motion from all the hair spray that’s probably holding it up, and she points at you with a long slender finger that narrows into a french-tip. “Oh who’s this?? Another one of your clients??”

“Oh, no, she’s my–”

“I’m his wife,” you interrupt him, irritated for some reason. 

Both the women chirp something out like oh! before their faces twist with confusion. 

“I didn’t know you were married,” Bombshell #2 says in a thick New Jersey accent.

Gojo lifts his left hand up, the silver band on his hand glimmering under fluorescent hospice lighting. “Very happily,” he says, as if someone was holding a gun to his head.

Bombshell #1 crosses her arms, and you try not to stare at how nice her boobs look in the low scoop-neck jaguar print top she was wearing. You were no better than a man. And now you’re pissed off at the idea of Gojo glancing down too, but a flick of your gaze up to his face tells you he’s safe. For now. 

“You weren’t married when I asked you if you were a month ago,” Bombshell #1 sneers at him. It’s true, the math wouldn’t make sense, but in his defense, this marriage was a fraud.

“Or when you took me out for dinner last week after I bought my house,” Bombshell #2 snarls with an undertone of hurt. 

Gojo clears his throat beside you before pointing at Bombshell #2. “How is that, by the way?” he asks in an attempt to change the subject, “the half acre down on Maple Ave, right? You, uh, enjoying the pool?”

The woman let out an offended scoff and–were her eyes sheening with tears?? She puts her hands on her hips. “No. Mine is the three bedroom house with the cedar gazebo on 14th street.”

Her friend next to her rolls her eyes and smacks her gum between her cheek. “I’m the one that bought the half acre down on Maple Ave, jerk. Ugh!” She grabs her friend’s arm with a high-pitched hmph noise leaving her throat, and you can hear the other one sniffling subtly as she wobbles on her heels with her friend’s pull of her arm. 

Right before leaving the two of you alone, Bombshell #1 turns to you and says, “I hope you find someone who treats you better,” and then they storm off together down the hallway, their perfectly blow-dried hair bouncing in sync with each stomp.

You blink at the sight, a little flabbergasted from the interaction, and then flit your faze up to Gojo. You see him awkwardly scratching at the back of his head with a grimace on his stupidly handsome face. 

“That’s what you get for being a manwhore,” you tell him.

“I’m not a manwhor–”

“You went on a date with another woman while you were maaaaarrrieeeddd?!” you coo as you let out a fake gasp and slap your cheeks with your hands, “despicable, really.”

He lets out some disgruntled noise, the source coming from deep within his throat. “No. We weren’t fake-married yet,” he vindicates himself, “and it wasn’t a date. I just bought her dinner as a congrats for buying a house. Not a big deal. I do it for all my clients.”

“Satoru. You do realize you’re leading these women on, right? I mean, I’ve seen the way you talk to them. Even if you think you’re just being friendly, please know that your definition of friendly is most people’s definition of flirting.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“It’s true.”

He raises an eyebrow as he glances down at you. “Alright, how come this flirting in disguise of friendliness hasn’t worked on you then?”

You scoff in disbelief before crossing your arms. Maybe you did deserve a better fake husband. “You’re never friendly with me. You’re always rude to me.”

“What? I’m not always rude to you.”

“Well, you’re certainly much more rude to me than you are to other women,” you say, tapping the tip of your shoe with irritation.

“Can we not do this right now? We’re in the middle of a hospice.” 

“God, you’re such a cop-out,” you mumble as you forcefully push past him towards the hallway that’ll lead you to your mother. You can hear that Gojo’s on your tail, following you down one of the more dimly lit hallways, and you can tell he needs to stall the strides of his Daddy Longlegs to not overtake your pace.

“What the fuck is a cop-out?” he asks you from behind.

“Look it up on urban dictionary, Grandpa. Unless you don’t know what the Internet is, either,” you spat. 

You waltz right up to your mother’s room just in time to see a nurse making her way out with a clipboard in her hands. She glances over to you when she sees you approaching in her periphery.

“Hi! How can I help you?” she asks.

“Is it alright if we visit my mother?” you ask her.

“Oh! Sure, let me just clean her bed pan really quick.”

Your brow furrows. “B-Bedpan?? Why is she using a bedpan??”

The nurse stops in her movements. “Well, yesterday and today, that’s just what she has decided to use.”

You immediately become hostile. “That’s not right. She never needed to use one at home. Why is she suddenly using one here? Is that not a clear sign of deterioration? The restrooms must not be kept well enough here if she doesn’t want to use them.”

The nurse becomes something meek, her eyes widening as her mouth gapes slightly. “Ma’am,” she squeaks out, “we see this commonly with patients as they begin to adjust to hospice life. We’ll urge her to use the restroom, but as of right now, we need to prioritize what she finds most comfortable.”

Your expression softens, your shoulders relaxing from their tense position, and you duck your head a little with guilt. “Right…I’m sorry.”

The nurse presses her lips together with a well-meaning smile before shuffling into the room and closing the door behind her. You sigh and lean your back against the wall next to the number plate, cheeks flushing slightly from the confrontation. You have no idea how loud your voice was or who heard you. But you try to convince yourself that you’re just stressed and trying to look out for your mother, although the guilt still sits.

You glance up to see Gojo staring at you with slightly wide eyes, his hands shoved into his pockets, and he tilts his head to study your expression.

“What?” you snap at him.

“Are you doing okay?”

“Just fine, thanks.”

“Are you sure?”

“Satoru,” you cut his questioning off by raising a palm into the air, “just—…just stop.”

His brow furrows together slightly, but before he can show any further concern, the nurse exits the room and holds the door open for the two of you. 

“All set!” she chirps, and Gojo moves to hold the door open in her stead, and then the nurse bolts down to disappear somewhere down the hallway.

You hear Gojo let out a small huff of a scoff as he stares down in the direction the nurse ran off in. “Glad to know I’m not the only one that’s scared of you.”

You roll your eyes and walk into the room through the open door.

Your mother lays in her bed, looking out the window with her hands resting on top of layers of white linen sheets, her skin looking slightly paler than usual. You approach her bedside slowly and she finally turns her head to look at you.

“Hi mom,” you gently greet her, sitting down on the stool beside her bed, “how are you doing?”

Her eyes dart across the features of your face, and you briefly glance towards the wall to the right where you see Gojo standing from a slight distance.

“Oh, hi dear,” she says with a smile, and relief washes over you.

You match her smile with your own. “Mom, I brought someone here to see you.” You glance over at Gojo, who starts to close distance now as he approaches the foot of the bed, “this is Satoru, my husband.”

Your mother’s eyes widen, “Oh! I know him,” she scoldingly swats a hand at you, like you’ve embarrassed her somehow by assuming that she doesn’t know who he is, “he’s my neighbor!”

You sigh, “yes mom, the one that fixed the A/C?” You attempt to finish her sentence for her.

She looks confused for a moment, but slightly nods as if to avoid any further confusion for herself. “But—…but, why…” she trails off and then looks at you, “I’m sorry, are you my nurse?”

Your shoulders drop slightly. “No, mom, it’s me. Your daughter. Do you remember?”

Her face scrunches before it entirely relaxes to keep some image of composure despite the haze you know she feels in her head. “Oh…yes, yes…my little girl. I remember you, of course!”

Your eyes become layered with a slight sheen of tears, “I’m glad.”

“Where’s your father?” she asks, “he said he’d bring me some…oh dear, what—…he said he’d bring me tea. I’ve been waiting.”

“Mom, dad is—” you pause for a moment to think on your feet. You could either tell the truth, or a little white lie. You never know what to do. And either one comes with either guilt or sorrow. “Well, he’ll be here soon, I just wanted to come see you.”

“Oh okay…” she trails off, her eyes squinting at you once more with that same look of confusion on it, but then they drift towards Gojo. “Oh you’re a very handsome young man! You look just like my neighbor.”

Your eyes flicker up to Gojo, and he walks up to your side by your mom’s bed. “Yes, Mrs. l/n, I am your neighbor.”

“With the lemon tree!”

“The avocado tree,” you correct her with a small sigh. “And he’s my husband mom. And also our neighbor.”

“Oh I see I see…” she says, looking up at him, and in a moment that shocks you, she holds her hand up for him to take.

There’s a slight moment of surprise on his face too, but he accepts her frail hand in his, and you glance over to your mom to see her look at him with some look of peace on her face.

“Oh, sit down here, won’t you?” she tells him, and you both blink at her in a moment of hesitation.

He pulls a stool up to the side of the bed right next to you and takes a seat down onto it. Your mother holds his hand with both of hers now, soothing her palm over the back of it before she taps on it lightly.

“Oh, my little girl is very sweet. She would bring me flowers from the garden when she was,” she glances at you, confused once more, “well I remember her when she was so little but she looks…a little older now. Ah, but she would bring me such pretty flowers.”

Your heart aches in your chest. You never knew what version of you your mother would remember. Some days, you’re still supposed to be an angsty teenager that shuts doors in her face, some days you were just as you are right now, and other days, you were just her little girl. And it confused her, the image of not seeing you in the way that she remembers. In the only way she knew how.

“You’ll take good care of my sweet girl, won’t you?” she asks him.

And it knocks the wind out of you.

It drops your heart to the center of the earth.

The thought that, after so many moments where she doesn’t remember you, she still knows that you’re someone she wants to keep safe.

Your mouth gapes slightly, tears welling in your eyes and you try your best to blink them away, but you see Gojo’s hand slip out from being held by your mother’s hands, to instead use both of his to hold hers. Your eyes snap to his face, and you see that same earnest expression you’ve been growing used to seeing these days. 

“Yes,” he responds, eye contact level with hers, “I will.”

A small puff of air leaves your lips, a single tear streaming down your cheek and you quickly swipe your trembling fingers to remove any evidence of it before you huff out a shaky, “excuse me.” And then you’re standing up off the stool, and in a few hurried steps across the room as more tears continue to stream down your face, you make it to the door to push out into the suffocating air of the hallway.

It’s hard to breathe, huffs and puffs barely leaving your lips as you struggle to pull air into your lungs while you storm down the hallway at a fast pace, your heels clicking underneath you in a way that only sets you off further. Suddenly, all the sounds around you make you sick to your stomach, a wave of nausea washing over you, and your nose burns with the intensity of the tears that continue to stream down your face. A few hospice staff look at you with concerned expressions, and you eventually reach a heavy-duty door that leads you out into a secluded staircase hallway where the dim lighting serves to relax at least some of your senses, but you still feel like you’re about to pass out.

Even in the haze of your emotions, there’s this glimmer of a memory that comes to mind. One from when you were younger and you were pushed on the playground at school. You cried and cried and cried in your mother’s arms, but even then, you didn’t want her to baby you. You would say to her, I’m a big girl now! in that same way a child knows nothing of what it truly means to brave the world. 

That little girl had no idea that one day, there would be moments where she wouldn’t be remembered as her mother’s little girl anymore. 

No matter how old you grow, you will always be my little girl, your mother’s voice echoes to you, the feeling of her squeezing you in her arms as she holds your sobbing little form in hers casting a ghost sensation across your skin.

In a mother’s eyes, you’ll always be her baby.

And that’s why it hurts.

Because it’s all fake.

It’s phony.

It’s not real.

This arrangement you have with Gojo.

And if your mother were to die tomorrow, there would be no one to take care of her little girl anymore.

Not in the way she believes there will be.

Of all the white lies, this one pierces you straight through your heart in a way that leaves you gasping for air.

Amidst your whirlwind of thoughts, you hear the door push open harshly, and when you glance over, you see Gojo standing in this dimly lit hallway as he turns his head quickly to the left and sees you standing there.

“Hey,” he says, catching his breath as he lightly jogs up to you, “hey, hey, hey,” he repeats with more concern now when he sees the state you’re in, and he seamlessly pulls you into a hug, your cheek pressing against his chest that feels warm even through the fabric of his suit jacket and shirt, and that familiar scent of him completely engulfs you.

You sob quietly, wiping your snot on his tie and your tears on the felt fabric beside it, your hands balled into tiny fists at your chest, squeezed between the two of you. You feel him tuck your head under his chin and his arms wrap around you tighter. You don’t even realize it at first, but suddenly, it has become easier to breathe.

Then, you wail, and you cry, and you sob, because you don’t have the words to even explain how you feel, about not just this, but with everything, a buildup of everything that has been suffocating you in your life that just comes crashing down on you all at once.

“I know,” he says, his palm resting on the back of your head as he holds your face to his chest, his voice soothing in your ears while you sob until there’s nothing left to cry. “I know.”

You two stay like this for another minute or so as you come down from the cries, your remnant sniffling echoing in the hallway while you wipe more of your snot on his jacket. You make the first move to pull your face away from his chest, but he still keeps his arms wrapped around you when you look up at him.

With your gaze darting across his face, you take in the blue in his eyes. Eyes that are looking at you so softly it’s suddenly hard to breathe once more. And when those eyes flit to your lips, your mouth parts slightly as you two breathe in unison.

It’s possible that you could have dreamed the moment you saw him lean down slightly towards you, his eyes still set on your lips, but it didn’t matter because you’re pushing him away with strong fists before you can even register the thought in your head.

He lets go of you entirely, his eyes wide once more, and you glance down at your feet. 

A tender moment, just like on the roof, broken just because you can’t handle that—…that way, that intense way that he looks at you. New rule, no looking at me longingly like you want to kiss me. I won’t allow it.

“I want to go home,” you whisper, still examining your shoes. And you suddenly feel embarrassed that he had to see you this way. He’s supposed to be scared and intimidated by you, not holding you in his arms while you cry. 

He’s silent for a moment, but you can tell he’s searching for things to say. “You don’t want to say bye to your mom before we go?”

You swipe your palm against the wetness on your cheek. “No. I just want to go home.”

“y/n,” he tried to convince you.

You finally look up at him. “Please.”

He breathes in a few breaths as he studies the features of your face in a way that makes you feel so seen that it’s frightening. But he slowly nods, then says,

“Okay.”

.

.

.

.

.

[end of chapter 4]

a/n. hi friendsss i hope you enjoyed :'') yea like i said at the a/n in the beginning, this chapter is a slight off-tangent from last chapter, but ch5 will continue with a lot of the stuffs that were brought up in ch3. but yea i wanted to explore the whole process of emotions reader would go through putting her mom in hospice, since it kinda felt like a big thing, hence why it got its own chapter. aaa i hope to see you in the next one!! much love from me :''0

➸ take me to chapter five!

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[gallaghersgal]

My love my darling my sweetheart Maggie I’m here to begin my yap session.

Could you do 5. grumpy x sunshine from the trope list, & 3. ‘enemies’ to lovers more like strong dislike for eachother at first but then they fall in love & add in 15. Mutual pining from the same list as well with our darling Lip Gallagher in a Bakery AU? Give me all the pining and then all the fluff !!! I hope I didn’t jam too much in here 🤭

(Reminder that i love you to the moon & to Saturn)

hi my love!! there's a hint of enemies to lovers but not much. warnings; little bit of mean lip but y'all know how it goes! 0% edited im so sleepy

grumpy x sunshine + mutual pining + bakery au from these tropes and these aus. part of my 1,500 follower celebration!

"yo! i need a cake f'my nieces party? she's turnin' six," a man with a buzz cut and broad shoulders says, approaching you at the bakery counter. "party's on friday."

you can't help but look him over from head to toe, he's attractive, carrying the faint scent of cigarettes. "what are we looking for, something pink?"

he rolls his eyes, but a fond smile graces his lips. "yeah. my sister wants something princessy, so pink an' glitter an' all that shit would be perfect."

you write down the notes, getting flavor and size information from him, and set a time for the man to return and pick up the cake. you get a name for the order, gallagher, but aside from that no information about the man. and still, you can't get him out of your mind. his rough demeanor, the way he smiled talking about his sister and niece, all of it left thoughts of him swirling in your mind until the day came for him to pick up the cake.

the man comes back with a sour attitude, a scowl set on his features. you explain to him quickly that you need to finish a few decorations of the cake, and he can't contain his annoyance at the situation, snapping "yeah, well, make it quick will you?"

you shake off his rudeness, chalking it up to the probable stress of the little girl's birthday party. with a skilled hand you ice various pink flowers onto the cake. "sorry you're having to wait, what's the birthday girl's name? and how old is she? it's usually a little extra for writing but i don't mind."

you watch as the man's shoulders loosen, his arms remain crossed over his chest but his face softens as well. "franny, she's turnin' six." blue eyes watch your every move as you scrawl happy sixth birthday, princess franny! in large, looping letters. you box up the cake quickly, taking his payment and generous tip, then sending him off to the party.

a few hours later you're mixing the batter for another order when the bell over the door dings, and you look up to see the same man from before with a little redheaded girl in tow. "is that the nice cake lady?" she asks with a grin.

the man kneels down, "yeah, that's her. go tell her what y'want okay? uncle lip's gonna get it f'ya."

the little girl, who you assume is franny, marches up to the counter. "can i have the batman cookie!?" she says, pointing at the display. a pointed look from her uncle has her adding, "please, cake lady?"

you pull the cookie from the display, handing it down to her, "of course sweetie! did you like your princess cake?"

franny furrows her brow and shakes her head and her uncle lip chuckles. "yeahh, her mom wanted a princess party for her, it was a whole thing." he scratches the back of his neck in a nervous fashion, paying for franny's cookie. "sorry for bein' a dick earlier... could i get your number maybe?"

you can't help but grin, printing off the receipt and scribbling the digits down at the bottom. "i get off at six, if you wanna call," you tell him with a smile.

[skepwith]

More Parts of the Revenge for OFMD Fans

Part of a series: Revenge Master Post.

This post is about stuff in the body of the ship, going more or less from top to bottom. I’m saving the sails and rigging for my next post. If you want to know more basic terms like fore and aft and bow and stern, look for “Parts of the Revenge” in my master post.

Obviously, using these terms is entirely optional, since David Jenkins et al. are free and easy with the ol' historical accuracy. This list is for pedants like me and people who like historical and specialized language. Enjoy!

Main Deck

The low “walls” on the sides of the open decks were called the bulwarks—they were to keep people from falling overboard. On the Revenge, the bulwarks are topped by a rail (railing).

A gap in the bulwark, together with a set of rungs on the hull, was called an entry port. It allowed people to climb aboard from a dinghy.

The top edge of the bulwark was the gunwale, pronounced gunnel. The expression “loaded to the gunwales” is still used to mean very full. The top edges of a dinghy are also called gunwales.

An opening in the deck is called a hatchway. I wrote about hatches a while ago, but what I didn’t realize was that the hatch is the part that covers the hatchway. The wooden grid that lets light and air through is called the grating.

In the bow, the curving rail that goes from the figurehead to the hull is called the head rail, which would’ve been really helpful to know for my toilet post. Oh well.

Stede’s journal could at a stretch be called a logbook (or log). This was a book in which an officer noted details of the ship’s daily progress and journey. Probably a bit less fanciful than Stede’s version.

Weaponry

The Revenge has guns (the word used for cannons) on her main deck and her gun deck. Before a gun was fired, the barrel was cleared with the sponge, then loaded with gunpowder and shot and wads of cloth, all of which was tamped down with the rammer. There were different types of shot, or ammunition; cannonballs were called round shot.

To fire a gun, a lit fuse (usually a slow match) was brought in contact with the vent at the top of the gun—called the touchhole—to ignite the gunpowder. (The wick added in OFMD isn’t accurate. Shocking, I know.) The slow match was usually held with a staff called a linstock, tucked into a notch on the end. You didn’t want to be right next to the cannon when it went off, because there was a non-zero chance it would misfire and explode in your face.

Despite what you see in movies, cannons didn’t produce a lot of fire and smoke; the cannonball did damage by going unstoppably through hulls, masts, and people—often many at a time—like a deadly Energizer bunny.

The gunpowder was kept in kegs in a small room called the powder magazine. (A magazine is an ammunition storage area.) This room was in the hull of the ship, below the water line, to minimize the chances of a stray spark sending the whole ship up in flames. The shot was kept in the shot-locker, a small room in the hold (though this word wasn’t recorded till 1805). As we know, Stede calls this the ball room.

Besides the regular cannons, the Revenge also has swivel guns, small cannons mounted on swivels. These were too small to damage another ship; they were there to fire at boarders and approaching boats. Or, you know, to set off fireworks.

To take an enemy ship, sailors might use a grapnel (or grappling hook). These were attached to a rope and thrown at enemy bulwarks or rigging so the ships could be pulled together for boarding.

The Gun Deck

Everything on a ship had to have a special name: stairs were always called ladders; the floor was called the deck; and a wall or partition inside the hull was called a bulkhead.

Some of you may know that a ship’s kitchen is called a galley. However, this usage wasn’t recorded until 1750; the earlier word was cook-room.

Likewise, the mess is where you eat on a ship, but this sense wasn’t recorded until the late 1800s. In OFMD’s time, mess meant “a group of people who eat together,” like officers of the same rank or sailors on the same watch.

You might know a berth as a shelf or box to sleep on, like Stede’s (and Ed’s) bed, but this usage wasn’t recorded until the 1790s. The earlier meaning, used from at least 1706, is “a room where a particular group (such as officers or midshipmen) eats and sleeps.” So you might call Jim’s room a berth—except that it changes hands, and its name has been firmly established as the Room.

A berth is also a place in a port or harbour where you can moor (park) a vessel, and thirdly, the safety margin around another vessel or object, which gives us the phrase “to give [it] a wide berth.”

Finally, the area where the animals (remember them?) were kept was a small triangular area in the bow called the manger. This seems to be where the Revenge’s en suite is, at least as far as I can figure, but if you want to include the animals for whatever reason, they’d probably live somewhere around there.

Storage

Some of the stuff on board was stored in casks, a.k.a. barrels. These could be any size, but a large cask was also called a butt. A scuttlebutt was a butt full of water attached to the deck for sailors to drink from. Unfortunately, the word wasn’t recorded before 1800, and the “gossip” meaning not till a century after that. But it’s a great word and you should use it anyway.

A keg was a small cask, usually less than ten gallons, used for things like gunpowder or rum.

A sea chest was a wooden box used to store an officer’s personal effects—or to confine a nosy hombrecito.

The Ship’s Bottom

(As it were.)

In several of my posts and diagrams I said the lower decks of the Revenge were the gun deck, the orlop, and the hold. But my friends, I made a grievous error: the Revenge has no orlop. I know!

In season 2, for the first time we get to see what’s below the gun deck. When Frenchie opens the secret passage in the kitchen, he reveals a set of stairs—sorry, a ladder—down to a grim, damp space. The kitchen is on the gun deck, so this is the deck immediately below it, and while on most ships that would’ve been the orlop, in this case it’s the hold.

The hold was the lowest compartment of the ship, used for storage and cargo. It also sometimes held the ballast—heavy stuff (e.g., pig iron, gravel, stones, lead) put there to improve the ship’s balance. The lowest part of the hold itself was called the bilge or bilges—the area where bilgewater collected and had to be pumped out.

Episode 3 shows the water on the floor—sorry, deck—making it pretty clear we’re in the bilges of the hold. On top of that, an Instagram post by crewmember Will Giles (shared on Tumblr by @ourflagmeansbts) mentioned repurposing the “bilge set.”

Which all proves that the Revenge’s hold is immediately below the gun deck, with no orlop in between.

The keel is the structural piece that runs lengthwise along the middle of the hull’s bottom. Keel-hauling was to drag someone along the outside of the keel, underwater, as a punishment—very nasty, often fatal.

Also underwater, at the stern, is the rudder, whose movement makes the ship turn. On a dinghy you steer by moving the tiller, a horizontal bar attached to the rudder post. On a ship like the Revenge, you turn the ship’s wheel, which is attached to the tiller via cables, and that moves the rudder.

That’s all for now! Coming next: sails and rigging, in port, and more sailing lingo.

Sources: Wikipedia, historicnavalfiction [dot] com, Oxford English Dictionary

[perotovar]

hey sweeties!! kel and i put a list together of all the submissions we got for our event and split them into two masterlists of fics for you all to read and enjoy! this is my part of the list, so if you don't see yours give @beskarandblasters 's list >here< a look and see if that's where your fic/submission ended up!

we can't thank you enough for submitting and helping us give a voice to the smaller writers of the fandom ♥ oh, and for any multi chapter fics/series, we only read the first chapters to make it fair!

please make sure to read each fic's warnings carefully and happy reading! ♥

@iamskyereads - Compulsion (Ezra x ofc!Beatrice)

i can't even begin to describe how much i love this fic already. it's so smart and the worldbuilding?? incredible!! it feels like a sequel to the film, or like it could easily take place in the same universe. just brilliant. and ezra's voice is so clear here, i could hear him saying every word. and the oc, beatrice, is fascinating already, i can't wait to see where it goes!

@all-the-way-down-here - This Is Why We Fight (Dieter x nb!oc!Bell)

i love the start of this. both dieter and bell have excellent characterization and the conversations being had by every character feel so real and are so important. bell's group of friends all sound like friends i would have, and i would love to hang out with them. i love the direction this is going!

@linzels-blog - Delta Palms Tropical Resort (Frankie x f!reader)

ahh what a delightful little fic! it feels very much like an early 2000s rom com and i mean that in the best way! very cute and i love the vibes. everyone's characterization is great and i can't wait to sink my teeth into the rest of it!

@elvenmother - Context and Perspective (Marcus M x f!reader)

completely obsessed with this concept. i love a good enemies to lovers and this is such an awesome way to do it! i always see marcus m fics featuring someone without superpowers, but to have a character that's just as powerful as him? sign me up!

@kedsandtubesocks - In the Dead of the Night (Din x f!reader)

one of my absolute favorite din fics. the worldbuilding and din's creature form is incredible. i love a horror au that's flipped on its head. i also love the "creature is also the hunter" trope and this does that incredibly well. the atmosphere is off the charts.

@ghostofaboy - Rock Bottom (Frankie x original male characters)

god, i don't even know where to begin with this story. it's so raw and visceral and i can't say enough how much i enjoy it. i love reading something new and especially if it's coming from a male perspective. this is, unfortunately, something i could see frankie getting up to. frankie is such a deeply tragic character and this fic does that justice in a dark, but really intriguing way.

@ishabull - The Way We Were Drawn (Marcus P x f!reader)

ohh this is such a sweet fic. i love the imagery painted and the dynamic between marcus and reader is so sweet!

@secretelephanttattoo - Headshots (Marcus P x f!reader)

this fic is beyond sweet and so dreamy. the ideal scenario for anyone, in my humble opinion. who wouldn't want to take pictures of handsome fbi agents and then fall in love with said agent?

@lesbianhotch - you walk by and i fall to pieces (Frankie x f!reader)

THIS WAS THE CUTEST DAMN THING. i love me a nervous frankie (hello, have you read my fic lmao) and this was by far one of the cutest. i'm obsessed with reader's confidence and i just know those two are gonna be menaces once they're together. throw in some patsy cline and i am a goner. this is going on the reread list for sure.

@insomniamamma - Remain Nameless (Ezra & Cee w/ gn!reader)

ok, this one actually made me cry. i'm not sure if it's my own sleep-deprived ass that caused it but this is probably one of the most beautiful but sad fics i've read in a long time. i mean all of this in the best way because i don't normally get emotional from fics. prospect as a movie makes me emotional, though, so it doesn't surprise me that this did as well. it's such an incredible missing scene that i can, unfortunately, see absolutely happening. have some tissues nearby.

@sweetercalypso - Unlikely Friends (Joel x gn!reader)

this fic is one of my absolute favorite fics for joel. a big reason for that is i have a cat named tilly. and imagining joel reluctantly and grumpily cuddling with my tilly makes me emotional, ok??

@softstarlite - The Casualty of Love (Javi P x f!reader)

very cute! i love the awkward tension around not seeing someone for so long and there being a huge glow up maturity-wise from one of them! seeing someone in a new light is always a strange thing and i love the start to these two and their journey!

@julesonrecord - Shots (Jack x f!reader/oc)

probably one of the best post-movie fics i've ever read for jack. the way jack's trauma and therapy is handled is so fucking brilliant and tonic is one of the best fucking characters, god. eva is written so well and i just. i can't recommend this fic enough. if you like jack, hell even if you don't, give this fic a shot. i promise you'll come out of it liking it.

@coulsons-fullmetal-cellist - The Audition (Dieter x f!reader)

goddd this was so cute! dieter's insecurities don't come up very often and i absolutely love what a match he and reader make. she's so sweet with him and takes such good care of him. and he loves her so much and i love them ok

@max--phillips - A Little Lipstick Never Hurts (Max P x f!reader)

this is one of the best explorations into kink that i've ever read. it's so respectful and hot as fuck. completely obsessed with this take on max as a character and i can't get enough of the dynamic between him, reader, (and eventually dieter). it may not be everyone's cup of tea, but i highly encourage you to give it a try. max gets some well deserved lessons taught, and who doesn't love that?

@coastielaceispunk - The Gift of Lingerie (Max L x f!reader)

god, this was so fucking hot. i'm so here for a mentally healed maxwell in a healthy marriage with a fulfilling sex life lol the little bit of teasing on both their parts was beyond sexy and i loved how equal everything felt. ugh, will be rereading this one for sure.

@lotrefcp - Hidden Away (Javi P x f!reader)

i'm obsessed with a no nonsense reader with just as much attitude/sass as javi does lol i just kept reading going GET HIS ASS. an excellent start to a universe i'm excited to sink my teeth into!

@beefrobeefcal - On the Waterfront (Frankie x f!reader)

oh, this is dark. i love the vibes immediately. i've had a weird fascination with the mafia for most of my life and this has that air about it. a dark, chubby mob boss!frankie is right up my alley for sure. i love that he's still frankie tho. sensible, practical, but with an edge. mind the warnings.

@flightlessangelwings - La Estrella de Mi Vida (Javi G x f!reader)

ahhh so romantic and so tragic!! i swear, it's impossible to make javi unappealing but this fic is just so sweet and manages to make me love him even more (somehow). but i love the added drama and tension from outside forces!! i need to read the rest of it asap!

@littlemisspascal - Rockford & Roan (Tim x f!reader)

my god, i love this?? i'm not usually one for superpowers/soulmate au's but i'm in love with the practicality of this? it feels otherworldly without being too much and it's very grounded. i love the reader and the way tim is written is so believable. i love that we as a fandom have created such a visceral image of this character from only a minute's worth of footage!

@something-tofightfor & @the-blind-assassin-12 - Aphelion (Oberyn x Ellaria & f!reader)

goddd the imagery painted in this one. so heartbreaking. absolutely breathtaking. i'm a slut for vampires and i'm a slut for oberyn/ellaria. this is absolutely something i will be reading the rest of lol

@bluestar22x - The Rockford Files (Tim x f!reader)

ok this is insanely good. one of my favorite books of all time is "red dragon" by thomas harris and i felt like i was reading that again while i read this. the details of the case and the cadence of everything was top notch. obsessed with the psychic element thrown in there and i'm beyond excited to see where tim and psy end up next!

bonus:

@sweetenerobert - Fiction vs Reality (Tommy Miller x m!reader)

ohhhh my god. you give me a bisexual tattoo artist tommy miller with stretched ears and i'm supposed to be normal about it??? UNLIKELY. i am extremely tempted to edit this into reality ngl but my god. this was so fucking hot lmao

[watchyourbuck]

Oh god okay here we go

Why must I go into heavy detail you ask? Well, I am actually unable to shut up so here it is them 10 TOP “there’s no chance this is a straight friendship” MOMENTS

“You can have my back any day” aka the enemies to lovers speedrun. The immediate feeling we’re supposed to get from the screen is jealousy. Buck is jealous of the new recruit because he’s hot, a medic, a veteran, whatever. I’ll give it to you children, he WAS jealous. But then they go on call and they get into immediate danger bc 911 is a drama and then Eddie’s very keen on being Buck’s partner. Nothing queer til then right? WRONG. Eddie’s line is pretty normal but the way Buck reacts isn’t. I have had my fair share of “huh this person I didn’t like is actually cool” moments but nEVER have I once sucked in a breath, forgot how to blink, rushed in my words OR stared at said person like I’d like for them to be my lover. Three points to Gayfindor.

“Is your son REALLY the reason you don’t date?” This line and the dialogue that follows makes absolutely no sense from the non-queer glass. Alright he asks bc he wants to know why two girls practically launched themselves at him and he declined (such a kind offer lmao) but… why are you standing so close? Why do you bump shoulders with him as you walk? Most importantly, what the FUCK does Eddie’s smirk mean after “they’re not my type either… not anymore.” Idk about you guys but when I’m not on the market I’m actually not in it 😀 and I don’t go around looking at my best friend like I’d consider fucking her (I’m actually kinda yikes about that thought bc she’s like my sister). Bottom line is: if you’re willing to fuck your best friend, there’s attraction. That scenes oozes attraction and I’d be willing to white glove challenge a body language reader.

The Tsunami. YES okay, there are far many moments in between but I also need to make this a somewhat readable list so here we go. We’re gonna pretend for a hot second Buck wants to save his best friend’s son, and not the child that he considers his own bc I’m tired. Let’s skip to the far end of this (be GrAtEfuL I’m skipping the whole sacrifice that this episode entailed. Buck was willing to die, to never sit down again if it meant looking for Chris [& the utter fear he has to face Eddie]. It’s a lot). Now, I do not OWN a child (thank god) but if I did, I wouldn’t be particularly comfortable with a simple friend from work taking care of them. They could be my very best friend from work and I’d still feel a little icky -at least nervous- about it. Yet Eddie not only takes Christopher back A F T E R the tsunami (Chris could’ve died and Eddie is nothing short of apprehensive), but he says ‘there’s no one I trust with my son more than you’. Um. Not his wife. Not his family (CHRIS’ family), not Abuela, not Tia Pepa. Buck. Who he… just met? Surely it isn’t bc he’s uncle buck… I don’t believe even Maddie has said that to Buck, where he’s actually, yknow, UNCLE BUCK. Co-parenting is not something done between a parent and a friend, and I know this shit bc my mom raised me with a few of her friends and guys,,, she never said that to any of them. Also Chris is practically never seen with anyone else from the 188firefam alone.

The Kitchen Scene™️. I have gone on rants about this before but truth be told THIS is the scene that conveys the MOST canonically sexual tension between them. We can joke about it all y’all want but this scene is unhinged. I don’t think Oliver and Ryan were aware that they should’ve been friends in this scene. The way the conversation shifts from apologetic sad puppy eyes to “you’re throwing your punches at the wrong guy” to I CAN TAKE YOU (???) you can what? “Oh you think?” “Oh I know” HELLO? Pls don’t even get me started on how Buck approaches Eddie, the way he’s puffy-chested, his hand on his belt, eyeing him up and down, nearly biting his lip, cocky grin,,,,, explain to me in hetero. I’m waiting😐 guys c’mon exPLAIN IT TO ME IN HETERO. The way Eddie glances to the side bc where’s Chris? And h o w he sips his beer right after, smirking, tiLTING His head. I’m sorry this is not straight in any way. I’m sorry you’re gonna have to accept this.

Clipboard Buck. Alright u got me!!! This one’s a lil silly, but so is my life, so it’s fair game. Clipboard Buck is annoying as fuck, he’s so fucking annoying. The entire firefam picks up on this, no one wants to be around,,,, except Eddie. You could argue that it’s bc he likes him as a friend and he’s just indulging …. 👁️👄👁️ sure but he also hides from Interim Captain Han soooo anyway what’s fun about this is how willing Eddie is to comply with everything he says. He’s basically twirling his hair, kicking his feet, smiling & blushing and “check!” 🧍🏽‍♀️ buck is kinky (that is canon e.g the ring cutter) and he gets high on authority and Eddie does backflips to meet his kinks. Exhibit 5 complete.

The Lawsuit Arc acka the first divorce era😔✊🏼. This one makes me rage a little bit because I get really upset at Buck for acting recklessly. Like baby let yourself HEAL. Anyway,,,, onto what brings us here 🥷🏼. It’s canon that the entire team is mad at Buck, they don’t really wanna bump into him, can’t really speak to him,,, but Eddie? Eddie’s filled with wrath. I cannot stress enough the fact that he uses Chris as an excuse “do you even know how much he misses you? how could you! you’re not here”. The way he expresses himself, and we’re choosing to ignore the fact that he HIMSELF misses Buck,, that’s how you talk to someone who has a responsibility with the child, not the fun coworker that randomly shows up @ your house with pizza every once in a while. “I couldn’t even call you to bail me out of jail”. He’s so u p s e t that for the first time they know each other he can’t rely on Buck when he’s hurting and in danger. And pls for the love of Jesus Christ my lord & savior don’t tell me that it’s a 118 thing bc he calls Ronda Rousey to come pick him up 🎅🏻 that grocery store scene is.. interesting.

Eddie Underground. Alright we’re getting serious now guys,,, might as well put on your thinking caps on this one. We all know the story, this isn’t a latest ep recap soooo The wAY Buck’s the ONLY ONE who desperately calls Eddie’s name when he’s fallen underground, amidst the heavy rain and dirt. Listen to me: he starts digging with his hands. With his bare hands I tell you!!!! 😩 Bobby has to physically pull him back as he cries on his lap. Buck is a smart man, he wouldn’t do something that’s completely illogic, he knows he can’t dig him out but he’s so desperate. His voice breaks, he can’t breathe, he becomes impulsive, reckless, impatient. Do I need to remind y’all the reason he wasn’t the one getting strapped to go underground??? “You’re not going down there. So we can have two cut off ropes?” Everyone knows he’s willing to sacrifice his integrity for Eddie bc his life doesn’t make sense without him. “We’ll get him back for you”

The Shooting + “I’ve made u my son’s dad lol”. When Eddie gets shot the world freezes for Buck. He’s left standing there, staring as Eddie’s blood splatters on him. He has to be tackled down. Even then, he’s unable to move, to breathe. He just looks as he bleeds out, and theN he snaps back into reality, bracing himself to go under the truck (foregoing his own trauma - I’ve said this before) and preparing for the amount of strength it’s gonna take to pull him under it. He screams at him to hold on, and later when he manages to pull him inside the truck he tells him he needs him to hang on. He rips his uniform open, he cries and screams,,, then Eddie wakes up, and he asks BUCK if HES okay. Bc he saw blood :( also as @butraura pointed out, he can’t die if Buck’s dying bc what about Chris? He only lets himself drift off when he knows Buck’s okay. Then we got The Will Reveal™️ also so unhinged. “You knew I wouldn’t turn it down” right what is this guys??? That was a year ago. He added him to his will A yEaR aGo. Idk about y’all but I haven’t added my friends to my will😀 also Buck’s the one who tells Chris ??? (I’m being very brief on this subject). Also “Because, Evan” shut up🧎🏽‍♀️

& 10. The Lightning Strike + “She sees me”. I’m doing these together bc I haven’t watched this episodes yet but I’m an addict so I’ve spoiled myself to the brim. The way Eddie screams Buck’s name, the way he saves him, “do more” h e l l o ?? The absolute PAIN in Eddie’s eyes, “you died Buck” “3 minutes and 17 seconds”, “his humor hasn’t changed” & the fact that he listens to Buck on his super genius math theory. And then Buck goes and says “I feel like Natalia sees me” ok. I mean my feelings mean nothing but Eddie’s face ??? That’s a man that knows he’s waited too long.

I rest my case. I’m missing a lot of scenes (like a lot omg Abby comes back, Buck under the Truck, Buck vomiting blood, the Taylor Arc) & y’all can argue in the comments about them, or add shit or try to dismantle mine, honestly the floor is yours idc wHat u do, just know you won’t convince me otherwise 🤸🏽these two are in love & that’s pretty much that on THAT. PERIOD.

[simping-overload]

sampos tango

commission for @pickingpixel

First time writing smut! I like how it turned out.

summary: sampo manages to drag you into a naked wrestling tournament.

tags: dom/sub understones, naked wrestling, gay, male reader, bottom reader, top sampo, reader is not trailblazer.

word count: 2,759 | ao3 link

ヾthis is a multi-fandom blog that is designed for mlm/nbmlm identifying readers! so if you're female or fem alligened, please do not follow or interact with my mlm related post!! you will be blocked if you do not heed this warning ゛

You stare at the wrinkled flyer in your hand, rereading the headline for the 15th time. It an advertisement for a naked wrestling tournament? The contesents were allowed to do whatever they wanted with the opponent. Whoever wins gets a grand prize of 10,000 credits.

You look up at Sampo with a disgruntled look, "There is no way in hell I am doing this."

Sampo chuckles, slinging an arm around your shoulder, ignoring the way you sqirum under his touch. "Well, my dear, you don't have much of a choice. After all, you did lose the bet, and I have your agreement to it in writing." He says, wrapping himself further around you, pinning you to his chest. "We both know the things I can do to you if you try and back out."

He uses his other hand to tilt your head up towards him, the devious glint his eyes make the hairs on the back of your neck stand tall. You simply nodded your head to the forced agreement. His signature grin returns, and he realses you from his death grip of a hold.

Sampo clasps his hands together, "Wonderfull, my dear! Just make sure to be early. We wouldn't want you to be late after all." He turns on his heel, slipping back into the shadows, disappearing from view.

You stood there for a few more moments thinking things over. You didn't think that single simple piece of paper would have such a control over you. However, it would've been far worse if Sampo wanted it to be. You really need to stop associating yourself with him, even your colleagues, disprove of him.

They say you shouldn't trust him. He's a con artist, and he has so many enemies that probably will become yours one day. Although there's just something about him... probably just the charm of a con artist. He just seems like someone you want to keep close for whatever reason that may be.

You turn on your heel, heading into the direction of your home. Preparing for whatever shit shows you just got yourself into.

-

The place was swarming with over and underworlders alike, some you even recognized, but thankfully, none has recognized you yet. You make your way through the crowd, trying to get a glimpse of the blue hair con. For such a tall man, he is difficult to spot.

You approach the check-in desk, and there are two identical looking workers who seem to be nothing but tight boxer briefs and a name tag stuck to their muscled chest. They greet you in synch.

"Hi, I think I'm supposed to check in here? My names (Y/N) and I'm supposed to be one of the uh contestants." You managed to stammer out, trying not to get caught having your eyes anywhere but theirs.

The one on the left, Jax, begins scanning through the list while the other, Max, eyes you up and down.

"So, who dragged you into this? You don't look like you'd sign up for yourself willingly."

You sigh, shifting your weight, "I lost a bet, and I was wondering if a man named Sampo checked in? He's tall with blue hair."

Max nods and points behind you, "I think that's your guy."

Jax holds out a pen and paper out towards you, "Before you run off, we need you to sign this. It's just a consent form of what could happen during the matches."

You sign the papers quickly, thanking both of them before going to Sampo, who is leaning against a pillar scrollling in his phone. He seemed to notice your approach, making his way to you.

"Good to see you, my friend! Hope you're ready. " He grins, grabbing your hand and tugging you along with him. He brings you to what looks like to be a dressing room that only has empty hanging racks and a few of body oils spread along the counter.

Sampo clasps hands together, sly grin etched onto his face, "Well, for the first order of business, Strip."

This makes you choke on your own spit in surprise, "Can we at least go over how these rounds are gonna go and general rules too before you see me naked?"

"It's simple. It's elimination based. You defeat your opponents and climb your way up to victory. The matches are timed, so whoever is on the ground at the end loses." Sampo starts to explain and gestures to you to start removing your clothing.

You start with your shirt, shivering when the cold hair hits your skin. You slip off your shoes and socks, shivering more as your feet touch the cold tiles. While you're undoing your pants, you ignore how Sampos gaze falls on your crotch.

"I won't be participating in these matches. I won't be able to stop anyone from doing certain... things to you. So you need to make sure you dont allow anyone to get the upper hand." He places your shirt and pants on the counter, sliding your shoes and socks under.

You stop on the waist band of your boxers, nervous. You've never been naked in front of someone you knew personally. The only people that'd seen you naked are random hook-ups.

Sampo notices your hesitation, "If you're worried about being judged. Don't be. I've seen my fare share of dicks. I highly doubt yours will disappoint."

The comment made the blush on your face grow brighter. With a shakey breath, you slip out of your boxers.

"Well, that wasn't so bad. Was it? You're pretty decant size, too...nothing to be ashamed about."

"It's more embarrassing than bad, honestly. This is the first time I'll be naked in front of such a large crowd."

Sampo turns for a moment, grabbing a random bottle of body oil. "You'll be fine~ Most of the contesents are new to this too. No ones gonna judge you."

"Now, we have to smother this all over you, aside from your hands and feet, of course. Do you want to do it or me?" Sampo asks, leaning back in his chair, his eyes not so stubly trailing up your body.

"I'll do it, thanks, but you'll have to get my back. Also... I saw on the waver that people would try and have sex with their opponents? How would that even work. I thought these matches were timed." You ask, taking the bottle from his hand as you turn away from him. You put the oil on your hand, giving it a sniff. It was a subtle semll of coconut. At least you'll smell good.

"Yes, though, that matches are timed, 3 minutes each. If the pair starts to do the deed, they'll extend it to 5 so the audience can have a good show. You might even be able to see the audience getting off to it themselves. But if you're not going to do it, the matches stay the same, and as long as you have the person pinned down for a few seconds, you'll win."

You hummed, listening to him talk as you spread the oils on you. You start with the legs, making your way to your dick, quickly going over before pulling away and grabbing more oil.

You move to your torso and sides, lathering them up generously. You reach your shoulders when you feel bare hands lay themselves on your hips.

You freeze up for a moment, leaving your hands to rest on your tense shoulders. You don't even try to look up at Sampo as he begins to run his hands on your sides.

He rubs the oils into the skin even more, moving to drag the access on your lower back, dangerously close to your rear. He pulls his hand away for a meer second before pouring the oil on his hand and spreading it along your back.

The way his hands glide along your back, spreading the oils into every nook and cranny it can reach. You resist the urge to fall putty under his skilled hands.

It's a few more seconds before his hands leave your back. You nearly whined at the loss of contact.

A voice suddenly came over the rooms speakers, "All contestants, please make your way to the rink. You have 5 minutes."

You look at Sampo, who's just finished drying off his hand with an old rag. He makes his way to the door and beckons you to follow.

You follow him silently, keeping your gaze to the ground as you walk by the other naked contesents. You'd rather not get a face full of someone's junk.

You narrowly miss bumping into Sampo when he stops. Peaking out behind his large frame, you set your eyes on the wrestling ring. Stars, it was huge. So was the crowd.

If they were closer, you could've sworn they'd blown out your eardrums.

"Well, it's game time. Are you ready?"

"Yeah, I think so."

"Good. Make sure to show them who they're dealing with. The most important thing to do is win. Just do that, and those credits are ours." Sampo grins, pushing your forward into the arena.

You go to stand next to the line of contesents. Head up tall, not letting your gaze leave the crowd.

With a few announcements from the host you couldn't bother focusing on, the matches has begun. You tap your foot in anticipation, snapping out of your trance when your name is called.

"(Y/N) and Kody, please come to the stage!"

You and a very burly man make your way up the ring. You shake hand before the match begins. He gets the first hit on you, making you quickly learn that he is top heavy. You dodge the next attempt to tackle you. Moving out of the way fats enough to grip the back of his neck and slam him on the ground, making sure to force your entire body weight onto him.

The referee calls it before you send off the ring, waiting for your turn again. Sampo was right about those who tried and sometimes succeeded in having sex. They even still had cum dripping out of their holes and dicks.

Your matches didn't last long, not long enough for someone to successfully grab your dick anyway.

You reach the end smoothly, standing on the back of your last opponent as the crowd chants your name.

The chant slowly dies down when a certain blue hair con artist makes his way to the rink, the spot light shining on his naked body.

The announcers cackle over the speakers, "You guys couldn't have thought that we weren't gonna end this without a bang. Now give it up for Sampo, one of our longest running contesents! Let's see if our new hotshot can win."

You step off of the man under you, staring at the blue-eyed bastard in front of you.

He grins mischievously, "I knew you'd make it this far. Now, let's see if you can make it past me."

You don't know what to say, thoughts getting interrupted as the referee begins the match. Sampo is quick to advance, throwing you against the borders of the ring, nearly making you fall through the ropes. He grabs you in a choke hold, pressing himself against you.

You claw and scratch at his arm, freezing for a split second when he rubs himself against you. You lean forward before quickly reversing and slamming into Sampo.

"What the hell do you think you're doing!"

You managed to get Sampo off his feet and back on the ground. Slipping out of the hold, you move to pin his arms down and attempt to pin his long legs with yours.

"Just having a little fun, of course. Plus, it looks like I'm not the only one getting excited." Sampo chuckles, looking down at your harden dick.

Your head snaps down, checking to see if it was true. By the time you processed the truth, you were flipped over by Sampo.

He pins your arms with one hand, using his other to hold your hip down. He rubs himself against your, agonizingly slow.

"Sampo..." You whimper, already getting worked up. You internally curse yourself for becoming undone so quickly. You attempt to create more friction by rubbing yourself against him but fail as the hand on your hips doesn't allow you to move.

Sampo grin doesn't falter, if anything it judt grows. He leans towards you, noses almost touching.

"Yes, my dear?" Sampo asks with a teasing tone.

"Please..." You whimper out, desprate for his touch.

"Please, what? You'll have to use your words. C'mon now .." Sampo uses his thumb to rub at the dips of your hips. As if trying to be encouraging.

Sampo gazes down at you, his eyes feel like they can see your soul.

"Please fuck me, Sampo."

Sampo chuckles, taking his hand off your hip, not minding the way you start grinding your dick against his. He cups your face and gives you a soft pat before slipping two of his fingers into your mouth.

"Be a good boy and get those all nice and wet. Don't leave it dry."

You obliged, eagerly sucking off his fingers. Some of your saliva dripped its way out of your mouth and onto the floor. Sampo moves to rub himself against you again. Instead of your dick he chooses to run himself underneath your balls, having a hunch that's one of the places that you're sensitive.

Indeed, your were, the muffled moan around his fingers made it clear. This causes a tiny bit of your precum to start to drip out of your tip.

Sampo gives his hand a slight tug, a small warning before pulling his drenched fingers away from your mouth.

He moves his hand downward towards your hole. He lines his finger up with it, looking up at you for confirmation. You nod quickly.

Throwing your head back when he pushes inside, your walls tighten around him. He thrusts it in and out, letting you get used to the feeling before adding the other.

He adds the second in, despite the tightness he manages to scissor and curl his fingers. At this point, you're a drooling mess. Not at all used to his heavenly feeling. You can feel that certain knot in your stomach tighten.

You look up at Sampo, pleading eyes displaying how desprate you are for him. "Sampo, please... I need you in me so bad."

Sampo is glad he deemed you stretched out enough to take him and the way you say his name makes him want to pound you into the ground.

He slips his fingers out, admiring your the way your hole clenches around nothing. He lines his dick up, pushing in slowly. Enjoying the way you tighten around him.

You moan loudly, fuck... he felt huge, making you feel so full and good already.

He bottoms you out, balls slapping against your ass. He relases your wrists from his hold, placing his hands on either side of your head as he looks at the stomach bulge and back up at you.

You press one of your hands down on the bulge, liking the way it shapes into your skin. Sampo takes this as the queue to begin moving.

He starts out slow and hard before gradually going faster. Soon, the only thing you can focus on is the way he keeps hitting your prostate perfectly.

He moves your legs, putting them into a matting press as he thrusts deeper. He dives down, catching his lips with yours. Swallowing the sound of the beautiful sounds you let out.

His thrusts start to become erratic and sloppy as he fucks you, a sign that he's reaching his peak. You are as well.

You wrap your arms around Sampo, pressing your forehead against his, your last clouded eyes lock with his. "Fuck, Sampo I gotta cum so bad."

"Yeah I do too, let's cum together yeah?"

You nod eagerly.

"1,2,3...fuck. Baby, you feel so good." Sampo groans out, realsesing his load into you, pressing right against your protaste as he does so. You cum in long spurts, it landing mostly on your chest but some on his aswell.

He slowly takes his dick out of you once he's finished. Letting your shakey legs back onto the mat. He kisses you once more, mumbling sweet praises as he rubs your thigh.

He looks up at the referee proud and carefree look on his face.

"The winner is: Sampo!"

[ohtobeleah]

Trade Places // Jake Seresin

Summary: It was supposed to be Hangman. And if you could go back in time? You’d let it be him. Without a shadow of a doubt.

Warnings: Leg Amputation. Jake Seresin x Enemy F!reader. Angst. Whump.

Word Count: 1.6k

Author Note: Day Sixteen of Whumptober. Prompt I chose: Amputation. Thank you to @ailesswhumptober for the prompt list.

Whumptober Masterlist | Main Masterlist

“The extensive bone injury along with the degree of soft-tissue infection is troubling.” It was supposed to be Hangman. He was the one who was meant to be flying when shit went wrong. It was supposed to be him, the one lying in a hospital room with doctors and nurses consulting on what exactly their best course of treatment would be. “No matter what we do—“

“If the infection goes to the bone it’ll be hard to treat.” There were two of them, tag-teaming the explanation that turned the axis of your life as you knew it on its head. 

“And eventually you’re looking at bone loss.” It was almost impossible to understand what the doctors were trying to explain to you at that moment in time. There was no way that this was even happening. Surely you were caught up in some twisted nightmare. Because this couldn’t be real, right? This couldn’t be happening to you. “Officially, Lieutenant—I’m recommending amputation now to avoid complications later down the line.” 

“I withhold consent—“ You mumbled out nearly incoherently. Your body felt so weak but the morphine was sweet. It made you feel like you were floating, but the weight of the situation you had found yourself in was pulling you back down. Keeping your grounded in reality when all you wanted to do was float away. “I withhold consent, before you drug me up anymore or sedate me, I give no-nobody permission to cut off my leg.” 

Rooster, Bob, Phoenix, Hangman and yourself had been running drills at the Mountain Home Air Force Base in Idaho for the last week and a half. Advanced Tactical air to air Combat Training that was designed to push you to your absolute maximum. The Airforce were running the training days and Mav saw no excuse for the five of you to tag along. 

“And certainly not some yahoo in dump truck Idaho—“ It was then you looked over to where Jake sat in the corner of the room. He looked a little worse for wear but nothing compared to you. 

It was supposed to be him in that bed—fighting to keep his leg after being ejected and thrown to the ground like a damn rag doll. It should have been him—but of all days to be running ten minutes late, you took the first session, the first run, and he watched you take his place when fate called your number instead of his. 

“Please, just take me home.” You begged him as tears welled in your eyes and your bottom lip quivered. “Please Jake.” He hated that it so easily could have and should have been him in your position. So without a word—Jake got up and bailed out of the room. He said not a single word as he made his way to the nearest exit. You cried a little harder knowing you were left all alone. 

He couldn’t take this, this torture of knowing if he had just been on time it would be him in your position instead of you. He’d give anything to trade places with you. But he couldn't, not now not ever. Jake Seresin couldn't turn back time any more than he could take your pain away. 

“Lieutenant, we’ll give you some time to reconsider your options.” 

“You’re not taking my leg.” You spat without hesitation. “I’d rather die than lose my leg, do you hear me?” You meant it with every fiber of your being. “I'd rather die, because without it I'd be just as good as dead.” 

This wasn’t supposed to happen to you, it was Hangman's session, it was his hop, his jet, his damn everything.

It should have been him. 

***~***~***~***~***~ 

You were going to lose your leg, you knew it. To have your leg amputated from the knee down would end your career. It would see a stop to all that you were trying to achieve. 

“I’m gonna go heat up some formula for Lila.” Your husband cooed as he leaned in the press a gentle kiss to your forehead. The two of them had caught the first flight out they could in order to be by your side. After all, it isn’t everyday you get a call to say your wife had been involved in a pretty catastrophic accident. But regardless of the prognosis—your husband Eric was as loving and as supportive as he could be. He knew however, what losing a limb meant for your career. “We’ll be right back.”

“Okay.” You replied as you settled in and pressed the pain relief button. The infection in your leg had taken a drastic turn in the last three days. You had held out as long as you could but alternately, you were scheduled for amputation at three. 

Your world had completely changed in one fell swoop. 

“Hey.” Jake's voice caught you off guard by the doorway, you’d drifted off as the medication that kept you from screaming the entire hospital down in utter agony coursed through your veins. “I uh—I bought these for you.” In his hand was a bunch of white Lilies, you could smell them from your bed. But you knew deep down they were just sympathy flowers to help soothe Jake's feelings. He felt guilty, but he didn’t feel remorse. “I saw your husband in the hallway.” With tentative steps, Jake stepped inside your room as your eyes lingered on his frame. He looked like hell. Again, nothing compared to you with all your cuts and scrapes and bruises. “I uh—“ It was the way he stumbled over his words that told you Jake wasn’t okay. The usual cock sure of himself aviator had dark bags under his eyes that told you he wasn’t sleeping—and the way he clutched the takeaway coffee up in his hand also told you that his caffeine intake had increased tenfold to keep him awake. “I feel like crap, it should’ve been me on that jet—believe me when I say that if I could trade places with you? I would.” 

You didn’t answer to begin with. Hell you weren’t even going to dignify him with a response like when he walked out of your room without a word three days prior. But as Jake looked at you with puppy dog eyes, he needed to be reminded that yes—yes this shouldn’t have been you. 

“I would let you.” You sighed. Jake wasn’t expecting that. He was sure you wouldn’t say something along the lines of ‘it’s okay, it wasn’t your fault.’ But no. He stood there with a chill so strong creeping up his spine as you laid in that hospital bed awaiting the surgery that would leave you with one less limb, and listened to every word you spoke. 

“I had that thought a lot too, and I didn’t like myself for it—but I did.” It was the honest truth, you’d spent hours upon hours thinking about it. “When I was out there, being crushed by debris, I just kept thinking about my husband and my baby and how you have no wife and no baby.” Jake didn’t speak, hell he was sure he wasn’t even breathing—but he was listening. “You have no one.” 

Jake Seresin wasn’t any easy person to get along with. Phoenix and Rooster had tried to tell you time and time again that under all the toxic male bravado and the cock sure attitude—Jake could be and was, a decent human being. But he’d never given you a reason to believe that he was nothing but an egotistical, arrogant, and selfish man. 

“I only went up there because I was pissed at you for being late.” You could remember it so clearly. How mad you were at Jake for being late to work. How if you didn’t get going you’d be forced to stay late and breastfeeding was already a mission in and of itself as it was. Being so far away from your baby girl meant you were pumping and dumping and freezing what you could. Jake being late was throwing you off your schedule. “So I kept wondering, while I was lying there just waiting for someone to come rescue me, that I was only there because he’s so selfish and so thoughtless.” 

You’d tried to like Hangman, time and time again you’d given him the benefit of the doubt. You’d even set him up with a friend of yours. But all he did was break her heart. Jake knew that you had tried, he’d given you every reason under the sun to hate him though. 

Why? 

Because what was the point in ever being close to you when he could never have you. The ring on your finger reminded him every day of the unattainable. 

“And no matter how hard I tried to make you better, you’re still a horrible person.” It was hard to take on the chin, but Jake took it. He only let the tears in his eyes well long enough to let you know that your words would forever remain with him. No matter where in the world he went or the people he’d eventually meet. He’d remember you, the woman who took his place when it so easily could have been him. “So now, I keep wondering—why this would happen to someone like me, instead of someone like you.” 

“You’re pissed off—I get it, I really do.” Jake finally answered you as he walked over to your bedside. “But I really am sorry for what happened, all of it.” Jake Seresin was a lot of things, but a liar wasn’t one of them. He truly was sorry—and he’d give anything to trade places.

“Yeah—yeah I guess you could say that I’m still pretty pissed off—“ You scoffed in return. Nothing Jake could say could change the past, could change what happened. He was lucky. He was the one who got to live out his life the way he always saw it playing out. The Hangman—always and forever leaving people high and dry. 

“So, with all that being said, Lieutenant Seresin, could you please get out of my fucking room.” 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***

Whumptober Tags 🏷️ @xoxabs88xox @oldermenaremyreligion @slut-f0r-u u @emma-is-cool @armydrcamers @topguncortez @topgun-imagines @kmc1989 @els-marvelvsp @blindedbythelightt

[cacti-are-like-flamingos]

Привет! Может быть, еще рано, но счастливых вам праздников. Я хотел бы спросить адвоката дьявола, когда они празднуют Рождество. Отдельно с пиратами и адмиралами. Или все вместе.🐣

Christmas time w/ Law, Thatch, and Luffy...

**You didn't specify which pirates in particular so I chose three at random (the ones in my list at least)

Characters are age-up or aged-down

I chose the three characters who would have vastly different Holiday traditions and what-not

Monkey D. Luffy

...

Luffy would likely take the crew to some snowy island so that all of you can properly celebrate Christmas--- Luffy's enthusiasm for Christmas would be infectious, getting everyone in high spirits for the upcoming celebration. There's no actual plan, you guys just go with the vibe. Doing it is whatever you want to do.

He's generally excited at the prospect of exploring the island with you, the whole way there he'd be beaming with so much energy. Rambling on the various things the two of you might find together as well as do together

Upon arriving Usopp quite literally dives off the side of the ship and into a pile of snow, which prompts Luffy to do the same. But not before glancing your way with a mischievous gleam in his eyes ("No. NO! LUFFY DON'T YOU DA-AH!")

You can't even find it in your heart to be mad, especially when he gives you that goofy grin of his --- as I said, his excitement is just so infectious. So much so you might as well be declared the most deceased person in all of the Blue Sea.

Also they all regretted not wearing winter clothing. The moment their bodies hit thee snow, they were scrambling to get back on the ship to warm up, your partner looking at you with a very apologetic grin as you dragged him into your shared room to look for some warm clothing

Almost all of the men, Sanji (he's in the town picking up the latest ingredients for the Christmas feast) and Brook (who was busy caroling Nami's ear off), have settled for a snow man competition. And boy, does it get competitive. Usopp's teamed up with Chopper to create a giant sized chopper, Frankie's chosen to do something that I couldn't even be able to describe, and Zoro, who teamed up with Luffy. Even though, he didn't even want to play in the first place. The only reason he joined was because Chopper had taunted him into it, and we all know Zoro is a man of pride (at times) Anyways, they chose to build a giant amalgamation of numerous animals --- apparently, it was suppose to look like a giraffe ??? not even close

You're role was to judge, alongside Robin. Both of you easily chose Usopp's and Chopper's. Earning curses and protest from the losers with Luffy shouting how he was betrayed by his own person.

This would then cause a snowball fight, the losers way of getting revenge on the winners and judges

As expected, the field became the equivalence of a blood bath. Especially after Luffy began using his Devil fruit powers to completely annihilate everyone with accurate precision.

Afterwards, a small break is called. Thank god because if you ahd to continue against the boy made of gum, you might as well have jumped into the sea yourself.

As Christmas neared, he'd seek you out more (not to say, he hadn't previously. He's legit like gum stuck to the bottom of your shoe.) It's just that, now the two of you can have more privacy. The inhabitants of the island are busy with their winter festivals, there's no enemies to chase them away, no pesky marines to annoy the, and the rest of the crew were preoccupied with said festivals--- the perfect opportunity for a getaway

Their footsteps would leave a trail in the snow as they explore the tranquil winter landscape hand in hand, with him dragging you around like an excited child. Wonderment in his eyes as he gaze around his new surroundings, never once letting go of you

Eventually, he calms down. (I'd imagine you'd have to be someone rather composed. the type of person who could bring him down to earth when it was necessary but could easily jump as high as he could and reach for the stars with him.)

You talk about their dreams, hopes for the future --- he'll share stories about his childhood, back when he liveed with his brothers and Dan Dan. About some of the adventures you missed and of the people he's met, all while having you wrapped around him. (He's clingy)

I'll end this with you dishing out your revenge by puhsing him into the snow when he least expected it --- what you didn't but should've expected was him stretching his arm out to pull you to his side, laughing as you squealed.

You and Luffy laughed heartily as you both laid down side by side in the soft snow. An idea struck you, and with childlike delight, you moved your arms and legs in perfect rhythm, creating snow angels together. You enjoyed the simple pleasure of the moment, laughing and lightly poking each other, feeling the contrast between the cold snow beneath you and the warmth you felt for one another.

"We should do this again next Christmas!"

...

Thatch

...

Christmas with Thatch is both a curse and a blessing, mainly a blessing considering that he tries to make it fun for you despite it being a rather stressful time for him (from the ass crack of dawn to like the darkness of the night, he's up about slaving away in the kitchen to get the feast in order)

The Whiteboard Pirates don't do single-feast, that is a known fact. But even during the holidays, things become a bit more exaggerated than usual

A little tradition of yours includes a boat ride and fishing (I've never fished once in my life, all my knowledge comes from that the guy from River Monsters nor do I really like cooking but I used to watch MasterChef so like ye)

Thatch takes you on a small fishing trip just a ways from the ship --- you'd sit across from him, a beach hat over your head as you observe him fish away. Sometimes, you fish alongside him, and much to his surprise, the big fishes always seem to bite down on your line instead of his

(Side note: The crew have a designated boat for the couple that they like to re-decorate depending on the holiday. So rn the ship is decorated with Christmas colors and some ribbons here and there. It looks ridiculous but it's how they show their support for your relationship)

So much so that the crew has a little bet established every time they see Thatch with his fishing supplies --- everyone except a few hopefuls bet on you catching the most (the bet only occurs if they see you without the blue parasol. Having the blue parasol implies that you plan to laze around)

The two of you will talk about everything and anything while on your little fishing trip, from Ace's shenanigans to the craziest meals some of the crew have previously ordered

Once you both return from the fishing trip with a bountiful seafood haul in hand, Thatch leads you back into the ship's kitchen (which is completely decked out with Winter decorations, there's even a giant Christmas tree Marco had to bring it using his phoenix form since you were all still in the middle of the ocean), where the two of you would begin cooking under the soft glow of moonlight.

As your relationship first started, Thatch noticed how you enjoyed watching him cook, yet there was a desire in you to actively participate in his favorite activity. So he gave you a special role --- the keeper of spices and seasonings! (You're also like his Christmas radio channel, you're always softly singing while he's cooking. Sometimes, while he waits for something to cook, he'll pull you around the counter to dance as you sing. Him humming along to the song with a grin)

He'd line up the various spice containers on the wooden counter in front of you, and so, whenever Thatch asked for a particular seasoning, you'd happily give it to him. Over time, you've developed an intuitive understanding of his cooking needs, even predicting which seasoning he requires before he can say anything (an ability that makes him beam with great pride)

Although, the only time you get a more active role in cooking is when he starts making the desserts --- you literally jump out of your seat the moment you see him pull out the flour and sugar to make gingerbread cookies or what-not

Thatch playfully teases you whenever you add the spices, telling you you're not just adding seasoning but "a pinch of love" to the dishes

As a quirky and endearing tradition, Thatch always lets you take the first bite of any dish he prepared --- Haruta and the other division Commanders try to steal some cookies and sweets while Thatch is distracted with you, though it always ends in failure because somehow the man has eyes on the back of his head

Eventually, Christmas come around. Thatch is finally free from the kitchen so he'll come out onto the deck to find you. It's Vista who points him over to where you are, leaning by Pop's, re-telling a story from your past with a grin on your lips as you make the old man laugh out loud

Seeing his son come his way, Whitebeard would nudge you forward into the cook's direction, a knowing smile on his lips as he catches the eye of the ship's musician and make the go-ahead signal

Next thing you know, a slow song comes on

The crew had transformed the deck into a dance floor, most of the crew is drunkenly dancing around, alcohol in their hands as they laugh around

On the other hand, Thatch pulls you close for a slow dance, murmuring sweet-nothings into the skin of your temple as you sway about.

"Merry Christmas, sugar..."

...

Trafalgar D. Law

...

Christmas and Law had me thinking for a bit. On one hand, from what I remember about his characterization, he might not like it. On other other hand, I think he's gone through enough character development to give in into the crews desire to celebrate the holiday

Especially if you're also the one asking to celebrate it

Despite the limited space in the submarine, Law surprises you by bringing a small, decorated Christmas tree onboard. The crew helps in setting it up, and they all contribute tiny handmade ornaments (they had to get hella resourceful with this) to add a personal touch.

I don't know what they're called but Shachi and Bepo made those uh paper people shapes (?) While Penguin made snowflakes to hang around

The sight of his submarine decorated so ridiculously does irritate Law just a tad bit, but the sight of your smile is enough to ease it away

Bepo, Penguin, and the rest of the crew take it upon themselves to sneakily plant mistletoes all over the ship ---, in places you and Law are likeliest to cross at the same time

Whenever Law and Catalina share a kiss under the mistletoe, the crew cheers and claps. Wolf whistling as they blush like perverts warning them a harsh glare from their Captain, who holds you close to him in efforts to protect you from their unruliness

In private, Law decides to inform you that he's done a little something to make the holidays a bit more fun (he actually says this rather mockingly/teasingly) he's hidden all of your presents around the sub, and your job is to find them without anyone's help (you still find gifts even AFTER the holidays are over)

You surprise Law with a shit ton of gifts, with each one his eyebrows twitch uncontrollably. Face blushing a bright red as he loudly scolds you for buying him too many things yet, at the same time, he can't really complain because the things you got him are incredibly practical

Law doesn't like bread so you try your best to find Christmas recipes that don't involve it --- so Christmas time becomes the time where you make a ton of flans, puddings, meringues, and what-not. Although you do make him some onigiri painstakingly shaped into Christmas trees, which he is very appreciative of

After the festivities, Law takes you to the submarine's observation deck, where you gaze at the stars together. You sit between his legs laying your body against his chest, head on his shoulder as you murmur random facts about the stars whilst he tells you random facts about the human body. A little habit of you guys came up with long ago

"The amount of gifts you gave me was ridiculous, ya...thank you"

...

(A/N): I don't really celebrate Christmas so this was a bit of a struggle but like hopefully it still satisfy you. Also sorry for such a late reply, shit happened.

Anyways

Hope you enjoyed!

[jake-whatthefisgoingon-kiszka]

Prologue

Pairings: Danny Wagner X Sam Kiszka (eventually) ***slash

Warnings and tags: For this part none, but this story as per my usual content is 18+ only, no minors need been reading. Overall themes will be heavy rivalry, bit of enemies to lovers, probably some smut at the end, college AU, tennis team AU, I’ll update warnings with each part

Word count: ~700

“Here are the locker rooms. I think there’s still one open locker on the top row, you can have it since you’re tall. We can make a label with your name for it, but I’d invest in a lock too. Even though most of the guys here are cool I wouldn’t risk it you know”.

Danny nodded his head in understanding as he continued to follow the club president around. Although this was already his second week at the new university, he had missed the last practice for some other enrollment activities, so he’d made it a point to arrive early today and was greeted warmly with a quick tour before the others started to arrive.

“I noticed there’s only a few courts out there. How many players do we have on the team?” Danny questioned, making sure to stay involved in the tour so that he came off as genuinely interested.

The club president, Adam as he had introduced himself to Danny earlier, ushered him along to the opposite wall of the locker room which contained a large cork board full of fliers and notices. “The team has three groups. Junior varsity, they practice on Tuesdays” he pointed at one of the papers with a list of names on it.

“Varsity is larger, so it’s split into two. We practice on Wednesday and Thursday, team A and team B respectively, and on Fridays coach trains one on one”. His finger shifted to the next paper which contained two columns. All of the names were written in pencil, and Danny could tell a few of them towards the bottom had been erased and rewritten a few times.

“Is there a system to who ends up with which group, or is it just random?” Danny looked over the list, finding his name freshly written in on the paper under the column which read Team B.

Adam chuckled, like he was in on some joke Danny was currently unaware of. “Yeah, there is. We call these the ladder. You’re at the bottom now because you’re new. To climb the ladder you have to challenge the other players to matches. So if you want to move up a rank,” he glanced at the page quickly, noticing the name written just above Danny’s, “you have to play a challenge match against Zach. If you win, you take Zach’s place and if you lose then you both stay where you’re at. Once you’ve climbed the ladder on Team B then you can start practicing with Team A”.

Danny examined the page once more, counting all the names that were listed before his. Eleven. “Do you have to go in order? Or can I just challenge whoever I want and take their spot?”

“You climb a ladder one step at a time buddy” Adam laughed harder, clapping Danny on the shoulder like he was wishing him all the best of luck. “Oh, and to make it official there has to be a witness to your challenge match. If you don’t get one then it doesn’t count. I can help you out with the first few matches since I’m not busy right now, but soon you’ll need to start making some acquaintances on the team”.

“How early are you available?” Danny continued to ask questions, already clearing his own schedule in his mind. “Can we set something up for this weekend? Say Saturday afternoon?”

“Sure, I’ll let Zach know, make sure he’s game” Adam replied, crossing his arms over his chest with a smile. He was impressed by Danny’s up and get ‘em attitude, already able to tell it was going to be a real pleasure to have him on the team.

“Zach and Dylan” Danny added the guy on the ladder above Zach as well. “I’ll play them both”.

“Two challenge matches in one day? You sure you’re up for that?”

“Have to be” Danny assured him, “if I’m going to be at that number 1 spot by the end of the month”.

He looked at the ladder for Team A one last time before getting ready for practice, familiarizing himself with his goal, the name at the very top of the list clear as day like it had been written there once and never moved.

Sam Kiszka.

A/N: as always if you would like to be tagged let me know! ☺️

[koolades-world]

Spellbound Secrets

chapter six: garden chat

synopsis: The House of Lamentation caught fire one night, and you were the only one they recovered from the wreckage. The brothers were in the house as well when you went to bed that night, but they were nowhere to be found. The pact marks are faded, and seem to be getting more and more indefinite by the day. You and Solomon get to investigating but oddly enough, nobody can seem to remember the missing brothers. It’s up to you, with the help of Solomon, to find your beloved demons, lest you never see them again.

navigation: playlist | prologue | chapter one | chapter two | chapter three | chapter four | chapter five | chapter six (you are here!) | chapter seven (coming next saturday)

authors note: most of these a/s are just me apologizing now but sorry this chapter is shorter than usual. I thought about getting out the plot point in this chapter and just making it longer. but honestly it's just easier for me to do it this way. i might make the next chapter a little longer as an extra apology. classes have been eating up all my time, like i thought it would haha. huge thank you to my like, eight consistent readers of this fic <3 you're all the best

"You were there?" You didn't remember much yourself, but you assumed your memories weren't tampered with, like everyone else's had been.

"I was. Which raises the question: why would I forget that night? Nobody else seemed to remember the brothers. We were only concerned about getting you to safety. If I had already forgotten about the brothers, what was the point of forgetting that night too?" The gardens settled into an eerie absences of noise. The two of you couldn't look anywhere but at each other.

"What happened?" You finally spoke. He seemed to understand what you were referring to, and winced a little.

"Are you sure you want to know?" He asked.

"I need to know if we want to get to the bottom of this." You drew in a deep, shaky breath, preparing yourself for what he was about to tell you.

"You're right." He then began to describe what the night had been like from his perspective. The reasoning of why you were at the House of Lamentation matched that of what Diavolo had told you, even though now you both knew that that couldn't be the case. He remembered waking up to an unusually strained sounding Barbatos, who told him the news. He then woke up Simeon, who decided to stay behind with Luke, since neither of them wanted him to see that. The next thing he vividly remembered was rushing to the House of Lamentation and being mesmerized by the odd flames. He described them as a peachy color, and in the center, where it was the hottest, it was a pale pink. That alone told the both of you that it couldn't have been an ordinary fire.

"I don't get it. Why would you forget that?" You took in a deep breath and wracked your brain for any sort of explanation.

"That's exactly it. It makes no sense. That, along with a few other details makes me think something more nefarious is at play." Solomon's eyes narrowed.

"I know the brothers have their enemies, but I don't think any of them could even be capable of something like this. How powerful do you need to be to even get the Demon Lord himself to forget the existence his right hand man?" You thought aloud.

"I have a couple more proposals of where we can from here. We'll come back to that previous point later." You were glad he seemed to have a plan. You honestly wouldn't even know where to start without him.

"I'm listening." You put your coffee to the side. You were no longer interested in drinking it.

"Jumping off what you said, we should look into those who openly hated the brothers before everything happened. It might be interested to read about them now, considering they now no longer hate them."

"How would we find all of them? All we have is our own memories. They're not bad by any means, but there's no way we would both know about all of them."

"I actually have a list, back at my house in the human world. So, in case you were wondering, our trip is still on!" He smiled at you.

"I won't ask why you have that." You knew Solomon. With him, you always had to expect the unexpected. Keeping tabs on enemies wasn't unheard of, but it was only a little odd considering some of them likely had no clue who he was.

"We can also research that particular color of fire. It has to be connected to the nature of your injuries. The doctors had no explanation, so maybe we can find it ourself."

"Alright, we can do that. I don't mind doing more reading." You were actually quite excited at the thought of finding an answer. You didn't know if your burns would behave more like a normal burn, or if they'd remain just as they were for the rest of your life. If the latter was the case, answers would be more than welcome if you'd have to be stuck with them.

"To better help answer our questions, it would be best to go to the source."

"Go to the source?" Your heart sunk. You knew it had been briefly mentioned before, but you hadn't even begun to process what that might entail. You weren't sure if you could do it.

"I've probably said it before, but you don't need to come with me. I don't know how you're feeling, but I'd be an awful person if I made you." He said. He knew you too well.

"I'll think about it." You told him.

"Take your time. I don't need an answer right now. Don't feel obligated to say yes, either." He reached out across the table to take your hand. He stroked the back of your hand with his thumb. It felt so right to have your fingers interlocked with his.

"Thanks." You'd said that word lots of times over the past few days, but you meant it equally every single time.

"Don't mention it. I think that's everything I wanted to talk about. Do you have anything you want to add?" Solomon paused.

After thinking for a moment, you responded. "I know it's too early into our investigation to tell, but I hope where ever the brothers are, they're safe. I know things aren't looking great right now, but that won't stop me from hoping."

"They're strong. Where ever they are, we'll find them. When we put our minds to something, there's nothing that can stop us." Solomon sounded optimistic. You were glad it was him by your side. You knew you could depend on him, and would do so without hesitation. Even if it wasn't the case, things just seemed easier when he was by your side.

"I know I just said I'd think about it, but I want to go with you." You responded with a newfound confidence.

"Where'd this come from?" Solomon asked.

"You, of course."

tags list: @bagofmice

[therulerofallpotatos]

Hannigram Fic Rec List

In no particular order, some hannigram fics I recommend

This is in response to @cassyglenn 's post from a few hours ago I just saw.

So Delicate the Bones by unrealshrike

Summary:

After her father's unsolved disappearance, sixteen-year-old Adeline finds herself at the mercy of a new school, serial killers, FBI agents, and an unorthodox psychiatrist. Meanwhile, Hannibal wants to provide Will with a child after the fatal incident at the Hobbs’ home, and who better than his opportune new patient?

Chp 26/26 Word Count: 177,096 Words

So Delicate the Bones is one of those special fics in this fandom that introduces an original character into the main cast that is both genuinely interesting on their own and fits in with the established ensemble seamlessly. The story is riveting and I was sucked into it almost immediately. I highly recommend this. My bookmark notes (which I design specifically for me) were: An absolute epic of a novel. Adeline/Addie/Del

The Voices and the Shadows by darlinghogwarts, MaddyHughes, and slashyrogue

Summary:

“The Chesapeake Ripper? The serial killer? That's a grisly thing to find at the bottom of a drink. Most people say oblivion ...or possibly sex.” Hannibal sips his wine again. “Why are you thinking about a murderer on your birthday, Will? Is it part of your degree?”   “He is a part of my degree by my own choice. My supervisor didn’t approve, but…” He sighs. “I insisted.” AU where Will—a Masters student studying the Chesapeake Ripper—gets drunk on his birthday and meets an intriguing man at the bar.

Chp 36/36 Word Count: 114,625

My personal bookmark note that I wrote in 2017 when I made this bookmark: The sweetest slowest most infuriating and beautiful burn you will ever experience.

In all honesty I read this in high school when I first started reading Hannibal fanfiction. I might've even read this before watching the show. That said, I don't make a note like that lightly. I only ever write notes like these when I want to remind a me years in the future why I bookmarked something in the first place. Some of the best novels I've read were a handful of fics that I'd make that note for. I know that this enthralled me, sucked me in. I was invested. I was glued to it for days. If this were another fandom, I might expect for it to hit softer if I were to reread it now, but Hannigram in particular has a habit of hitting just as hard at 25 years old as it did at 17 years old.

Light Up the Torches by HigherMagic

Summary:

"We need to find out who this rogue agent is," Sutcliffe says. "Right now, I think it would be fair to assume they're one of ours or our allies', since only our enemies are being killed." Hannibal nods. "Hold briefings with all your captains," he tells them. "I want no stone unturned. Tell them that whoever is doing this will not come to harm; I would very much like to meet them."

Chp 1/1 Word Count: 7,197

My bookmark note was: Oh fuck yes

It must have been delightful. I know myself well enough to know this is just a good time to be had.

The Living Doll by Anna_Jay

Summary:

Will is aware of what he's getting himself into when he buys the dreaded Doll House. Because of the cursed doll, no one has been able to stay longer than a month. He doesn't mind. Perhaps death would be kind after everything he's been through. Over the next few days Will finds himself attached to the strange doll he's named Hannibal. After all, it is just a doll. Right?

Part 2/3 Chp 9/9 Word Count: 35,675

The Living Doll is a 3 part series in which part 2 is the bulk of the story. The link above is for the series so you can easily start at the beginning. This is hands down one of my favorite fics. Ever. Like across all fandoms. actually no. it's one of my favorite novellas I've ever read period. I actually wrote my own haunted ball joint doll fic for a completely different fandom because of this fic's inspiration (it is nowhere near as good but I can share it if you're interested I suppose. It's still a very different story). It's creepy. It's romantic. It's intense and classic. It could easily get picked up by Blumhouse Productions and make a very good movie out of it. If you read anything on this list, read this.

Darling, Don't Be So Shy by murdergatsby

Summary: Will is a paranormal investigator with a special gift. Hannibal is a demon swelling with boredom. Their meeting was supposed to lead to a simple exorcism, but Will has a nasty habit of getting attached.

Chp 13/13 Word Count: 34,571

This was also one of my first Hannigram fics I read back in high school. I adored this fic. I'm a big fan of haunting each other/possession/melding each other into one type dynamics and their distinct dynamic in this story drew me in like a moth to a flame. i read it more than once and saved it here for safekeeping. I will likely reread it after finishing this list.

How to Save a Life (The Cannibal-Friendly Handbook) by KittenDiamore

Summary:

There’s a man looking up at Will, who has clearly been distracted from - Oh. Throwing limbs into the river. Human limbs. Lovely, he thinks sarcastically. Then he thinks it again because it actually is kind of lovely. The man looks confident. At ease with what he is. He’s kinda hot, too. Or: Will tries to jump off a bridge but ends up offering himself up to a cannibalistic serial killer...as you do.

Chp 1/1 Word Count: 3,463

For a shorter rec, this is a delightful little one-shot with a different first meeting (I love different first meeting fics). Delightful premise. Delightful follow through. Had this in my bookmarks for years as well.

There is also one more fic I was expecting to find in my bookmarks and now am going to ask anyone to help me find because it isn't there. There was a series that I read early on (probably 2017) that was about Hannibal who had a 10yo son at the time of the show. The story evolved into a series that was about that son and it deserved to be. It was one of those special projects where an original character naturally stole the show and we were reading to see where his story would take him more than anything else. These were novels and they were epic and I would love to get my hands on it again. This child was cunning and devoted to his father and his own personal ambitions. Any help finding this fic and any fics similar to it would be extremely welcome.

Oh! and a link to my bookmarks as well because there are more fics there. I just listed the ones that stood out the most/that I remembered enough to write my own spiel about them. I have not actually read every single fic I've marked, but even those are interesting enough that I saved them for later.

[nardos-primetime]

Boy howdy okay *cracks knuckles* I'm gonna forewarn this with my takes on the turtles and Murder is not exactly the popular opinion so take it as you will.

First and foremost for any of the turtles to commit a PREMEDITATED murder (assuming we are talking strictly canon) the only one who would actually plan and go through with this is Leo. "What about Donnie?" No. He wouldn't. Leo on the other hand has shown the kind of rage he goes into not only when his family is in explicit danger but when he believes someone is specifically responsible for that. I don't think murder would be the first thing he jumps to, and it would take quite the scenario for it to wrap around to that (i.e. and enemy that keeps coming back and hurting them) but it's not off the table.

This makes him also number one to kill someone due to a fit of protective anger. So like, if you're gonna taunt a hamato while playing with their lives I wouldn't recommend doing so without knowing where Leo is.

And second is Raph, kind of a similar scenario, but I think Raph's would stem more from fear than direct anger. Frightened that if he doesn't do something, things will get worse, and in a fit of panicked rage well...

Third is Mikey, shocker. It would take a LOT to snap Mikey into a state where he's pissed off enough to actually kill someone but like, we DID see his reaction to his favorite pizza places getting torn down. I feel if at any point he concluded there was no longer a peaceful solution to a fight, he'd bring down the axe.

And my unpopular opinion is that Donnie is at the bottom of this list. MAINLY because he has so many other methods at his disposal to handle enemies. Knock them unconscious, leak all their nudes, dig up tons of blackmail, toss a bomb that makes them itch. Sure he also gets protective anger, but he almost never feels the need to resort to murder to solve a problem. And also, in some cases, he would just think death is a mercy. I truly don't think Donnie would kill someone with intent, but it could happen accidentally.

None of this counts kraang as people all these turtles will exploded these bitches on sight.

TW FOR MURDER, OBVIOUSLY LOL

I did tag for blood but idk

Some Doodles for fun, didn't really have ideas for the other two since I mainly wanted to respond to the concepts overall hehe.

Coming from an overall concept of Canon and it being premeditated and more of a separate kill, I agree that Leo is first in line for that shit. Though, I do feel like he'd have the most potential alongside Donnie to actually get away with it after the fact.

The difference with Donnie is exactly as you said. Donnie's petty. If he WERE to do something premeditated, he would absolutely go for other methods first, maybe even torture if we're hitting something similar to murder. Physical or Psychological. I feel like the difference with a more Canon approach of Donnie is that he would kill on accident. Whether it's going too far in a fight or his tech malfunctioning, I doubt he'd directly go into a fight with murder as the actual intent. Even if he did use other methods, I feel like the most likely case is him accidentally going too far. Especially since we know he has issues with that already.

Leo is one of the most directly dangerous. If he deemed it, you would be easy to get. We're talking about a fast runner with portals and two perfectly sharp swords. He's also good a good manipulator if he really wants to be. It's not hard to imagine him talking someone out of an area of protection if he can't be asked to use mystics that time.

Raph, I agree completely. It would be a mixture of anger and fear that pushes him to that point. He probably wouldn't tell the others. I can't see him planning something out prior and telling the others, I think he'd be afraid of judgment and maybe even fear from the others the most, even if he was doing it for their protection. I feel like overall, he leans the most between accidental and nonaccidental, I could definitely see both happening with him.

Mikey would totally be the most difficult to get to that point, and I agree that it would probably only be if he saw no other way out. But I also think Mikey would be the first to take this kind of position in a battle for some god forsaken reason. I feel like in the heat of the moment, his brothers would be too focused on protecting each other or getting out of there, I can totally see Mikey freezing realizing what has to be done before the others. Leo wouldn't kill anything mid battle on purpose, that's far too risky, Raph and Donnie as I've said prior are likely to have accidents in such a scenario, Mikey would be the only one I can see putting his foot down intentionally in a battle for some reason. Even if his view of the situation is incorrect. Which ironically means he would probably be the most likely one to get caught. (If he didn't crumble under guilt later.)

I feel like in terms of getting caught with the others, Raph would crumble under the guilt as well, likely being the second from Mikey to get caught. Third would be Donnie, as much as he might be able to clean up after himself at first, but without any support in his endeavors and the fact they almost all may be accidents, I think he'd get cocky.

Leo would potentially get lazy, too. Or maybe stop caring when under the context of the others already getting caught. Hell, Leo's extremely adrenaline junky coded imo. Maybe a few of his kills became less reasonable and more him shoving excuses in after getting too comfortable. But by the point the others are all taken in, assuming they can't get out, Leo would probably have one last hoorah in a feeble attempt to break them out. If he ends up doing it, he'd look like a monster but have his brothers back. If he doesn't... well with their luck, they'll at least get cells kind of near each other.

Of course, there are multiple ways to read into things. This is obviously leaning in on a more Canon approach. If we were involving a few more headcanons from me, Donnie would definitely go up to number 2 in danger on the list, lol /hj

[originalwombatfart]

Echo Visual Novel Playlist!

Hey all! Last year I played Echo, and by god has it stuck with me. From the story, art, characters, and generally just how naturally all the queer stuff felt during my time reading. I highly suggest anyone who had not played it yet to check it out, but be warned it is not for the faint of heart!

My and my partner made this playlist over the course of 4 months! It had 4 hours of songs that we tried to fit into vibes, characters, and themes. Here is my breakdown of what each song fits to. A in depth breakdown would be it's own video essay so the breakdown is imperfect, but I think this cover most of them well enough. Of course some songs are put into multiple categories and it's easy to understand why.

-Chase: Bottom of the River, Christmas Kids, Spanish Sahara, I Scared All My Friends Away, Underwater, Blood On My Name, Same Drugs, Little Secrets, The view Between Villages, Am I Dreaming,

-Jenna: Piano Fire, Fast Car, My Silver Lining, Re: Re:, Distance, Facebook Drama, Nothing You Can Take From Me, Best Friend

-Leo: Christmas Kids, Ribs, Cha-Ching, 27 Reasons, Got You, Same Drugs, I Love You So, Favorite Poison, Two Birds

-TJ: Christmas Kids, The Good, Lions Roar

-Carl: You are Stronger, Tree House, Close Tonight, Numbers, 2/14, Cold Weather, The Dead Come Talking, Fall Asleep, Tongue Tied, Panic Attack, I haunt ur dreams

-Flynn: Bottom of the River, Turn the Lights off, Wild Side, I Scared All My Friends Away, Allies or Enemies, Blood On My Name, Key Plus Words, Never Love an Anchor, Can't Catch Me Now, A Toast and A Spirit, Dirty Little Secrets, Panic Attack

-Sydney: Underwater, Allies or Enemies, Can't Catch Me Now, Unconditional Love, The Dead Come Talking, Father, I haunt ur dreams

-Brian: Lovely Bastards

-Tetanus Alley Gang: Cause for Concern, Remember Me

-The Group as a whole: No Instructions, I'd rather go blind, Nothing's New, Photos from When We Were Young, One Day, Running Away, Everyone's a VIP to Someone, Normal People Things, Escapism, Theseus (Good Endings), Hey Lover, Nevermind Everything is Okay, Circles,

-Town of Echo: Everything Stays, Bullet With Butterfly Wings, Hanging Tree, No Glory in the West, Muddy Waters, Breakers Roar, Never Be Alone

-Vibes: You're Not Here, Theme of Laura, Space Song, Beyond Desolation (Bad Endings), dream (they do be dreaming), Serenity

Overall Very proud of the work we put in! A few songs didn't make the cut, but I am satisfied with the list we have. Four hours is a lot! Let me know if you wan individual explanations on why we put a song on the list.

Edits: (update list and added songs to certain categories)

[one-vivid-judgment]

Remember when I said I was gonna dice into the differences between the Eng and Spanish subs of Infinite Wealth?

WELL WAKE UP BABE, IT'S TIME FOR 'Vicky analyzes language differences'!!

Believe me when I say I would've loved to start this by dwelling on character interactions and whatnot, but as it turns out, that is a VERY time-consuming task and I'm still working on it (can you believe the Eiji-Kasuga interactions in chapter 2 ALONE take up 25 Word pages? Between Spanish subs-English translation of Spanish subs-English subs? Yeah, crazy). So, for now, let's focus on something else!

The chapter titles

As we all know by now, the English names of the chapters are all based on Elvis songs. In previous RGG games (and by that I mean the ones who actually have Spanish versions: LAD, Judgment and LJ), the chapter titles were all direct translations of their English counterparts. However, this doesn't happen in IW for the reason listed above; the meaning would pretty much be diluted, even if many Spanish speakers DO know about Elvis and have listened to his music. So, what did they do for the Spanish version:

Simple! Change the titles to Spanish songs (oldies, mostly) who convey a similar meaning. Or, as we'll see with chapter 1, a radically opposite meaning to the original, but which highlights a different side of the chapter itself/the characters personalities.

This would be a PRETTY long post if I talked about every chapter here. So, for now, let's focus on just one per post, yeah? Starting up...

In English: Doin’ the best I can

In Spanish: Voy a pasármelo bien (I’m gonna have some fun)

The songs chosen are pretty much opposites in terms of... everything, really.

In the English version, we have a very mellow Elvis song. It’s more about heartbreak than anything else, which is pretty fitting when you think about what happens in the chapter. Ichiban is living the life, with a stable job and carrying on Arakawa’s legacy (Doin' the best he can), he scores a date with Saeko and they have fun. It all comes crashing down afterwards though: Saeko rejects him then ghosts him for a year, he is exposed by the Tatara Channel and loses his job, and he goes from being ‘the hero of Yokohama’ to being at rock bottom again. At some point, after being fired, Ichiban says “Everything is back to how it used to be.” He tried his best, but it wasn’t enough (“I’ll be a dreamer, I’ll be a fool”, “Doin’ the best I can but it’s not good enough for you”).

Overall, the vibe of it is more about what goes wrong rather than the good things that happen.

Then there is the Spanish version picking a very hype song from Hombres G, a band that was very popular here in the 80s (they are still active, if anyone is interested, and they have many iconic songs under their belts. We still quote "Sufre, mamón" ('Suffer, asshole') to this day where I'm from).

The vibe is the complete opposite:

Hoy me he levantado dando un salto mortal 

Echado un par de huevos a mi sartén

Dando volteretas he llegado al baño

Me he duchado y he despilfarrado el gel

Porque hoy algo me dice

Que voy a pasármelo bien

(Today I woke up doing somersaults / threw a couple eggs in my pan / doing cartwheels I made it to the bathroom / I showered and wasted the shower gel / Cause today something tells me / that I’m gonna have some fun)

Sé que tengo algunos enemigos

Pero esta noche no podrán contar conmigo

Porque voy a convertirme en hombre lobo

Me he jurado a mí mismo que no dormiré solo

(I know I have some enemies / But tonight they can count me out / Cause I’m gonna turn into a werewolf / I swore to myself I won’t be sleeping alone)

Voy a cogerme un pedo'e los que hacen afición

Me iré arrastrando a casa con la sonrisa puesta

Mañana ya, si puedo, dormiré la siesta

Pero esta noche no, esta noche no

(I’m gonna get shit-faced like never before / I’ll drag myself back home with a smile still on / Tomorrow, if I can, I’ll take a nap / But not tonight, not tonight)

So yes, this song is all about the positive vibes before it all comes crashing down. Even so, after things do go sideways, Kasuga is still smiling and not letting it get to him (at most, he feels like shit because he dragged Adachi and Nanba down with him). The song goes very well, not only with the ‘happy’ part of the chapter, but also with Kasuga’s personality in general. Especially the “I know I have some enemies, but they can count me out.” Cause boy does Kasuga have enemies after the Tatara exposé. And even after all that, what he is worried about is how his actions affect other people, his vibes are that pure.

Overall, I would say that, although the vibes are completely different, it works as a sort of contrast. English goes for the ‘downfall’ and the sensation of failing even after trying your best not to, which is was Kasuga was trying to do employing former yakuza through Hello Work; meanwhile, Spanish chooses to go for a more light-hearted, slightly unserious tone that just so happens to perfectly match Kasuga’s personality and how he chooses to see the good side of things despite being back at rock bottom.

[astrobolical]

A (Hopefully) Helpful Guide to What in "Hell" is Bad?

Part 2 - My Devils, Levelling, Skills, and Artifacts

Last Updated: Nov 2, 2023

I have a mild love of documentation (okay, it’s a problem) and I find it fun— so here we go! I’ve hopefully written out most of the options you’ll encounter while playing, as I know it’s been a confusing start with the game coming out in the state that it did.

And let’s be real here, most gacha-style games can feel overwhelming at first, especially if you’re new to them overall. It happens, and with all the questions I’ve seen floating about, I wanted to maybe help someone out, as well as have some fun. Or this’ll flop, either way, still fun.

There will absolutely be things I’ve missed, or glossed over— or even gotten wrong— so feel free to ask about anything, tell me things, or correct me.

For full transparency— I have spent money on this game, but I have not “whaled” whatsoever. I wanted to test certain things, and I have a strong sense of curiousity.

Looking for another part of the game? Check out the other parts:

Part 1 - General Overview, Achievements and Contracts

Part 2 - You Are Here!

Part 3 - Chapters, Levels and Dark Sanctuary

Part 4 - Unit Types, Elements, Battle Boards & Battle Tips

Part 5 - Shop, Secret Shop, Inventory and Management

Part 6 - Secret Club (Adore), Secret Club (Unholy Board), Hell-Oh! Talk

Now, let's continue!

My Devils - General

For now, lets start with a general overview of the options you have— because there’s quite a few. We’ll delve more into levelling and upgrades soon. There’s a lot going on here, so I’ll give a brief explanation.

Information - Left Side

Name of the Devil (L-Grade devils tend to have an indicative word of the pose or version of them, as there will be multiple of them going forward)

Paraphilia - What gets that devil going

A brief explanation of who they are

The upside down crosses represent how many duplicates you’ve used to Evolve them (in this case, I’ve gotten four additional copies of Beelzebub)

Their rank and their current level

Their type— Light, fire, water, etc

Their range/style of fighting — in Beelzebub’s case he’s close range, but there’s others we’ll get to later when discussing battle

Stats — their current stats, such as attack, HP, their speed and how many enemies they are capable of blocking at once

Finally, icons that indicate their abilities— L-Grade’s have three of these, their normal attack, ultimate and a passive ability — we’ll elaborate soon

Information - Center

Floating next to the character is the artifact that’s currently equipped— if empty, the devil currently has none

The devil’s image

The first of the three square icons along the bottom, with the dripping heart, indicates the devils’ current affection/friendship level— this is raised by using them in battle (you unlock information, voice lines, comics, keys and tears through using them in battle)

The winking face will show you different expressions and voice lines as you unlock them through use

The magnifying glass will let you see their art fully, if applicable

Information - Right

In the top-right, you can use the options here to sort and choose to not show certain devil grades for ease of searching

A list of all devils you currently have, you can scroll through to see the information for each of them

A count of your devils out of all current devils available (for me 55/62)

They are ordered by rarity by default

Information - Bottom Options

Here’s where we’ll get into a lot more detail— I’m going to break these out into their own individual sections, so let’s get started!

My Devils - Raise

There’s some duplicate information on the left; so I’m not going to run through that again.

One difference, though, is that it shows you what the devil’s stats/level will become when you upgrade them.

What do you need?

All items that are required can be found along the right-hand side of the Raise screen, for levelling it’s simply Pure Gold and Crowley’s Magic Books (don’t worry if you don’t know where to get these yet!)

It shows you the Amount Required / Amount Possessed (i.e. 1,765 Pure Gold is required, and I have 769,263)

You can’t level in bulk, so be prepared to click level up as many times as you need/can— you can interrupt them while they talk, though! (I don’t suggest levelling devils like Phenix with your volume on if you’re not alone… just a warning!)

I’ve reached a milestone! What do I do?

Congrats— you’ve reached the first step of promotion! I’ll use Sitri for this example, because he’s still at level 20 for me.

To Promote a devil, it requires a bit more than just Gold and Books. Actually, it requires one of the most finite and slow resources you’ll find in WHB— Tears of Solomon!

It also requires a significant increase of Gold and Books— so you may need to do some grinding, but don’t worry I’ll tell you how soon if you don’t know. I’ll also talk about the items you find in this game further down.

You cannot continue to level until you promote your devil— and they will reach another milestone at 40, etc.

The costs will continue to raise as your devils get stronger. I highly suggest choosing a few to focus on, rather than attempting to do everyone at once.

Where do I find these items?

I'll be covering this in more detail when I reach these areas, but here's a basic breakdown.

Pure Gold - Completing levels, achievements, but primarily through Dark Sanctuary

Crowley's Books - Completing levels, achievements, but primarily through Dark Sanctuary

Tears of Solomon - Daily/Weekly Achievements, Daily Sign In Rewards, Shop, Various Mission Rewards (Look below for more details)

"Food" Item - Jellybeans, Gummies, Pudding-- you'll find all of these hidden away within the Dark Sanctuary

I seriously can’t find any Tears of Solomon?! Help?!

Don’t stress! As of the October 25, 2023 update, it’s not so bad anymore— additional ways have been added, and some limits have been upped. But here’s the main spots you’ll be finding these.

Guilty Gem Exchange House - 30 Per Day (Shop)

Pancake Exchange - 2 Per Week (Shop)

Necronomicon Exchange - 30 Per Week (Shop)

Daily Achievement - 1 Per Day

Weekly Achievement - 1 Per Week

96% “Affection” on your S-L Grade Devils - 10 per Devil

Mission Pass - 24 across various rewards

Event Shops - 30 per day (when available)

Daily Sign in - 24 over the course of 28 days

You can also get these from Solomon’s Levelup Support Pass in the shop— as it says, you get these rewards as you level up your account. There’s also a special premium reward for a price (if someone could remind me of how much this was, that’d be fantastic— I bought it after they lowered the price from the ridiculously high one they originally had).

Free Tears Rewards:

Level 10 - 5 Tears

Level 20 - 10 Tears

Level 30 - 10 Tears

Level 40 - 15 Tears

Level 50 - 20 Tears

Special Reward Pass Tears Rewards:

Level 15 - 5 Tears

Level 25 - 10 Tears

Level 35 - 10 Tears

Level 45 - 15 Tears

My Devils - Evolve

Here’s where you can put your duplicate devils to use! If you’ve gotten multiple copies of the same devil, coming to this screen will allow you to use the “Tealeaves” you get from the duplicates.

You can only Evolve a devil up to 5 times

If you've gotten a devil 6 times total-- congrats, you've maxed out their evolution

The benefits you'll unlock are listed on the lower left-hand side

Once maxed out, it will still say "Insufficient Tealeaves" even if you have them-- I'm not sure why they didn't change the UI

What if I get them a 7th time?

Easy! Excess tealeaves can be sold from your inventory-- that's coming up soon, as it's not very clear.

That’s really all there is to it!

My Devils - Skill

Hoo-boy, alright, here’s another place to use those Tears, gold, and another item we haven’t seen yet… but don’t worry, this isn’t something you need to worry about right away.

Getting skills to their third level is a good enough goal, at least when starting out.

Along the top of this screen you will see each skill a particular devil has available to it (the same you see indicated by icons on their information screen)

Tapping on one will switch your view to it, where you can view what it does, and level it up if you so choose

Most characters just have a basic attack and ultimate— but there’s some outliers

L-Grade devils also have an additional passive ability

And some odd characters, like Marbas, may only have one! (We just wheel him out and let him heal, it's fine)

But again, don’t stress about these quite yet— the game’s still new, we aren’t expected to have this all maxed out yet.

My Devils - Opinion

I won’t really dwell on this one — there isn’t much to say. Here you can find community opinions on the devil! It will tell you how many people have given their opinion, and show you the opinions on the right hand side.

You can sort them by likes (popularity) or how new they are— up to you!

Artifacts

These items you’ve gotten during your pulls in Contracts are essentially weapons for your devils— equipment that makes them stronger, and gives additional effects that can play a part during battle. Some are more useful than others, but reading what they can do is important.

Also, don’t be afraid to switch them up.

You can access your artifacts two ways— for now, we’ll focus on accessing them directly through the My Devils screen, so also explain equipping them.

How Do I Equip Artifacts?

Right beside the image of your devil, to the left of him, will be a circular icon, tap it!

If it’s empty, it will immediately take you to select from artifacts you own

You can tap on any artifacts you’re interested in to read more about them, including a brief story-like description and the artifact’s effect during battle

Below the image of the artifact, it will tell you it’s current stats— how much attack and health it’s providing to the devil you’ll equip it to

How Do I Change Artifacts?

Once you’ve equipped an artifact, it’ll show up in that same little circular icon beside them (with upside down crosses just like the devil— hint hint, they have the same mechanic)!

This time, it’ll bring up a menu that will show you your currently selected artifact, with its description, level and effect.

Below, you click the purple button labeled “Replace.” Now you’ll be taken to the same selection screen you encountered when selecting it to begin with.

How Do I Enhance Artifacts?

The same as above, you’ll want to tap on that circular icon again, and this time click the purple button labeled “Enhance.”

This will take you to a similar select screen… but there’s a big difference.

Artifacts require other artifacts, or an item called “Artifact Enhancement Stone” to level up, along with Pure Gold

Using Artifact Enhancement Stones is cheaper— it requires less Pure Gold, but chances are you won’t have all that many of them. That’s okay!

We’ll feed the artifact other ones you don’t need or want to use, unfortunately that’s just the way it is

DON’T use copies of the same artifact to level it, though!

Levelling these can be expensive— so you may need to grind some Pure Gold

Example of Cost:

For me to level a level 1 artifact to level 10, using only B-Grade artifacts as fodder, it will cost me 16,000 Pure Gold— and it only escalates from there!

How do I get Artifact Enhancement Stones?

You can get these from the shop or achievements!

They aren’t all that hard to build up, so don’t waste resources in the shop unless you absolutely feel you need to

They provide some exp, but significantly less than regular artifacts (at least from my experience)

I Can’t Level My Artifact Anymore?! - Let’s Evolve it then!

Yep, these also have milestones and caps just like devils— only it’s a lot less clearly indicated. Don’t worry if you didn’t understand what it wants from you, they don’t tell you well at all.

When an artifact is at its current max level, you need to select a copy of the same artifact to feed it. Once you do, you’ll be able to go back to levelling it until you reach the next cap, rinse and repeat!

That means, just like devils, you’ll need six copies of an artifact to “max” the evolution.

Unlike devils, though, its levelling is directly tied to it.

In Part 3, we'll cover Story and Dark Sanctuary!