#with the added bonus of a small human!

[fullscoreshenanigans]

#also he’d totally work well as a couple with pepe #chef medic combo as parental figures later on? terrifying force smh

When this is essentially already canon

(Chapter 114)

Sandy is super underrated like.. He was the only dude allowed to help with Emma’s makeover, and he was super nice with it. Giving Emma a hairpin to help hide her ear to help her insecurities? Godtier, thank you Sandy.

Then there’s the simple fact of how supportive he is! Like seriously, the whistle to show how impressed he is with Emma’s shot is unnecessary but super wholesome.

He also just radiates positive energy, and his status as a medic probably reflects that a whole ton. Look at this face and tell me he isn’t that friendly stranger that asks if you’re okay if they saw you fall off your bike? You can’t.

In summary since this is such a small post? Sandy’s great and I love him and he’s absolutely my favorite GP kid.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Winning coalitions aren't always governing coalitions

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2025/01/06/how-the-sausage-gets-made/#governing-is-harder

Winning an election is easier than it looks: all you have to do is convince a bunch of different groups that you will use power to achieve their desires. Bonus points if you can convince groups with mutually exclusive goals that you'll deliver for them – the coalition of "people who disagree about everything" is hard to assemble, but it sure is large!

Politically, a "conservative" is someone who believes that there is a small group of people who were born to rule, and a much larger group of people who were born to be ruled over. As Corey Robin writes in The Reactionary Mind, this is the one trait that unifies all the disparate strains of conservative thought: imperialists, monarchists, capitalists, white supremacists, misogynists, Christian nationalists, Hindu nationalists and supporters of Israeli genocide in Palestine:

https://coreyrobin.com/books/the-reactionary-mind/

These groups all agree that power should be hierarchical, that your position in a hierarchy is something you're born with, and that letting people who were "meant" to be at the bottom of the hierarchy rise to the top puts society so out of balance that it's actually a threat to human survival. That's why conservatives of all stripes get so furious about "DEI" – any kind of affirmative action program serves as a defective sorting hat, putting the incompetent and unsuitable into positions of power over other peoples' lives. It's why "DEI" is the go-to scapegoat for any kind of disaster, including giant ships crashing into bridges:

https://www.axios.com/local/salt-lake-city/2024/03/26/baltimore-bridge-dei-utah-lawmaker-phil-lyman-misinformation

But while conservatives all agree that some of us are born to be in charge and others are born to be bossed around by our innate superiors, they have irreconcilable differences about who is meant to be in charge. British imperialists who pine for the Raj have views that are fundamentally at odds with the views of Hindu nationalists. They're both "conservative" movements, but they're actually bitter enemies.

For a conservative movement to win power, it has to convince the people whom it would relegate to the bottom of the hierarchy to support that goal (AKA "getting turkeys to vote for Christmas"); and it must convince other conservatives that they will be able to establish a hierarchy that accommodates multiple, co-equal ruling elites.

The first tactic is well-established. LBJ summed it up neatly:

If you can convince the lowest white man he's better than the best colored man, he won't notice you're picking his pocket. Hell, give him somebody to look down on, and he'll empty his pockets for you.

The second one requires far more tactical thinking. Some elite groups are able to form coalitions by carving out exclusive zones: think of the friendly feeling among Modi, Orban, Erdogan, bin Salman, Trump, Milei, et al. These people all aspire to dictatorship, all espouse their superior blood – a source of personal and racial superiority – and hypothetically all believe that the world would be better if everyone (including their foreign counterparts) would take their orders.

One way to resolve this tension is to carve up the world geographically, which is why so many despots who seized power by promising to build ethno-states can co-exist with one another and even cheer one another on. Let Orban have Hungary, give Turkey to Erdogan, and let Bibi Netanyahu annex all of Gaza. Sure, in their hearts of hearts, each of these men secretly believe themselves to be racially and personally superior to the others, but so long as they all stay out of one another's turf, there's no reason to make a big deal out of that.

Another way to resolve this tension is to carve up the world temporally: think of the alliance between Christian nationalists and Israeli genocidiers. In the USA, "Christian Zionists" outnumber Jews who identify as Zionists:

https://www.trtworld.com/magazine/qanda-for-every-1-jewish-zionist-there-are-30-christian-zionists-and-netanyahu-exploits-this-15656249

But Christian Zionists aren't philosemites. They hate Jews and believe that we are all going to hell for murdering Christ. Their support for Israel isn't grounded in a belief in the necessity of a Jewish ethno-state – it arises out of the apocalyptic belief that Christ will return once Jews "return to the Holy Land" – albeit only briefly, before being cast into a lake of fire for all eternity.

Like British imperialists and the Hindu nationalists, Christian Zionists and Jewish Zionists are not on the same side. However, unlike British imperialists and Hindu nationalists, Christian Zionists and Jewish Zionists want the same thing…for a while. Both groups support the establishment of a Jewish entho-state in Israel, they just differ sharply as to what happens after that comes to pass. So long as they don't dwell on that moment in the future, they can stand shoulder to shoulder, fighting together for an Israeli state that operates with absolute US support and total international impunity.

Coalitions who defer the question of how they'll use power to after they've gained power are using time (rather than space) as a buffer that keeps their differences from smashing together until they shatter. But time and space aren't the only buffers for the differences between coalition partners – there's also class.

"Class" has been the most important, most useful buffer for conservativism since the Reagan revolution. Reagan came to power by forging an alliance with evangelicals, whose cult leaders had historically demanded that members focus their energies (and cash donations) on the church, while avoiding politics as "worldly."

Reagan promised the Christian right a bunch of culture war stuff – bans on abortion, punishment for uppity women and racial minorities, prayer in school, segregation academies, etc – that his financial backers frankly didn't give a shit about. By all means, let working class evangelicals homeschool their kids and teach them that the Earth is 5,000 years old, it doesn't matter to Wall Street, who will reap a giant tax-cut and also send their kids to private schools with rigorous curriculum. Bankers' wives and daughters will always be able to afford to fly out of state (or across the border) for abortion care, they will never die of AIDS in the charity wing of a community hospital, their daughters won't be trapped by bans on no-fault divorces.

For the past 40 years, American oligarchs and would-be oligarchs have entered into enthusiastic coalitions with virulently racist, sexist and homophobic groups, and maintained peace within their coalition by passing punitive, cruel laws that the rich can buy their way around. For many self-styled libertarians, the most important liberty is "not paying taxes" and this subordinates all other liberties, such that a "libertarian" will vote for a coalition whose platform promises to ban abortion, birth control, "interracial" marriage, and queer sex, so long as it also promises tax cuts. It's a weird kind of pro-freedom ideology that happily trades away (others') freedom for (your own) tax cuts:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/09/29/jubilance/#tolerable-racism

Remember, Trump's first CPAC speech was sponsored by Goproud, a group of "fiscally responsible" gay Republicans who believed in gay rights, sure, but not as much as they believed in getting so rich that even if poor gay people were ground into dust, they could float above it all:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/GOProud

Class is the third buffer between the oligarchs of the right and the mass movement that provides the bulk for winning elections. After all, laws are for the little people, so by all means, we can promise – and even deliver – laws that we would never submit to, because we don't have to submit to them. This is Wilhoit's Law in action:

Conservatism consists of exactly one proposition, to wit: There must be in-groups whom the law protects but does not bind, alongside out-groups whom the law binds but does not protect.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Francis_M._Wilhoit#Wilhoit's_law

In a hierarchical society, class separates groups of people just as rigidly as time and space, and is every bit as useful a buffer as the other two forces.

Until it isn't.

Eventually – once you've banned abortion, once you've taken all the "controversial" books out of the library, once you've made affirmative action illegal – you reach the layer of non-negotiable culture war demands that the rich can't buy their way out of.

Like immigration.

Let's start with this: immigration doesn't have to result in wage suppression. Couple immigration with strong unions and a muscular labor rights regime and workers do just great. The more the merrier! America needs workers of every kind. What's more, the unions and labor laws in America owe their existence to immigrant workers, so there's nothing about immigration that is necessarily incompatible with winning rights for workers.

But the possibility of importing some overseas union organizers isn't what motivates the finance wing of the conservative coalition to demand "guest-worker" programs like the H1B visa:

https://twitter.com/RobertMSterling/status/1873175206073626660

H1B visas are "non-immigrant" visas, meaning that they are designed not to offer any path to permanent residence or citizenship. You can live in the US for a long time on an H1B, but you are bound over to your employer like a serf bound to a feudal estate: if you lose your job, you lose your right to abide in the country. That can mean losing your house, your car, your kids' school and friends. It can cost your spouse their job, because if you're kicked out of the country, they might well leave along with you, rather than remain alone here.

H1B tech workers are the workers that tech-barons have dreamt of for decades. An H1B worker can't job-hop, and so needn't be lured to work with gourmet cafeterias, luxury gymnasiums, or other perks of the whimsical tech "campus." H1B workers can't quit if they don't like their stock-options packages:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/10/the-proletarianization-of-tech-workers/

Tech bosses hate tech workers, and they always have. It's not affection that causes Jeff Bezos to allow his coders to come to work with pink mohawks, facial piercings, and black t-shirts that say things their bosses don't understand, while his delivery drivers piss in bottles and his warehouse workers are injured at three times the national average. Jeff Bezos neither cherishes his coders' kidneys, nor is he especially hostile to delivery drivers' need to pee – he just squeezes any and every worker in any and every way he can.

Same for Tim Cook: the accomplishment that prompted Apple's board to elevate Cook to Steve Jobs' CEO office was the successful transfer of iPhone manufacturing to China. Specifically, Cook figured out how to work with his primary supplier, Foxconn, to create a working environment that produced reliable, precision-manufactured mobile devices, and all it took was creating a working environment so brutal that the company had to install suicide nets to catch the factory workers who couldn't stand it any longer:

https://www.theguardian.com/technology/2017/jun/18/foxconn-life-death-forbidden-city-longhua-suicide-apple-iphone-brian-merchant-one-device-extract

Apple's tech workers aren't worked to suicidal desperation, sure – but not because Tim Cook likes coders and hates factory workers. It's because he's afraid coders will quit, and he's not worried about replacing factory workers after they jump to their death.

The point of the H1B program is to create a tech workforce that bosses no longer have to fear. Recall that when Elon Musk took over Twitter and circulated a mandatory "extremely hardcore" pledge that demanded that workers promise to subordinate their health and wellbeing to his profits, it prompted a mass departure, with the notable exception of workers whose immigration status (and/or insurance for serious health issues) depended on their ongoing employment at Twitter:

https://www.theverge.com/2022/11/16/23462026/elon-musk-twitter-email-hardcore-or-severance

When Musk's cronies gloated about shedding 20% of Twitter's workforce on "day zero," the workers they had in mind were the ones who didn't fear their bosses and wouldn't frog when the investor class shouted jump. "Sharpen your blades, boys" means we're slicing off workers who are laboring under the misapprehension that they are entitled to a say in their working conditions:

https://techcrunch.com/2022/09/29/elon-musk-texts-discovery-twitter/

After all, America does not have a tech worker shortage. The US tech sector fired 260,000 skilled workers in 2023, and more than 150,000 were shown the door in 2024. When Musk and his fellow tech bosses complain that they need more "talent," what they mean is they need workers who are so terrified of being deported that they'll accept low wages, sleep under their desks, refuse to talk to union organizers, and, above all, do as they're told:

https://youtube.com/shorts/N0FkyXFhmpo?si=GCh6bFqd31prazhz

Trump won office by promising mutually exclusive outcomes to different parts of his coalition. To the nativists and bigots (and workers who'd bamboozled into thinking that their low salaries were the fault of other workers, not their bosses), he promised a halt to immigration. To the plutocrats, he promised a large and pliable workforce – of low-waged agricultural workers and of precarious H1B tech workers who'd discipline America's "entitled" tech workers:

https://prospect.org/labor/2025-01-02-president-musk-american-workers-h1b-visas/

Now, he has to figure out how to keep everyone happy. Literally: the Speakership of Congress is only nine votes away from collapsing at any time (and until last week, it was just one vote away), and without Congress, Trump's ability to govern will be severely curtailed (see, for example, 2018-2020).

Immigration isn't an issue like abortion: oligarchs can support abortion bans and still procure abortions when they need them. It's much harder to support an immigration ban and still procure precarious, low-waged workers for your business. It will take many years for American-born workers to be so brutalized and broken that they capitulate to the working conditions that American guest workers and undocumented workers accept, and bosses are impatient.

It's hard to put on a convincing performance of banning immigration, as the UK's New Labour discovered. In the years leading up to the 2010 election, Labour – under Blair and then Brown – made a big show of "cracking down on immigration." At one point, Home Secretary Jacqui Smith announced that she was axing dozens of UK visa categories, while carefully not mentioning these were so niche that hardly anyone qualified for them. This created chaos for the people affected and their families – I lost my own "Highly Skilled Migrant" visa at this time and we had to move our wedding plans up by eight months so I could stay in the country with my British partner and our daughter – but it didn't do anything to quench the xenophobic rage that UKIP and the Tories had been stoking, and Labour lost its next election.

American conservatives are rightly proud of their ability to form coalitions. They trumpet their ethic of "no enemies to the right" and contrast this with the "cancel culture" of progressives:

https://www.wired.com/story/the-year-democrats-lost-the-internet/

It's true that purging your ranks of coalition partners who disagree with you at the margins is a severely self-limiting move. It's also true that the broader your coalition is, the easier it is to win power.

The right has built a coalition of people who want opposite things. Infamously, Project 2025 isn't just a collection of terrifying ideas for running (and ruining) America – it's a collection of mutually exclusive terrifying ideas for running and ruining America:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/07/14/fracture-lines/#disassembly-manual

Trump's top health picks – RFK jr, Weldon, Oz, Makary, Bhattacharya, Nesheiwat – want mutually exclusive, irreconcilable things that are as impossible to compromise on as "banning immigration" while simultaneously "expanding the H1B program":

https://pluralistic.net/2024/12/20/clinical-trial-by-ordeal/#spoiled-his-brand-new-rattle

Big, diverse coalitions of people who normally oppose each other are great for winning power, but they're very bad for wielding power. Trump's majorities in Congress and the Senate are razor-thin, and while the Democrats had to suffer under the Manchin-Synematic Universe, the GOP's Klown Kar of Krazies has dozens of swivel-eyed loons who will happily blow up "must-pass" bills just for shits and giggles.

What's more, the GOP has spent decades installing easily blown circuit breakers into the American legislative and administrative systems, from the filibuster to the debt ceiling. By design, these allow small groups of lawmakers to kill bills and hamstring presidential power. Trump's first attempt at removing one of these breakers – the senseless kabuki of the annual debt ceiling showdown – was a total failure:

https://prospect.org/blogs-and-newsletters/tap/2024-12-19-debt-limit-should-absolutely-be-eliminated/

Musk thinks he can ram through policies that sizable portions of the GOP coalition would rather die than support. So far, Trump has proven a pliable puppet for Musk's ambitions. But the Musk-Trump coalition is every bit as fragile as any other in the GOP, and Trump is notoriously sensitive to accusations of weakness. Musk can threaten to primary any GOP lawmaker who gets in his way, but as the Kochs discovered after they unleashed the Tea Party, grievance-fueled, paranoid, heavily armed cults are hard to keep on a leash.

The coming months are sure to be an all-out war of GOP infighting as the coalition must wield power without the useful buffers of space, time and class. They'll be an object lesson in the dangers of a coalition that's so broad that everyone is welcome, even people who'd happily line you and yours in front of a firing squad.

But just because the right's attitude to coalitions is to have a mind so open its brains fall out, that doesn't mean the left should pursue a program of overwhelming ideological purity. Trump is a stupid guy with incoherent ideas, but look at how far he got by erecting such a big tent that anyone fit underneath it (even actual Nazis).

The progressive coalition doesn't need to be that big. We can have enemies to the right. The hugs Kamala Harris bestowed on ghouls like Liz Cheney didn't win the election, and the medal Biden just gave her won't help either:

https://www.nytimes.com/2025/01/02/us/politics/presidential-citizens-medal-liz-cheney.html

Manchin and Synema can "fuck off until they come up to a gate with a sign saying 'You Can’t Fuck Off Past Here,' Climb over the gate, dream the impossible dream, and keep fucking off forever":

https://michaelmarshallsmith.substack.com/about

But the fact that some people don't belong in a progressive coalition, it doesn't follow that there's no room to make the coalition looser and broader. Sure, a big coalition makes it hard to wield power, but without that coalition, we'll never win power.

[squiddy-god]

Hello!! I just read your twst x chubby S/O and I thought it was amazing! Could I request Third Years x S/O who's into crocheting and crochets them plushies or keychains as random gifts? Plus a bonus when they admit that after they graduation Night raven they want to start a small business on it after hiding it if you want >w<

Hehehehe i love this so much because i crochet! It is one of my many house husband skills, personally my favorite things to make is these little octopuses but i should really branch out lol, this reminds me of those manhwas where the mc starts a business that booms 

Cw : tooth rotting fluff, mc has a successful side hustle to make that bag, gn reader, bonus grim because i love my cat so much, my son, grims is obvi platonic, rsa mention because vil is petty

Grim 

Oh hes bragging 

His human henchman is the best because they make him cute gifts 

The skrungly

I wanna make him little kitty outfits for every occasion

Making grim cat toys and he acts like he doesn't like them at first but he literally wont sleep without the crochet tuna fish you made him 

I think he needs a little kitty bag to wear and put his stuff in (mostly tuna) 

He would taunt the others because clearly he is the most special kitty with his very cool bad and fish 

He is and i won't stand for anyone telling me otherwise, i love our bastard cat son

Cater 

Hes obsessed 

If you make him a keychain then he is adding it to his growing collection on his phone right away

I hc that hes a big fan of stuffed animals so he adores anny that you make him and they sit on his bed 

He names all of them

He helps you start the small business during school actually! At first its his suggestion to run a magicam page for all your creations 

Soon the comments are flooded with people asking if you sell, one thing leads to another and boom you now have a successful side hustle 

Rsa is honestly a big seller they love this kind of stuff

He loves everything you make him and never stops posting about his love for it

Very supportive of your small business ventures 

His favorite thing you've made him is a little bag for pens and pencils that is shaped like a playing card because he thinks its just the cutest thing in the world 

And the keychains that he gets to show off whenever he whips his phone out (often)

Some of his favorite candid photos of you are when you’re crocheting peacefully 

Trey 

Dometic bliss pt.1

Trey is,,,such an old man- he like baking and the simple domestic little things like making you coffee/tea in the morning 

He loves to watch you crochet because he thinks its very cute and wholesome to spend time when you are doing activities together that are calm 

MAKE THIS MAN DOILIES AND POT HOLDERS please 

He adores the set of frilly doilies you made him and the cute potholders are always in use

He is 100% in support of your dreams of making that bag, honestly he really thinks you should get a start now to make extra cash on the side since 7 forbid crowley pay you for the work you do

He smiles every time he sees a tart cooling on one of the doilies you made him, seeing the little pattern always makes him happy

He trades you baked good for the things you make him so i hope you enjoy sweet treats

Leona 

Cat…big kitty…

Oddly captivated by any balls or skeins of yarn that are out and about but hes fighting the urge to play with them 

He is not beating the house cat allegations 

At first hes pretty neutral on it honestly, he likes the gifts you give him because they are just his but hes not a big keychain guy, or stuffies

Then you make him a blanket and hes gone 

He claims to be neutral about it, saying he likes the gift but dont be fooled by his aloof act he sleeps with that blanket everywhere 

He is bringing it to class if he doesn't just skip the class 

It is his favorite blanket and he almost lost his shit when ruggie took it to wash it- he's kinda territorial about the blanket 

Gives 0 fucks that its some cutesy blanket with little lions on it

Also a big fan of pillows/pillow covers 

If you make him multiple blankets he loves them too but the first one is extra special to him 

Hes neutral about you starting a business during or after school/graduation because well,,,he's a whole prince,,,

You make cheka a matching blanket and leona gets a very happy letter from his brother on how much the mini lion loves it, leona rolls his eyes but is secretly very proud of you 

Regardless if you want to start the small business he is happy to support you making that bread 

Vil 

Vil in crochet clothes my beloved 

Hes charmed by your little hobby and the adorable stuffed animal you made him, a little crochet owl that sits on his vanity so he sees it when he does his makeup and night routine 

Vil does not post a lot of personal stuff on his magicam/socials, but he does wear anything you make him, he has a folder in his gallery dedicated to photos of the two of you, dates or candid photos either he took or rook took and sent to him. 

Most of these pics he's in something you crochet for him even if it's just a simple keychain it's a staple of his 

He is very supportive of your dreams of starting a business for your crochet, he admires the drive and discipline and encourages you to pursue this work 

Ironically if you start a side hustle soon to be full business, neige of all people is a big customer as he's fond of cute stuff like this 

This is where vil gets petty 

He sees a photo post of neige’s where he’s in a new outfit, not odd at all, what catches vils attention is that the cardigan and hat he's wearing is oddly similar to a piece he saw you working on for an order- anyone watching can see the twitch in vil’s eye when he sees the shoutout to you in the caption

The next 5-8 posts of vil’s are a mix of his regular posts and pictures of him in your clothes or with the keychains, all with captions along the lines of “my beautiful s/o @[your name here]”

He even posts the owl

Rook 

If you were to make him a keychain he calls it his lucky charm for hunting and always had it on him. 

Really he's just fond of anything you make him

a lot of his photos are of you when you are deep in a project and not paying attending, candid photos like this are his favorites and he looks at them often 

He really likes any little animal stuffies you make because he thinks they are just the cutest 

“Hunts” your plushies aka he will sneak up on you making them or sorting them out and act like he caught them 

Silly

He is very supportive of your business ventures, he loves to see you so passionate about wanting to eventually start a small business and be able to sell your creations 

He definitely encourages you to sell a few things in sams shop, afterall he sells anything and everything anyone could ever need

Idia 

The outfits you make grim are his faves 

He is a cat man at heart and cant help but coo over every new thing you make grim because it makes the kitty so so so cute and as a cat he was already uber SS+ cute levels 

He is also a big fan of any keychains you make him or even stuffies

The stuffies either are on his bed so he can cuddle them or they are with the rest of his game/anime figures on his shelves so its a horrific mix of like neon genesis mechs and crochet 

I think it would be funny to make him doilies to put the figures on because when hes gaming and people are like “dude why is your [super cool limited edition game figure] on a doily???” hes like “haha L+loser+lonely+my super cool s/o made them for me lvl10 affection” and is it cringe as hell? Yes. can those normies suck it because hes no longer forever alone? Also yes

They are demanding proof or it didn't happen 

Ortho is also a big fan and has a lil keychain you made hooked on him <3

idia would actually combust if you made anything themed after a game or show he watches/plays because that is SS+ max lvl affection with full hearts right there 

You have unlocked the super secret route and that is unlimited discord nitro and a new pc because he is so happy 

He also would support your business during and after school 

Malleus 

Domestic bliss pt 2

Genuinely you are breaking this guy. Like he cannot take it anymore 

I feel we all can agree malleus is prone to casual proposals because hes just,,,kinda like that

He pictures a future with you by his side and you aren't making it any better by being so endearing 

When he sees you doing something as simple as sitting down and crocheting his draconic heart is filled with sweet domestic love, makes him feel like an old married couple and he can't take it lmao 

At first he's a bit weird about accepting gifts as it's a big deal in fae culture to just,,,get a gift out of nowhere

But he does accept them, he simply gives you something he sees as equal value (this is how you end up with several big ass gems)

He considers all of your gifts his most precious items, his favorites however are the following 4 gifts he has received 

A keychain that looks like his gaogao-drakon-kun tamagotchi witch he keeps on the same keychain as said virtual pet

A gargoyle plushy that he considers to be one of his most treasured gifts, in a similar light he has a plushie of your fave animal and you have a dragon plushie that match (this almost killed him)

And a little crochet bracelet that you match (he never takes it off unless he has to) 

Your desire to start a business throws him for a loop at first because in his mind you are happily by his side in the briar valley, (he is very male lead coded) but he quickly re-adjusts to account for your business plans and he is the most supportive dragon you could ever hope for 

Lilia 

Old man (affectionate) 

 I like to think lilia knits and is simply overjoyed when he finds out you crochet 

You exchange little gifts 

It makes his very old fae heart happy to sit around the ramshackle fireplace and crochet/knit with you while chatting about your day/week, simple things like this make him feel like hes back in the old days with a baby silver 

He loves anything you make him and happily wears any keychains or items he is gifted

Stuffies are named and placed around his room without a hint of shame 

And he loves that you have such good goals and dreams like a business 

I like the idea of meeting general lilia and also making him something 

At first he is confused, almost indignant that you would have the gaul to give him a gift- of all people he would never accept such a token

Maybe its something simple, a granny square on the lacy side that resembles something akin to a handkerchief, something small you explain as a favor, something youd give a knight 

He claims he is disgusted by such human customs but his grip on the crochet piece is unmistakable, and the way you wake up the next morning to a small green gem-the same that adorns his armor, tells you all you need to

[rauspberries]

Climbing Higher

aaron hotchner x bau!reader.

summary: since your sudden introduction to the bau, you've never felt like you've been on the good side of aaron hotchner. over time, your relationship has only gotten worse and worse, especially with your mission to annoy him and his mission to completely ignore you. when the two of you are put into a situation where you're forced to come to terms with your relationship, you're also forced to face feelings undiscovered.

tags: forced proximity, workplace rivals, no use of y/n, afab reader, comfort [just a tad], reader is afraid of elevators but not intimidating men, haley doesn’t exist, no kissing sorry ;/

word count: 2.9k

notes: told my friends to give me a trope, a relationship & a character. this is what my brain came up with. also; reminder that my requests r open if u have any ideas :]

Aaron Hotchner hates you.

You’ve known it since the second you stepped through the glass doors of Quantico. Since you were hired by the Section Chief, Erin Strauss, and not himself, your place inside of the BAU had been tainted before they had even seen your face. While the majority of the team has warmed up to you, you have never ended up on his good side. You were forced to watch from the sidelines as he was stoically sweet to everybody else but yourself.

That was not to say you didn’t try. At first, you tried to prove your knowledge. Talking his ear off about profiles, being proactive in the field during cases, bonding with the team. None of it had worked. All of his responses had just been soft grunts, terse nods or short answers. At some point, you had realized that nothing you said or did would change his opinion about you.

So, you decided to hate him back. If he wanted to brandish his negative opinion like a badge, you would simply return the favor. Respectfully, of course, since he was still your boss, but returning the favor all the same. 

Although his attitude towards you tended to be silent and stiff, you had settled for a more passive-aggressive approach, filled with bittersweet smiles and malicious compliance. You answered all of his commands with a smile that made your cheeks hurt, you slightly adjusted the stapler on his desk every time you went in there, you took the last bit of coffee in the pot right before he stepped up to the small kitchenette in the office. Your favorite was bringing in baked goods that you purposefully left one ingredient out of, asking him to try one and leaning on the idea that he wouldn’t be bluntly honest about them not tasting good.

Even though you tried your best to make Hotch’s life just a tiny bit harder, you were very aware of the fact that you weren’t blind. Truth be told, Aaron Hotchner was a handsome man, tall and muscular, to the point that made you have not-so-professional thoughts about him. Boss or not, the way he looked in a button down and his FBI vest had to be illegal. In some twisted truth, even his phlegmatic demeanor added to his allure.

As you stare at the back of his head while following him into Quantico, you start to conjure up the ways you could annoy him today. There were a few files on his desk that you could accidentally send flying to the ground in an accidental trip, or you could get Spencer started on a tangent during the case briefing to drag it on longer. Bonus points if it was something inappropriate, like BDSM and its effects on the human psyche.

The creativity of your own deviousness has a ghost of a smile dancing across your lips as you watch him step up to the elevators, pressing the button to call it down to the lobby. You sidle up beside him, pulling your bag up higher on your shoulder and giving him a sickly sweet smile. “Agent Hotchner.”

For a moment, you think about just how criminal it is for someone to look so good while being so incredibly irritating. His perfectly tailored dark suit brought out all of the features that made you sweat, so perfectly put together that it made you want to rip it apart with your hands. Even his hair is perfect after facing the brutal winds of Virginia, falling onto his forehead and making him look just the tiniest bit undone, even if there’s no doubt in your mind that he’ll fix it as soon as he’s in the office.

He greets you with a dip of his head, your last name falling off of his lips so quietly you almost miss it. It’s obvious he doesn’t want to speak, his eyes immediately turning back to the doors in front of you just as soon as they peel open with a metallic whir.

A heavy sigh leaves your lips as you follow Hotch into the elevator, staying near the doors as he situates himself near the back wall. You press the button for the sixteenth floor, watching as it lights up and taking a deep breath as the elevator jolts to life. 

Despite the gruesome things you see every single day, every reason you’re given to be scared, there is only one thing that you are fully scared of; elevators. They’re too unpredictable for your taste. The idea of the whole thing being held up by only a few cables, trusted with the maximum capacity of twenty to thirty people? Forget it. Just an accident waiting to happen. Plus, the gap between the floor and the actual elevator was a death trap for any small items you might own, and you were notoriously clumsy.

Since you either have to walk up sixteen flights of stairs or use the elevator to get to your shift, you’ve figured out the best way to manage your fear is to disassociate. Usually, you can disappear into your own mind long enough to zone out for the entire minute-long ride, not to worry about the elevator plummeting multiple floors to your untimely death at your young age.

You can feel Hotch’s eyes on your back as you take another deep breath, closing your eyes as you try to think happy thoughts, keeping yourself relaxed until you reach the floor you need to be on. The intensity of his focus on your back has the hair on the back of your neck raising, completely aware that he was profiling you at that moment. In fact, if you thought about it hard enough, you were able to imagine his face, all hard lines and tight frowns.

You’re blissfully distracted by the mental image of Hotch’s focused face until the elevator suddenly stops, emergency lights flickering on while everything else ceases to function correctly.

You take a sharp intake of breath at the unexpected jolt, looking around as if the answer would be painted across the walls. Your heart starts to thud a bit harder against your ribcage as you turn to look at Hotch, your cheeks dusting a light shade of pink in embarrassment at being so thrown off by the situation. “What’s happening?”

“Elevator shut down.” He responds blankly, his shoulder brushing against yours as he shuffles around you, his fingers jamming at the floor buttons. Much to your dismay, they don’t light up anymore, only useful for the soft clicking noise they make when his fingers poke at them. He copies your disappointed sigh as he presses the emergency button, crossing his arms over his chest as he awaits an answer from emergency services.

Stepping back to let him handle the situation, you lean your back against the far wall, covering your thrumming heart with one flat hand and digging the heel of your palm into your sternum in an attempt to stop it. Your eyelids flutter closed as you tilt your chin up towards the ceiling, the blinding bright lights helping to bring you down from the swirling worst-case-scenarios in your head. The sound of Hotch communicating with the building personnel and the other members of the BAU falls on muted ears. 

Finally, when he’s done taking necessary phone calls, he turns to you, the line between his brow deepening as he takes in the state of you. “They said they can be here in forty-five minutes. I’ve already let everyone know we’re running a little bit late.” His tone is so professional that it crawls beneath your skin, turning the bad situation even worse. 

You let out a dry laugh as you sink down towards the floor, pulling your knees closer to your chest. “Great. Forty-five minutes in this metal death trap. With you.” The irony of the situation makes you laugh again, fingers threading into your hair as you tug at your roots. “I am going to die in an elevator with my boss. My boss that hates me. This is my actual nightmare.”

As you speak, your breathing picks up noticeably, your chest tightening with the strain it takes to inhale so much air without exhaling. Your eyes shut tightly as you try to change the subject in your mind, but you can’t. You can’t feel anything but panic, running through all of the worst scenarios in your head like a fucked up Powerpoint. “Majority of the reason that elevators stop working is because of mechanical issues. Worn-out cables and malfunctioning motors. A cable could snap and we could plum -”

“Hey.” Hotch speaks, his stern voice cutting through the buzz in your ears and stopping your senseless rambling.

You are deathly aware of his presence as he crouches beside you, the sound of his jacket rustling almost deafening in the confined space you were sharing. Realizing the gravity of your panic, his hand finds your shoulder, the warmth of it burning through your blazer in a way that has you jolting beneath his touch. 

He pulls his hand away quickly as you flinch, letting it hover in the air as he sighs. “Put your head between your legs,” he instructs.

His tone is demanding enough that you’re immediately following his instruction, letting your butt hit the cold floor as you part your legs just enough to slide your head between them. With the help of your new position and softer instructions from Hotch to take deep breaths, you gulp in air like you had just been underwater, in through your nose and out through your mouth, just as he told you quietly.

Unfortunately, Hotch is right, your breathing settling slowly until you’re able to lean your head back against the wall. Peeling open your watery eyes, you’re met with his deep chocolate eyes, still stoic despite the slight care he had shown during your mini freakout. “I’m not going to die, sir,” you dryly tease, just wanting his focus off of you at this extremely embarrassing moment.

“I don’t think you’re going to die, Agent.” He responds coolly, standing up and adjusting his suit jacket. Usually, Hotch is hard to profile, good at keeping his face clear and his body relaxed, other than anger. It had become a fun little challenge to you to try and figure out what he was feeling at any given moment.

However, right now, that wasn’t the case. Despite his attempt to seem nonchalant, his eyes keep flickering over to you on the floor, his body language giving away his worry. His jaw was still clenched even as he stared forward, his fingers twitching as he fought the urge to clench his fists. It was almost too easy to read, causing you to roll your eyes.

Before you have the chance to mock him for it, he speaks, still refusing to look at you. “You’re scared of elevators?”

Huffing, you pull yourself to your feet, still keeping your back against the wall. “You’re the best profiler here. You’ve never noticed?” It was a challenge, falling off your tongue tauntingly as you purposefully stared directly at the side of his face, noting the clench of his jaw and the soft twitch of his lip.

That asshole. He was holding back a smile. 

Instead of answering your question, he finally turns towards you, his arms crossing over his chest. Your eyes flutter down to admire the way his muscular arms pushed against the sleeves of his suit jacket, only to immediately remind yourself that the man standing in front of you was not only a profiler, but your boss. “You think I’m the best profiler?”

“They didn’t give you Unit Chief for your sparkling humor,” you deadpan. You follow it up with a bittersweet smile, keen eyes noticing another twitch of his lips as you turn your body to face him, chin tilting up to look at him. Standing at six foot two, he easily towers over you, but that’s never scared you before. There is a certain power to looking up at someone that many people don’t see.

Hotch lets out a huff in place of a laugh, arms still crossed as he stares back down at you, the tilt of his lips slowly dissipating. A silence stretches over you, the only sound being a soft buzz from the emergency light ahead of you. He’s the one to break the silence again. “Do you really think I hate you?”

The question takes you by surprise, blinking up at him as you take a step back. “What?”

The man doesn’t show any evidence of being phased other than the tensing of his fingers next to his elbow. “Earlier. You said that your boss hates me. Do you think I hate you?” He repeats the question, his voice still just as calm and collected. You notice how his head dips down a bit farther towards you, slightly tilting towards the right, his body giving away his curiosity.

“Do you not?” You scoff, crossing your arms defensively over your chest, copying his stance. “You’re constantly dismissing me, facing away from me. I come up with ideas and you find a way not to do them, even when they’re good ideas. I also have a running theory that you purposefully set me up to look at the crime scene each time we fly out for a case because you’re always going to the police station first.”

It sounds stupid, saying it out loud, how much you’ve noticed about how Hotch treats you. You’re aware that you sound like a whiny brat that isn’t receiving enough attention, that there are so many things that you could focus your attention on other than your boss’ appreciation of you. There’s another side of your brain that justifies all of your actions. He was your boss, someone above you, the same guy that did your annual reviews and decided if you got your raise. He was close enough to every other agent, saying yes to “family” dinner and inviting them to watch him run his marathons.

You wanted the same treatment as everyone. You wanted to know Hotch personally, wanted to be able to invite him out for drinks, talk about your personal life and everything that troubled you. It was criminal to sit around and watch him laugh and smile with your coworkers from the sidelines, wishing that his opinion of you wasn’t so skewed that it totally ruined his perception of you.

As you mentally run through everything, the truth hits you like a freight train.

You like Hotch. Despite his composed demeanor and the cold shoulder you had received since you stepped into the bullpen of the BAU, the small bits and pieces you had seen from watching from afar had given you just enough of a glimpse of the real him that you had somehow ended up a scorned schoolgirl, giggling about the slightest things and whining when they weren’t fruitful.

Hotch’s brow furrows as he watches you closely. “What?” When you narrow your eyes back at him in confusion, he sighs. “Your face changed. You realized something. What is it?”

Rolling your lips into your mouth, you wish for the thousandth time that none of this was happening and it was just a dream. Instead of directly answering his question, you tilt your head to the side. “Do you want to get drinks sometime?”

“What?” He repeats, still staring at you like you’re having a mental breakdown. For the first time since you had met him, Hotch seems flustered, arms uncrossing to pull at the bottom of his jacket. “Uhm…”

You shake your head, a laugh bubbling in your chest. “Never mind. Forget it. Sorry. Stupid. I’m gonna stare at the wall until we’re out of here.” Following your promise, you turn around until your back is facing him, fist clenching at your side as you fight the urge to pinch the bridge of your nose.

Following a soft sigh, your name falls off of Hotch’s lips. You don’t react until his warm hand is on your shoulder, the touch burning through the fabric of your blazer as you turn around to face him.

To your surprise, a smile is on his face, the laugh lines you rarely see around his eyes deepening. “I’m sorry. I was taken aback.” He apologizes, his voice shockingly sincere. “I don’t hate you. And I’d love to get a drink with you. Seems we have a lot to learn about each other. Like the origin behind your fear for elevators,” he teases.

Rather than shoot something back, you’re too starstruck by just what had happened that you just stare up at him, your lips parted as you fight for the words to say. You’re only brought out of your daze by the thrum of the elevator starting back up, blinking as Hotch moves to talk to emergency services through the intercom again.

You are still silent as the elevator door opens to reveal the BAU bullpen, Hotch turning to give you a slight smirk. “See you during the case briefing, Agent.”

[astronnova]

trying to figure out how i would wanna draw both of them inbtwn working on shtuff

ramblings under the cut

ok *cracks knuckles* excuse my design ramblings

vlad & danny are such interesting parallels to me esp if u wanna play more into the horror aspect of the show. vlad to me is the kind of horror vampires bring, they're attractive and alluring with large spiked gothic mansions as they suck you dry before you even register what happened.

danny is more like... small town radioactive horror? to me? does that make sense??? the horror of feeling, of knowing something is wrong with one of your classmates in your small, middle of bumfuck nowhere town. you know something is up, but he's still here walking around like always.

unfortunately my style is basically rip off anime LMFAO and i've never been good at communicating horror (falls to my knees and cries) but phantom could be so creepy and eerie. a seemingly teen boy in a hazmat suit, with a gas mask and/or goggles, wandering the streets at night, floating over streetlamps and making them and traffic lights buzz on and off. also electric core danny. he died to electrocution his ass is electric i do not Care what the show says, frost core danny can eat my ass🖕 (sorry to the frost danny likers. i do have an idea for the frost core thou)

my friend gave me the idea of making vlad snake-like too to match danny as a badger, snakes and badgers are natural enemies and all that. plus i didnt realize until after i drew it but vlad's hair and cape give him the silhouette around the head of a cobra! so i gave vlad cobra stripes on his ghost tail

i really like the idea of vlad kind of representing what danny could be. he represents the allure of power and letting go of your humanity i guess. he's petty, selfish, and has definitely murdered a couple people just because he felt like it. i know there are bones in the walls of his manor i just Know it. which i feel could be a fun way to rethink danny's first interaction with plasmius proper, maybe danny figures out who some wisconsin serial killer is with the added bonus of finding bones and rotting clothes in the walls of the basement because. ghost powers. and only another ghost could hide a body that way. ya feel me? its cool. kinda just rambling atp

i played around with giving danny a full face gas mask but i didnt like them too much. the goggles im on the fence about, i wanted them to be the same round goofy goggles maddie and jack wear but it takes away from the potential creep factor i feel... or maybe i just dont know how to draw it creepy (yet). he doesn't need the gas mask as a ghost but it would help hide his face i think. thats one thing, im watching eps with some friends who arent really into the show like i am and they keep asking how tf does no one know its danny and i just have to gently put my hand on their shoulder and tell them its cartoon logic. but for this! i feel like danny's face would be harder to see, like he's usually engaged in combat and when he's not he still has that gas mask and goggles combo, and its not like his hair looks the same like it does in canon.

ok crazy people ramblings OVER

[writingwisterias]

Thinking about growing up with Leon and being the same age as him. Getting married, having kids, reaching 40 together when you notice how younger men and women look at him like the dilf he is and getting insecure. Like would he rather be with a younger adult? Someone prettier and younger?

And him noticing right away and instantly goes to comfort you. Holds your hand, kissing your wedding ring, proudly saying, " this is my spouse!"

Then him going home to show his appreciation to the milf/ dilf you are and being so proud of growing old with you. How did he get so lucky to have you as a spouse. Like legits cries because you are so beautiful, especially now after so many years together. Pampers you until all your fears go away. A truly loving husband.

I was originally going to reply to this with a small blurb or normal response but a drabble came out of it! I just adored this idea. It is rushed and not proof read so forgive me!!

Warnings: Self-Doubt, Insecurities, Comfort

Fem!Reader

It wasn't unusual for people to find Leon attractive, you would be lying if you said he wasn't. You married him for his personality but the looks were definitely an added bonus. Growing up with him was always weird, the self doubt of loving him never really seemed to shift. Leon was the kind school boy always helping anyone that needed it, offering conversation to the other quiet kids...like you. He never seemed to leave your side, sticking to you like glue. Not that you minded of course. But it didn't stop you from spending endless nights staring at the photos you had gained over the years wondering how he came to the conclusion to end up with you.

If you asked him it was the same answer you would have for him. Your personality was what sold the deal for him and your looks an added bonus. Well he might as well get glasses because what on earth is he talking about?

Going into his work was a normal occurrence, he liked it. Seeing you pop in to collect him at the end of the day, occasionally having the eldest one of his daughters but today you only had the youngest. Her little screams of excitement as she entered his office was more than enough to draw people's attention. All of his younger coworkers began their usual whispers, their comments on your relationship. Making themselves reek with jealousy.

Leon didn't notice anything at first, it was hard for him to when the whirlpool of his daughter ran at him full force. Barreling herself into his arms. It wasn't when he packed up to leave he watched the coworkers whisper, their evny hitting him in waves. Leon watched your frame falter, the glow in your smile fade as you spoke to the children. Instinctively his hand held yours, the metal of your rings clashing causing you both to smile. A small reminder to you that he was there and the marriage was more than stable.

It was until the two of you were alone later in the day, the children gone to bed sharing a moment with the fire and wine. He knew that you had insecurities that still are away at you, he had his own it was only human after all but he wanted to know to prove that despite the time past his love only grew. His words were soft when he spoke to you, his hands playing the ring on your finger. "I don't understand why you picked me? Out of everyone in this world...you still chose me"

He knew it was because you never judged him, held the burden of his world and doubts without a second judgement. Held him all those nights when it was too rough even though you had your own discomfort. You never judged him, only opened your heart and arms in a place for him to stay. So he did the same.

Leon's heart broke as you listed everything off, he didn't notice the tear that fell down his cheek until you wiped away. He kissed you hard, words weren't enough for this situation, not when they kept getting caught his throat like cobwebs. His touch was always possessive...loving but this was different. This was everything he had to offer and more. Everything he wanted to say to make you feel better came out in the way his fingers ran up your sides, cupped your face. In the dominance of his tounge as he kissed you, the sloppiness presenting his dire need to just be close. His actions always spoke louder than words, a quiet man at heart nowadays.

But he loved you and would spend as long as he needed proving it to you. Without judgment. Just as you did for him.

[risoria]

so. have you seen the pictures from Rafah of the blackened, charred infants? the toddler with no head?

i would like to ask a favour of everyone seeing this post, from one human to another. don't think about the things you can't do - because as it seems, nothing is enough, and nobody can do enough - there is no use to be paralyzed by these thoughts. instead focus on the things you are already doing and the things you can do. i will start by compile a small list of personal suggestions, and please add to it from your own resources! this list is not numbered, i will just add things that i can think of off the top of my head and if it is of any help to at least one person, thats good. take care of yourself - that includes taking care of others, and this world we live in.

this is obvious but keep listening to Palestinian voices. i am mostly active on twitter so i will give some examples from there: Hind_Gaza, HossamShabat, BayanPalestine (press). MuhammadSmiry, does community work with Care for Gaza. m7mdkurd. Everyone is saying mostly the same thing - keep talking, keep protesting, keep boycotting. so do it.

keep talking. humans are social animals and it's as simple as this: the ongoing genocide is dire, urgent and catastrophic - i dont think i need to tell you that. but when people, a lot of people, share posts with each other and reiterate this fact the urgency will be felt stronger by everyone, and reach people who would otherwise maybe not see the reports of the genocide on their screens. if people instead choose to stop sharing and stop talking because it's "been so long" or it's "too difficult", the suffering will become normalized and the only thing people will see on their feeds are mundane things - food, pets, fandoms, and it will send the message that oh, it's not that important after all.... sometimes, you SHOULD feel disturbed and uncomfortable. these feelings are not evil - they will be channelled into actions to better a situation and better the world. silence is violence.

search for protests near your town, sometimes they're hard to find but once you find your local organizations for the Palestinian movement, follow them and you will usually find them! this all depends on where you live of course - but most often there will be fundraisers and events and mailing campaigns etc, and the more people joining the better. and, most importantly i would say, share these events and pictures (no faces of strangers, ofc! from protests on your facebook, twitter etc - because that way people close to you will see them and that it's completely rational and normal to attend protests, and if they've been on the fence maybe they will reach out and join you.

donate if you are able and share links to the different organizations - some examples are Care for Gaza, Sulala animal rescue, the Gazan Municipality Life for Gaza project (https://gaza-city.ensany.com/campaign/6737), the PCRF.

individual gofundmes - here is the google doc with a lot of campaigns, but im sure there are lots of them that arent yet added: https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1-DDMFyn-ttboPXrz1bB3MFk7BlzCwfugh4259Wh7U1s/htmlview

donate e-sims, which will be sent by the Esims for Gaza team to people in Gaza, to help communicate with their families etc during blackouts. it's very quick and easy and on nomad you can get a referral code which gives someone else 25% off their first purchase, and there's also often different bonus codes. on the website there's tutorials for how to buy the different esims. https://gazaesims.com/

there's some different charity shops where you can buy Palestinian products and the proceeds help Palestinian artisans and people. here are some examples, please add more if you know any: https://handmadepalestine.com/ (based in Ramallah, Palestine), https://forpalestine.dk/ (based in Denmark), https://www.shoppalestine.org/ (based in the US)

boycott!! the BDS of course have their targeted brands (https://bdsmovement.net/) but there's also for example the witness website with lists of brands and the reasons for boycotting them (https://boycott.thewitness.news/) and some different apps that do the same thing, like the "no thanks" app. yes, the list of brands is very, very long. maybe all of it isn't feasible BUT i think a good start would be to go through them and decide which ones are unnecessary either way that you're better off without (mcdonalds, starbucks etc), and then which ones are part of your usual shopping routine, make a mental note of them and pick different options - see it as an opportunity to try new things, to support local brands and smaller businesses!

go do yourself a favour and give Palestinian-Canadian artist Nemahsis' new single "stick of gum" a listen, it's super good! <3 https://youtu.be/VsqYlmf3SAg?si=EK_TZjo0Ijny8hMT

please, add more tips and resources below or just share your own pictures or art or thoughts!

[anim-ttrpgs]

Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy by A.N.I.M.

Allow us to introduce ourselves, we are The Agency of Narrative Intrigue and Mystery, or “A.N.I.M.”, a very small TTRPG studio based out of the southern U.S. but ultimately made up of people from many different walks of life.

Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy, our debut TTRPG, is a neo-noir investigation-focused RPG with (as you can probably guess from the title) a supernatural twist, that is currently in production after an extremely successful crowdfunding campaign on Kickstarter.

How far would you go to learn the truth?

Play amateur detectives caught up in things they barely understand, and explore how the lives of your characters unravel as they push themselves to dig deeper into the unknown!

Eureka innovates on and revolutionizes investigative gameplay, TTRPG combat, and what it means to play as a monster as a character in a TTRPG, filling several voids we have noticed in the TTRPG space. Eureka supports investigation to a degree never before seen, ensuring that searching for clues is a granular and player-driven process, but also ensuring that the whole story doesn’t grind to a halt after one single failed investigation check.

Character-driven gameplay!

Stats and abilities are based on who your character is as a person. Freeform character creation allows you to build a totally unique little guy, and have a totally unique gameplay experience with him! This is supported by the backbone of the Composure mechanic. Stress, fear, fatigue, and hunger will wear your investigators down as they trudge deeper into the unknown. Food, sleep, and connections with their fellow investigators are the only way to keep them going!

Secrets inside and out! 

Any investigator could be a monster, helping their friends while trying not to reveal their true natures. The party will learn to trust and rely on each other, or explode into a tangled net of drama!

Though most PCs will be mundane humans—or perhaps because most PCs will be mundane humans—Eureka also supports playing monstrous PCs, such as a vampire, in a way never seen before. This isn’t just a watered-down stat bonus, it’s like playing an almost entirely different game, with all the monster’s strengths and weaknesses to account for while solving the mystery, plus the added incentive to keep it a secret from the other PCs as well as their players.

(You can also play as something like The Thing from John Carpenter's The Thing!)

If you like or are interested in Call of Cthulhu, Monster of the Week, Dresden Files, X-Files, Kolchak: The Night Stalker, Apocalypse Keys, World of Darkness, or Gumshoe, you’ll probably find something in Eureka to really enjoy.

Intense, tactical combat! 

Hits are devastating, and misses are unpredictable–firing a gun will always change the situation somehow, for better or for worse!

Now in Technicolor!

Evocative artwork from talented femme-fatales @chaospyromancy and @qsycomplainsalot and the mysterious @theblackwarden paint a gorgeously-realized portrait of a world with shadows lurking in every corner.

Elegantly designed and thoroughly playtested, Eureka represents the culmination of three years of near-daily work from our team, as well as a lot of our own money. If you’re just now reading this and learning about Eureka for the first time, you missed the crowdfunding window unfortunately, but you can still check out the public beta on itch.io to learn more about what Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy actually is, as that is where we have all the fancy art assets, the animated trailer, links to video reviews by podcasts and youtubers, etc.!

You can also follow updates on our Kickstarter page where we post regular updates on the status of our progress finishing the game and getting it ready for final release.

Beta Copies through the Patreon

If you want more, you can download regularly updated playable beta versions of Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy earlier, plus extra content such as adventure modules by subscribing to our Patreon at the $5 tier or higher. Subscribing to our patreon also grants you access to our patreon discord server where you can talk to us directly and offer valuable feedback on our progress and projects.

The A.N.I.M. TTRPG Book Club

If you would like to meet the A.N.I.M. team and even have a chance to play Eureka with us, you can join the A.N.I.M. TTRPG Book Club discord server. It’s also just a great place to talk and discuss TTRPGs, so there is no schedule obligation, but the main purpose of it is to nominate, vote on, then read, discuss, and play different indie TTRPGs. We put playgroups together based on scheduling compatibility, so it’s all extremely flexible. This is a free discord server, separate from our patreon exclusive one. https://discord.gg/7jdP8FBPes

Other Stuff

We also have a ko-fi and merchandise if you just wanna give us more money for any reason.

We hope to see you there, and that you will help our dreams come true and launch our careers as indie TTRPG developers with a bang by getting us to our base goal and blowing those stretch goals out of the water, and fight back against WotC's monopoly on the entire hobby. Wish us luck.

[another-lost-mc]

Diavolo’s birthday is one of the most family-friendly celebrations in the Devildom, at least by demon standards. There are still plenty of demons that don’t necessarily agree with his efforts to bring the three realms together peacefully, but the naysayers can’t resist the lure of extravagant parties that silence their doubts and criticism - if only for a short time.

Halloween traditions from the human world amuse and amaze Diavolo and he vows each year to embrace them as part of his birthday celebration. The added bonus, if only a subtle one, is that the Devildom’s most deadly destructive mischievous demons have something else to keep them busy so that the human world can celebrate their version of Halloween with less chaos and bloodshed. Usually.

(The number of unsanctioned hauntings, accidental summonings, and demon-related deaths have steadily decreased in recent years.)

The Demon’s Lord Castle is decorated top-to-bottom in time for a legion of demon children visit in costumes, all of them hoping to trick and treat their way through the palace. The Little Ds enjoy dressing up too - or maybe it’s just an excuse to throw toilet paper all over the place (and each other) and pretend they’re dressed as mummies for the day. Lucky guests can spot Barbatos sporting some elaborate costume of his own design while handing out poison apple cider and warm cookies fresh from the oven. If you follow the echoes of delighted laughter, you’ll eventually stumble on the prince himself, weighed down by little demons hanging off his back and from each limb, dressed as a vampire lord wearing an impractical cape and his face painted with fake (?) blood.

(Diavolo’s costume inspiration is something he saw in a human world film once, but the threat of blood-sucking doesn’t scare demons nearly as much as it does humans. Even the youngest demons only giggle at the prince’s strange antics, not at all frightened by his elongated fangs. His lips and chin might be stained red for dramatic effect, but his sharp teeth and even sharper claws are very real.)

Later on Halloween night, Diavolo’s staunchest supporters gather in the lavish ballroom for a night of fine food, music, and dancing. It’s a rare occasion that demonic offspring, such as Mephisto’s kid brother, are invited to attend as well. Mephisto is teary-eyed at his lord’s most gracious gesture, so much that he doesn’t realize his family is seated at a table close to the residents of Purgatory Hall. Mephisto and Simeon are unofficial babysitters for Luke and the other underage guests for the night, even if they don’t know it yet. Any complaints are half-hearted at best and as far as babysitting goes, this isn’t a terrible hardship either. The young ones are kept busy with small gifts and served dishes made specially for their picky tastes. Bottles of sparkling juice, similar in appearance and but sweeter than real Demonus, are passed around and poured into plastic wine goblets. Little luxuries for little demon lords (and little angels-in-training).

When Luke and the demon children inevitably disappear at some point during the party, it doesn’t take long for their concerned chaperones to find them passed out underneath one of the tables in a cuddle pile of costumes and candy, exhausted from an entire day of excitement and far too much sugar.

[flamingpudding]

I just got done reading the prompt that I asked you about and it's wonderful thank you so much and if you're okay with it I'm here to help you make a part two but if you don't want to do that that's okay I'm just adding some bonus to it.

I'm just imagining Danny full Ghost King attire showing up with two things to cookies one with kryptonite in them cuz I love the head can of ghosts eating good tonight like candy and the other set a normal batch of chocolate chip cookies. Looking down Young Justice being like in the most Patrick electric entity sounding voice with a country accent "I'm so just the cutest oddiest little berries on the bush" (sorry just speaking in my little country Danny headcannon)

But I can also see Danny being embarrassing for Klarion. Danny sit down the two trains of cookies Evan just start hugging and kissing his son on his head like the embarrassing mom he is talking about how he's so skinny and he should eat more. Also really nice to Young Justice it's like them realizing they just might by the end of the day be adopted by enemies mom.

Justice League is getting to the location ready to fight and do what they can just for a Young Justice member with a cookie in hand to walk up and explain and tell them to play along for free cookies.

RedRobin badly wants to try one of the kryptonite cookies to see what it would do if he ate it. Klarion keeps stopping him because as much as he doesn't like them he doesn't want RedRobin to die.

Who I'm just adding on a couple of things really love your writing though oh yeah what are your pronouns so I can know to refer to you as just asking.

So glad you liked it and no problem i don't mind at all. I was thinking about adding a part two honestly. Well then lets continue the shenanigans. I hope this part two won't disappoint either. And out of courtesy for once added people who asked for tags in the comments. Don't get used to it. I usually don't to tags. This is an exception for this awesome prompt idea.

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

The moment a Lazarus green portal started to open in the Living Room, Red Robin suffered a small, probably slightly traumatic, flashbacks to all the times he had seen the Lazarus Pits, but before he could even react Klarion tackled him to the ground with a distinctive hiss of "Play alone." His friends, the traitors, had managed to doge Klarion. Impulse had simple used his speed to step aside and Superboy apparently had headed a warning. Wonder Girl hadn't even been in the path of Klarions tackle. So this was why Red Robin was currently the only one getting sort of wrestled and put into a headlock on the ground in a hold he knew he could easily get out of but was to distracted by the ceiling high, eldritch as well as royal looking being stepped out of it.

The portal closed behind that being and Red Robin swallowed seeing six eyes in inky black that mirrored the night sky blink down at them.

"Klarion?" The static voice ringed in their ears and from the corner of his eyes Red Robin saw Superboy flinch visibly.

"Mom! Your early!" Red Robins head hit the floor as Klarion suddenly let him go to greet the being that's apparently his mother. He glared at the witch boy for that as he sat up and rubbed his had.

"Oh my, sorry my dear." Superboy flinched again, and Red robin could hear Impulse whispering to Wonder Girl if he was the only one seeing four mouths talk at the same time. Klarion appeared to have it heard to as he send them a quick glare over his shoulder before turning back to his mother.

"Mom, could you tune down on the eldritch?" Red Robin blinked stunned before seeing the bing apparently blush green in embarrassment and its form changing until there stood a man, about Red Hoods height still with a floating crown and a royal cape, but at least more human like and resembling Klarion but with more blueish skin before them.

"Sorry baby, I thought my royal appearance would make a better first impression." The man pinched the witch boys cheek lovingly, to witch Klarion whined out a drawn out "Mom."

The four young heroes couldn't help but stare, was that seriously their villain Klarion? The one that tried to cause chaos and make their lives difficult on regular basis?

"Klarion. Why is there a magic barrier around your apartment." The man in royal clothing suddenly asked and they blinked seeing Klarion flinch and laugh nervously. "Oh you know mom, keeping the bonding in one place so other mortals won't be bothered." To which the man cooed. He cooed!

"Bonding? What bonding?" The four heroes echoed blinked and exchanged stunned and confused looks. Bonding? What Bonding? What were they talking about? Sure they hadn't gotten a lot of explanations out of Klarion before that portal opened and apparently his entire act about his mother visiting was the true. It was clear that the witch boy's mother was some kind of other worldly being but it looked like there was more to it. Also considering the royal like outfit and the grown.... did that mean that they had been dealing with a prince of some kind as villain the entire time.

Suddenly the man bristled turning to glare at them back in his eldritch form towering over them. "Are you telling me you mortals have been ignoring my sons bonding?! And that is why my son's bonds don't appear to be properly formed?!"

They flinched back staring at that being that was now back to locking eldritch horror like with a crown and royal cape. Their eyes were locked onto the being, only distantly they realised that Klarion was pulling on his mother hissing something that sounded very much just like static to their ears. It to a while longer but finally the being drew back staring what sounded like a static filled discussion with Klarion and Impulse was pretty sure he had been ready to sully himself if it had taken any longer,

Apparently Klarion and his mother finished their exchanged as they both turned to them, his mom now again more human like looking. "Mom these are my friends. The punk looking guy is Superboy the half alien, Red Robin the one in red and black, you know Dinner boy. Impulse from the Flash-Clan and Wonder Girl one of the Amazonian. Guys this is my mom, Ghost King of the Infinite Realms."

Red Robin couldn't help the eye twitch at his introduction, he also noticed that Impulse flinched back as the mans eyes locked onto him and he didn't need Superboy's confirmation of having heard a grumble about 'why did it have to be a speedster'. Great so this eldritch being, apparently King and most likely a danger and possible hostile did not like one of them already. Why did Klarion ask them to play pretend friends again?

"Well I will be, you have quiet the colourful and oddest batch of fleshy mortals here." The man grinned at them, that were sharp teeth the four heroes observed. "Titles are a bit stuffy, feel free to call me Danny kids. Now come here. I brought some cookies with me."

Before they knew it the four of them were seated on the couch with a huge plate of cookies on the coffee table before them. The four of them blinked at the two kinds of cookies. Impulse was already reaching out to them fearlessly but Wonder Girl had the foresight to stop their friend for the moment. Superboy on the other hand appeared to look quiet queasy and was slowly turning green to the worry of Red robin. They noticed Klarion turning towards his Mom when he took note of this. "Mom! I have a Kryptonian friend! Why did you bring cookies with kryptonite chunks! Look! Superboy is turning green just looking at them."

The Ghost King, now known by the name Danny to them, appeared to be waving his son. "Oh he will be fine in a moment its not enough to completely bother his species, he will just be more human like till you ate all of them. These ones are more for you anyway, you are way to thin lately." Danny then turned to them with a smile. "Please feel free to eat the chuckles chip once. I can guarantee they are human friendly. My sister helped me make them. She is a liminal human."

That was all Impulse needed to rip his wrist free and stuff the first of the chocolate chips cookies into his mouth. "They are good!"

Danny smiled at them satisfied, and with that out of the way started to make small talk with them while also embarrassing his son with occasional comments like. "Oh you should have seen when Klarion first got Teekl." Or "He nearly burned down our entire castle when he started actually learning magic." Or "He used to be such a grumpy adult until he deaged and became such a cute grumpy little baby boy. Want to see photos?"

They never got to see photos to Wonder Girls disappointment. Klarion managed to cut in between suffering embarrassment and glaring at them for encouraging his mother to tell more embarrasing stories and forced the portal, his mother was going to reach into for the photos, to close.

By now the teens have become more relaxed around Danny. The man had a friendly charm to him and genuinely showed an interest in them as well as in the well bing of his son. They could understand why Klarion didn't want to disappoint a parent like that. They snacked on the cookies and Red Robin watched with interest whenever Klarion and Danny reached for one of the cookies with green Kryptonite chunks. Danny had mentioned off handedly in one of his stories of Klarion that they both used to be normal humans. Red Robin was very interested in this right now.

Suddenly Superboy elbowed Impulse and Red Robin, having caught the movement turned to them with an arched eyebrow. "Mentors." The other mouthed to them and they sighed, of course their mentors would show up sooner or later. They shared a glance and Red Robin took on the task to subtitle inform Klarion since they were sitting next to each other when Impulse excused himself to a toilet break shortly.

Red Robin used that quick distraction to reach towards the cookie plate.

Meanwhile Impulse came to a stop in front of the front door stopped by his foot from slamming shut behind him again, thankfully Klarion had removed his magic barrier that could have made this difficult. He had one cookie in hand and grinned up at their mentors and the Justice League Dark members.

"Hi everyone!" He greeted them cheerfully, taking a bite of his cookie.

"Impulse? Are you okay? What happened?!" Flash was instantly on the teen checking him over for any sort of injury. They were prepared to fight since Deadman had reported the location where the Ghost King had appeared. They had chosen to halt their search for the missing teens for the moment but had paled when Superman had mentioned he was hearing their voices from the same location.

"Oh i am fine! Great even. Did you know that there are other dimensions that have melon flavoured chips?" Impulse easily answered grinning. "Also you might wanna dile back on the battle ready aura you guys radiate. Klarions mom is visiting, pretty awesome guy."

"Klarion? The witch boy?" Wonder Woman asked stunned to which Impulse nodded. "Yea, pretty nice guy. Ghost King of a dimension that holds everything together like glue. Kinda badass."

"Bloody fucking..." Batman glared at Constantine who swallowed the rest of his curse. "The hell you mean the Ghost King is badass? That a fucking tyrannical blood hungry war maniac!"

Impulse blinked at them. "Really? I mean he does have scary form that made me nearly piss myself but he is pretty chill. Awesome parent, we get why Klarion loves his mom so much now."

The blond Brite pinched the bridge of his nose letting out a suffering sigh. "Just let us in mate, we will deal with this before our dimension can kiss its arse goodbye."

Impulse appeared to be thinking for a moment before shaking his head. "Uh nope. We are having a good time actually. A nice break. Sooooo no!" Before Flash or anyone else could react impulse stepped back closing the door into their faces. They blinked stunned, Batman was the first to recover stepped towards the door to attempt to open it only for his lockpick to be deflected by a red barrier suddenly appearing. The man growled turning to glare at the Justice League Dark members with a silent comment.

Inside the apartment a little bit earlier....

Klarion snatched another green glowing cookie from Red Robins hands with a glare at the other teen, who only glared back. Danny was watching them amused feeling reminded of himself and Tucker by their interaction. But then his attention turned to Wonder Girl as she asked for another story about Klarions childhood.

A moment later Klarion felt a nudge and looked at Superboy who nudged him across a pouting Red Robin who got another green glowing cookie snatched from him. The witch boy arched an eyebrow when Superboy asked to recreated the barrier to keep their mentors out but did so the moment Impulse was back with them with already three new chocolate cookies in hand as he joined Wonder Girl in fishing for more stories.

[shu-box-puns]

Quick headcannon for our favourite little family. (Tsu'tey/Reader & Spider)

Tsu'tey, like the rest of his clan, is a professional weaver. He can make rugs, tapestries, baskets, anything you can think of. And he'll have it done in half the time you expect it to take. In comparison, Reader's skill equates to a teen learning for the very first time, how to make friendship bracelets with sewing thread instead of embroidery floss.

So of course, hilariously, Spider (age 4) decides to go to Reader out of both parents, and demand they teach him how to make jewellery. (Bonus points if Reader was already trying to make a piece for Tsu'tey and was near tears with how hard they were struggling).

And of course, like a good parent who does not want a scenario of the blind leading the blind, they suggest he waits for Tsu'tey to come home. To which Spider refuses, so they compromise with Reader showing him the basics (they can barely do it themselves) so that Tsu'tey can show him the more complicated stuff later. Unsurprisingly, Spider takes after Reader and can't weave for shit so the first attempt it laughable.

Tsu'tey doesn't seem to care though.

When he ducks into the compound, looking tired and content after a long day with the clan, he greets his mate and child with a warm smile and a hug. He has barely put down his bow before Spider is rushing up to him and brandishing his first weaving technique.

Of course, Tsu'tey looks at it with nothing but heart eyes.

<"For me?"> He asks, tail beginning to wag as Spider nods excitedly, toddling closer to push it into his Dad's hands, only for his little face to fall when he realises that the bracelet is WAY too small for Tsu'tey's big wrist.

Not missing a beat, Tsu'tey carefully plucks the bracelet from Spider's little hands and rolls it onto his second finger, before giving the fingers a wiggle. <"It fits perfectly, thank you my sweet."> He praises, bending to give Spider a raspberry to the forehead. Of course, Spider is immediately delighted and toddles off to go make MORE bracelets.

And like the proud father he is, Tsu'tey loves EVERYTHING Spider makes for him and I mean EVERYTHING! This man goes round decked out in brightly coloured jewellery with uneven beading and knot work, and he is PROUD to be seen in it all. He hoards Spider's projects like a human parent hoards drawings on the kitchen fridge.

And even years later, when Spider has significantly improved and is making pieces that rival all the other kids his age, Tsu'tey keeps everything his boy ever made him. Spider once demanded he remove all the shitty bracelets and burn them, looking embarrassed as he pressed a new piece into Tsu'tey's hands.

Of course, the new piece simply got added to Tsu'tey's attire, and he reluctantly removed the older pieces upon Spider's request, but kept them safely stored with his other possessions. What Spider doesn't know however, is that he keeps the very first bracelet/ring, hidden under his forearm guard, secured tightly with an additional leather strap so it will never go missing.

[pastel-greene]

The Daughter | king!sukuna x curse user!reader

Prologue | Chapter 1 - The Summons | Chapter 2

Summary: The mother of curses happens upon a blind child and decides to impart a portion of her power to them as an experiment of sorts. The power morphs the child in their image until they are part curse and part human. So what happens when they get employed by the King of Curses? Will humanity bloom as newfound emotions flow between the two? Or will they usher in an era of never ending terror?

Notes: not all of this will be canon, it will be loosely based off of the jjk universe :) taglist is open, comment ur request on any chapter to be tagged in the next

Genre: female reader, fluff, angst, ‘loads’ of smut, violence, sukuna true form but like not with the weird face just two sets of stuff, dark reader

Warnings: profanity, explicit smut (two dick sukuna, sadistic sex, sub reader, dom sukuna, biting, oral m & f receiving, pet names, more to be added), violence, depictions of gore, dark minds cause yk, mentions of rape, toxic relationships, chaotic neutral reader, trauma, possessiveness from reader and sukuna, torture, vampire themes (reader’s blood is infused with the Mother of curses so if a curse user is to drink it it basically gives them a temporary stat boost bc what can i say vampire sukuna seems hot), and more to be added as the story progresses

Word count: 7.3k

This work contains mature content, so absolutely no minors I will block you if I find out :)

His eyes glaze over as they roam your body. The need within them allowing you to twirl his inhibitions around your finger and use them as a leash to guide him. He knows he shouldn’t let you close, but closer you get and god does it feel good. He knows he shouldn’t follow your command without an ounce a dignity, but oh how he wants to please you. He would do anything for you without a single question now that all his pesky thoughts were gone. The perfect toy to play with.

The man before you is the leader of a growing religious faction that preached about being able to save people from damnation for only a small price. He made promises of how his newfound god could protect anyone from the horrors of the world and all they needed to do was follow a set of rules— and of course money. It started with one bronze coin before growing to three silver coins. It also started as something one could choose to participate in before it slowly turned into a cult you were forced to be apart of. If you didn’t have money to pay the initiation fee, then you had to give up something else. If you were a married man, you could give up your virgin daughter and be granted a higher position in the hierarchy. If you didn’t have a daughter then you could give up your wife for general admission. If you were a woman without a husband, then you often were never seen again. If you didn’t willingly give one, then they would come and take what they falsely claimed was theirs and justify it with the name of religion. Sometimes even if you gave one, they would come back to take the other.

This contract came to you from a woman whose husband had sold their daughter. She didn’t offer anything material, but begged you to take her offer. You’re not one for charity, but you are one for dark pleasures. You asked if she would kill her husband and then herself, as punishment and payment for not protecting their daughter’s safety. She didn’t even hesitate to say yes. All she could think about was freeing her daughter from their grasp, her loss of life was of no consequence, and killing her husband… Killing her husband for selling their daughter away like a piece of meat would just be an added bonus.

So here you are, in the preacher’s chambers showing him a facade of paradise. Your smiles, your laughs, you lingering touches driving him further and further away from reason. Your power seeped into him, you could do it immediately and have him never see it coming, but that would be too easy. You wanted him to remember making the decisions that led to his downfall. You want to see the mortified look on his face as he realizes he chose this fate. The way his face would contort from panic as the weight of his sins crashes down on him. The way the panic would blend into fear fueled hysteria as he started lashing out and revealing the rest of his true colors. So you’re taking the long way. You’re setting everything into place so everyone can witness a showcase of reality that’ll send them into chaos.

”Mistress please, let me touch you,” he says begs while blindfolded to a chair. A chair he didn’t know had been transported to a very public area that people started to flock to. Horror and disgust on their features as they watched the man who boasted about how high and mighty he was begging for sexual pleasure. Your powers infected his senses so he couldn’t hear or feel anything you didn’t want him to. They also kept any party crashes from getting too close to the scene.

”Wrong line,” you said before letting the sturdy piece of wood in your hand lash against his skin. He let out a scream accompanied with a melody of sorries.

”Mother I have sinned,” a smile crept across your face at the ode to your Mother.

”Is that so? List me your sins and oink after each one to show what a filthy fucking pig you are.”

”I have lied to the people in this city. The god I made is not real, I made them up from a story I heard a few towns over. They were all just stupid and desperate enough to believe in it and hand over all of their valuables, oink!.”

The crowd’s faces were painted with disbelief and anger as the truth was unveiled. Dark thoughts started brewing between them making your blood hum as they continued to watch the scene unfold.

You let the wood crack down on the tops of his bare thighs once again, “What else are you guilty of?”

”I took their wives and daughters for my own sadistic pleasures. Me and the higher ups used those filthy bitches while they kicked and screamed against us. We would use them until we had our fill. Then I sold them off to the highest bidder. Some continued being sex slaves, others became mediums for sadistic fantasies, oink,” he said this line with a smile on his face as he recounted all of the deeds he had done to the girls.

Mothers that remained sobbed and some broke down in the street while others started taking their pain out on their husbands. Blood started to spatter as the number of fights spread like an airborne illness. Men started shouting and punching against the barrier you had put up, some fought out of love for their stolen family members and other fought out of spite for the harmed ego.

You let the wood smack down directly onto his dick and his scream echoed throughout the night skies before being silenced by his thank yous. “What else are you guilty of little piggy?”

”I told the higher members that I would get them into heaven. That all they had to do was listen to me and it would all turn out okay, but we are all damned now. I wanted everyone in this town to be as damned as me and now they are. They think there is a higher god but I am the god here. My words are law, my will is reality, those fucking sheep will give up their own fucking innards if I asked them, oink,” his words started carrying a laugh the more he went on. He actually believed that in this world he held power. You let out a laugh at the thought and he thought you were laughing with him.

”Tell me the names of the men who did this with you.” He started spewing out a list of names and with each one read a new fight began. The crowd dogpiled on whichever one they first laid eyes on and started bludgeoning them to death.

”What a good pig. I have a gift for you for being so good,” you said as the girls and women who survived his kidnapping came out from the building behind you each holding their preferred weapon. The crowd went still at the site of their neighbors, wives, and daughters. The abuse and torment they had undergone was evident as in the faces, clothes, and bodies. But it was their eyes where it showed the most. There was no light in them, no, currently that light was completely consumed by the darkness of revenge. They gathered around him in a circle, quietly waiting for their part.

”Mistress you are too kind to a soiled pig like me,” he said clearly thinking the present would be something splendid he would receive in the privacy of his own quarters.

You drew closer to him and brushed your hands along the sides of his as you removed his blindfold from behind, allowing him a full view of his victims. His eyes grew wide as he took in his surroundings.

”Wh-w-what-t’s happening? Where am I,” he asked in a panicked frenzy as he saw the girls and the bloodied crowd before him.

You walked around to the front of him, “Do you not recognize your own subjects?”

”You witch this can’t be real, we-we were just in my quarters. I would have heard them, I-I would have felt us move!” He started pulling against the restraints but they remained the same. “Don’t believe anything! This is all a lie! A facade put on by her! She is a witch! You need to kill her! Whoever kills her gets to join me at the top!”

You smiled down at the pathetic man, “Goodbye, little piggy,” you said as you started walking.

You looked to the girls, “You have 20 minutes before the others can approach him.”

They nodded at you and started circling the man as you walked into the building they came out of. You could hear the way they made him sing as they tore into him. You had fed enough of your energy into him that he would stay alive and conscious until the barrier fell no matter how much damage he took. He would feel every ounce of revenge they had for him. Inside, there was still one girl. The girl in your contract. You took her hand and told her you were taking her home. She had heard and saw what you had done. She gave you no hesitation as she walked behind you. Upon getting to the house, the mother rushed to her daughter with open arms. They both sobbed as they hugged each other and fell to the ground.

You let them have a minute before clearing your throat. The mother looked up to you and then back down to her daughter. She held her face and then wiped away her tears, telling her something you didn’t bother to catch. The girl looked up at you while still on her knees and started begging and crying. It all fell on deaf ears as you took the mother into their house where her husband was currently tied up. You handed her the dagger your Mother had given you all those years ago and she grabbed it tight in her hands.

”Thank you,” she said while smiling at you through watery eyes. She then turned around and stabbed her husband over and over. Each plunge accompanied by a scream of liberation. She looked down at his mangled torso before taking a deep breath and looking at the moon “Thank you,” she said again before plunging the dagger into her own abdomen. You grabbed the dagger and left, walking past the daughter who was still on her knees outside.

When you finally made it back to your home the sun was rising, you were exhausted. You grabbed an already open bottle of sake and took it to your bed deciding to forego a glass. Most crimes didn’t bother you but you always hated ones they dealt with girls being sold. It made you want to take the whole town off of the map for letting it go on for so long. The way that mother ran to her daughter irked you too. You couldn’t remember your parents or really anything before being sold. You had always assumed they realized you were blind and got rid of you as quickly as they could. You knew there would never have been anyone waiting for you with open arms after going through the traumatic events you did. It would have always been you having to comfort yourself, telling yourself it was okay. And that was okay…

You awoke sometime around noon to a fight happening in the hallway of where you were staying. Some man didn’t have something he owed the other man blah blah blah. Didn’t they know where you were? This was the city of night. Arguing that loud while it was still light out was a death sentence. You opened your door to look at them. It was two well dressed men—obviously not from around here. Your guess is that one of them was hiding from some debts here and the other came to collect.

”Keep your fucking voice down before I rip out your vocal cords and shove them up your ass”. Heh then he could really talk out of his ass.

”Mind your own business whore. Where’s your owner to keep you in—,” his sentence was cut short by your hand around his throat.

”Go on, finish your sentence,” you said without letting up on his throat. All that came out were gurgles as his face started to darken. You were fully ready to kill him when your friend Ieriri opened her door and sighed.

”Can’t we have a morning without a body in the hall?” She leaned against the doorframe clearly feeling the full effects of a hangover, her lips pouting into a plea.

”I thought you would enjoy a new body to experiment on Ieiri,” you said returning your own pout as you slightly loosened your grip on the man’s throat. “Plus he was so mean to me”.

”Ple-ease am- sorry,” the man choked out as he held onto your hand.

Ieiri put her hands together as she begged you to just let it be. You sighed and eyed the man that he was obviously here for.

“Both of you, out—now”.

The other man went to rebuttal but immediately shut his mouth when he felt your aura pierce through him. You released the man you were holding and he grabbed the other man by his hair before dragging him down the hallway and out of the building. You groan as you haggardly waltz into Ieiri’s room, still exhausted from your interrupted sleep.

”Well come in,” she jokingly says since you’re already on laying on her bed. She closes her door and comes to lay with you, “rough night?”

You sigh and nod your head. “I had a job a few villages over that required a lot of setup and was extremely fucked up. Like I will think I am fucked up, but when I see towns like that, I almost feel like a fucking saint,” you laugh.

”Fuck I know, right? I almost like going to towns like that though because I enjoy feeling like a saint and holding myself over people”, she says while literally holding herself over you which makes you laugh.

”Oh hardy har. Please madame teach me the ways of civility, turn me into a real upstanding lady!”

You both can’t help but laugh as she crawls into bed next to you. You had found Ieiri when you first came to this town 12 years ago. You were both children stealing for food, but she had gotten caught and almost killed on the spot for it. You had saved her and she had been glued to your side ever since. At first you kept telling her to go away, after all, you had never had a friend before. You didn’t know what to do with it, what she wanted. So you dealt with it the only way that made sense to you. You made it a partnership. She had knowledge of the town and you had power. You guys became town menaces in a town already full of them. It was the perfect paradise for you. Now you both knew it was more than a partnership, it was true companionship. You considered her to be like a sister and would turn the world over if anyone ever hurt her, but you would be surprised if they could. You had been teaching her how to use cursed energy ever since you felt a trace of it within her. She could easily hold her own against an average human. Your giggles died down as you both found rest in each other’s arms.

You walked the streets of your home. Some people gave you friendly greetings, some even approached you for a hug, while others hurried past you and didn’t dare to make eye contact. In a town full of criminals and assassins, they knew you were at the top of the food chain. Those who had challenged you in the past were either never heard from again or had come back so altered it was like there was no one home behind their eyes. Just walking zombies. Those were the ones you let Shoko play with. After running whatever experiments she wanted on them, they came out a ghost of their former selves.

You made your way to your favorite bar and as you came in the barkeep brought out an imported bottle of tequila that he knew you loved. Your eyes lit up as you beelined towards him. “Kentooo you shouldn’t have,” you said as you reached for it.

He pulled it back to your shock, “Oh I shouldn’t have? My mistake I will sell it to someone else then”, he said with an apologetic bow reeking of sarcasm. You put out your lips in a pout but he didn’t budge so you sighed.

”Thank you so much my knight in booze plated armor for remembering my favorite drink and fighting the terrifying trade company to retrieve it. I give you my most sincere thanks for bringing it back to me in one piece. Your efforts shall not go unacknowledged, what shall thy knight’s request entail,” you said with laughable grandeur.

He tried his best to keep up his end of the rouse but once one laugh fell through they all did. “You’re a little shit (Y/N)”, he said while opening the bottle and pouring you both a shot.

“And you’re an idiot for not taking up the invitation for me to grant you one request,” you said while clinking his glass and downing a shot with him.

”We will just say you owe me one then,” you were about to rebuttal but he remembered something,”By the way, you have a client in the back room waiting for you. He said he was a messenger for Lord… uhm well you know who.”

It wasn’t often you saw Kento get nervous but whoever’s name he was referencing definitely did it. You motioned your eyebrows to ask who but he acted as if a customer called him and walked off.

”Hey, where are you, KENTOOOO,” you shouted behind him to no avail. You sighed and grabbed the bottle as you walked towards the back to meet a messenger of Lord Spooky apparently.

In the back you saw a man in a very expensive garb and figured that was who you were looking for. You sat down at the table he was waiting for you at and took a drink.

”What do you want,” you said with little regard. Lords usually wanted some other Lord killed or a crime hidden away. They were also usually stingy and tried to slip payments thinking you couldn’t touch them. Man you hated dealing with them.

”I am a messenger of King Sukuna, he has requested your presence,” he said showing the same lack of regard to you. To him, you looked like a wench with a drinking issue. Not an asset.

You just looked at him, “Get out of here you fucking liar. The King has no interest in people here. We’re all just swine to him.”

His eyebrow twitched in annoyance, “While I don’t rebuke you being swine”, ohohohhh this motherfucker wanted to walk out with his head facing his ass, “he did indeed request your presence in the throne room, by 10 tomorrow.”

You blinked a few times, “So let me get this straight, the King wants me there by 10 tomorrow? It is currently 2 in the morning, and it takes 7 hours to get to his shrine. So within an hour I am supposed to drop everything and go?”

”Well you see, I arrived here 6 hours ago but this forsaken town doesn’t wake up until the sun is down, so technically you were going to have 2 hours to get ready, we would have left four hours ago, and then had plenty of time to fix your appearance for the king. But now, we will be leaving immediately and hoping there is time to wash the stench of booze from you and find out if there is a presentable version of you”.

Gobsmacked. Your jaw was left open at his onslaught of words and you were about to shove your fingers through his neck and beat the rest of his body with his skull when he held up the King’s stamp. Holy shit. You grabbed it and looked at it closer. It was real. It was really fucking real. The King wanted to see you. The King that had so many fucking horror stories written about him that maybe it actually should be Lord Spooky instead of King Sukuna.

”Uhm, well give me 20 minutes and I will meet you back here,” you said while getting up still feeling a little surreal.

What did the King want? Was this going to go bad and turn into a fight? There were very few people you didn’t want to seriously throw down with and he was one of them. From what you have heard, he is a powerful curse user like you surrounded by other less powerful curse users. Fuuuck if you were going to fight you wanted to do it in a neutral area not his fucking shrine. That’s not even fair. Although, it also made your blood tingle at the prospect of fighting someone at your level. Someone who also used cursed energy and was absolutely fucked in the head. Maybe a fight wouldn’t be bad.

”You have 10 and if you run the King will come here himself to retrieve you and take out this town in the process,” he said while getting up and walking towards the door where his carriage was ready, “Don’t. Be. Late.”

Kento who had heard the last bit of the conversation looked at you in shock before inching closer. “What was that about? Why would the King come here? Why does he want you? What the fuck did you do?” He was directly in front of you while rambling off questions. You just hugged him. “Don’t touch my tequila while I am away.”

You hurriedly ran to Ieiri’s and told her the gist of the conversation and your goodbyes. She was reluctant but knew you could handle yourself, even if it was against the King. She knew you would come back home, so you hugged and then left.

You made it back to the carriage with a just a small knapsack. You didn’t keep much with you. You had your dagger, some snacks, money, and some changes of clothes. Not that you expected to be able to wear the clothes as your usual attire wasn’t really fit for where you were going. You assumed they would continue to “make you presentable” while you were there.

”On time. I suppose you do have some class,” the messenger said as he opened the door for you and motioned for you to enter.

You gave a sarcastic bow while holding his eye contact, “Opening the door for me, I suppose you do know your place, peasant,” you said with a grin as you got in and he followed with a face so red it was almost purple.

The ride was very long, and very bumpy. “Soo, what’s your name,” you asked.

He just scoffed at your question and refused to look like you.

”So you’re just going to act like a child then?”

Nothing. More silent treatment.

Act like a child? Two could play at that game. “Hey, hey, hey, HEEEEEEYYY-“

”WHAT”, he cut you off seething.

”I asked you a question.”

”I don’t answer to you.”

”Do I have to repeatedly scream my questions to get you to answer them?”

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, “Geto Suguru”.

”Seeee that wasn’t that hard,” you said much to his annoyance, “so what does the King want with me?”

”He will tell you when we get there. And before you scream at me that is all I am allowed to say so please let me ride in peace.”

You sighed. You guess you can ride in silence with him but there will be no peace for you. You wanted to be a little shit and make sure there was no peace for him either but given his obvious disdain towards someone of your class you were sure it wasn’t peaceful for him either. Whatever you thought as you leaned back into your chair and looked at the ceiling of the carriage.

At some point you had dozed off because Geto kicked you in the leg to get you to wake up. Or well tried. As soon as you sensed his foot near your leg you stood and raised your leg to the side of his throat. For the first time you saw his expression change from annoyance to shock. He was sure you were dead asleep from how you were snoring and drooling, but here you were with a kick that left air to blow in his face from the sudden stop next to his neck. He didn’t even see it coming. Maybe you could be an asset after all.

”Y’know a simple hey would suffice next time ass wipe,” you said while lowering your foot and exiting the open carriage door. The attendants kept their heads bowed but you could tell they were just as shocked from the scene and some had to stifle laughter from your insult to him.

You stretched your arms up over your head as you got out and let rip a hearty yawn. As you finished you started taking in the shrine and palace. It was so clean, obviously Sukuna had some very good help with how spotless this place was. You looked at the attending and noticed that even they were well kept. With all the rumors about him you almost expected them to be in haggard loin clothes covered in dirt. Instead they all wore black and red kimonos. They were simple but still nicer than what you wore when in a hoity toity setting. You wore a simple loose shirt that hung off your shoulder when knocked out of the center, loose pants with deep pockets, and an expensive pair of boots with steel on top of the toe. It wasn’t fancy but with how much blood got on your clothes there wasn’t a point in buying nicer ones.

“Weapons are not permitted. Hand over all that you have,” Geto said as he walked up beside you.

You figured it would be like that so you had used your magic earlier to slip the dagger your Mother gave you into a pocket realm and handed the rest over to Geto.

He looked down at the daggers you gave him, “Anymore?”

”Nope,” you said before trying to continue onwards to which Geto reached his arm out and barred your entry. “Oh what now?”

”I don’t believe you.”

You sighed and spread your arms and legs, “Go on then search me”.

He felt up your legs to your thighs to your back pockets. His body towering over you as you stared into his chest. His hands slid from your ass to your waist and then started moving up until they cupped under your breasts.

”Oi they’re not bombs they’re my tits, although I can understand the confusion since that sour look you wear makes it seem as if you’ve never been laid,” you said while looking up at him.

”I know what they are, although given their size I almost thought they were little bombs,” he said with a smile while moving his hands to your back and then finally up your shoulders and down your arms.

You just laughed at his comment. Your boobs were not the biggest but not the smallest either. You never had any complaints from past lovers so you felt indifferent about it.

”Well now that you know that they aren’t a bomb but just the bomb, are we done?”

He shook his head at your comment but you swore there was a ghost of a smile on his lips. Maybe all it took for him to start to like you was almost kicking his head off. He jerked his head to the side in gesture for you to follow so you did. Once on the grounds, you got to see how diligent his servants truly worked. They worked very obssesively all with their heads bowed, refusing to make eye contact with anything aside from what they were doing.

”Why are everyone’s heads bowed,” you asked.

”It is a rule. Keep your head down so you don’t make eye contact with the King on accident. If they do they are killed right where they stand.”

“Why can’t I look at him? Is he… y’know not quite-“

“I’m going to stop you right there. You may be a requested guest but you will be killed all the same for disrespecting the King. He is fine, it is a sign of disrespect to look him in the eye so don’t,” he said while guiding you into the servant’s wing of the palace.

You couldn’t help but giggle, “So you think he is fine, huh? That why you don’t like boobs?”

”Gods you’re insufferable”, he led you into a room with a bath waiting and a few female servants. “Bathe and get dressed—quickly. I expect you outside in 20 minutes”, he said before closing the door and leaving you alone with the other women.

They came to help you undress but you gave them a gentle wave of no while smiling and thanking them for the offer while you undressed yourself. You noticed them staring at your body. You were probably the most muscular woman they had seen and you had a few scars on your back and abdomen from before you were gifted by the Mother. You just smiled at their stares and got into the bath helping them quickly scrub you clean. The products they were using smelled like lavender and bergamot. Scents you didn’t realize you were quite fond of until basking in them. You got through the bath quickly and moved onto dressing. They put a black and red robe on you that was made of a nicer material than theirs and had designs along the inner trim and bottom of the sleeves. They went to put socks and sandals on you but you protested asking to just wear your boots. They looked mortified and panicked. You wondered if they would get killed if you showed up differently than planned so you just sighed and put on the socks and sandals. They tied your hair up into an intricate bun with black pins donning red tassles holding it into place. They moved onto your face applying a dark stroke of black to line your eyes and dark red lipstick that reminded you of how you look when you bite people.

You were sure they normally do more given all the beauty products laying in front of you but time was up. You bowed and thanked them to their dismay, a smile forming on their lips, as you went to the door. When you open it you meet Geto standing there waiting. “Alright time to go”, he said but as he turned towards you he stopped. Once again, surprise bloomed across his features.

“Oh piss off. A sprinkle of makeup didn’t transform me, let’s go”, you said while walking off.

“Wrong way”, he shouted which made you turn around and start towards the opposite end of the corridor that he had already started walking towards. He had found your features to be attractive before, so no you didn’t transform, but gods did you look good like that. If only he could wash and redress your attitude.

Before opening the door Geto reminded you to not look at the King, not to cuss, to be respectful, not to speak unless spoken to, and basically go against all of your natural instincts. To which you sarcastically thanked him and took a deep breath. You had played many roles over the years and this was no different. You calmed your energy down until you could feel it was perfectly poised, put on a friendly yet neutral face, put your hands together in your kimono sleeves, and kept you head down as Geto led you into the throne room.

You could feel the King’s presence as well as a less stronger presence beside his throne. There were a few other people in the room but you and Geto were the only other ones with cursed energy. The odds of winning a fight against all of them would be absolutely rough, unless you put them in your domain. There it would be them against an army of your creations, but you wanted to keep your domain under wraps for as long as you could.

You could feel all of their eyes on you, sizing you up as well. Gods it was so fucking stupid that you couldn’t look at them as well. The hypocrisy made you want to look directly in his eyes and flip him the bird. Shit you almost let out a little giggle at that. Keep your thoughts cool dammit.

“Welcome (Y/N), I have heard a lot about you”, a voice with a deep timbre and light rumble said. You didn’t have to look to know it was the King.

“I wasn’t aware you had heard of me my King, but I am honored at your invitiation”, you said with a practiced voice that had Geto side eyeing you wondering where the fuck the actual you went.

You could hear him getting up in his seat, but didn’t give into the desire to look.

“Do you know why I called you here, (Y/N)”, he said as he started descending down the steps leading to his throne.

“No, my King. I-“, you feel a wave of cursed energy shoot towards you and step out of the way of it before feeling the King’s energy approaching you rapidly. You brace yourself and he appears in front of you, you manage to keep up with his speed and dodge his incoming physical attacks while using your cursed energy to fend off his own. His attacks have no malice behind them and he is keeping you two in a small radius clear of destroying anything, so you assume this is likely a test. You keep your head down and your arms in your sleeves. You feel as if you’re doing well at the test until two more arms appear from nowhere.

What the fuck is this asshole part spider? How many fucking arms does he have?

Just when everyone in the room thinks that he has you in his grasp, you disappear. They’re left in confusion as they look around for you.

”Do you know why I am here my King,” you ask from in front of his throne with a slight hint of sarcasm on ‘my King’, your places now switched from how they began.

He smiled before appearing right in front of you again, “Serve me”, he whispered in your ear.

”Why?”

He let out a maniacal laugh, “Well one, you have no choice in the matter. You will serve me or die by me. I will be nice and give you a two though”, he said while circling you like a predator, “we are the same. Well maybe not in power, but I have heard of your work. Seen what remains after you're sent to do a job. You don’t just do what the client tells you, no, you sow seeds for cursed energy to grow from, don’t you? I can feel the hunger inside you, the pit that demands chaos paid in blood. Feed it with me”. He is behind you, his face beside your ear again.

“What are the terms of my treatment? Am I stuck here or do I get to go outside the palace? Also, what is your end goal? Why rule, why dominate? What world are you hoping to get out of it?”, you ask turning around to face him, this time staring right into his eyes.

He grabs your throat when you make eye contact, but quickly lets go in slight shock. “Were you draining my power just then?”, he asks with a wild smile on his face.

”Yes my King. I wouldn’t advise touching me against my will. It only takes a few seconds for me to send it to that pit that you mentioned,” you boldly take a step towards him, still maintaining eye contact, “I will work with you but there will be conditions. You will find that I am much nicer to work with when I am happy and that I am very easily made happy”. You say with the smile you learned from your Mother while unleashing the veil you always kept over your power and could feel the others’ spike in response to yours. The humans in the room launched their heads back before looking at the King, eyes matching the color of yours. All of the sorcerers, could feel your power tapping around in the heads, not in them, but letting them know they could end up out of control if they slip up.

Sukuna’s POV

This annoying little bitch coming into my throne room and challenging me. I could stick my fingers through her fucking brain until she has no choice but to be an obedient slave and part of me loves that idea, but the other part loves where this is going. She can disappear from even me and reappear without being sensed, tap into others minds, and drain other users of their power. She may not be as strong as me, but fucking hell are her abilities useful. And something about her presence makes my power hum with a feeling I can't place. Lust? Hate? Familiarity? Fuck I don’t know but I want her near.

I sit back in my throne, eyeing her up and down. With me sitting we are closer to eye level than before. Her eyes look like pools of blood, begging to drown the world in them. “What are your requests then, brat?” I can see the shock on the other sorcerers' faces, but also understanding on Geto’s. He must also realize she is an asset.

“I require alcohol, casual wear fit for fighting, an area where I can train but it doesn’t need to be private, and while I understand I may not be able to leave often, the ability to visit my home for 24 hours at a time not including travel time,” she said while still fucking staring me down. Cheeky bitch. But none of those are terrible, I suppose.

”Oh, and I would like to be able to have sex”, she added while nodding.

”With who?”

”You—“, Geto and Uraume both choked on air at her request as my eyebrows raised. Who does this fucking wench think she is demanding stipulations and then to fuck me I—“ Kidding, sorry. I didn’t really have anyone in particular in mind I just wanted to make sure it wasn’t off the table since this is kinda a shrine”, she said as if she hadn’t just informally joked about having fucking me—her fucking King.

I just sit and stare at her for a minute wondering what the hell goes through her mind that compels her to speak to me so casually. What happened to the demeanor she had in the beginning? Speaking like a bratty fucking whore now that she is close to me. Normally, I would grab her by her fucking throat and slam her around for such insolence, but I can still feel the hole she drained from my power. That ability is pesky as hell. Maybe I can get her to lower it and then smash in her skull. Hmm that would be nice.

“I will agree to your terms, but you will only drink after the sun sets, wear the clothing I choose outside of daily routine, and you may leave three times a year upon my approval and failure to follow those terms will results in losing one of those visitations. You will also speak to me with respect for here on out. I will not hear more slander about fucking a ran through whore like you or I will snap your neck, power drain or not. Are we clear?”

She gives me a shit eating grin before slightly bowing her head, “Crystal clear my King. I look forward to working for you.”

(Y/N) POV

Holy shit why did I say him? What demon inside me fucking compelled me to risk my life over that? Although…everyone’s reaction was funny.

“I will agree to your terms, but you will only drink after the sun sets, wear the clothing I choose outside of daily routine, and you may leave three times a year upon my approval and failure to follow those terms will results in losing one of those visitations. You will also speak to me with respect for here on out. I will not hear more slander about fucking a ran through whore like you or I will snap your neck, power drain or not. Are we clear?”

Except the end. Ran through whore? I am sorry, but who is it that has MULTIPLE concubines? Hypocrite.

“Crystal clear my King. I look forward to working with you.”

With that he waves his hand in dismissal and I walk away with my head still bowed and Geto following behind me. Once out of the room he smacks me on the back of the head.

”Fuck you actually do drain people’s energy don’t you?”

”Yea did you think our King was lying? You accuse him of being a liar? Don’t you know that is direct disrespect to him and punishable by death”, you say with a dead serious look as you stare at him.

He stares back absolutely baffled. “If anyone needs advice on how to not get killed by the King it's you. You flat out asked to fuck him like a goddamn maniac”, he says while guiding you to where you assume your quarters will be.

“Yea imagine if we got into a real fight. I wonder how it would go? I think it’d be pointless. We are stronger together. I am more of an asset than any of you know, killing me would suuuuck”, you say with an overly playful tone for the topic.

“How can you be so sure that you’re such an asset that he wouldn’t kill you?”

“Can any of you do what I just did?”

”Teleporting yes and—“

”I didn’t teleport. I went to a different realm that is in this one but not. Can any of you walk between realms?”

”I don’t even know what that means or what to do with that information. You make my brain hurt, for many reasons”, he stops and opens the door in front of you, “these are your quarters. I am sure your servants will be by to take your measurements and specifications for clothes and alcohol preferences soon. Do not leave this room without your attending servants until you have been told you may wander alone. Okay?”

You smile as you walk in and do a few spins in your room, “Yes, I understand. Wait for my servants and don’t leave without them”, you say without looking at Geto as you take in your room. You hear your door close, leaving you to your own devices

Notes: chapter one ayoo hopefully you guys like it. Some notes about the reader and Sukuna

- The reader’s cursed powers follow many techniques just like the Mother’s. The realm in between she mentioned is the Mother’s domain. Her domain is so big it is literally separate realm that exists on top of the other one without detection. The Mother and reader are the only ones that can travel to it. This realm is full of stored cursed energy and curses crafted by the Mother and reader. The Mother and her spawn stay in a palace that the reader cannot reach in that realm as they are taking a hands off approach for a while, so the reader can only use creations made themselves. Similar to Geto’s power but on a larger scale. This will actually make the two of them a good combo in the future.

- Sukuna had someone watch the events described in the beginning. He is interested in the reader because he has heard many accounts of their power and the technique is always different. He has also heard accounts of them lifting grown men twice their size as well as other items of great weight. Her speed has also been made a point of interest. Her bloodlust has also reached his ears and the depictions of gore she has left behind. Her killing didn’t discriminate on age or gender, but he had noticed her scenes were more intense when involving rape.

- The more cursed energy a sorcerer has the more of a pull her blood will have on them because the purer their energy is. It can feel the Mother within it and yearns to feed on it. This is why the King will let her get away with more and will act more erratic around her because he doesn’t know why he feels the way it does but he is oddly possessive/protective of her now. He would still beat her for the insolence if it wouldn’t drain him, but he has no intention of killing her.

- Ieiri knows more about the reader’s powers than anyone else and experiments on people to come up with new ideas for curses. She finds out what hurts the most but keeps the patient alive, different things that affect their vitals, tests on humans and sorcerers to ensure effectiveness, different ways to get inside people’s minds, and an array of ways to attack people in general. This has allowed the reader to create curses completely different than the Mother’s.

- If it came down to a fight, the reader would win in cursed energy, but Sukuna would win in brute strength. It would come down to how both played their cards throughout the match. The reader’s domain is able to open within Sukuna’s and is the inside of the Mother’s palace. So while he may have Malevolent Shrine, she has Malevolent Mother but the reader would rather die than run to her mom, so y’know.

Taglist: @missroro

[m-musings]

Headcanons: Hugging One Piece Men

A/N: i LOVE me some hugs, so you know i just gotta write about it for my current hyperfixation. (hcs below the cut!)

Word Count:660 Warnings: a dangerous amount of fluff like its so sugary sweet it hurts

Luffy:

If you ever find yourself with the urge to hug the Captain of the Straw Hats, just beware.

Because the moment you wrap your arms around him, he will flash that signature smile of his and stretch his arms around your body as many times as possible to give you an even bigger hug.

Luffy will then spin you around (making you slightly dizzy) before setting you down with a kiss to your cheek.

After regaining your balance, he would wrap an arm around your shoulder as he takes you toward the kitchen to go bother Sanji about making him and you a meal to share with each other. :)

Zoro:

Hugging Zoro is rare to say the least.

Like if you try while he's already taking a nap or sitting with the rest of the crew, the most you'll get is a small pat on the arm.

But if the two of you are alone after a long day and you just happen to wrap yourself around his midsection, he'll give you a small smirk before turning round to hold you as close as possible.

He will also pick you up but only to bring you to his hammock so you two can cuddle and nap together!

Sanji:

Already being pretty physically affectionate, Sanji adores your hugs!

If he's chopping veggies in the galley, he will hold you in his arms under the guise of teaching you proper knife usage.

He will also just grab you by the hand to hold you while you both sway around to the sound of the waves gently crashing against the boat.

Mans is down bad for you and is not afraid to show you with an embrace or two.

Usopp:

Usopp is just as- if not more so- lovey and affectionate as Sanji.

If there's ever a moment where his hands are free, you can bet your ass that he's got his arms draped around you with his head resting in the crook of your neck.

Will pull you into his lap while he's working on new gadgets, using needing an extra set of hands as an excuse to keep you for himself for a while.

Usopp just loves to be near you, so your hugs are exactly the thing he needs to get through a day.

Shanks:

oh our beloved Red Haired Shanks here is the KING of hugs! Even with one arm, he is simply the best.

Any chance he gets, he's running over to scoop you up and litter kisses all over your face.

Yes, the others in the crew will give you shit if you act all cutesy around them but he can't find the time to be bothered when you're right there in his embrace.

He would gladly give up all his treasure if it meant he could always feel your arms held around him.

Buggy:

Buggy is a very good candidate for a hugging partner and not surprisingly, his chop chop abilities even add to the experience!

Aside from just being able to give you a good squeeze, he is just sooooooo warm! Even without his jacket, he's like a human furnace.

This makes for optimal cuddling conditions during a cold night at sea after an arduous day of performing in the big top.

Don't let his exuberant public personality fool you, Buggy is a giant teddy bear when he's alone with you.

Mihawk:

Ever the stoic one, Mihawk would never outwardly show how he feels about you holding onto him.

But on the inside, he is so happy when you decide that you want to cling to him. It makes him feel the overwhelming need to protect you, even if you are capable of doing so yourself.

Having you close like this just makes his job easier, especially with the added bonus of you nuzzling into his side.

And if you're lucky enough, you'll have the pleasure of catching Dracule's eyes gazing fondly at you as you give him a sweet smile.

[the-apocrypha]

Cottagecore Series DVD Bonus Features

By popular request: the deleted scenes of how Dream and Hob ended up confessing their respective Big Secrets to one another. Below the cut are a series of conversations that take place a few days after Dream announces his pregnancy with Orpheus, and they are incredibly angsty. They also heavily feature abortion as a conversation topic. These were originally written to intercut with at least two miracles but didn't end up working out due to tone issues, and also don't really work as a standalone fic, so. If you're interested--enjoy!

The possibility of a child—their child, their own, of them—had occasionally crossed Hob’s mind, in the same way that other fantastical things like dragons and public libraries did. Fleeting. Unformed. Simple, wonderful little daydreams. 

The reality of it was both impossibly more exciting and terrifying than he could have ever imagined. 

Hob thought of a beautiful child with tiny pointed ears and glowing amber eyes. He thought of a babe born to the world still and pale, never to draw a single breath of life. He thought of all the stories his mother used to tell him, the skipping games and the toy swords and songs that lived inside of him, waiting to be passed down to someone small and new. He thought of a fae child, enamored of the forest and magic and books of learning, with little use for its mortal father. 

Once, when Hob was young, his mother had been called to help an ewe who had been laboring for the better part of the day. Twin lambs, both trying to emerge at the same time.

They’d had mutton for dinner, that night. And for many nights after that. 

Hob could not stop thinking about it. About everything.

What if the child came out completely human. 

What if the child came out completely fae. 

“You told me once,” Hob said, the words leaving his mouth even as lead weights sank pits into his stomach, even as his heart said don’t ask this don’t ask this don’t do it, but he had to, he had to know. “You told me once. That it took you a very long time to grow up.” 

Dream paused. “Yes,” he said, at length. “But time in the realm of the fae is not so… linear as it is here. It is—it was subject to neither law nor order. Time was fickle. Changeable.” 

“You said that it was almost a hundred years.” 

“That was… a guess,” Dream said. 

Hob stared. 

“It was unusual,” Dream added. He did not meet Hob’s eyes. “It. It was a choice I made. The rest of my siblings came of age much faster than I.” 

“How fast?” Hob asked, heart in his throat. 

Dream swallowed. 

“How fast?” 

“The child is half mortal, Hob it should not—it will not age as a fae child would. It cannot, it—it will not have the same power, the same gifts, and moreover, the laws of this universe would not allow—” 

“Oh, you know that, do you?” Hob asked, eyebrows raised. “Like you knew that a mortal man couldn’t get you pregnant in the first place?” 

Dream flinched. 

Hob sighed, and scrubbed at his face. “I’m just. I’m just thinking. We don’t know what we’re going to get, eight months from now—” If they were going to get anything at all. “—and we’ve got zero precedent to go off of, here. It. It could be anything. It could grow like a human and take sixteen years and be done. But, it could also…” 

“It will not,” Dream said, but there was a traitorous wobble in his voice.

“It could,” Hob insisted. “It could, Dream, and we just. I just want to be prepared for that. I want you to be prepared for that.” 

Dream stared, like the whole world was crashing down around him. As if he had not considered this at all. “No.” 

“Yes.” 

“Hob—” 

“But, listen—listen, it’ll be okay,” Hob said hurriedly, and took Dream’s hands into his own. Put on the bravest face he could muster. “Whatever happens, it’ll be okay. I promise. I’ll be with you every step of the way, for. For as long as I can be. Even if it means being stuck in the terrible twos for an entire decade. You just might have to do the teenage years on your own, that’s all. And. You know. The thousand years that come after that.” 

Dream closed his eyes. 

Hob tried desperately to rally. “And, hey! The good news is, at least I won’t be around to give any dodgy sex talks when it comes time for that, since I obviously—” 

“Hob,” Dream said. 

“Though clearly pregnancy prevention isn’t your strong suit either,” Hob allowed. 

“Hob.” 

Dream’s eyes were open again, and they were full of tears. 

“Hob,” Dream said again, and it caught in his throat. “Hob, I—I am not going to live for another thousand years.” 

Hob frowned. “But—”

“I made,” Dream said, and with the next blink the tears spilled over, “a bargain.” 

The reason that Hob had kept it a secret for so long (was because he was a coward) was because, in his opinion, there had been no good that would come of the truth. 

Dream had assumed that the people of Eskham had turned against Hob for being a hedgewitch. He’d assumed in turn that mortals were prejudiced against any being with magic, which was a category that happened to include the fae but more importantly included Hob, who did not have the ability to summon tornadoes or fell ancient oaks. Dream still sweetly seethed about the injustices Hob’s own people had done upon him. He had yet to even once seem concerned for his own safety. 

This was fair. 

Dream had, after all, taken out an entire village of mortals in one wrothful fell swoop. 

Now, Dream had confessed what had happened in the aftermath of that massacre—what he had so readily sacrificed, to save Hob’s life—and it had been devastating in its own right. It had left Hob awake at night, imagining what it would be like to grow older and older and older, while his child did not. 

But it had also pulled on the string that unraveled whatever remained of their tapestried joy at the possibility of impending parenthood. The happiness was gone. The happiness should never have existed in the first place, because the ache of its absence was far worse than to have never known it at all. Hob could not believe he ever felt such simple, mindless elation at what had quickly become a question to which every answer was more horrifying than the last. 

Hob thought of a babe with perfectly pointed ears, stolen away in the night, drowned in the river. 

Hob thought of a child with huge, phosphorescent eyes, tied to a stake above a pile of dried tinder. Screaming.

Hob thought of black-nailed teenager who had had forty-odd years of childhood with its parents before they succumbed to old age, and left their child alone in a world it did not belong in. Orphaned. Ostracized. Hunted. 

It filled Hob’s stomach and left him unable to eat. It pressed down on his chest at night, and he could not sleep. 

And he knew what he needed to do. 

At the same table where Dream had confessed not three days ago, Hob sat himself heavily on the bench. 

Dream stared back wanly. He’d spent most of the morning vomiting copiously, which perhaps made this timing even worse, but Hob knew if he did not say it now he might never say it at all. 

“Dream,” Hob said carefully. The words stuck in his throat like glass, and they tore him open one by one as he forced them out. “There’s. The other day, when you told me about the bargain you made. I—there’s something that I should. Something I should have told you, before—something. Something.” He swallowed. “Something I. Something.” His nails dug into his palms. His heart was pounding in his ears. “Something—” 

“Hob.” 

Dream’s hand splayed across his chest is like ice on fire. Hob sucked in a breath, and relished the burn. 

He seized Dream’s hand in his own. Looked Dream in the eyes. Prepared to pull this one last thread of sanity for the person he loved more than anything in this world. 

“Something,” Hob said unevenly, holding onto Dream like a lifeline, “that I should have told you a long time ago. About. About Eskham.” 

Dream tilted his head, brows drawing together. “Eskham?” 

Hob nodded. 

“What about it?” Dream asked. 

He had no idea. He had no clue. 

“That day,” Hob said, and he was gripping Dream’s hand hard as if he could prevent the inevitable withdrawal. “When they came for me.” 

And Dream nodded. He reached out with his other hand to rest it on Hob’s forearm—a gesture meant as supportive that only served to make Hob’s stomach drop to new depths. 

But this was not about him. This was not even about Dream. It was about their child, carried one day into a town square with pitchforks at its throat and devil spawn in its ears. It was about deserved truths. 

“That day,” Hob said again. He swallowed against a dry tongue. Against the heart that was trying to escape through his throat. “That day. The mob. They weren’t looking for me.”

Dream stared. 

Hob’s heart was pounding so hard he thought he might be sick. 

He watched, as Dream’s face went from confusion, to realization, to—

Bloodless. 

Grey. Dead eyes and parted lips. Staring, but not seeing. 

“I—defended you,” Hob made himself say. “I wouldn’t tell them. Where you were. I told them that I loved you, that you were just as natural as any other creature in this realm and that I would rather die before I let any of them hurt you, and—” 

Dream yanked his hands back. 

Hob tried to hold on, but he wasn’t quick enough. Not strong enough. 

“You,” Dream whispered. 

“I don’t regret it,” Hob said frantically, almost angrily. He was losing control, the tidal wave of panic and horror sweeping him out to a roiling sea he could not swim in, and he barely knew which words would leave his mouth when he opened it again. “I haven’t regretted it for a single second, Dream, not once, not ever, I’d have burned on that stake a thousand times over before I let them touch you, I’d—” 

And Dream bolted. 

Hob leapt to his feet to follow—but his calf muscle seized, and he careened to the side and just barely managed to grab the table at the last second. Stood there, panting, gripping the table as his calf cramped hard enough to render the entire leg useless. Staring at the empty doorway. 

He deserved this, he supposed. 

It didn’t make it hurt any less. 

The summer air was thick and sweet beneath the canopy of the forest. The trees mostly blocked the breeze, but so also the warmth of the sun, which made it about as pleasant as any place was during the midday heat. They were sat at the base of an ancient yew tree that Dream favored, not far from the cottage, and had been for some time. Ravens chattered and rustled softly overhead. A large halo of bird shit was slowly accumulating around them. 

Dream inhaled as if to speak, for the third time in about as many minutes. This time, though, the words came. 

“I do not want. Our child. To be hunted.” 

Hob closed his eyes. “I know.” 

“We do not know what powers it will be born to. What features it will be born to.” 

Unspoken—the slimmest chance, the highest hope, that it would somehow be born wholly mortal. 

A mortal body. A mortal magic. A mortal lifespan. 

“We’ll do whatever we have to, to protect them. Whatever it takes. You know we will,” Hob said, and even as anxiety turned his stomach over, rage flared through him hot and fast. “Anyone that tries to lay a finger on our child, I’ll—I’ll kill ‘em. I would. Anyone. Everyone. And if they think I’m terrifying just wait until they meet the thirty-foot forest nightmare right behind me that can summon hail and rent the earth.” 

Dream swallowed. “Hail and earth. Did not save you.” 

Hob tightened his grip around Dream’s waist. “Yes it did.” 

“You—” 

“Yes it bloody well did. You saved my life that day, you fought, and if you hadn’t been there I—” 

“If I had not been there,” Dream interrupted darkly. He barked one harsh, bitter laugh. “If I had never inflicted myself upon you in the first place, then no mob would have ever come for you at all. You would be—” 

“Lonely,” Hob said. He tried desperately to keep the frustration from rising. “I told you. I would have been lonely, and bored, Dream, and I would have died in that house feeling as if I’d never truly lived at all. You are the best thing to ever happen to me.” 

“I nearly killed you,” Dream said. 

“You saved—”

“And now,” Dream continued, staring into the depths of the forest, “I have attempted to thrust a child upon you, without your consent. I have tried to sentence you to spending the rest of your meager years consumed in the care of a creature that will only suffer as a result of my own hubris—my own selfishness—and it will resent us. It will hate us. It will hate me, and it will be right to do so for—” 

“Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey,” Hob said, scrambling around in front of Dream, and cupping his face. 

Dream stared determinedly to the side, with eyes that were red-rimmed and shiny. His breaths came uneven and jagged. 

“You and I both know that you didn’t get pregnant on purpose,” Hob said fiercely. “You didn’t know better. I didn’t know better. Right?” 

“Hob—” 

“This isn’t something that you’ve done to me. To us. Neither one of us is to blame here. Not one little bit. And it wouldn’t matter anyway if it was, because whatever happens, you know that we’re in this together. We’re going to do what we always do, and make it work. Figure it out. Pregnancy, childbirth, parenthood, all of it. Together. Yeah?” 

Dream set his jaw, and at last met Hob’s eyes. Slowly, he reached up, and pulled Hob’s hands away from his face. 

“You argue. That we are absolved of any guilt, for what strife our child may face in life. Because we held no intention of conception, in our couplings,” Dream said. 

“...Yes?” Hob said, eyebrows raising. “I don’t think we can be blamed for bringing a child into the world when we didn’t know it was possible in the first place.” 

“Incorrect,” Dream disagreed. 

Hob opened his mouth, but Dream continued too quickly. 

“Ignorance acquits us from blame in the conception of this child, yes.” Dream’s hand moved, in the periphery of Hob’s vision, delving into the folds of his robe. “But we are not without agency, in these early months of pregnancy.” 

Dread swung sudden and hard into Hob’s chest, like a fist. 

“...What do you mean?” 

Dream held out his hand between them, and uncurled his fingers. A cluster of flowers rested there. 

Tansy. 

“It sings to me of… release,” Dream said. His thumb brushed over golden petals like spikes. “Of choice. Liberty. Of the harmonization of poison and medicine, as one.”

Hob took in a deep breath, because he was, for the first time in days, hopeful. 

Hob was also terrified. 

Hob was sick, sick, sick, sick. 

“I believe,” Dream whispered, eyes boring in Hob’s, “that it would be enough. To—take care of it.” 

There was a cup of water on the table, steaming and yellow with tansy. 

Choice, Dream said it sang. Release. Liberty. The harmonization of poison and medicine, as one. 

But to Hob, it was silent as a grave. 

Dream was holding the cup so tightly his knuckles had gone white. The steam had long disappeared from the cup, leaving only a stagnant yellow tonic. Hob had offered to leave the cottage twice and allow Dream some privacy, and on the second time Dream had grabbed his hand, hard, and he hadn’t let go since. 

Hob’s fingers ached where they were threaded through Dream’s, but he did not complain. 

He sat in silence, and watched Dream raise the cup to his mouth. 

Watched him inhale. 

Watched him close his eyes. 

Watched him press the rim of the cup to his lips. 

Watched as Dream froze, and was perfectly still for an eternity save for the tremble of the cup in his grasp—

And the cup slammed down onto the table, sloshing poison everywhere, and Dream gasped, “I cannot. I cannot, forgive me, Hob, I—” 

Hob grabbed him and pulled him in hard. “It’s okay—” 

“—I cannot do it, I cannot—” 

“—you don’t have to—” 

“I should,” Dream snarled, gripping the fabric of Hob’s tunic and pushing back. There were tears streaming down his face. “I should end it, I should be rid of it. It is. It is the only humane option, the only option that guarantees that—that—” 

“I know, love,” Hob said miserably, his own throat going tight and hot. “I know that. But—” 

“Hob,” Dream choked out. He tried to inhale, but could not. “Hob, I can—hear it.” 

Hob’s heart skipped a beat, and his mouth went numb. “Y-you—” 

“I can—” Dream slapped his hands over his mouth. He stared at Hob in horror. 

Dream, who could hear the songs of river stones and the herbs in the garden. Who communed with foxes and ancient oak trees alike. Who had come to Hob with news of this pregnancy but without explanation as to how he knew. 

“You can hear it,” Hob repeated blankly. 

“I should not have told you,” Dream said, shaking his head. His eyes were blank and unseeing and wet with tears. “I. I should not have told you, I told myself I would not, I—it should not matter. It does not matter.” 

“What does it sound like?” Hob asked. 

Dream looked up at him. His mouth opened, but no words came out. 

“Dream, what does it sound like?” 

He shouldn’t ask. 

He couldn’t not know. 

“Like. A songbird,” Dream whispered. 

A songbird. 

“The most beautiful—” Dream choked on a sob. “The most beautiful songbird, Hob, the most wonderful songbird in the world.” 

And Hob. Hob, quite abruptly, could not imagine a world where he did not one day get to hear that song. He could not imagine a world in which he did not get to hold their child in his arms this winter and instantly fall in love with whatever features the world had seen fit to give them, mortal or fae or some splendid combination of both. 

He could not imagine what it would be like, for Dream to sit at this table and drink down poison and then listen to the song of their child go silent. 

Dream sobbed in his arms. He begged for forgiveness—from Hob. Their future child. The universe. I have failed, he said, over and over again. Selfish, and weak, and worthless, he named himself, and he would not be consoled with any combination or repetition of words Hob had to offer. 

But still, the tansy sat untouched. 

Eventually, it went out the window. 

And the songbird lived another day.

[safination]

Partners in Death...and Life

After The Glimpse

|Masterlist| Ao3|

“You were taking too long,” you say, plain and simple. As if that would answer all his questions. Those eyes of yours land on his knuckles. There’s no reason to hide them from you, especially when you’re looking at him with that sad, sad, expression he painted across your face. It’s in the way your lips wobble, and it’s in the way your eyebrows furrowed together. “I would never leave you.” You press your cheek into his palm, nuzzling into it even as blood transfers to your skin. “Nothing will keep me from following after you.” Alastor swipes his thumb across your face. “Even to the depths of hell?” “Even past that, my dear.”

Pairings: Alastor x wife!Reader Tags: fem!Reader, AFAB, Established Relationship, Asexual! Alastor , being a simp for your partner, Asexual! Alastor, husband! Alastor. human! Alastor

THIS CAN BE READ AS A STAND-ALONE Please read this. I'm begging you, but no pressure!

WELL, WELL, WELL. Here we are again. I'm doing three to four bonus chapters. If you want to be tagged, just tell me lol. I didn't think I would be adding a bonus chapter for this fic, but oh well, here we are again. I've missed you guys and I've missed writing my favorite married couple. This is also a special thank you to my friends from VoxTec (Yes, we're friends. I claim you as my friends.) I would have been done with my this fandom if it wasn't for them. Say thank you to them because I've been writing because of them

|Part 9: The Vows That Bind Me [Finale]| |Part 11: Before The Last [Bonus]|

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Alastor needs better car seats.

It’s official – your ass is numb from sitting too long. It spread down your thighs, and straight into your bones. A walk would certainly fix this problem, but you’ve already taken five in the past hour.

Maybe, this wouldn’t be an issue if Alastor invested in comfortable seats. All that money from being a celebrity, and yet, he drives a shit car!

You lean your head on the window, subtly stretching your legs to increase blood flow.

Moonlight illuminates the area around, painting shadows in the shape of trees. It’s the only source of light for miles because of course, it is.  The trees howl from the force of the wind, and the shadows dance against the car window.

Well . . . that totally does not bring a chill up your spine. There’s totally no reason to shrink deeper into the shitty car seats. Really, it’s not creepy – not one bit.

“Tired already?” Alastor peeks out an eye. He’s settled on the seat, hands folded across his stomach. “It would bring me great joy to say, ‘I told you so’ because I did tell you, dearest, these things take time.”

Something hoots from the forest, and you’ve had enough.

You lean away from the window, and straight into Alastor’s side. It’s funny, really, how the simple brush of his clothes, and maybe, just maybe, the darkness outside doesn’t seem as frightening as before.

“I haven’t said anything yet, but I didn’t think it would take this long,” you say, mumbling into him, and pull your legs up the seat to curl closer. “I told you I wasn’t going to complain. So, I won’t.”

Alastor pushes your knees, forcing your feet off the car seats.

You laugh into his chest, and settle deeper into him, with your feet staying where it should be—off his shitty car seat.

Alastor wraps an arm around you, tracing circles on your arm with a slight chuckle. The tips of his finger go round and round and round. It pulls you into the lull – eyes blinking to stay awake. A small tune escapes him, and the vibration of his chest forces your eyes to shut.

“I won’t make you wait too long,” Alastor says into your hair. “The drugs will wear off soon, remember. I’ll make quick work of him, and we can go home together.”

A small hum. “Is that a promi— ”

BANG!

BANG!

BANG!

Panicked roars of anger bounce against the small space of the trunk, startling you out of Alastor’s arms.

Fists bang into the trunk over and over and over and over again, but the thick metal muffles his desperate attempts to escape. How curious of him to try and fight back. Does he not know how much energy he’s wasting?

“Now, now, you should be resting.” Alastor pulls on your arm, crashing you back into him. “Give it a few minutes. He’ll calm down, eventually. Panicked animals are such a bother to deal with.”

“Al . . .,” you mumble as you settle back into his arms, and grip part of his shirt into your fist. “Is it always this loud?”

“Sometimes.” Alastor resumes tracing your arm. “It doesn’t happen often enough for it to become a problem for me.”

The pull of home calls out, tempting you with the soft allure of warmth and peace . . . but . . . but, all the warmth and peace you could ever need is right here, next to you, tracing circles into your arm with a small smile. You’re already home.

If Alastor continues to lull you to sleep, maybe you wouldn’t mind living inside this car with him, and only him, despite the shitty seats – regardless of the shitty seats, actually.

Like all things, that frightened panic ends, and so does Alastor’s tracing.

Alastor peels you off his chest, and grips your shoulders. Eyes stare right into your own. It commands your gaze. “This is important, dearest. Stay in the car, and whatever may happen—you are not to follow me.” His grip tightens. “If I take too long, I need you to leave me.”

“That . . . that wasn’t our deal, Alastor,” you say, frowning.  Something settles in your stomach. You don’t like this—not one bit. “We agreed I would be there to watch.”

“Now, now, stubbornness will get you nowhere.” Alastor pinches the bridge of his nose. “I allowed you to watch from the car— you watched as I drugged him, and watched as I stuffed him in the trunk. Be good, and promise me you will stay here.”

“Deare—”

Alastor places a finger on your lips, shushing you. That smile on his face makes you want to scowl. The absolute audacity!

“I’m not above putting my own wife inside a trunk,” he says, and flicks your nose. “It’s dark outside, and if I accidentally shoot you . . . well, it would be quite bothersome to have to bury you as well. Think about what the papers would say when you go missing!”

You slap his hand away. “Radio Star so Incompetent His Wife Leaves Him.”

“Hilarious.” Alastor rolls his eyes, showing off how he does so.

“I’ll stay up in the trees.” You play with the tips of his fingers. “Surely, your aim isn’t that horrid.”

“I’ll be running around and moving all over the place. You’re not familiar with this part of the forest.” Alasto presses a kiss on the edge of your lips. “I’ll return to you, but you need to stay here. Leave if you have to.”

One, single nod. It’s the only response you’re able to give.

Denying Alastor will never be an ability available to you, not when he’s looking at you with eyes that are oh, so soft.

Alastor tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear, and steals one last kiss. “I won’t make you wait too long. That’s my promise to you.”

The car door opens with a click, and it’s not the icy air that chills your spine.

You . . . you don’t want him to go. It’s weird, actually. Why do you find yourself grabbing his hand? It stops Alastor before he can take a single step out of the car.

“Or, you can kill him right here. Shoot or slice him or whatever.” You squeeze his hand. There’s a nagging voice that tells you to keep him in your sight. “Just . . .  just . . .”

Just what?

Alastor squeezes back. “That would spoil all the fun!” he says, but the car door closes anyway. He settles back into the chair, and his thumb goes up and down your skin. “I have to give him hope that there’s still a chance to fight back.”

What exactly do you want to happen? What exactly do you want to tell him?

Don’t go where I can’t follow.

“I don’t like this,” you say, instead. “Al, I don’t like this at all—not one bit.”

“Ha!” His laughter bounces across the air. “Dearest, are you worried for me?”

“Yes, I am.” You play with the ring around Alastor’s finger, and place a small kiss against the metal band. “Don’t be so surprised—of course, I’m worried.”

Alastor pulls back his hand, and it takes everything not to reach out for him.

Three taps —Tap. Tap. Tap. That’s all it takes, and your fist open automatically. Alastor drops his ring into your open palm. It’s clean and polished as if it’s regularly maintained.

Oh . . . oh, he’s giving back his ring.

“What’s going through that head of yours?”

“Hopefully, something foolish,” you say, trying to give him a smile.

“That’s impossible. There’s nothing foolish about you.” Alastor pulls your hand closer, and he slips his own ring around your finger. “Don’t give me that look— I want this back.”

Alastor’s ring is bigger than your finger. It’s a bit loose, but it won’t slip out easily.

“Then I’ll give it back.”

“What a silly and ridiculous wife to exist with.” Alastor boos your nose. “It’s quite exciting to learn you’re capable of such worry. I’m honored that it’s me you’re worried about.”

“I . . . I’m capable of worrying about you.”

Alastor pulls his jacket around your shoulders, wrapping it like a blanket. “This world could burn around you, and I don’t think you would care.”

“It’s cold outside. You need this more than I do.” You push the jacket towards him. “ . . . This is me, caring about you.”

Alastor presses a kiss on your cheek, and re-wraps the jacket around you. “Silly and ridiculous!”

The urge to stop him, to grab on to him and never let go . . . it never fully disappears. You keep your hands busy. It plays and twirls with the two rings around your finger.

The car door opens, and this time, Alasto steps out.

The faint smell from Alastor’s jacket warms you with the scent of home, and your eyes shut.

Time passes, and you don’t know how long it does. But the truth sinks its unforgiving claws into you; Alastor is taking too long.

Moonlight reflect against the rings around your finger, and the decision is made.

Alastor didn’t want you to freeze. It’s why he left his jacket to warm you. So, you put it on, wrapping it closer around your body. The car door opens, and warmth and peace and home guard you against the chill.

There’s a shovel at the back seats . . . It’s better than nothing.

“Alastor . . . Oh, my love,” you call out into the wind. “Don’t go where I cannot follow.”

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Alastor.

Alastor? Tell me what’s happening right now.

The grip around his neck tightens, and Alastor knows he made a mistake. That nostalgic tase of boyhood hits him. It’s in that paralyzing tune of helplessness. It’s in that choke-hold of fear. A familiar friend—one he hasn’t seen since before Alastor took his first victim.

It’s not supposed to be like this.

Alastor lost track of him between the trees and their shadows. It only took one, single second. A slight miscalculation that won’t be happening next time.

You would need to be alive for there to be a next time, love.

That . . . that’s your voice. This should be impossible, yet Alastor knows it’s you who’s calling out to him. You should have left hours ago—that was the agreement. Great, he’s going insane from the lack of oxygen. His brain conjured up your voice from the deepest parts of him. Of course, it would be you projected during his crazed attempts to breathe.

Alastor.

Tighter and tighter and tighter and tighter and tighter. It . . . just . . . never ends.

Spots flood his teary vision as everything grows dimmer. Alastor can barely see the man’s desperate expression. Such a shame, too. You would love to hear about his pathetic whines, and Alastor would love to describe it to you.

Alastor?

That was you calling out for him and only him. The way you say his name . . . It’s in that oh, so soft voice of yours. His eyes flicker towards the side, and through the tears, and through the spots, Alastor sees you as clear as day.

There's that small smile on your face as you squat next to him. Oh, my dear. You might actually die soon if you don’t do something about this.

Alastor can’t breathe. Oh god, he can’t breathe. Everything loses its color. It bleeds into one big blank of nothingness.

Alastor . . . Alastor?

It’s too dizzying. The desire to breathe burns his lungs. It begs for any mercy, for any relief, for any air. What can he do? Nothing. Just like when he was a child. Nothing has changed. No, that’s not true! Alastor didn’t have you before, and that simple face means everything is different. He reaches out for you, trying to say that he can’t brea—

Alastor, what’s your plan now?

There are no plants. There’s nothing . . . except you. Of course, it’s you. His brain is reverting back into its most basic of instincts, and it decided that you were his most basic instinct.

Well, what do you know?

Seconds—that’s how long Alastor has.

There are seconds of consciousness left. Precious second before he stops seeing you. Death wasn’t a problem – it’s never scared him before – but Alastor is a man of his word, and currently, he’s breaking the promise he made to you.

You’re rolling your eyes at him.

Alastor wants to summon the energy to tell you to stop it. Even in his mind you were infuriating, but . . . but, you’re smiling at him, and those eyes of your crinkl—

WHACK!

Air forces itself into his lungs in quick breaths. Alastor gasps for air, each breathing burns his lungs. The man crumples away from him, and those large hands leave his neck. That paralyzing tune of helplessness disappears.

You said you wouldn’t make me wait for too long.”

It’s . . . It’s you.

There’s a shovel raised above your head, coated in the man’s blood. Alastor stares at you—he stares at that eerily calm expression on your face. It travels up his spine with a chill, but it’s warmth that settles into his cheeks. It strikes him then and there. Alastor has never told you how beautiful you are in his eyes.

Just a second, that’s all he nee—

Alastor doesn’t have a second.

The man rises, clutching his head with fury written all over his expression. His eyes land on you, then the shovel, and the man charges in your direction with a bellow.

You bring the shovel closer towards your chest, eyes widen with frozen legs.

One, single step back – that’s all you’re able to take. Even then, it’s just not enough. The distance grows shorter, and every second Alastor spends gasping for air . . . It brings you a second closer to danger.

Alastor made a mistake, and this world will set ablaze with his fury, burning everything and everyone around him, if he allows this animal to touch even the smallest smile on your lips. It’s that precious to him, and that makes him dangerous.

Alastor stumbles across the mud, pushing himself past his highest limit for you and only you. Fire burns his lungs as air forces itself into his body. It spreads to the very tips of his finger, but Alastor cannot stop. There’s a reason to keep going. There’s a reason to keep running.

The man charges at you with speed, but Alastor has a reason to be faster.

Alastor tackles the man into the tree. A cry of pain rattles the leaves. He doesn’t know who it belongs to. It doesn’t matter, not to him, as long as it wasn’t from you.

What is he doing?

How . . . curious. The sweet tune of violent anger calls out, tempting him to give into his fury. Alastor’s never heard such a call before.

His fists go up and down and up and down and up and down. Each strike burns. The pain of split knuckles cannot stop him. All Alastor knows is that he needs to make this man suffer. Such violence should scare him, but he isn’t afraid – not one bit.

How dare this . . . this animal try to touch you. How dare he. How fucking dare he. Alastor will break every bone in his body, relishing in the cries of his screams. No, that wouldn’t be enough. Nothing Alastor could do will ever be enough to quell this burn. Not even death will be able to keep Alastor from—

“Alastor.”

The way you call out for him . . . the way you say his name in that oh, so soft voice of yours . . . It cuts through the burning haze. Not once has he ever had the ability to deny your calls for him.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

That’s blood dripping down his fingers. Each drop falls to the ground, and sinks into the earth below. It's funny, really. Alastor doesn’t know who the blood belongs to – it could be from his split knuckles or it could be from the man’s broken body.

What expression is he making right now? Alastor can’t bear to face you, not right now.

“Dearest,” you call out for him, and reach out a hand for him. “Come on, now.”

He takes a single step closer, and you mirror his movements. It’s like a funny little dance – the more steps he takes, the more steps you take – and this dance ends when you’re a breath away.

Alastor grabs your wrist, pulling you closer. “You were supposed to leave,” he says, and fuck! The tone of his voice automatically softens because . . . because you’re gripping on to him with fingers that tremble. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

This small part of him wishes he left you in that trunk. You were supposed to be in the car – safe.

The breathing part of him is thankful he didn’t. Who knows what would have happened to you if he died, and left his wife inside a car trunk. Oh, you would be furious at him! He would never hear the end of it.

Alastor takes the shovel from your shaking fingers, peeling it off your hold, and replacing it with his hand.

Despite that eerily calm look on your face, the way you tighten your grip tells him everything he needs to know – you’re more rattled than you’re willing to admit. Alastor traces your hand with the gentles of touches, sliding his fingers across your knuckles and into the back of your hand.

He brings your fingers to his lips, giving it the smallest of kisses. “I would appreciate an answer, my love.” 

“You were taking too long,” you say, plain and simple. As if that would answer all his questions.

Those eyes of yours land on his knuckles. There’s no reason to hide them from you, especially when you’re looking at him with that sad, sad, expression he painted across your face. It’s in the way your lips wobble, and it’s in the way your eyebrows furrowed together.

“I would never leave you.” You press your cheek into his palm, nuzzling into it even as blood transfers to your skin. “Nothing will keep me from following after you.”

Alastor swipes his thumb across your face. “Even to the depths of hell?”

“Even past that, my dear.”

You bring out a handkerchief from your pocket. It’s simple work, really – automatic, even – to dab on his wound, and wrap his knuckles with the softest of touches. You press a light kiss on top of it as if doing so would make it feel better. (It does.)

The tips of your fingers reach out for him. It’s instinct for Alastor to bend down at your request, and you push his glasses up his nose, fixing it in place with a smile.

Alastor pulls you into a hug, cradling your head into the crook of his neck.

The way you were looking at him . . . with that oh, so soft smile on your lips. Oh, you were such a foul creature! A second longer, and all this anger would fizzle out. That wouldn’t do – there’s still a job that needs to be finished.

Still, Alastor holds you in his arms until your hands stop shaking, and that grip on him loosens.

“Thank you,” he says into your hair. “Go back to the car. I’ll meet you there in a couple of minutes. I just need to finish this.”

“Is that a promise, my dear?”

“If you’d like.” Alastor traces his rings across your fingers. “I’m still expecting you to return my ring to me.”

A small wheezing breath catches your attention.

You tilt your head towards the side, eyes locked onto the way the man struggles to breath. That shing of curiosity lights up your face. The edges of your lips quiver as you hold your smile, and there it is—the lust of wanting to know more, the lust of wanting to explore the entrail of this man.

“Al . . .” You’re tugging on his sleeve with an elated sigh. “Al!”

Alastor humors your curiosity, leaning down to study your expressions. How truly precious, indeed. “Yes, my dear?”

“Al, he’s a smoker!” you say with such a bright smile that can rival the stars themselves. “I saw him smoking before you drugged him.”

“Is this your way of saying you want me to smoke more, dearest?” Alastor presses a kiss on your cheek, right where that line of blood stains your skin “Maybe then you’ll always smile at me like this.”

“I want to see his lungs.” You’re tugging on his sleeve again with such a curious and innocent expression. “All that smoke . . . Oh, Al! I’m sure it’s done something to his lungs. You’ve never given me a smoker before – only alcoholics! I’ve already shown you their livers, right? I can show you his lungs.”

It’s almost . . . cute . . . to see you ramble on about livers. What a life he’s living! Married to the most ridiculous person in the world, who smiles so brightly when talking about a dead man’s liver.

“You have shown me all kinds of livers, my dear. My favorite is still the one with the black spots.” Alastor doesn’t really care about the different appearance of livers but you care for them . . . and that’s enough for him. “I’ve even made it a point to drink less.”

“I want to see his lungs.”

“This one isn’t worth your blade, dearest. I’ll find you another smoker. Maybe a smoker and an alcoholic, too. There are a dime a dozen.” Alastor takes a step towards you, blocking your view of the man. “Now, now. I think it’s time you go back to the car.”

“But Al— ”

“I won’t repeat myself a third time.” Alastor squeezes your hand. “I’ve indulged you for far too long.”

It’s clear that you’re disappointed—that bright smile doesn’t crinkle your eyes. “Alright,” you say, and squeeze back. “Much better?”

No, not at all. The smile on your face is meant to conceal a frown. How ridiculous of you to try and hide it from him. Did you not think that he wouldn’t know what a true smile from you looked like?

Alastor presses a kiss on your cheek, allowing it to linger. The next kiss goes on your forehead, then to your other cheek. He continues his barrage all over your face until your smile turns a little bit softer. Then, and only then, does he say, “Indeed.”

You walk towards the trees.

“Alastor.” You still for a moment, turning back to him. “Will he suffer?”

“My dear.” Alastor places a hand on his chest, and bows a performer’s bow. “I think you’re forgetting who exactly your husband is.”

There’s that gentle smile on your lips, and Alastor knows better than to mistake it for kindness. “That’s good.”

Oh, these eyes of his! It lingers on you until the trees hide you into their shadows, and even longer after that. Alastor runs his fingers across the handkerchief around his knuckles, tracing the music notes you’ve carefully embroidered. (Alastor knows a secret that you don’t seem to realize; you only embroider music notes when you’re thinking about him.)

Alastor turns back towards the man, laughing as he watches him try his best to crawl to freedom – it’s quite admirable. The attempt nearly succeeded if it wasn’t for his wife.

That’s good.

The way you said it . . . with such a gentle smile as well—it’s sickening. It also crawls up his stomach, and settles some kind of warmth in his face. Alastor brings the handkerchief to his cheek, pressing against it.

What a ridiculous person, indeed.

Alastor hums a small tune that’s carried by the night wind, and presses his foot on the man’s back, collapsing him to the dirt.

“That was a foolish mistake to make.” Alastor smiles at the handkerchief around his knuckles. If anyone was being foolish, it was him – his mistake drove you out of the safety of the car. “That goes for the both of us, I suppose.”

Alastor picks up the shovel, twirling it like a cane. It hits him, then and there; he doesn’t know the name of this man. It’s too late to ask, either way.

“Lucky for you, I promised not to take too long. Ha! But don’t worry, I won’t be leaving too soon.” Alastor aligns the tip of the shovel above the man’s knee. “Let’s take care of that nasty habit of running away. Do your best not to scream too loud! My wife has sensitive ears.”

The shovel goes down, and a scream rattles the birds.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Alastor returns to the car, a bloodied mess.

It’s all over his dress-shirt, and it stains his vest red. Oh dear, some even got onto his favorite bowtie. His clothes would need to go up in flames. There’s no saving it. Except the bowtie – never the bowtie.

It’s cheap fabric, and something he shouldn’t even be seen wearing. Yet . . . Alastor always finds himself putting it on. He would never throw it away. Especially when you make so little, and buying this bowtie took quite a dent on your paycheck. It would take you months of saving just to buy him another one of equal quality, and even longer for something better.

So, Alastor keeps the bowtie.

He didn’t bother dragging the man back with him like he usually does, but he does leave him scattered around in pieces for the animals.

Oh dear!

Alastor must be quite the mess after taking a tumble. That’s mud staining his sleeves, and blood mixing with it as well. The smell must be horrid as well. He takes a moment, and runs a hand through his hair, trying to tame the stands that stick out. It doesn’t work. An irritated click on his tongue – he can’t go back to you looking like this!

Surely, you would . . . you . . . oh, you were worried for him.

It hits him all at once.

A small, giddy laugh warms him to the core. Alastor presses his face into his arm, hiding a smile that you couldn’t even see. Fuck! He runs another hand over his hair, and now, there’s now way he can go back to you looking like such a mess.

Alastor traces the music notes around the handkerchief once more. Another laugh – it’s louder this time, and it echoes across the trees.

Dear gosh, he needs to keep it together.

Alastor runs a hand over his face, calming his expression, and enters the car.

The moment he settles into the seat, you crash into him, clutching tightly even as the blood on his clothes transfers to you. “Home.”

Alastor wants to say something rather silly. With you here . . . well, he’s already home.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

What are we thinking, people? I still got my writing chops. Alaso, this chapter is supposed to be one big chapter titled Between the Glimpse and The Last because it's between parts 5 and 6 ( |Part 5: Glimpse of Me and You: Part II| and |Part 6: Radio’s Last Broadcast|) Next chapter will be a continuation of this scene. WHERE MORE FLUFF WILL HAPPEN. So if you've liked this, follow along. I'm not done with the Hurt/Comfort. Emphasis on Comfort. Maybe a little bit more hurt as well because this is almost right before 1933

[mackandcheezy]

Don't Blame Me (Coriolanus Snow x Reader)

​​A/N: I have yet to see ABAOSAS so simply this is for the vibes, major plot changes from the book/ movie so dont mind that, simply I saw a hot morally grey man and decided I can fix him so this is for all the girlies with a toolbelt ;) 

His eyes had been glued to the screen for what felt like hours. The little specs of graininess following his vision everytime he blinked. Coriolanus Snow did not falter for anyone-- that was until he met you. Something about your blind optimism reminded him of a child, and god how he hated children, but somehow on you it was like a drug he couldn’t get enough of. It made something warm start in his chest, and little fires erupt in every nerve. It was nothing like he had ever felt before, he hated it, and yet he couldn’t get enough. And now he was going to watch the only thing that made him feel that way slip between his fingers like nothing more than a single snowflake. At some point the snow had to melt and here he was watching it live. 

He kept replaying that last conversation over and over. “I’m going to survive, there is no if,” he remembered how you brushed your fingers across his cheek through the rusty bars of the zoo. If he closed his eyes and thought about it hard enough he could feel the warmth of your fingers against his face again. He refused to remember the single tear and question that had prompted that response. This could not be a one time thing. He just got you and there was no letting you go now. Love is a drug and he was nothing but an addict. 

Coryo was jolted to reality when he noticed another tribute sneaking up behind you. He couldn’t remember his name. There was no point, the only one that mattered was the victor and that was you. It had to be you. 

Staring into the depths of your form he begged you to wake. The bile was already crawling up his throat burning a trail in its wake. Stomach clenched he closed his eyes as he heard what could only be described as a battle cry leave the murderer’s mouth. 

Three seconds. He was allowing himself three seconds of grief before he had to move on. To survive. Snow falls on top and he faltered for you but now it was over and he had to go on. 

That was until he opened his eyes to your form. You were standing over the tribute, eyes wide as the saucers that Grandma’am used to take tea in. A bloody knife dripped blood down your pale dress leaving you in a haunting shade of wet red down your right side. He didn’t remember you having that, deciding you must have fought the tribute for it, you always were good at getting what you wanted, especially from him. You took his every waking thought like it was nothing so what was a knife? 

“I killed him. He’s dead. I killed him..” Coryo could do nothing but watch as you spiraled within the tunnel. He wanted nothing more than to hold you and tell you that this was nothing more than a bad dream. Though part of him knew that in a way the person who brushed his cheek was gone. 

He quickly fixed the look of concern dawning his face, remembering how you had told him once that his “human was showing.” That single thought gracing the smallest of smiles on his lips. 

In a twisted way seeing you covered in a thick sheet of red brought him comfort. A small part of him knew that was wrong. Knew that his comfort came at the cost of a human life. But none of them deserved to live as much as you did. Now he knew you could do it, knew you had what it took to win, with the added bonus of having a weapon. He had not felt so much joy since hearing of the opportunity to go to University. You were the key to his new life, and it started now. 

He remembered thinking you were weak when he offered you the posion and you declined citing that “cheaters never win.” Coriolanus felt the entire essence of his personality crumble when those words left your perfectly pink lips. It set something inside of him aflame. You made him almost want to be a good person, almost, because if anything happened to you he would do whatever it took no matter the cost. He was ready to put his own future at risk for the assurance of knowing that you would live to see tomorrow's sunrise. Because you deserved a tomorrow more than he ever did. 

The games were coming to a close. Only a few tributes left and he watched intently as you moved around the arena. Even caked in blood, dirt, and who knows what else, he had never seen a figure more beautiful. 

He couldn’t help but allow himself to think of you adorned in the luxuries of the capitol. An egregious dress adorning your shoulders and your hair in some unnatural twist. Somehow it never looked as good as you did right now. Raw and natural, locks framing your face in small clumps. You were going to get out of this and he was going to get you out of those crummy districts. You deserved more than any of those pathetic traitors, and he was going to get you that. One way or another.