#I am hoping and praying that this makes sense to everyone else

[cowboygenes]

The Life Cycle of A Star

[prongspoet]

broken hearted | luke castellan.

first time writing for luke, so hope this is okay! tell me what u think in the reblogs i would love to know and get more luke asks!

summary: the curse of cabin 10 makes aphrodite!reader pretend to date her best friend so she doesn't have to cause a heartbreak to her actual crush. even though, at the end of it, she's the only one who had her heart broken. major inspo from this concept.

"You're staring." y/n' best friend, luke castellan, head counselor of the hermes cabin, pointed the fact out, side eying the girl right at his side, after looking at the boy sword training in front of them.

"he's staring back." the aphrodite girl said with a grin. the sunlight bathing her head making it comfortingly warm. luke would know, since he was the one caressing it while she laid down next to him. both of them on the grass, enjoying the late afternoon at camp. "so..."

michael dawson, ares' kid, was, in fact, staring. luke couldn't blame him, the way his best friend looked made everyone pay attention to her. she didn't even had to try. and still, the swordfighting happening in front of them made luke even more sure that mike needed a way so she could notice him. not naturally, but somehow, it worked, since the girl payed attention to him as soon as he started.

"oh well, like mother like daughter, huh. " he continued, in a mocking tone, holding his laugh, raising himself by his elbows, before taking one of his hands to the girl's arm. "your siblings wouldn't be too happy to see the goody two shoes dating an ares' kid, would they?"

"gods, don't fucking say that." she giggled, hiding her face with both of her hands. she went quiet for a second, still staring at the boy. "ares' kid or not.." y/n sighed, pouting slightly. "mike's nicer than the others, he wouldn't deserve to be a guinea pig."

"what do you mean?"

"you know what i have to do.” the girl muttered, with a soft sigh. she couldn't blame her mother, she worshipped aphrodite; her beauty, her power, her knowledge and her actions. that didn't mean that she enjoyed the judgment. the need to make someone else feel miserable just because she could. it wasn't fair. "the first love heart break thing."

"i'm glad i'm not in his shoes, that's for sure." the boy whispered, with a chuckle, still trying to be as quiet as possible. his thumb caressing her arm incessantly. it made her skin burn. in a second, y/n abruptly raised her chin, getting supported by her elbows, getting muffled groan from luke, once it hit his ribs. "what is it?"

"you could be!"

"am i your first love, daisy?" he raised one of his eyebrows, with a mischievous grin stamped on the boys face. the scar in his eye making itself more clear. "you should have told me sooner- ouch!"

"shut up, hero. listen to me!" he knew that tone. and as anyone else who had a single bit of sense, he kept quiet, wanting nothing more to hear her insane idea. "we could pretend to be boyfriend and girlfriend." the smile on her delicate face kept getting bigger as she explained her brilliant - yet not completely effective - idea. "i could pretend to break your heart. no one gets hurt, i can stay with mike after is over, and my mom ends up being proud of me!"

the aphrodite girl stared at him expectedly, hoping he would buy her insane plan, hoping he could save her from doing something he never imagined her doing it. luke got quiet for a minute. his eyes were darker than usual. he couldn't stand that. y/n knew her best friend well enough to know that he meant to say something. he never truly did. "you shouldn't be looking for her approval."

"i'm not searching for approval i'm just trying to prove myself.."

"you don't have to prove your devotion to her by doing this." his tone stern, more quiet. colder. "you burn offerings for her every single day. you pray, you're always expressing how incredible she is."

"you don't have to do it if you don't want to."

and suddenly, the idea seemed more appealing than ever. she wasn't using her charmspeak on him. no, luke knew how sugary and sweet y/n's words could be when she wanted to. at that moment, his best friend was just being honest. and even though he could retribute that feeling, luke felt that he needed to do it. just for her.

"yeah," he nodded. defeated. "fine, i'll do it."

"really?" the girl hugged him tight. more excited than ever. "thank you boyfriend!"

"yeah, yeah." he grinned, letting her rest her head on his chest, carefully watching y/n closing her eyes, like nothing else would ever bother her. "just don't be too mean when you dump me."

pretending was easy.

they've always been stuck to each other. having dinner with each other. burning offerings with each other. planning capture the flag with each other. training, swimming, talking, sneaking out to parties. always with one right after the other.

it wasn't supposed to be different, they just had to make it more believable.

"we should be holding hands," y/n pointed out as the couple walked calmly to the main area, where dinner was starting. "silena asked me why we never hold hands if we're dating, so i thought we could make it more..."

"real, yeah." luke nodded, grabbing her hand right the next second she spoke. "c'mon, girlfriend, hurry up." he grinned, and she couldn't help but grin back. "i'm starving."

luke could do that. he could kiss her in front of people, and tell everyone the way they got together. he could hold hands with her, caress her back and almost have a heart attack when she kissed him behind his ear. he could live with that, yeah. it was normal. it was pretending.

until it started to change. suddenly. quickly.

he noticed her. the eyes, the shape of her face, the way her eyebrows moved when she laughed, and the look she gave him every single time she entered a room he was already in, and luke couldn't help but pay attention at her soft hair, how excited she became while looking at pretty flowers, and especially, how her fingers felt against his own scalp when they needed to do some pretending. she was an aphrodite kid after all. y/n was charming. y/n was lovely. y/n was his girlfriend, at least for a while.

and she couldn't help but notice him either. how his scar looked more bright when they. the subtle, yet attentive and gentle way he taught her how to hold a sword, how to train, how to fight. the infuriating way at how he held her chin up slightly, every single time, before sealing his lips against hers.

and for once, neither of them were pretending.

the bonfire started earlier that night, but the couple came to it late; y/n helped one of her sisters who was in a small crises, and her sweet caring boyfriend waited for her by the aphrodite cabin's door, holding her hand as soon as she got out, so they could sit together at one of the logs, full of campers, chartering, telling stories, and enjoying the peacefulness that the simple event emanate.

luke choose one of the back logs for a reason, it was darker, harder to anyone else to see them. even so, as soon as the boy started to leave little pecks at her jaw, he was able to hear some whistles and exclamations. teenagers were gonna be teenagers after all.

"alright," y/n sat upstraight, taking a deep breath before continuing. "you can't do that here."

"i'm just having fun!" the boy said with a mischievous grin. he knew way to well what he was doing. she hoped he would do it forever. the teasing, the almost getting caught made her heart sink every time. "you are my girlfriend after all."

"don't get ahead of yourself, hero." she muttered, grinning at him, before sealing lips with him again. "i still have to break your heart."

"are you sure about that?" he furrowed his eyebrows, pretending to be offended, but getting right back at his job pretty quickly. "i'll just enjoy it until the time comes then."

she laughed, taking her head back so he could have full access to her neck, delicately taking one of her hands to his scalp. and he noticed how much he loved that sound. so much in a way he wished he could bottle it up so he could taste it every time he felt miserable. that wasn't possible. but y/n promised that as long as they were together, he was allowed to make her laugh any time he wanted to, if if meant getting him happy.

that's why it hurt even more when he did what he did.

when he revealed himself to be the traitor.

"come with me."

"i'm sorry, what the hell are you doing?" she cried out, feeling her heart beating faster than ever. "you're not thinking straight. you're not. you're not like this, i-" the words got caught up in her throat. y/n felt like she could pass out at any minute. "i know you luke." her voice was a mere pleading by then, hoping with all her soul he would hear. "you wouldn't do this to me."

"you mean a lot to me, daisy, but this is fucking different."

he was different, and she finally noticed. his eyes darker, his tone stern, and the way he held himself up, like he was prepared for a fight.

y/n would never fight him.

and he would never fight her, right?

and when luke turned his back against her, letting the aphrodite girl caught up with a sob, furrowing her eyebrows, feeling the tears already soaking up her eyes, y/n thought she understood.

maybe aphrodite didn't buy it. and even if she did, she knew it started out with a lie. y/n was playing house. thinking she could be smarter than her mom, she could prove it to everyone else how that curse was a lie, and that nothing would happen to the one that didn't completed it.

but it did happend.

no demigod could ever stand out a god. y/n was no exception.

and she finally understood that.

by the end of the day, y/n went back to her well known cabin, shamefully, missing her radiant aura and pretty smile, hiding a shattered heart in her pocket.

[theloveinc]

if i didn't care (more than words can say) - a dabi / touya todoroki x reader fanfiction—NO QUIRK!college-ish!AU

wc: 7.3k — my longest to date :')

sum: a beautiful but notorious shadow keeps following you home. over the course of some weeks, you eventually get to know him.

a/n: more than anything, this is really just a huge ode to my hatred of graduate school, though since the start of writing this, i admit it has gotten a lot better—hence there being a mixture of characters and ocs included. i don't think i was able to nail this exactly the way i envisioned, in clarity and thematically (and it's wordy as all hell)... but i am still delighted by this concept. i hope it tickles you, as well!

a MAJOR thank you to my beloved @weird-dere-writes for beta-ing this! twyla is a a real one whom i adore like the shining sun.

warning: lighthearted in spirit but DARK CONTENT! features stalking, physical assault and mentions of sexual assault, miscommunication, suicidal ideation, talk of death, gore + general sense of unhappiness/unease. gender neutral but some of the pet names include: pretty, sweetheart, lollipop, cookie, hon, baby + etc., also I think you might have a purse?, HAPPY END!

(read on ao3 - coming soon!)

title credit goes to the ink spots.

enjoy!

The sun has just barely set by the time you leave your final class of the day. Fog seeps from over the distant hills that surround your city, subway tracks murmur from underneath the thick concrete, and car high beams yellow in the fading light of the sun and slate blue sky. 

Your classmates—those who have all left the lecture hall before you to give each other rides home—laugh, their voices echoing throughout the campus plaza as they disperse; the last students of the night to begin their trek home, down the hill that is your campus, and far, far away from you. 

You don’t mind. 

…or you tell yourself, at least. 

Your walk home is pleasant enough, not so close that it doesn’t feel like a trip worth making, not so far that it feels like you’re a freshman again, tearing out of class just to run to catch the bus in time. It’s the perfect temperature where walking is comfortable, and if timing allows, you’ll get to enjoy the sunset as you go. Maybe today you’ll see the funny looking tuxedo cat that stares at you sometimes from the ground floor apartment window of one of your neighbors; you only recently found out that they have a little tortoiseshell, too. 

Besides, while it’s not as though you enjoy your time alone any more than you enjoy anything else in life, home has become a sort of sanctuary, the trip to-and-from, a ritual, from school and the tension that sears your nerves on a daily basis. You still can’t help but wonder why it is that you’re only ever regarded by other students with hateful looks or by plain being ignored, sitting in the front corner of every classroom, freezing from both the weather's cooling breeze and the fact everyone just happened to ice you out by sitting in the back. 

It's no surprise that nor can you ignore it, either.

For as much as you try, which is almost as often as you open your eyes in the morning, you simply haven’t succeeded. Hence why, with the cold air nipping at your cheeks and your fingers numbing from a chill you know will only get worse the longer you stay outside… you suppose you should finally start heading back, too.  

-

You notice them first when you stop to adjust a faulty earbud. 

A figure behind you that stops. Waits. Lingers. More than a block away, under the newly darkened sky and opaque clouds. A street light illuminates their body as they appear to dawdle; awkwardly hovering about a pole, staring at something you don’t see on the ground, trotting a couple steps, and then looking up at the sky.

You glance at them, the way one glances, with one hand pressed to your ear, the other gripping the strap of your bag tightly as you turn your head ever so slightly to look out of the corner of your eye and pray the movement isn’t noticed. 

The figure, of course, freezes–like it’s not obvious, like it’s possible you won’t pick up on the sudden shift from dance to pause, autonomous to marionette, breath to stone. You can’t make out much about them aside from their long, dark clothing as their face is hidden by dark glasses and a hood, but when your stomach knots with something sour, nerves that twist and scream, you know nothing good will come from standing around and waiting to find out anything more. 

You let your eyes shift back to the paved street in front of you slowly, as if you just found yourself caught up in the frustration of skippy music. Then, you start walking again, hoping it was all just some coincidence, illusion, pretending that if you were to look back, the figure would have since simply turned the corner and left you behind, like most people almost always seem to do. 

But you look again. Peek, from the corner of your eye, briefly, like you normally would when no one is there and you just want to make sure… but this time, someone is, and by the time you really catch sight of them (closer now, like they were walking fast, jogging maybe, red light, green light), you don’t want to draw any more attention to yourself and turn back before you can make things any worse. 

Your heart beats. Your breath shudders. You flex your fingers where they’re held, stiff with terror, wondering: is this really happening? What should I do? Am I crazy? 

It’s five more blocks until your house. Three stop signs, then two traffic lights. One liquor store, and an empty cafe that has already closed for the day, filled with stacked chairs and little mice you sometimes catch scuttling by the edge of the curb. You live by a school, but since it’s already dark, there will maybe be a total of four cars that pass you by. Maybe. Then there’s a trek up a short hill before you finally reach your street. 

You wonder, not once slowing your step, if this is something you need to be worried about, if you’re really being stalked like you’ve always been warned of before, if anyone would even care if you didn’t show up to class tomorrow, or the day after that, or the day after that… and then, despite the whisper of your unconscious telling you not to be so self-involved, no one wants you, anyway, you increase your step. You want to look back, confirm what you think is happening, face a fight you don’t think is fair but haven’t yet decided whether or not you want to win.

But you don’t, thinking you can almost hear their footsteps now, though maybe you’re just confusing them for the wild thump, thump, thump of your heart and the catches of your breath. And when you check back, they’re half a block away but feel closer than ever, eyes on you and hands halfway around your throat though they’re still hidden deep in their pockets. 

You feel a little like hurling, a bit more like giving up and letting them have you (though you’ve only ever written a suicide note, never a will)... but the creature of fear in you ends up prevailing, throwing it’s tentacles up through your gullet into your brain and dragging you into the depths… just as you say a prayer for the first, or any, god willing to listen. 

And then you start running.

Heft your bag over your shoulder, suck in an icy breath and charge forward into the night, past the three stop signs and through the red of each stop light that blares at you, really the only thing that seems to acknowledge you as you refuse to waste any time looking back. 

Self preservation is one hell of a drug, you only manage to briefly think in between gulps of air, your cheeks stinging with the breeze and your feet beginning to grate and blister against the friction of shoes that aren’t meant for running. You figure at this point you’re more likely to trip and crack your skull open on the pavement than be caught and dragged away by some freak with a violent agenda. Would that really be so bad? 

But your answer quickly arrives in the form of making it home and climbing the stairs so fast you manage to forget the thought entirely, along with most of the rest of the world aside from the few people you come up with (and proceed to scratch out) when determining who, if there's anyone, you can call for help.

It's inside, silent and alone in the dark, you try to process what just occurred for so long that eventually your roommate comes home from their shift at the bar. It’s only at their surprise from seeing you still awake (ghostlike, on the couch) that you realize hours have passed in the span of what felt like only seconds, minutes, the metronome of a few steps home–and that you hadn’t actually processed anything at all. 

You go to bed that night, not having eaten but not hungry, still feeling the phantom sensations of your bounding footsteps on hard concrete, cold sweat sliding down the slant of your neck, and the feeling of a man just inches from your putting his hands on your back. 

-

The next day during lecture, you are awoken from a hazy daydream by a notification on your phone.

Campus Creeper Found Passed Out in Uni Plaza. 

You blink, exhausted after an adrenaline crash made worse by your night of haunted sleep, eventual overheating, and your roommate taking a shower at four am. You were happy to even drag yourself out of bed this morning and make coffee just tolerable enough not to spit out all over your kitchen floors. 

Local man, you read after clicking, deemed the “campus creeper,” was found passed out on the Student Union steps early this morning. Identified by a member of student patrol at Mustafu University, the man’s name has yet to be released to the public as it appeared he was suffering from a number of wounds, mostly external. 

Despite condition, students have taken to social media to express their relief, as the man has reportedly been following students—

You stop reading, having hardly even processed the words, really, as you try to shake off the fog that keeps you from really understanding what the words are telling you. 

A tightness settles in your stomach, heavy and painful with a nausea you can’t shake, a question you don’t yet realize: is this the same person, same man, who scared you half to death last night by trailing you all the way home? It’s unclear from the article, the timing, the picture with his blurred out features… and the fact that he must've been dragged all the way back up to school because he was found nowhere near your home. 

While you assume you’ll be more excited once the new sinks in and the nerves turn to consolation (and the person to your left stops chattering into the ear of the person sat behind you), you can’t help but shoot to your feet and run to the closest bathroom in a panic, trying not to hyperventilate looking at yourself in the mirror in between splashing water on your face. 

-

The day has once again fallen into night. Your bag is heavy with the weight of books and pens and your schedule notepad that has all your plans for the rest of the week and even the month beyond that. Today, however, the clouds don’t creep and instead, you see stars, maybe only a handful or so, one airplane too, as the sun descends in a tender calm and the windchill greets your cheeks once more. 

You walk, out of class and down the ancient steps of the building, start descending the hill down to the first busy intersection of streetlights where the president of your school was once hit by a car. 

It’s not three blocks into the way home, however, that a shadow appears once more. Distantly, though you’re sure it’s calculated enough so as not to ring as intentional no matter how much you know it is, and can feel it in your bones. 

You thought he had been caught. The creeper. 

You hadn’t realized you were so relieved by the thought. It slipped your mind, the celebration over as quick as it started under the weight of all your schoolwork and the dirty looks your classmates sent you after you came back from dry heaving into the bathroom sink. Maybe it was a different guy they caught, you wonder, then kick yourself for being so naive as to think that maybe you’d been spared. 

Of course not, you think. It’s never that easy, is it? 

Panic once again bubbles up in your throat, anxiety pooling in your stomach like something hot melting through stone, and tears start to sting at the center of your eyes. You do your best to ward away the urge to collapse, instead trying to focus on the fact that everything was fine yesterday and tonight’s just another dream you’ll wake up from again tomorrow…though by now you know it’s not. 

It is easier, this time, however, to begin to run, to bounce on your feet with a purpose you hope isn’t any more transparent than your fear. You’re happy that today you managed to pack light, skipped filling up your water bottle, and happened to put on your sneakers instead of your slip-ons, as if you didn’t spend half of your entire morning trying to convince yourself that potentially saving your own life was a good thing.

By the time you make it to the door, chest heaving with a wheezing heat as your hand shakes the key into the padlock, when you turn back to look one final time before ducking inside, still gasping for air, the shadow is no longer behind you. 

-

The creeper is getting braver, you notice. 

It has been weeks since the shadow appeared and the following began. One week of that same distant trailing which had you sprinting like some sort of track star, two weeks of running only the last block home, locking every single bolt on your door (then unlocking when it was time to let your roommate in), and three in total of squinting behind you in stinted moments and wondering what you see. 

You think his hair is white. 

Now though, tonight, he stays not a block or two behind you but rather, less than fifty feet. You can make him out—see now the faded black of his jeans and the red of his chuck taylors, dirty. He’s young-ish, you think, more noticeable than before, and skinnier–though maybe your eyesight has just gotten worse, or the memories have faded in trying to spare you from another trauma, maybe even from awakening any of the first ones.  

You wonder how he was able to speed up, where he was waiting for you, where he came from that first night, the second, and now. And you wonder why you’ve stopped running as fast, even if you’ve been trying to leave campus earlier and earlier as if that will keep you any safer from walking home at night. 

(You had remained after class one night to ask your professor a question you no longer remember, and a wispy haired girl sneered at you so badly you ended up weeping on your way out the door. Not only did it kill your urge to ever stay longer on campus than you needed to, it also caused a wane to your desire to even arrive home at all). 

-

One day, the creeper catches up. 

Reaches, like he’d be able to touch you, smiles, like his canines are sharp enough to chew through you…hopefully in one bite if he was even able to swallow that much. Maybe he is. 

But you swat back when he does. Hoist your bag in close. Glare over your shoulder. Then speed up, and your lungs tighten into stone almost immediately when he speaks.  

“Hey—” 

“Get the fuck,” you screech, turning back just enough to say the words despite not knowing if you’d even be brave enough to let them out, to get away unscathed, “away from me!”

The shadow, however, instead of shrinking into disparagement like you so hoped… laughs, skipping towards you, laces flying, smiling wide. 

“Aw, c’mon,” he jeers, to which you wince as you try to stomp away from his pull. That is, in between your attempts at keeping your eyes on him so that he doesn’t pull anything else fast, or deadly. 

“I swear to fucking god. I will call the cops.” 

Another laugh, his footsteps now lighter, his voice switching to something airy and cool.

“Don’t be like that, pretty.” 

You barely look, but you see a flash of red as he kicks out his foot, the curl of a grin pulling one side of his lips lopsided as he lazily trots to match your hurried pace. 

You want to start running, to disappear, dissolve—anything to stop things from developing further into a conversation and your possible demise—but he catches up to you again before you can even try to skirt away in any direction other than forward. 

“You noticed quicker than I thought you would,” he almost hums, the words exposing the soft, pink tissue of his gums. “‘didn’t think you would.” 

There is a question in his statement, though his voice doesn’t lilt and only his eyebrows give it away, quirking, stretching, falling, the piercing on his left one along with it, when you slow down (hardly, still breathing rough and nervous, not wanting to look) but don’t respond. 

“Most people…” he shakes his head, “eh.”  

“What?” you stop your stride, more out of surprise than want, and stare at him despite how distinctly you avoid catching his eyes. “Like people don’t know when they’re being followed?” 

“Nah,” he says, his mouth remaining open after, humorously, like you’re supposed to get the joke, think it’s cool, that he’s a zombie, maybe. Something. “Like I thought you wouldn’t care.”

You cross your arms, blink at the ground in trying to hide what is most likely a stupid looking pout in your failing attempt to get hot and angry. You shouldn’t even be speaking. “I care when creepy people follow me.” 

He laughs again, raspy and free. “It’s been weeks.” 

You don’t want to give him the satisfaction of looking at him, but you look at him anyway. Truly focus on the mop of messy white and black streaked hair atop his head, the stained, canvas jacket with extra pockets and copper zippers, and his smile; the delicate, creased skin of his jaw that fades smoothly up his cheeks and down his neck. He isn’t bare of a good amount of piercings, either: he’s got all sorts metal in his ears, nose, and dimples, as far as you can tell by simply looking at him

He’s not really all that creepy-looking after all. To your surprise (and slight disgust), in fact, you find he’s somewhat… handsome.  

You swallow. 

“It’s been three.”

“Hm, baby?” 

You tense, the claws returning, this time aiming for your heart, shredding it open, every insecurity lighting aflame when he smiles that smile again. 

“Three weeks. That’s how long you’ve been stalking me,” you say.

There’s a pause, a shift, something you don’t catch and can hardly read. Then, he rolls his eyes, shoving his white knuckled fingers into the pockets of his coat. He doesn’t move otherwise, doesn’t even look angry, or as though he’s going to take any steps backwards or forward, and not like he’s going to lunge at you as if you’re prey and there’s an animal in him that he’s already promised food.

You feel otherwise, though he shakes his head with a ‘tsk. “I’d say stalking is a little harsh.” 

You’re not sure why you object, “But–” 

“I don’t stare into your window,” he taunts, “don’t have your number, don’t send you stupid love poems every night and every morning that say,‘I love you, be mine!’” He pretends to sing-song, 

You can feel the irony, hear the chuckle but turn anyway to resume your walk into the night. Briskly. Refusing to look back and acknowledge the stranger you’re not sure wants to kill you.  

“I don’t throw rocks at your window,” he continues to call after you, “or approach you in cafes and pretend you’re crazy when you scream.”   

“Then leave me alone,” you shout, hoping the wind carries it far enough behind you to reach him, though you shiver still. 

You don’t see it, but he shrugs. And surprisingly stays where he’s put, watching you try not to look like you’re peeking at him before nearly tripping on your own feet. You’re not sure if it’s a relief.

It’s the first night since first learning of him that you’ve walked home alone. 

-

Later, you learn the creep has two names. 

It’s been five weeks now, just after winter’s turn, the clouds not so big anymore but often dense with the slightest bit of rain you enjoy only when you wake up in the middle of the night too scared to go back to sleep.

The creeper, the shadow, your stalker, basically lives behind you now, grinning whenever you glance, dancing whenever you glare; it’s like he soaks up your, any kind of, attention like a bonfire being doused with gasoline. You’re still scared, unknowing of what he wants, but now that you’ve spoken, there’s somewhat of a static that’s settled, too; it’s tense and awkward, but the horror of it all is stagnant in build, in wait for the spark to light and set your whole world ablaze.

Though he finds you again, two red lights in, halfway to your house. 

“Hey,” he says, following with your name. 

You immediately shudder, jerking away from him in surprise as if there’s anything else you could do, but he just laughs that laugh of his, undisturbed he’s now talking to your back. 

“Where’d you learn that?” you snap, but you can practically hear his grin when he responds. 

“Got classmates, don’t you?” 

Most of your classmates ignore you half the time, the other half just roll their eyes. Most of your classmates laugh whenever you speak, the ones who don’t have made you cry in front of your professors. 

“They wouldn’t piss on me if I was on fire.” 

“I would,” he says, pausing as if he’s some sort of pensive, then giving you a look that assures you he’s up to no good,  “and they gave me your name. Ibara, Setsuna, Yui–I could go on, you know?”

You’re surprised. You’re disgusted. At him, at them, and you gape, the only thing you can think to do under a circumstance that implies no one has any regard for your safety and yet, hardly leaves you surprised. “I think I’d rather just die.” 

“That’s not true,” the creeper laughs, seeming oddly sure of the answer. You’re too nonplussed to decide if he’s right. 

“I hate you,” you try instead. 

“You don’t even know me.” 

And it’s no nice to meet you, but the words slip out before you can stop them. 

“So, what’s your name then?” 

He hesitates, sucking on the piercing on his bottom lip before letting it pop back out in a sneer that shows pointed teeth. You’re not sure if he’s meaning to come off as upset or pensive, bitter or just plain rude. 

“Dabi.” 

The words fall off his lips, snappy and hot, like you’re lighting the burner on an old stove, or flicking a match against a matchbox for the first time and getting surprised when it sparks.

You pause, peeking over your shoulder. “‘gonna cremate me once you kill me?” 

This time, he doesn’t laugh. “Maybe,” he says, then when you don’t react, “no.” 

Your foot taps the ground when you look forward again. “You should really think about changing it, then.” 

There’s a pause, a shift in clothes and in breath despite the pace at which you walk. You feel nervous, awkward the way one does when someone catches you with bad hair, or wearing the last clean clothes in the house on laundry day. You’re not sure why you care so much about a man who clearly does not care about you. Or does… in the same way a farmer fattens up a chicken for slaughter. 

“Call me Touya, then,” he says, his eyes dark. “That’s what my ma calls me.” 

“Touya,” you repeat, sounding the word out on your tongue soft and slow. Lamp. Arrow. A name from his mother. Your lips wrap around it, caress the warmth of the dip, the bend, the aim… and his face breaks into that knowing, wolfish grin. 

“Yeah, sweetheart?” 

You freeze, one foot freezing in the air, and he bursts into a rasp of laughter so loud your eyebrows immediately shoot up and almost off your head entirely. You go in to shush him like you would as if you were accused of something embarrassing, your expression morphing into a deep frown, and his own lightening with humor but still twisting with something hidden, something you really hope is not satisfaction. His lopsided smile falls just the slightest when he sees you readjust your bag and start, almost, stomping away. 

He lets you find distance, of course, he’s always been a shadow not a stable fly, but Touya once again resumes his lazy trailing, joyously humming now, the sound echoing in your ears much longer than it probably should as he falls into a careful step behind you just as he always does… until you eventually make it home. 

-

At six weeks in, he finally drops you off at your house. 

Normally Touya stops his trail about a block or two before you make it, today, however, by the time you’re on the stone steps leading up to your front door, he’s a mere ten feet from your side like a chivalrous date making sure you get home safe (or like someone intending to grab your hands when you’re opening the door and rush in after you, as if to mount you right there on the floor). Your knees wobble on the first step when he speaks, though he remains standing politely next to the fire hydrant by the curb, playing with an unlit cigarette in between his fingers. 

“Got any roommates?” 

You stop, keys dangling from your fingers as you refuse to turn back and look. 

“Yeah,” you say, staring at the chopped firewood on your porch as you let the silence sprawl. You would’ve said the same even if you didn’t. 

“Good. Smart cookie.” 

Your stomach twists. Your face burns. He bounces on his heels. You can’t move. 

“That bakery down the street,” he begins again, nodding his head when you peek at him, barely. “It got food?” 

You squint, your stiff hands cold and tight, his in his pockets. 

“Um.” 

He waits. 

“It’s got mice.” 

Then he bursts into laughter, quickly quieting to suck his teeth and kick a foot forward like he wants to say something but doesn’t know how. There’s a part of you that knows you need to stop indulging this man, for your own safety and sanity, but there’s another part that also doesn’t flip when you think of the possibility of dying. Instead of going inside, you kick your own feet out and ignore your trepidation. 

“Why?”

“Wanna get dinner?”

He grins, and you hate the thought as soon as it arises, but it’s lovely; he has the smile lines of someone who has lived a happy life, and he looks so pretty you almost want to cry. 

(Today he’s dressed in dark, stained jeans and dirty boots. His hair is still a white and black mess and his smile is boyish and toothy. It sends a current up your spine that makes you jerk when you turn back to face your front door.)

“Piss off.” 

You shove your key in the lock to ignore the way he responds with a chuckle as his farewell, goofily waving when you manage to get the stupid thing to turn and yourself inside (which you notice only when you turn to slam the door closed and the curtain ripples). 

But later, when you spare one more glance, the way one glances, out of the window of your living room as if to merely check the weather, Touya is smoking his cigarette on the street corner. 

-

Campus Creep Caught Hanging Around. 

Busted, but this time, not blue! The attacker who was dubbed the “campus creeper” by Mustafu University students was spotted once more about a mile away from the local school. A local cafe owner claims he saw the man being followed by another of a similar size, but is  unsure if the two men are of a related circumstance or other. 

He reports that the neighborhood has been in good spirits lately, so this comes as a shock. As we continue to find out more, the public will be updated—

-

Today your shadow is waiting for you at the end of the block. You spot him from out of the third story window of your classroom, feet sticking halfway off the curb and a lit cigarette between his lips that curls pretty, silver smoke into the golden blue light of the nighttime air. 

“Hey, need a ride home?” one of your classmates asks beside you, the one that has your same name, shocking you out of your stupor as they tap the fingers of one hand against your table and swing their car keys around in the other. 

You can barely tear your gaze away from the window to look at them; their flushed face, their short curls, tight and bouncing, and their awkward, half-assed attempt at generosity. You wonder if this is some kind of exercise they were told to practice in therapy. 

“I heard about the campus stalker,” they continue without prompt. “Shihai and Kinoko are coming too, but you can squeeze in the middle, if you want.”

Their smile looks almost pitying. 

“Uh,” you blink, a little stupefied, a little shy. “It’s alright, but thanks.” 

They raise their eyebrows. “Isn’t your neighborhood a ways down by that cafe?”

“Yeah,” you nod, pausing to flick your eyes upward, “But I, uh...my friend is gonna walk me.”

You point toward the window, where your shadow, Dabi, Touya, whoever, has stopped smoking and is now bent over (teasing, most likely, with a gray-tinted shoelace) one of the mouser cats owned by the keepers of the small temple that sits snug at the back of your school.

You’re not exactly sure when he morphed into your friend. You don’t even think he has yet… but the words feel natural, eager, and easier than sliding onto leather seats in between two people who have never once looked your way with a nice expression and probably never will. 

“Oh good!” same-name laughs, tipping their head back in a way that almost seems exaggerated. “I was scared someone might try to nab you. Not anymore, though.”  

You’re not quite sure if they’re joking, but you try to smile and nod along anyway.

-

By the time he catches up to you that night, he’s half out of breath.

“There you are,” he says, grinning that stupid, wolf-like grin. “‘thought maybe you’d left out the back. Would’ve had to run to catch you.” 

You frown, readjusting the weight of your bag on your shoulder like always, distracted as you multitask trying to make sure your water bottle hasn’t leaked as you run through a list of things to remember as well as double check that you haven’t forgotten anything inside.

 “The north wing is halfway around campus,” you purposely avoid mentioning you took the long way to skip the corner where Touya usually stands. Instead of his face, you stare at the ground instead, by now resigned to the torture of waiting for your end… even if you’re secretly a tad disappointed he hadn’t brought the cat with him. 

“So?” Touya doesn’t look perturbed when you finally face him, almost as if he was waiting for you, “’woulda caught up eventually.” 

You make a note to add that to your list of things to remember, raising your eyebrows. 

“Why?” you ask, and then before he can tease, “Why bother, I mean?” and you can tell he must think you’re joking by the way he doesn’t answer, instead responding by flattening his face–his eyes sinking back into the cozy crevices where they rest and the skin of his chin tightening with exasperation as dry as tinder.

You try not to be too perturbed by it, instead of pressing him for answers, simply turning to set back off as if that will stop the eye roll he’ll give you behind your back and change his mind about following you home. But, as always, or at least, as of more recently, Touya waits a mere five steps before starting right along behind you like the shadow his is. 

-

“What do you want from me, Touya?” 

You ask the question one day, finally, two and a half months in. Classes aren’t over yet, but the end of winter semester is fast approaching. The words seem to scratch at your throat, their destination apparent even if you find they’re hard to spit out and burn on their way out. 

“What?” he asks, falling into a perky step beside you. He’s been that close everyday for the last two weeks now. And now, pressed up against you, near hopping like you’ve been friends for years, he doesn’t back away from the inquiry. 

You’re tired. Sick of waiting. Sad that you let this whole thing last so long when you’ve been quite aware of your impending doom (not that you ever told anyone, not even your roommate) and have done little to try and stop it.

“You wanna kill me or something? Take me home so you can fuck me then run me over?” 

Touya’s footsteps slow, and he halts (for the first time ever of his own volition) a little ways behind you. He’s not as tall as you initially thought him to be back when he kept his distance, but you’ve also since learned that his eyes are the prettiest cyan you’ve ever seen, and his scarred skin is soft and pink. Silver piercings adorn his cheeks like dimples, scars cutting the two different textures right in half. 

“No,” he says, then half heartedly and calm, “you know I’ve done enough of that, already.” 

You glance at him, pulling your head back in a half-horrified glare. But instead of the only half-serious expression you’re so used to seeing on him, however, you find a shit-eating smirk on his face that tells you he’d laugh if he weren’t so obviously trying to yank your chain by not doing so at all. 

Still serious, he jumps at you though, eyes opening wide, hands outstretched and twitching like a monster in a cartoon out to grab you, and you hop back like he’s on fire. No sooner does his face fall that he glances at you as if waiting for some kind of reaction, positive review, happy Halloween (even though it’s ages before Halloween). 

When you stay silent, the hands on your chest not falling, your expression still one of terror but to him quite bitter, he rolls his eyes so far up that only the white are showing. 

“I’m joking,” he says, his baby ocean blues coming back down to settle right on you. “Obviously.” 

You pause, standing still, trying to breathe, comprehend the, the, the predator that has been following you so closely for what you finally conclude has been months now. 

All those torturous moments, since that first night of running, all amounted to something even he won’t name. A silent end, for someone as lonely and pathetic as you; it’d almost be fitting, except for the fact that there’s no specific reason for it to be you. You’re a nobody, friendless and unhappy, waiting for the day you finally graduate and can leave this shitty city behind. It’s not like it ever kept you safe. 

“Then what?” you ask.

You feel resigned, defeated, undermined… yet he looks at you dumbly, as if you’re supposed to know something you clearly do not, and while you’d normally be embarrassed, you find you’re too worn down to care. Touya raises his brows sharply, the bruised-looking (but delicate) bags under his eyes shifting slightly with the tension of an annoyed frown as his voice strains to mock you. “What do you mean, ‘then what?’” 

Your face goes slack, and you think you’d try to hit him if you knew that wouldn’t end up with you on the ground or sobbing alone at home. “Seriously, Touya? We both know you’re stalking me.” 

He laughs dryly, one of the few times you’ve seen him so serious (the last time when he pointed out something dead on the pavement you had to stop him from trying to pray for. ‘I don’t even go to temple,’ he had said at the time, sounding so offended that you decided to drop the subject altogether and just let him go for the little dead bird he said he wanted to give to a friend). “I’m not.” 

“You are. I know you are. You…” 

“I can assure you, hon, if I were stalking you, you’d already be roadkill,” he twists one of his earrings, making a show of staring at the painted nails of his other hand, dark purple, before tsk-ing at you, sassy. “Not like you run from me, anyway.”’

You feel your stomach turn in embarrassment, in shame. You know he’s partly right, but you’re not about to admit that to the man who started it in the first place, who chased you home that whole first month, who, despite the familiarity you share now, still takes pleasure in your pain. 

“Because, because no matter what I do, you won't quit chasing me. I’ve been running from you. ‘Cos you won’t leave. Me. Alone.” 

Touya rolls his eyes, then sighs like you’re being a hassle. “If you really didn’t want me here I woulda left. I’m not stupid.”

“But I don’t want you here. I never did. You show up out of, of, fucking nowhere, acting like you know me—”

“I’m keeping you safe, lollipop,” he interrupts, though the words hardly register.

“Safe? As if it’s my fault you can’t leave me alone?”

You think of all the nights that had you near paralyzed with terror, from that first day onward, of rubbing your feet raw in your shoes, of wishing someone would come save you, of puzzling why you never ended up dead, to now. You never once thought, realized–

“Not your fault. His. The neighbor stalker.” 

You can barely respond, your arms shaking at your sides, eyes watering with distress. 

“But you, you’re…” 

He smacks his lips with a yawn. 

“Yeah, I beat him black and blue, maybe. But only cuz he was trailing you, I wouldn’t…” he shoves one hand in the pocket of his coat, waves the other dramatically in the air, “go after someone unless—” 

“Touya?” you question, your throat rough, your swallows heavy and thick with a syrupy confusion. 

“They did something real bad, like messed with a—“

“Dabi.”

He finally looks at you, the sheen in his eyes, for once, solemn, as if he harbors a genuine concern for your safety all brought on by your confusion. 

“What?” 

It’s a question he asks a lot, but this time, he seems to mean it. 

“Dabi,” you repeat, “you mean… you’re not the campus creep? The one on the news?” 

He gawks at you suddenly. The silence stretching, the night suddenly looming, the breeze even seeming to laugh. His disinterested expression begins to fade into a blank, unreadable nothingness… and then he howls. Hoots. Yells. His smile returning then, wide, blazing, hot. 

He laughs like you’ve never seen anyone laugh before, guffawing joyously and jollily, slapping his hands against the ripped holes of his jeans as his chest heaves underneath today’s thin, white tee. 

It’s almost contagious. Almost. 

“And here I thought we were bonding.”

You prickle like a cat, digging your toes into the tips of your worn out shoes. “Stop it. I’m being serious.”

“You’re tellin’ me,” he manages in between snickers, “you thought I was the creeper this whole time?” 

“You’re not?”

“That guy?” Touya straightens up to wipe his eyes, and you finally notice the crow’s feet that crinkle around his eyes, “Hell no. You think I do this for fun? Wear fuckin’ ugly hats and shit to terrorize pretty students at the school my ass of a little brother attends?” 

You say nothing. He starts laughing again, clapping his hands and keeling over. Even in jest, his voice still has that soft, raspy charm as he hoots at the ground. 

“Dabi. Touya. Whoever you are,” you plead, the first time ever you think you’ve voluntarily gotten closer to him, grabbing the rough shoulder of his jacket and tugging. He stumbles, maybe more on purpose than because of your grip, closing the distance between you such that his chest is pressed against yours and his hands are on your hips. “Tell me the truth. What’s going on?” 

He snorts, the only difference in sound now that it’s muffled by the closeness of your lips, but responds slowly nonetheless.  

“I beat the snot,” he emphasizes, exposing teeth, “out of your stalker. And you didn’t even know he wasn’t me.” 

“But…” you say, hesitating against him, your hands slipping from the stiff collar of his jacket to the front of his chest, confused. His eyes are as cold as ice but set you on fire when you meet his gaze.  “You didn’t have to. I mean, I woulda been fine, right?” 

He doesn’t look entirely convinced. “You tell me, when you’re the one still trying to walk your stupid ass home alone at night.”  

You flush, cheeks heating the skin all the way down to your neck. Touya seems to have clocked you far better than you ever knew it yourself–that he was never the enemy, that you were trapped in a self pity so deep only he could drag you out of it before choking, that dying, being tortured, being stalked, was far from the punishment you needed to get that kind of smoke out of both your lungs and your head. 

And, if anything, that you were lucky to have him.  

“Yeah, yeah. I don’t care.” Touya steps back only to purposely step gently on your toes. When you glare at him, hand still stretched  out to link the two of you together somehow, he only grins. “Buy me dinner to make up for it. Or kiss me sometime. With tongue. Either’s fine, cookie.” 

-

It’s been six months. Summer is just about to begin, your roommate has already left on vacation, and the closer you get to the end of the season, the more you feel your worries begin to melt off of you like layers upon layers of frost on an icy window of a warm cabin. 

The shadow still walks you home, but he no longer trails behind you, and you no longer call him a creep. You call him Touya–now your lamp, now your arrow–and sometimes Dabi (that is, when you feel like he’s not listening). 

Though the sun now sets a whole hour later than it did during winter, excusing as much of a need for Touya’s presence in your routine, you have now welcomed him into it,  (even if you spent the first couple months of your real relationship trying to make up for your initial confusion at his presence with bowls of soap and burnt bread from the cafe near your house.)

It is a Thursday when a wispy-haired classmate comes up to you on the steps that lead away from campus. She’s the one you knew vaguely from elementary school in your distant home town, and who made herself reacquainted by sneering at you once for eating a candy bar in class; she bared fangs at you like she herself had never been hungry, and then ignored you every time you saw her after (even during assigned group work, when you realized she wasn’t even that intelligent). 

But, now, you know, Touya can sneer, too, and sneer for you in ways that light a fire in the hearth of your existence… and he does so, sharply, arrogantly, when she approaches underneath the fading light of the sun and slate blue sky. She looks almost scared, even more so of his smile, big, wide and scary—that is, until you interrupt the moment by calling out to her from behind his back. 

“You ever heard about the campus creeper?” you ask, to which she nods anxiously, big, wet tears welling in her eyes as she hobbles right over to your side, Touya already barking into the warming night air as he begins to walk you both home. 

[calirph]

𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐌𝐑. 𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐎𝐍 𝐐𝐔𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒

All quotes are taken by Julia Quinn's Romancing Mr. Bridgerton, which the upcoming season three of Bridgerton is based upon. Change names, locations, pronouns as you see fit. Some of these are suggestive or spicy so beware but mostly, it's full of witty banter.

I love you with everything I am, everything I’ve been, and everything I hope to be.

 love you for the children we’ll have and for the years we’ll have together.

Do I look like a mess?

In three days. I will be your husband. I will take a solemn vow to protect you until death do us part. Do you understand what that means?

You are not going to waltz in here and distract me with a clever phrase and a beguiling smile.

You think my smile is beguiling?

You're in a rather odd mood today.

Isn’t it nice, to discover that we’re not exactly what we thought we were?

Just be quiet and accept the praise.

And why, pray tell, should I make it easy?

You're young, wealthy, and you're a *man*.'You can do anything you want.

You are a terrible liar, did you know that?

Actually, I'm an excellent liar. But what I'm really good at is appearing appropriately sheepish and adorable after I'm caught.

You’re the imperfect man of my heart, and that’s even better.

I believe we were discussing your dissatisfaction with life as the most popular man in London.

I suggest, that we flee the scene.

People are like fine wines. If they start off good, they only get better with age.

Why waste romance on a love that would never be returned?

Ah, now, there's the question I've been waiting for.

You can kiss me, too. A kiss is for two people.

When did I start needing you so much?

We women must look out for one another since it is clear no one else will do so.

Nobody ever thinks it's nice to see me...But I thank you for lying all the same.

But you’re mine, aren’t you?

You’ll find marriage a lot easier if you simply allow it to be.

Do you have any idea how dangerous it is for a woman alone in the City? Alone anywhere?

For God’s sake, Penelope. Are you going to marry me or not?

It has occasionally been remarked that I possessed a small modicum of intelligence in my youth, as well.

Half the time they didn’t even know I was there.

I didn't want you to think I stopped because you didn't please me.

You be quiet. It’s my turn to speak.

For the love of God, girl, don’t look! He’ll know you’re interested.

Suppose I told everyone that I had seduced you.

It wouldn’t matter that we had never even kissed. That, my dear Penelope, is the power of the word.

You’re not planning to refuse me, are you?

You’ve always been cheeky, did you know that?

Tell me what to do.

Tell me if I do anything you don't like.

I want to see you sitting up, so I can see them full and lovely and large. And then I want to crawl behind you and cup you.

And I want to do it in front of a mirror.

All these fools, trying to figure out what you did to get him to marry you, when all you really did was be yourself.

Colin, don't tease. I'm trying to be helpful.

I need a private moment with you, anyway.

You are beautiful, I don't know why nobody else sees it.

Anyone might see.

I want to dance with you.

Tenacity can be a very good thing, at the proper time.

I will always look after you, Penelope. You are special to me.

Ever the attentive nurse.

Are you going to tell me what is going on?

No, first I’m going to kiss you.

She’s lovely and intelligent and has a fine sense of humor. Who wouldn’t want to marry a woman like that?

You’re almost ready for me. So wet, but so tight.

Did you think I wouldn’t touch you like this?

So you’re saying you might like it like this?

You don’t like the dark?

I will make this right. I just need you to trust me.

What did she do to you?

My mother did say she would not forgive us unless we produced a grandchild.

I think that you were going to say that you wanted me to touch you 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆-

The way you were dancing with her looked rather interesting. You courting the girl, Bridgerton?

Oh, Penelope. Please tell me this feels good. Please.

Take a chance and see if you soar.

I don’t want to die without ever been kissed.

Sometimes I think I know you better than I know myself. And you would never do anything that would hurt me.

Good choice dancing with this one. I've always liked her. More brains than the rest of her family put together.

I don’t care what anyone says. No one can take that from me.

I am proud of what I’ve done. I don’t care what you say.

Is that a proposal?

I can’t believe you’re speaking to me like this.

You can’t believe I’m doing it or that I possess the nerve to do so?

Into the carriage.

Why, then do you grow so distant and cold.

You don't know my prayers.

Colin, you'll be ruined, too.

The dark, brooding types get all the women.

Penelope Featherington, I think you should dance with me.

One would think that a vital component of charity and grace is the ability not to draw attention to one's possession of them.

When did I gave you leave to interpret my sighs?

I want to strip you bare and sink into you and never let you go.

[tarjapearce]

Hii! So here it is the one shot thing i was talking about. Took longer than i expected cause i was at work most of the time. It's also longer than what i intended but i wanted to flesh it out as much as possible. I wanted also to add smut but I'm really bad at writing it so i thought better save myself the embarrassment😅. Anywho i hope you enjoy and hopefully it's not terrible 🙈

Miguel has been working very hard in cherry baby's dad's ranch and it's starting to get to him. The stress, the heat, the exhaustion at the end of the day and so on. The only thing that's been giving him strength is his special girl. She's been busy herself lately but still tries to see Miguel as much as she can. Not enough for him though and that makes him as grumpy as can be. Cherry baby notices this so she goes to talk with him about it. His sour mood however has gotten so bad that even cherry baby can't fix it. She tries to be her sweet self but he's just being an ass.

"Hii!" cherry says with lilt in her voice when she approaches the barn.

"Hey." is all she gets in return from a Miguel looking at his board and writing something on it.

This takes cherry a bit off guard so she gets closer to him.

"Whatcha doin?" she asks sweetly, swinging back and fort on her feet.

"Work." replies Miguel, again not even looking at her.

This really starts to bother cherry baby so she confronts him.

"Okay what's going on? Why are you acting as if I'm not even here? Are you mad at me or something?"

"What? No, I'm just busy. Why do i have to be mad at you? I just have work to do." Miguel snaps.

Cherry looks up at him taken aback and she feels her eyes getting wet the more she stays.

"Fine. Do your work. Sorry i bothered you." she says and leaves the barn with not a single apology from Miguel.

That day cherry was in a shitty mood as well and her parents and everyone else who worked at the ranch could see it. This went on until evening. Cherry baby barely ate her dinner and her both her parents took notice. After dinner her mother went to her daughters room to check up on her

"Mija? Is everything okay?"

"I'm fine, mama." cherry says, laying in bed with her back to the door of her room.

"Something is bothering you, i can tell." her mother pushes on

"No nothing is wrong, I'm fine. Please just leave me alone." cherry baby insists.

"Do you think I'm stupid? How can i leave my daughter, knowing she's upset about something?" she says walking towards her daughters bed.

"It's really nothing, mama. Everything's fine."

Cherry baby's mom looks at her quizzingly

"Does it have something to do with the ranch boy?"

Cherry's eyes widen a bit and she quickly goes to say

"No! No it doesn't! Can you please leave me alone, mama. I'm okay, please!"

Cherry's mom sighs

"Well okay then. If you want to talk about it you know where i am." she says and goes to hug her sweet daughter.

"However if it has anything to do with that ogre-"

"Mama!"

"Don't "mama" me, young lady! Ay dios mio, you have such better options than him. Why not give those guys a chance? At least flirt with them a little. Who knows maybe you'll like them better than that animal! " she says walking to the door

"It's not about him, okay?" cherry says thinking to herself "it's totally about him"

"Yeah yeah. Don't forget to pray tonight. Maybe God will knock some sense into you" she said as she left the room.

That night cherry baby did pray and as she was going to bed, God did knock some sense into her. She decided to listen her mom for once.

The next day cherry baby was getting ready to go out into the ranch. She put her new white dress (the one i showed you, if you remember👀) her little brown cowboy hat and boots. She went out and headed to where the horses were. Of course Miguel was there. Seeing her in this new dress his eyes almost did pop out doing a double take. Cherry took notice of his reaction however she only gave him a side eye and went to take care of Luis. Miguel is looking at her like a hawk. Every curve of her body, every step, every sway of her hips. He was shamelessly staring. Cherry bent down to get something which revealed the upper part of her thighs, almost revealing her underwear and butt. At that Miguel bit his fist as hard as he could. When she got up, cherry baby turned to him

"Can I help you?" she asked with a raised brow

"What are you trying to do?" he said

"What am i trying to do?" cherry inquired.

"Oh, give me a break. If you're trying to get my attention, you just had to say so." he says as he walks towards her.

As he's just about to caress her face, cherry moves her face away from his hand and continues tending to Luis.

It's Miguel's turn to be taken aback.

"Whats going on?" he questions

"Nothing. Just taking care of my horse" Cherry says monotonously not even looking at Miguel.

"Whats with the attitude today, carino?"

"What attitude, Miguel? I'm just tending to my horse." she says as she finishes up with Luis and walks away.

The rest of the day cherry baby had been her usual self except with Miguel. She was even a little flirty with some of the other ranch boys, especially the ones that Miguel is mentoring. To say he was furious would be putting it extremely lightly. And he had had enough.

It was already the afternoon. While cherry baby was talking with the boys, Miguel approached them and gave each of them some kind of errand so they can leave her alone with him. With a stern look, Miguel spoke and cherry baby just looked at him unamused.

"I hope you had your fun today." he said crossing his arms.

"I did actually, no thanks to you." she spoke as-a-matter-of-fact-ly.

"Are you done being a brat?" he asked her

"Are you done being a bitch?" she retorted

"Excuse me?"

"You're excused." she spoke at him again with an unamused face.

This made Miguel's blood boil. As cherry baby was about to leave, a slight smirk on her face, Miguel grabs her by the back of her neck and directed her to the barn. Cherry baby tries to pry his hand open but she is no match for Miguel's strong grip. He throws her inside the barn and she stumbles forward, falling to the ground

"Are you insane?! What's your problem?! I thought you didn't want me around you anymore! What gives you the right to treat me like horse poop one day and act like everything's fine the other, huh?" she snapped at him from where she was on the ground, hay from the horses all over her.

"Is this what this was all about? This whole attitude and ignoring me is because of yesterday?" Miguel smirked and started approaching her.

"Not only. The last few days you've been treating me like a fly on the wall. Barely acknowledging me. Plus you're always grumpy and sour lately. I should be the one asking you what's going on!" she spoke, her eyes getting wet and voice cracking half way.

"Carino, I've been stressed. Work has been piling up lately. Your dad is trying to make soms renovations to the barn and everything goes through me. I'm sorry I've been in a bad mood lately. Let me make it up to you." he says approaching cherry on the ground and reach out a hand to caress her face.

"And why didn't you just tell me instead of acting like an ass?" she said with hurt in her eyes.

"I'm sorry, querida. Truly I want to make it up to you."

"You should've thought about that sooner."

She said as she was getting up.

Before she could though, Miguel snakes his hand behind her head and grabs a handful of her hair and pulls her down by the hair. She yelps and goes to grab his hand. Her eyes were already wet, the pull was enough to make the tears fall from her eyes.

"You're awful" she said looking right into his eyes.

"Aww you're gonna hurt my feelings" Miguel teased with a mischievous grin.

"You're my girl and i want to show you how much i love you" he said as he stood up still holding cherry baby by the hair.

"Are you gonna be a behave now?" he asked her teasingly.

Cherry baby only nodded and he let go of her hair and puts his hands on her hips. Cherry isn't satisfied with his apology though so she decides to mess with him more. She grabs him by the balls and squeezes.

"You gotta catch me first" she whispers to his face as he makes a grimace.

Cherry baby let's go of him and makes a run for it. However Miguel's reflexes are very fast and catches her by the hair once again, dragging her back.

"I was thinking of going easy on you but by the looks of it you rather have it the hard way" he says as he pulled her back to his chest, holding the back of her hair in a vice like grip. Miguel started walking towards his room as he pushed cherry baby in front of him, hand still in her hair and his grip only getting tighter. Cherry tried to pry his finger from her hair, her little whimpers and welps filling the barn. Once they reach his room, Miguel opened the door and threw cherry baby to the floor. He was on her before she could say anything. That night cherry learned why she shouldn't play with fire, especially if that fire is Miguel O'Hara.

He can burn me all he wants 🤭❤️. LOVED this!!!! Thanks for sharing your ideas with me 🥹🫶🏻.

[anincompletelist]

year in review: favorite lines! :D

hi friends! so this is entirely self-indulgent (both the part where I share my own work and the part where I tag you all to do the same) but I feel like we all have those special pieces of art/fics that just mean a little more to us but don't really get a chance in the spotlight. plus, any time is a good time for a bit of shameless self-promo and supporting friends! rules and my own contribution below! <3

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RULES: there are no rules! I am quite literally making this up as I go so please don't take this too seriously ksjhdkh. feel free to share your top three/top five/however many favorite snippet(s)/line/quotes/paragraphs from your published fics (or wips, I don't care!) and don't forget to share the link of course! see below for an example.

here are mine!

from Sure As the Stars in the Sky:

They’re both honest people, sometimes to a fault, but Henry’s truths are private, quiet, and Alex’s are loud. From the day Henry met him he’s been brash and earnest, unafraid to speak his mind even when he’s scared, without making sacrifices or harboring fear of punishment for doing so. It’s both intoxicating and infuriating.  Alex screams to a crowd of thousands of supporters, holding up bright posters with encouraging messages, and Henry screams into his pillow. When Alex speaks everyone listens, when Henry does he’s stifled, told to quiet down, to get back in line. Alex tries and succeeds. Henry tries. And tries and tries and tries and tries and still it isn’t enough to make any real difference. His whole life he’s felt linked to Alex in a number of ways. He’d taken comfort in their similarities despite their disagreements on more than a few occasions, because it’d been so nice just to have the knowledge that someone out there in the world had some idea what he was going through. That maybe he wasn’t as alone as he often felt. He and Alex’s paths converge at many points, but this is not one of them.  Henry rolls over and presses his face into the pillow again, stays there until all of his senses have redirected toward something else, until all he feels is the constricting of his airway and the rush behind his eyes, until his instincts force him to lift his head again, to take a breath, to survive.

from take my hand if you can take me as I am:

And it’s probably just a power play. It’s probably just something that Henry enjoys in the bedroom that’s unrelated to anything else. Lots of people like choking, Alex reckons.  But here, now, it feels like— it feels like Henry, Prince Henry, who holds a tremendous amount of power over the whole of his entire country, Henry Fox who tries so hard to balance it all on his shoulders without ever complaining or asking for help even when it’s ripping him apart, Alex’s Henry who shows up in shifts at the oddest of times with his sweet words and his soft, kind heart and his quiet hope — it feels like all of those versions of Henry, each with an equal amount of power, handing a bit of that over for a moment. Like he’s letting Alex have another little piece of him, offering it up like the most precious secret, asking nothing in return. Like he trusts Alex to hold it, to hold him, because he knows he’ll push him only as much as it takes to shake off the dust so he can shine again, never enough to shatter him beyond repair.

from praying our bridges don't make waves:

Alex’s chest burns. Here he is, standing in a bedroom Henry never asked to be in, with someone that’d never been a part of his plans, putting his gentle hands and tender lips on Alex’s roughness even when he’s dirty, even when he’s broken. Even when he doesn’t have anything to offer him but that. Even, even, even. Even when Alex is drifting somewhere miles away, Henry draws him back.

from but I can count on you to tell me the truth when (I've) been drinking and you're wearing a mask:

The ceiling of Alex’s dorm room is cracking in one corner. He knows because he stares at it a lot these days, in between going to classes and lacrosse games. It hadn’t been there when he moved in but it’d steadily grown since that first year. Alex wonders if somehow it’s his fault.

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tags: YA'LL THERE'S NO PRESSURE AT ALL BUT ALSO PLS DO THIS SO I CAN APPRECIATE YOU AND YELL AT YOU IN THE TAGS! @affectionatelyrs @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @firenati0n @kiwiana-writes @daisymae-12 @read-and-write- @inexplicablymine @happiness-of-the-pursuit @heybuddy-drabbles @firstsprinces @sparklepocalypse @littlemisskittentoes @getmehighonmagic @wordsofhoneydew @nocoastposts @zwiazdziarka @luainthewild @england-would-fall @iboatedhere @magicandarchery @gayrootvegetable @raysletters @tintagel-or-cockleshells @eusuntgratie @ninzied AND ALSO ANYONE ELSE WHO WOULD LIKE TO SHARE PLS TAG ME ! also might try to come up with some writer asks for end of year stuff too, but we'll see.

I'll see you all for wip wednesday! I hope you're all well! :D

xx

[trickstarbrave]

this is not proofread. and i am half awake

but i have FINALLY finished the fucking. nerevoryn omegaverse au fic. no one else has written it yet, so i will be the one to bear the burden. i will commit the first sin and take all the stones you throw.

sorry that this is mostly not even smut, just me messing around with worldbuilding. i have worldbuilder's disease. i have even MORE thoughts about this setting i have inevitably left out. but. well. they fuck in the end okay

special shout out my mutual who posted an omegaverse tweet bc i was really blanking on the smut for some reason. i couldnt get it working right???? like it wasn't interesting. but we got there with the help of the tweet.

content warnings: standard omegaverse shit. heats, ruts, biting, impregnation kink, knots, you get it. omegas have vaginas as far as im concerned bc it just makes more sense to me. give it a shot as i have played with stereotypes and tried to make it interesting i hope

There were, despite the stereotypes, perks when it came to being an omega. In fact, in a way, stereotypes could be one of the perks, if you played your cards right. And if there was anything Nerevar knew how to do, it was use anything and everything to his advantage. 

There was a common belief omegas were all delicate, gentle hearted peace-keepers--or worse, treasures that lay in wait for some big strong alpha to come take them. It wasn’t like there were no docile, delicate omegas, but Nerevar was certainly not the type. He could make peace all right--with persuasion and his blade however, not rolling over with his belly up begging everyone to stop fighting. 

Most people thought he was an alpha given how headstrong he was and how quickly he took charge of situations. That, or he was an alpha-leaning beta given he was usually able to keep his cool in difficult situations, especially around alphas acting territorial and puffing out their chests. Nerevar never bothered correcting them either way; sure, he could turn himself into some moral champion of omegas and prove they could be just as capable politicians and warriors, but the more likely outcome was everyone he told would take him significantly less seriously. And that would mean more heads would have to roll and well, Nerevar didn’t like cleaning up messes. 

He still had heats, having to retreat into his room for days at a time, but no one said anything. Just as easily he could be locked away in a rut, or praying to Azura for several days on end. No one dared question him, and only the most trustworthy attendants were allowed anywhere near his room to be able to smell the difference. 

On the plus side, Nerevar had many things he used to his advantage; in all honesty, the fact people thought Nerevar was a beta wasn’t unfounded. Even when an alpha went into a rut, he was mostly unbothered by it. A bit of discomfort, not to mention he needed a long bath afterwards to get the smell off him, but unlike some omegas where the scent of an alpha in rut had them going into heat right away, Nerevar seemed mostly unaffected and could force the instinct down. And, through careful control of his mental state, he could usually calm most alphas down without them being the wiser about Nerevar’s secondary sex and wanting to take him for themselves. His seeming immunity from an alpha in rut was often the subject of multiple jokes by Almalexia, as the two of them would mostly sit around, having a few drinks in the quiet of her room. Well, that was until she took Vivec as her mate, then most of her ruts were spent with the warrior-poet instead. 

Hence why, when his meeting with Voryn had been canceled last minute after he already made his way to Kogoruhn, he simply strolled to Voryn’s room, humming casually with a couple books and food for the other. 

Much like Nerevar, Voryn was also an… Interesting example of an alpha. Voryn was usually pegged more so as a beta based on his behavior, until you got a whiff of pheromones when you pissed him off. He wasn’t as outwardly aggressive and territorial as far as most people were concerned, but Nerevar knew him well. He disguised it as dedication and love for his house, or loyalty to those close to him, but he was indeed territorial. And instead of outward aggression, picking fights and throwing fists, he preferred to temper his aggression and instead attack them when they least expected it. He may look like he forgives and forgets, but in truth he was a viper laying in wait to strike. 

Nerevar knocked, careful not to drop the few books tucked under his arm, hearing the low growl that followed. 

“Out.” Voryn hissed, and Nerevar bit back a laugh.

“It’s me,” Nerevar clarified. “I brought you some books and some food. Servants said you haven’t eaten since yesterday.” Voryn, unlike his typically cool demeanor, was vicious and snippy in a rut. Since Nerevar grew up alongside him, he knew it very well, getting chased away from Voryn’s door every time. Well, that and the servants and other members of House Dagoth would shoo him away, warning him not to go near. It was customary to keep young alphas and omegas apart during heats and ruts respectively, for good reason. No one wanted any injured teenagers or anyone carrying children way too young. But Nerevar could still see it in the aftermath—scratch marks and bruises on Gilvoth after he came to force his younger brother to eat, broken furniture, a smashed window at one point—luckily he calmed down from physical violence as he got older. If he hadn’t, he doubted Kogoruhn would still be standing with all the magic the lord knew. 

“All the more reason to tell you to leave.” Voryn huffed. 

“You know ruts don’t bother me.” Nerevar snarked. “Hurry up and open the door before I drop your food.” 

After some groaning and growling, eventually Voryn did open the door, to which Nerevar quickly darted inside before he could take the tray and shove him out. 

“You are an idiot.” Voryn groaned as Nerevar set the tray of food on the desk, before tossing the books onto Voryn’s bed. “But that’s nothing new anymore.” 

“I told you, ruts don’t bother me.” Nerevar chuckled, trying to ignore the heavy feeling in the air as always. At the very least, Voryn’s scent wasn’t offensive; some alphas made him feel disgusting, if not a little nauseous. Voryn’s was much more familiar and a lot more welcomed, given he was used to it in much smaller quantities over the years. In fact, it was kind of nice; warm, a bit spicy, and nostalgic. 

“I can’t help but fear you’re just playing with fire when you say things like that.” Voryn sighed, before plopping himself on the bed. He was dressed very loosely, no doubt feeling hot and antsy. Nerevar, unbothered, also sat beside him with a grin on his face. 

“Come on, I’m not being that reckless.” 

“You’re tempting fate, that’s what you’re doing.” Voryn huffed. “But you’ve always been like that, haven’t you? Always pushing your luck to its limits until it blows up in your face.” 

“It hasn’t blown up in my face yet,” Nerevar asserted proudly. “Unlike several of Sil’s little inventions.” Voryn rolled his eyes at that.

“Because you’re constantly poking and prodding at them even when he specifically told you not to, that’s why.” Nerevar, seeing as Voryn was making a good point, instead side-stepped it entirely.

“Come on, you know you get lonely during a rut,” Nerevar instead circled the conversation back around. “Bored, stir crazy, antsy…”

“That’s the nature of a rut so I don’t rip someone to pieces.” Voryn huffed. “I’m not supposed to be relaxing and having fun but defending my territory and looking for a mate as far as my instincts are concerned.” 

“Mm…” Nerevar hummed. “I heard mate does make them easier. At least, as far as Ayem told me.” Nerevar hadn’t minded his wife taking a mate that wasn’t him; in terms of sexual compatibility, Nerevar didn’t find her very appealing. Not that she was ugly or anything--far from it! She was very beautiful, tall, strong… All things an omega should be dying to have in a mate. But there was something about her scent that put him off from ever wanting to mate. Just as well, she didn’t find his scent all that appealing either, and most political marriages didn’t end in mating even in the case of alpha and omega couples. 

“And I am in no mood to tear apart Vvardenfell looking for one.” Voryn scoffed, before laying down on his side. Despite doing so, however, he didn’t look comfortable in the slightest. All of his muscles were tense as he laid there, stiff as a corpse. “I have things to be doing, research to do, meetings to be had--”

“Shh…” Nerevar hushed him, scooting closer to rub his back. At the touch Voryn snarled, before slowly he began relaxing, bit by bit. “There…” Nerevar smiled fondly. “You’ll have time for all of that when this is over. It’s only a couple of days right?” Nerevar asked, before working at a knot on Voryn’s shoulder. “Roll over and I’ll rub your back. You’re way too tense.”

Despite all his huffing and snarling, Voryn did roll over, face planted in a pillow, allowing Nerevar climb on top of him to massage him. For most alphas having an omega crawling on top of them in the middle of a rut like this was no doubt humiliating, but Voryn had in fact relaxed gradually. The scent in the air turned from one of hostility and warning to more of a gentle warmth as Nerevar continued to work knot after knot out of his back. 

“What research are you working on now?” Nerevar asked, hoping some light conversation would help relax him further. 

“Mm…” Voryn groaned softly, fingers clenching and unclenching the blankets under him. “Dwemeri explosive powder…”

“Making it?” Nerevar asked, raising a brow. 

“No,” Voryn clarified. “Dwemer machinery is required to actually… Make it.” He hummed softly as Nerevar rubbed at his lower back, working the especially tense muscles nice and slow. “Machinery far too large and complicated to fit into Kogoruhn.”

“What about it then?”

“Dwarven oil has a number of alchemical properties…” Voryn continued. “I was hoping to test if their explosive powder had any as well.” 

“Without blowing up half of your stronghold, I hope?” At that, Voryn snorted, before rolling over and forcing Nerevar off him now that he was much more relaxed. With a grin, Voryn tugged Nerevar down to be laying beside him.

“Unlike you, I don’t have a track record for blowing things up unintentionally.” 

“You’re back on that again?” Nerevar groaned, offended but still laughing. 

“I’m not the one who brought it up the first time.” Voryn smirked. “Though tell me, how many times has Dumac saved you from nearly stepping on a landmine again?” 

“You’re being an asshole right now, you know that?” Nerevar shot him a playful glare. 

“Well you’re an asshole all the time and it’s never stopped you.” 

And just like that, the two were at it. Was wrestling an alpha in rut a good idea? Not in the slightest. However, the two used to playfully wrestle all the time as children and even teenagers, so it was… Oddly nice to do so again as adults. Typically Nerevar would win due to raw strength alone--and he could right now, of course--but he knew it was probably a terrible idea to piss an alpha off like that in the middle of a rut. So instead, Nerevar just put up a gentle fight, knocking several of the pillows and blankets off the plush bed, along with the books Nerevar brought earlier, all the while laughing. Then, once he felt Voryn was starting to get a bit too aggressive and his movements too hurried, he let the other pin him to the bed. 

“Gods…” Nerevar laughed, breathlessly. “How long has it been since we wrestled like this?”

“Decades.” Voryn replied, equally as breathless. “Mm… But oddly nice to get the energy out.” 

“I told you.” Nerevar grinned. “Nice to move around, get your mind off things… Sitting there stewing in it only makes it worse.” 

“Don’t tell me you go around wrestling people in heat.” Nerevar nearly choked in laughter at that. 

“No!” He had to roll over onto his side, holding his stomach from giggling. “Gods, fuck no! Azura’s mercy, I’m not that insane!” Another few chuckles followed as he tried to compose himself. “I can barely stand anyone touching me once it settles in. Everything feels so… Sharp and uncomfortable.” 

“Does it?” Voryn raised an eyebrow, but climbed off Nerevar to flop down beside him. “That sounds… Unusual.”

Nerevar shrugged. “It’s always been like that.” He admitted as though it were nothing. “You wouldn’t it get it being an alpha, I guess.” 

“Nerevar, I may not be an omega but that doesn’t mean I’m uneducated.” Voryn was oddly stern now, concerned. “Just like how you aren’t an alpha but understand how a rut works.” 

“Look, what do you want me to say?” Nerevar asked. “No healer has ever told me anything is wrong with me. It just seemed the more time that went on, the more… Painful they got?” Nerevar groaned. “Well, not really painful, I’ve found a way around it for the most part--”

“So you’re coping with it like a poorly healed injury.” 

“No!” Nerevar asserted. “It’s not an injury but a normal thing.”

“A normal process that isn’t acting as normal.” 

“Look,” Nerevar rolled his eyes, “You can bother the healers back at the palace about it if you’re so concerned. But I’ve adjusted just fine to my heats. I lay in bed, have all my food ready, stacks of books and what have you, and I deal with it.” Nerevar gave him a playful kick. “Unlike someone who went a whole day without eating.” 

Voryn rolled his eyes, getting up from the bed. “Fine fine, I’ll eat lord Nerevar.” Voryn replied, sarcastically. He then went over to his desk, finally eating the meal Nerevar brought him. 

While he ate, they still chatted and talked, Nerevar laying casually on his bed. It hadn’t been the first time he’d done it, and Nerevar expected it wouldn’t be the last with their close friendship. Even as councilman and king, Nerevar saw them as close friends above all else. The closest friend he had, honestly. 

Yet, as he laid there he found himself feeling… Uncomfortable. The air wasn’t stifling after Voryn calmed down, but Nerevar’s clothes felt… Itchy. Not to mention he was starting to feel feverish. Maybe that wrestling wasn’t a good idea if he was coming down with something, but he didn’t want to leave yet--he was mid conversation, after all, and it seemed like Voryn was still relaxing more and more. But, it wasn’t long until Nerevar was tossing and turning on the bed, trying to feel comfortable. Despite being fully dressed he got that same paranoid feeling he had being out in the open on the battlefield: antsy and exposed. 

“Are you alright?” Voryn had finished by now, coming to the bed to look at him.

“Yeah just--” Nerevar sighed. “Uncomfortable.” Then, realizing how that might be interpreted, tried to cover for it. “Not that your bed is uncomfortable, I just feel… Off, all of a sudden.” 

“How so?”

“My clothes feel itchy--” Nerevar was already scratching at his arms, writhing slightly to try and itch at his back. “It’s not flees, I just bathed… Not to mention it’s not like, bug bite itchy but like my clothes are way too rough…” 

“Stress?” Voryn asked, looking at his arms to ensure he didn’t have a rash. “I could always look at your clothes to be sure.” 

“Not a bad idea.” Nerevar began pulling his shirt up over his head to hand to Voryn who combed it over. Sure enough, the clean cloth had no parasites or bugs crawling around in it, but already Nerevar felt relieved. He kicked off his trousers while he was at it, left only in his undergarments and much more comfortable. 

“Well the fabric is particularly rough.” Voryn remarked. “Thick material, more so used for keeping warm and dry rather than relaxing. Rolling around wrestling in it probably irritated your skin.” Nerevar snorted at that, especially as Voryn tossed one of his own silk robes on top of him. He used to have no problem wrestling in the ash and dust, but now slightly rough fabric was what was going to do him in? Although… The silk robe was a lot more comfortable, the soft fabric almost soothing his skin as he curled up with it on and tied shut, breathing deeply. Voryn’s sheets were also nice and soft… 

“You are also feeling warm though…” Voryn brought the back of his hand to Nerevar’s forehead. “Not to mention I actually beat you at wrestling…” He looked concerned, “You weren’t mucking around the bitter coast again were you? Swamp fever has been on the rise there, and I know how much you love mudcrab hunting more than your own good--” Nerevar rolled his eyes.

“I came straight here from the propylon chamber, Voryn.” He did wear weather appropriate clothes given it was the cold and rainy season in northern VVardenfell, but that was just a precaution. “I wasn’t running around the bitter coast catching mudcrabs, I can assure you.” 

“Here,” Voryn stood up now, pulling the pillows and blankets back on the bed to make Nerevar more comfortable. “Why don’t you just lay down for a few minutes and see if it goes down. If not, I have a cure disease potion around here somewhere…” He then got up after piling them all back on, rummaging through his shelves stocked with an astounding amount of alchemical books, ingredient chests, and potion bottles. ‘Controlled chaos’ as Voryn would say, though Nerevar could never make sense of it. But right now he was more than content to just lay there in the pile of pillows and blankets, breathing in nice and deep as his body started to go from uncomfortably hot to warm and fuzzy. 

“I found it,” Voryn kneeled beside him, beckoning Nerevar to sit up properly. He groaned in annoyance; he just got fucking comfortable, now Voryn wanted him to sit up? But one look at Voryn’s eyes told Nerevar it was just for his own good, so reluctantly and without much fuss he sat up slightly, letting Voryn tilt his head and press the potion bottle to his lips. It briefly occurred to him he could drink it himself but… Well, Voryn was just being a loyal retainer and friend right? Ever loyal, doting Voryn.. Nerevar found that trait of his kind of endearing. 

“Normally when I have to give you medicine you make such a fuss,” Voryn smiled softly, “You’re being a good boy right now, I see.” At the ‘good boy’ comment Nerevar’s breath hitched slightly as he sunk back onto the bed to lay on his side, Voryn piling more of the blankets and pillows around him so he was comfortable. Then, a hand threaded into his hair, rubbing at his scalp just like Nerevar liked, making him positively melt, mewling and moaning softly in pure delight. 

“That’s it…” Voryn purred, “Such a good boy, aren’t you…?” Voryn then laid down behind him, nuzzling against him, his hands brushing across Nerevar’s chest and stomach in soft strokes… 

Ah, Voryn was scenting him, something that wasn’t unwelcomed in the slightest. It was nice; being wrapped up in that warm, musky scent was only making him feel better. People would be able to smell Voryn on him after all, all over his body from his clothes to his hair and skin… Then again, he felt like he never wanted to leave the comfort of Voryn’s bed right now. He was content to just lay there being tended to, Voryn nuzzling him, feeding him, guarding him… 

“Oh Neht,” Voryn buried his face in Nerevar’s neck, breathing in his scent directly, before his tongue swiped at a scent gland. That caught Nerevar’s attention, making him moan louder, squirming in Voryn’s arms. 

“Hey--” Nerevar protested weakly. His mind felt fuzzy, but he knew that was crossing a line at least. “Watch it.” 

“You smell divine…” Voryn purred. “Nice and sweet…” He resumed the licking, leaving Nerevar whining softly, his hips moving in small circles until Voryn pressed his hips firmly against Nerevar’s ass, holding him still with a growl. His cunt throbbed at that, suddenly overcome with the realization he was empty right now, so fucking empty--he needed something in him. Right now. Fingers, a toy, a cock, just something filling him up--

Then, Voryn was pulling back suddenly, jerking his hands away as though he was burned. Nerevar looked up at him confused and dazed, Voryn’s face flushed red. 

“You’re in heat.” Voryn murmured, suddenly realizing what was going on. Nerevar, however, took a few moments to process his words, before anxiety bubbled up inside him.

“No I’m not--” He wasn’t the type to go into heat smelling an alpha in rut. He had never done so before, and he wasn’t due for his heat for a few months anyways. Besides, when he was in heat he was nesting and--

Nerevar glanced at the pillows and blankets Voryn had put around him, realizing when he had done so Nerevar felt much more secure and comfortable. He’d been antsy before, paranoid and feeling exposed until the soft, plush walls were around him. He also felt more sensitive to his clothes, feeling warm and aroused-- 

“I-I hate people touching me in heat,” Nerevar tried to explain quickly, sitting up and panicked. “I can’t be…” That was right, he couldn’t be. He hated being touched during his heat, growling and hissing as the touch was physically painful. But Voryn touching him hadn’t hurt at all, it felt…

Nerevar’s hands were trembling as he got up quickly, tugging the robe shut firmly and making sure the tie was secure, before he took off running for the propylon chamber. He wasn’t thinking clearly, he just knew he needed to not be there anymore. Something was wrong with him after all; very, very wrong with him. He paid no mind to Voryn calling after him, even as his anxiety spiked hearing the concern and anger in his voice; he just kept running through the halls, sprinting past servants and attendants until he made it to the chamber, giving quick orders to send him to Mournhold before he was teleported away. 

At the palace, Nerevar didn’t stop to catch his breath either. The air felt cold and stifling as he continued running, spriting like a mad man until he made it to his room where he swiftly locked the door. He drew the curtains, blocking out the light until it was dark, his anxiety still not ceasing. He tripped on a chair in his scramble, swearing up a storm as he kicked and snarled, breaking a leg off the chair. He then grabbed it as he stood, throwing it to the wall resulting in the wood splintering against the heavy stone and knocking several tapestries down. Now in darkness he retreated to his bed, trying to curl up to find comfort.

His bed felt wrong. Wrong, disgusting, cold, uncomfortable… Even as he moved the blankets and pillows he just felt worse. None of them were as comfortable as Voryn’s bed, covered in his scent…

Nerevar tugged the robe off, burying his face in it, whining softly. The scent, despite being musky and strong, was so comforting. He never used to find an alpha’s scent so soothing before, why now? Even when he was in heat he’d growl if any alpha even so much as came near his room, so why this? Why now?!

A few servants knocked on the door, calling for him alarmed. Then a few healers. He didn’t respond to any of them, laying there in silence, too ashamed to even tell them to leave. It felt like his skin was crawling, and he simultaneously felt both hyper-aggressive and like he had no strength in him. Then it was Almalexia, knocking.

“Nerevar?!” He growled weakly; he didn’t want anyone to see him, let alone a different alpha--no, he needed to get rid of that mindset. Voryn wasn’t special, at least, not as an alpha. Voryn was his closest friend yet, but if he didn’t want to be seen by anyone, that meant anyone. Especially not Voryn, an alpha in rut, when he was obviously in heat. 

“Are you injured?” She asked. “What happened in Kogoruhn--” A few more people spoke quietly to her, their voices too hushed for him to hear. In the back of his mind, he knew it was only logical she’d ask; he did come sprinting through the palace in one of Voryn’s robes, running like a pack of nix-hounds were trying to kill him. What was supposed to be a political meeting ending in such a sight would be a great cause of concern--one Nerevar should smooth over before anyone marched to Kogoruhn accusing Voryn of treason. But he didn’t have the energy to do so; all he wanted to do was curl up and forget the rest of the world entirely. 

“Nerevar,” It was Vivec now, knocking at his door, voice level and a bit softer than how he usually spoke, “The healers are here, will you let them in?”

“I don’t need to see a healer.” He growled, enraged. It was stupid; Nerevar knew something was wrong with his body, but the idea of being seen by a bunch of strangers right now poking and prodding at him felt like a fate worse than death.

“Voryn is here.” A sensation ran straight through Nerevar he didn’t have a proper name for. Anticipation? Anxiety? Want? It was impossible to place, but it made him feel restless. “Would you prefer to see him?”

“No!” Nerevar suddenly snapped, his voice much louder than it had to be. He was terrified of what would happen if he saw Voryn again right now. Part of him wanted to, deep down; he wasn’t this restless and anxious simply laying in Voryn’s bed. In fact he felt nice--warm and fuzzy and safe. But he didn’t know what was going on, or what would happen if he followed that thread of desire to the end.

“Did Voryn hurt you?” Vivec asked, trying to get answers. 

“He didn’t hurt me--” Nerevar snapped at that as well. Voryn would never hurt Nerevar. He knew that much. His whole body was screaming, suddenly offended at even the idea. Voryn had been trying so hard to take care of Nerevar, made sure he was comfortable, fed him medicine and even made a nest for him… A wave of heat washed over him quickly at the memory, followed by a spike in anxiety. “I just--I don’t know what’s going on!” 

A few moments of silence followed, before Vivec sighed. “Let me come in.” That seemed less risky than healers he hardly knew or an alpha. Nerevar’s brain, as was so common while in heat, was in survival mode after all, constantly looking out for any potential threat. But Vivec was another omega, and a bonded one at that. Someone close to him and trusted.

After Nerevar gave a quiet answer, Vivec unlocked the door with a spell, slipping inside and then shutting and locking the door behind him. He approached the bed slowly, not sitting on it or touching him. 

“Tell me what happened and I’ll tell the others.” His voice was quiet, knowing just how jumpy and aggressive an omega could get in this state.

“I…” Nerevar swallowed. He didn’t want to recount it, embarrassed now that his luck had in fact run out just like Voryn said it might. “Ruts don’t usually trigger heat in me.” Nerevar said, his voice wavering.

“I’m aware.” 

“But it was…” Nerevar gave a shaky sigh. “I don’t… Know what happened. My body just started… Going into heat all of a sudden while I was laying on his bed, without me even realizing it.” Normally he could tell the warning signs of an impending heat: irritability, hunger, defensiveness, physical discomfort, even a sensitivity to light. “I also hate being touched when I’m in heat, it fucking hurts,” He hissed softly, remembering the warm, welcomed touch of Voryn’s hands on him as the other scented him. His skin burned despite no one touching him at the moment, and he wanted the relief of Voryn once again. Vivec still raised an eyebrow at that. “It always does but then I… It didn’t hurt when he was touching me. It felt… Nice. Relaxing.” Vivec hummed contemplatively at that. 

“When he realized I was… Going into heat he pulled away. And I realized it too and panicked and ran back here.” He did regret making a scene but he didn’t know what else he was supposed to do. 

“I’ll speak with the healers.” The most they’d be able to do was a suppressant, but at this point Nerevar would take it. He wanted this feeling to stop. Desperately. 

“Nerevar?!” He heard Voryn’s voice outside the door. “Nerevar, are you alright?” The concern in his voice had Nerevar’s heart racing, but he was still anxious about what would happen if he saw Voryn again. The sensation he was losing control was terrifying, after all. 

“I think it would be best you see him, Neht.” Vivec said simply, moving towards the door. “He’s going to tear the palace apart trying to get to you.” Nerevar’s anxiety only grew at that; what if Voryn got hurt? What if people assumed the worst? Not to mention it was only making the other, strange feelings inside him grow all the more strong at the notion Voryn desperately needed him.

“L…” He hesitated, before he tugged the robe out from under him and back onto his body to make himself decent. “Let him in.” 

As soon as the door was opened, Voryn shoved his way past the guards and Vivec into the room, Vivec retreating outside once more to hush the angered guards, attendants, and healers who wanted to drag him back out. 

“Neht,” Voryn’s voice went hushed as he quickly made his way to the bed, climbing on without a care. Nerevar had half a mind to snap at him, before Voryn was stroking at his skin and scenting him again. He felt himself melting already from the familiar scent filling the room, along with the soothing touch on his skin. “Thank gods you’re alright.” The room still felt wrong, but he felt a hell of a lot better being tended to like this, the burning under his skin slowly fading. 

“Voryn…” He murmured, closing his eyes. He tried to will himself to feel more comfortable; he was in his room, the same place he always was for all of his heats. Maybe it was because there were people outside his door? It was possible; he hated being bothered when he was in heat. 

Then the door opened after a few, pleasant moments, Voryn growling with pure rage. The healer who entered was an older beta woman, but even she shuddered. 

“I mean his majesty no harm.” It was a healer he saw many times in the past. She then glanced at Nerevar in the dim lighting. “I know what happened, Lord Nerevar.” 

Nerevar sat up at that, eager for answers, but Voryn kept an arm wrapped around his waist securely. 

“... In all honesty,” The healer began, sounding exacerbated, “I have never seen a case like this in all my years. But there is only one answer I can come to based on everything else.”

“Go on.” Nerevar tried to keep his voice level rather than annoyed. Azura knows how terrified most people got when he was angry. 

The healer pinched the bridge of her nose. 

“How familiar are you with fated mates?” At her question, Nerevar froze, stunned, before he gave a loud bark of laughter. The healer, however, did not laugh or smile back, and instead only looked more resolute. 

“... Be serious with me.” 

“I am being serious, Lord Nerevar.” 

“Are you--are you seriously trying to say Voryn is my--”

“I understand how strange it sounds at first.” The healer cut him off. “Typically when someone meets their fated mate they determine it quickly. It only takes a few heat or rut cycles before the draw is undeniable.” She sighed once again. “I can only assume because you knew Lord Dagoth before either of you presented, the draw was less noticeable.” 

It kind of made sense, to a degree. When people wrote about fated mates it was usually that they had a scent that was undeniable. Even passing by them on the street, you couldn’t get the scent out of your head for days on end, trying to find it again and again. Even those who tried to deny it couldn’t refuse the pull forever; heats and ruts were unbearable, the longing overwhelming the pair. No one had ever recorded an account of a fated pair who knew each other prior to presenting though; fated mates were absurdly rare, after all. They were more common in fiction than real life, and only the most hopeless of romantics ever went out actually looking for one. Most people just found a mate they liked rather than chase after some destined person, and why fated mates even existed was a mystery. Did everyone have one but distance kept them from finding one? That didn’t seem likely; the most common belief was that some people were born with them--not many members of the population, anyways--and even fewer actually found their ‘other half’. Someone meeting a fated mate before presenting, when you were children not off exploring the wider world yet, was even more unlikely. 

Dumac told him the dwemer scholars believed it had something to do with ‘reproductive compatibility’. Not that it was a mystical, god given connection like some believed, but rather those with a fated partner were less compatible with most of the population, so when they did find someone they could produce children with easily, the desire to mate was enhanced strongly. Nerevar didn’t know if he liked that explanation either though. He found the ideas the gods made destined partners to love each other forever as too romantic of an idea for reality yes, but presuming there must be something wrong with them instead wasn’t much better. 

It didn’t seem likely that he and Voryn could just ignore the draw for decades though, right? Surely that wouldn’t be possible. The draw was supposed to be strong, impossible to deny past a certain point.

Sure, when he was younger and Voryn was in a rut he always came by to check on him before he was shooed away, but that was just boredom. And when he was in heat Voryn would pass him notes under the door from time to time that he’d bury in the nests he made, but that was just because being in heat made him feel sensitive and sappy. Nothing more. And shouldn’t there be something more if they were a fated pair?

“Your other symptoms make me more certain of it.” The healer continued, pulling him from his thoughts.

“How so?” Nerevar raised an eyebrow. 

“It isn’t healthy for an unmated omega to be around an alpha in rut.” She replied, a fact that always made Nerevar roll his eyes. “It causes excess stress, even if it doesn’t trigger a heat. Unless you are drawn to the alpha in question as a potential partner, usually a rut is off putting, distressing, or nauseating for an unmated omega.”

“They’ve never bothered me to that extent.” Nerevar snarked.

“Precisely.” She locked eyes with him. “You handle it more akin to an omega who’s already been mated, despite not having the scent of one.” Nerevar tensed at that. He hadn’t thought of it like that in the slightest; why would he? He wasn’t mated. Anyone could smell on him that he wasn’t. “Those who have met a fated partner experience mated behaviors before the bond is even set. Rejecting other suitors, unbothered by others in a heat or rut,” She sighed. “Lord Vivec even explained you were giving off the same scent as a bonded omega whose mate was absent.” Nerevar’s cheeks flushed at that. 

“That’s--” Nerevar tensed slightly, “I wouldn’t go that far.” Surely Nerevar wasn’t. He wasn’t fucking bonded, why would he be throwing out the same scent as an omega who went into heat, begging for their mate to come tend to them? 

“You were.” She asserted, though she did have some sympathy in her gaze at least. “Unfortunately, the best I can do is, if you truly don’t want the bond, I can give you suppressants. They won’t actively stop it right now given you already went into heat, but they should calm some of the worst side effects for a time.” Nerevar already knew what she was going to say next though. “But your next one will be much the same. The side effects will continue to worsen.” Short of running away to the other side of the continent and burning anything he owned that Voryn had ever so much as touched, he would be able to smell Voryn faintly, after all. In the palace, on his belongings, anywhere Voryn had been might trigger the worst of the symptoms all over again now that he had a heat triggered by his rut no doubt. 

“At the very least, Lord Dagoth is in control of his emotions.” Voryn’s brow twitched at that, his arms tightening. “You can spend ruts and heats together without actually mating, until you come to a decision on how to proceed. It should alleviate both of your struggles.” 

Shit, Nerevar hadn’t even considered what Voryn must be going through. Was his irritation and lack of eating because he subconsciously knew Nerevar was supposed to be his mate but wasn’t there by his side? When he was younger was that out of character, violent rage because he knew, right there in the stronghold, his mate was being kept from him? No doubt the next rut Voryn would be uncontrollable; before he could hold back because he wasn’t consciously aware of what he wanted, but now that he knew it was Nerevar… 

Nerevar felt himself getting all the more wet at the prospect of Voryn tearing his way across the country for him, earning a low growl from Voryn and the healer clearing her throat. 

“I’ll leave the two of you to discuss it.” She said, now turning to leave. Nerevar felt his cheeks flush in a rush of embarrassment; no doubt because he was in heat the arousal led to a surge of pheromones in the air all but begging for Voryn to fuck him. “We will be waiting outside for your answer.” 

As soon as the door shut, Voryn was fussing over him again, marking him with his scent by nuzzling into his hair and against his cheek. But quickly the tension was melting off of Voryn’s body as he began apologizing. 

“I’m so sorry, Neht.” 

“This isn’t your fault.” Nerevar huffed. “I’m the idiot who deliberately stuck around after you told me not to.” 

“You didn’t know either.” Voryn sighed. “I could have made you leave but I… I felt more comfortable with you there.” If it was anything like what Nerevar was going through he could understand it. “Besides… If what the healer said is true then this was bound to happen.” That was also true; it was a miracle it hadn’t happened until now. If it wasn’t Nerevar insisting on spending time with Voryn during a rut, it could just as easily be Voryn stumbling upon him in heat, or anything else really. 

“Do you want to take the suppressants?” Voryn asked, and Nerevar sighed, shaking his head.

“No,” He rubbed his eyes, feeling sluggishness settle into his body. “It’ll help only temporarily, and make it worse next time around.” 

“But they might help you think clearer.” Voryn countered. “I don’t want you making any decisions with a clouded head.” 

“I’m not completely out of it, Voryn. A bit anxious, yes, but it’s not like I’m drunk.” Nerevar hated those kinds of assumptions; the stereotype that omegas were just needy, pathetic little things that couldn’t think for themselves once they were in heat was the most infuriating one. 

At his anger though, Voryn hushed him, nuzzling into his neck apologetically and licking a scent gland. Nerevar huffed at first, still rigid, until the affection soothed him, now groaning softly in delight instead as he head fell to the side to give Voryn more room. 

“Then,” Voryn began, “Would you prefer to stay here?” His hand rubbed soothing circles on Nerevar’s lower stomach. “Or do you want to return to my room?”

“Mm…” Nerevar knew it would probably be easier if he stayed here; he had healers and attendants he was used to, not to mention he knew the layout of his room well and kept it stocked with toys, erotica, anything he needed to help him get off. Even if the two of them only went so far as masturbating together rather than mating, those would be helpful. 

But the room didn’t feel entirely comfortable, even with Voryn there. Damn hormones were likely acting up on that front, but no use arguing with something illogical. 

“Your room is probably better.” He admitted, pulling himself out of Voryn’s arms to start packing. “Let me just get a few things and we can head back. Hopefully without the whole damn palace gossiping about it…”

“It’ll be alright.” Voryn reassured him, rubbing his back gently. “The palace was mostly quiet today.” He then coughed awkwardly, “Before I… Came running through after you.” Nerevar snorted at that. “After how thoroughly I scented you though I doubt most will be able to tell what’s going on.”

“Hopefully.” Nerevar wasn’t keeping it a secret he was an omega exactly, but he didn’t want to go shouting it to the world either. It was better to keep people guessing rather than anyone giving him shit for it unnecessarily. He still grabbed his travel pack, carelessly shoving some comfortable clothes and sleeping robes in, along with a few changes of underwear, and a favorite pillow of his. He also managed to cram in a few toys and a steamy novel he enjoyed, able to smell the spike of Voryn’s arousal at the sight from how strong his pheromones were. 

Another trip through the propylon chamber later--this time less hurried and better dressed, and they were once again walking back to Voryn’s private chambers. On the way there Voryn ordered attendants as they went, requesting a large dinner to be brought to his room that evening for Nerevar too, as well that Nerevar would be staying in Kogoruhn for several days. It didn’t take a genius to figure out Nerevar was going to be spending Voryn’s rut with him, the servants all scrambling at the knowledge. 

Just before they reached the room another healer appeared, handing Voryn several vials of potions, before giving a respectful bow and leaving. Voryn’s cheeks were more red at that, but he took them regardless, letting Nerevar enter the room. 

It was mostly as he left it, albeit with a few blankets and pillows knocked off from his speedy exit and a few tapestries fallen off the wall from a door slamming. A wardrobe was left open, probably from Voryn’s scramble to make himself semi-decent before chasing after Nerevar. 

He tossed his bag to the side of the bed, already feeling relieved to be back. Voryn locked the door behind them, moving to draw the curtains shut as Nerevar began fussing over the pillows and blankets, making sure the bed would be comfortable for him. With more than enough room for Voryn this time, something that had excitement bubbling away in his chest. 

“What are the potions for?” Nerevar asked as he added his own pillow to the bed, still arranging it. It was annoying to do it in heat--normally he got started a few days prior, but whatever. 

“... Birth control.” Voryn admitted, and Nerevar’s hands stopped briefly. 

He knew that was only logical. Even if they ended up going further, actually having sex or mating entirely, most didn’t want to have kids the first time. It took a while to adjust to a mate, see if you wanted to keep the bond… Then again, it was said fated mates couldn’t remove the bond once they did mate.

Still, hearing ‘birth control’ made it seem that much more… Real. They were going to spending Voryn’s rut and Nerevar’s heat together. Very easily one thing could lead to another, and he could… Actually have sex with Voryn. 

“... Better to be prepared than not.” Nerevar finally replied, resuming his work, before flopping into the nest he made. As soon as he was situated, Voryn stripped out of the additional robe he threw on top of his night clothes for decency, climbing in to lay beside Nerevar. 

“Did you eat properly?” He asked, fretting over him. Nerevar snorted. 

“Says the one who forgot to eat.” Nerevar teased. 

“I was…” Voryn sighed. “Too anxious to eat. I get wound up during a rut, and the idea of eating was nauseating.” He closed his eyes. “Until you showed up.” 

“Well I’m glad I made it easier for you.” Nerevar smiled. “And for your information, yes. I did in fact eat a large breakfast and lunch, as always.” He always had a big appetite after all, though he was especially ravenous during heats. “Though I wont say no to a big mudcrab feast for dinner~” Voryn laughed loudly at that, head thrown back and canines glinting. Nerevar swallowed roughly at the sight, subconsciously rubbing his own neck. 

“I’m glad you’re well fed then.” Voryn was still smiling warmly. “Hopefully you won’t eat me out of house and home.”

“Get a bigger house then if I do.” Nerevar teased back. 

“I certainly will have to, won’t I?” Voryn was smirking now, rolling on top of Nerevar. “I have to keep my mate well taken care of…” Voryn went back to his neck, kissing and licking now, earning several long, breathy moans from Nerevar. 

Gods, did Nerevar know what Vivec meant when he said heats were so much easier like this. Nerevar thought obviously a mate or even just a potential one you spent a heat with would make it a bit more bearable. But this… He didn’t feel nearly as irritable as he usually was, now feeling quite secure, not to mention his arousal wasn’t frustrating it just…

“Mmm…” Voryn groaned softly, grinding his hips against Nerevar’s. “Such a sweet scent when you’re aroused…” Voryn nipped at his ear next, making Nerevar arch up and keen. 

“Ah,” Nerevar gasped, grinding his hips in return, “Is it?” He didn’t have many people telling him he smelled sweet; usually he was compared to things that were fresh and bright, like citrus or herbs.

“Delightfully sweet.” Voryn purred. “Perfectly so, just to my taste…” Voryn then pulled up from his neck, taking his chin in hand. 

Nerevar’s heartbeat accelerated from the look in Voryn’s eyes. In every raunchy novel he read, alphas were described as ravenously hungry when they stared down omegas, like a predator having just caught its prey. But here Nerevar didn’t feel like prey; Voryn’s eyes were hungry, yes, but more so they were warm, affectionate and…

Loving. Devoted. Like he would do anything and everything for Nerevar’s sake. 

Nerevar’s eyes fell half shut as he found himself leaning up, Voryn meeting him halfway to connect their lips in a soft, gentle kiss. 

It was entirely out of order; normally you kissed and courted someone before you invited them to spend a rut or heat with you, contrary to many smutty novels and ballads where the couple spontaneously fell into bed together during one. By Azura, the two already knew each other for so many years too, and they were just barely kissing… 

Gods, no wonder people described it like fate. It felt insane that they hadn’t kissed before now. That it took so long for them to get here, sprawled out in bed together. The scent from Voryn was intoxicating as the kisses warmed up from slow and soft to passionate ones that made Nerevar feel entirely breathless. When Nerevar swiped his tongue into Voryn’s mouth, flicking briefly against his fangs, Nerevar shuddered, slipping one hand down between his thighs to rub back and forth against his dick. 

“So eager…” Voryn moaned against his lips, his own hand joining Nerevar’s. Even through the fabric the touch was electric, Nerevar’s body trembling slightly. “Did you want a toy inside you then?” Voryn asked, his voice low and deep, the sound going straight to Nerevar’s cunt. 

“Yeah…” Nerevar moaned softly. “A toy, your fingers…” Voryn was already undressing him, throwing the robe open and sliding his underwear off, “Anything…” 

“My cock?” Voryn offered with a smirk, only joking. Still though, Nerevar groaned at the thought; fuck yes did he want Voryn’s cock in him, fucking him to completion and then knotting him. He was already dripping wet at just the idea, after all. But he also knew they should take things slower.

“T-toy for now…” Nerevar groaned through grit teeth, before hissing as Voryn played with his dick while fishing around in the bag beside the bed. 

“Which one?” Voryn asked, still not letting up his teasing in the slightest. It felt so damn good, but Nerevar felt too empty! He threw an arm over his eyes, panting.

“Th-the…” Using his words was more difficult than he thought. “The one with the… Big knot~” A moment later, Voryn pulled it out, sliding the tip against Nerevar’s entrance. “Hah~!” 

“Is this one your favorite?” Voryn asked, a devilish smirk still on his face. Nerevar didn’t even have to look, he could feel the pleased look on his face as he started to tease it in. 

“Mm, when I’m in heat, yeah~” He could have lied, but what was the fucking point? Voryn was already fucking him with the damn thing, why play coy? Voryn slid it in a few inches, groaning softly as he watched it vanish into Nerevar’s body, before thrusting it in and out. It was a different rhythm than Nerevar used, but like everything else today it wasn’t unwelcomed. 

“Oh I’ll bet…” Voryn purred. “When you’re in heat you love taking a nice,” He gave a sharper thrust, letting Nerevar take it all up to just before the knot, but not quite pushing it in, “Big knot in your greedy little cunt, don’t you?” 

“Yes!” 

“Would you fuck yourself to completion and then take the whole thing?” He continued moving at that sharp, hurried pace as he slid it in and out of Nerevar.

“Fuck, yes—yes!!” He was panting desperately now, savoring the feeling. Voryn’s dirty talk was making this all the better—how had he gone so long without this?! If he’d known it would be this good, he’d have climbed into Voryn’s bed long before this.

“Imagining someone breeding you up?” Voryn was panting too, watching Nerevar with rapt attention. 

“Please,” Nerevar pleaded, feeling how close he was to an orgasm just hearing that. “Please, please~!” He tried grinding his hips down on the toy, desperate to feel the knot slipping inside him, but Voryn kept it from doing so. 

“My knot is the only one you’re going to feel this time, Neht.” Voryn growled low in Nerevar’s ear. “Only mine.” 

In response, Nerevar growled in return, quickly flipping positions as he climbed on top of Voryn instead. The toy completely slipped out, soon lost in the piles of pillows and blankets, as Voryn growled in return. The two were wrestling once again, though this time it wasn’t quite as playful. Honestly, Nerevar probably would have won this one by how seriously he was taking it, but heats made his body so groggy he wasn’t up to his usual strength. 

“Get inside me then.” Nerevar demanded through grit teeth as Voryn shoved him back down, prying his legs back open.

“Lay there and I will.” Nerevar still snarled, thrashing. “Now hold still or I’ll make you.” The threat made his cunt ache again, a long moan crawling out of his throat.

“Potion—“ Nerevar freed one arm, reaching for them. Voryn grabbed one, placing it in Nerevar’s hand as he finished undressing himself. Nerevar uncapped it and threw his head back, chugging it.

To Oblivion with taking it slow. He needed Voryn—all of him.

He tossed the potion bottle aside, wrapping his arms around Voryn as he nuzzled his face into his neck, now being the one to lick and kiss at a scent gland, almost intoxicated by the spice and musk. 

“Neht,” Voryn hissed. 

“Let’s mate.” Nerevar whispered, before feeling Voryn tense up. Silence followed, except for Voryn’s heavy breathing.

“Nerevar we don’t have to mate just to—“

“I want to.” Nerevar pulled back enough to look at him. “Be honest with me Voryn, who else am I going to mate with?” The very idea Nerevar could mate with someone else made Voryn’s anger spike, clear from the scent he gave off. “And even if we just tried to deny mating, just spending heats and ruts together, we’ll both lose it eventually.” The draw was supposedly undeniable, and Nerevar wanted to do it at least semi lucid without pain and desperation making the experience less enjoyable. 

“Besides,” Nerevar now gave a warm smile, the low light still twinkling in his eyes. “You’re a very devoted, loving, strong alpha…” Voryn shuddered. “Making sure I’m well fed, giving me medicine…”

“I have to take care of you…” Voryn whispered. “You mean the world to me.”

“Exactly.” Nerevar was still smiling, now thumbing at Voryn’s lower lip as he cupped his cheek. “Who else could possibly take care of me as well as you? You’re the one who’s always been there for me. You guarded my back in war, supported me on my quest to become hortator, and even long before I was a hero, just some canvasari not even wanted by his own house, you took care of me and showed me respect.” Just as easily, Voryn could have tossed him aside. Childish friendships with lower classes didn’t need to be kept by chimer nobility. Any other would have probably ‘outgrown’ Nerevar, but Voryn didn’t. Because Voryn didn’t just see Nerevar as a toy to be played with and tossed aside but as himself. 

Honestly, even being tossed aside by another noble would have been a good outcome. Many would have also taken Nerevar as a concubine after he presented, or sold him off given he had nowhere else to go. But Voryn always saw him as a friend he treasured.

“But,” Voryn gave a sigh, “You don’t love me.”

Ah. Nerevar didn’t think Voryn was the type to only want to mate when you truly loved someone. It only made sense he supposed, most people did, but he was used to seeing things in terms of practicality.

“Voryn,” He stroked his cheek, “Maybe I don’t love you romantically… Yet.” Nerevar wouldn’t discount that at all; if he’d fall in love with anyone, right now he imagined it would be Voryn. “And I don’t really know… What it’s even like to fall in love with someone completely like that given I’ve only had a few flings and a political marriage but,” He looked up into Voryn’s eyes, never more certain in matters of the heart than he was now. “I do know I care about you deeply. More than anyone else in my life.” Nerevar licked his lips. “And there is no person in the world I’d rather be mated with than you.” 

Silence then followed, Voryn staring at him in shock. Suddenly nervous, Nerevar began to backpedal slightly. 

“Of course I understand if you want to wait. I-gods, it would probably be easier for you if we did the whole courtship and dating thing first, wouldn’t it—“ He was then cut off by a kiss, Voryn’s tongue swiping into his mouth.

“I want to mate with you, Neht.” Voryn whispered, as he pulled away with a smile. “Tonight.”

“Are you sure? I—“ Nerevar swallowed roughly as he felt Voryn lift one of his legs up, his own instincts screaming at him that he needed this—that he needed to stop talking and get fucked right then and there.

“I’m certain.” Voryn said, his tone unwavering as he kept that warm smile on his face, his eyes shining. “Do you want me to mate with you before, during, or after?”

Nerevar licked his lips, thinking it over. A claiming bite was said to be extremely pleasurable, once the initial pain wore off. Some preferred to get it out of the way before sex, enjoying their new bond before warming back up. Some preferred the orgasmic rush that came with a claiming bite in the middle of sex. Others preferred to claim their mates while they laid together, panting and connected after being knotted.

“Not before,” Nerevar answered, his whole body still feeling warm. “I can’t… I can’t wait that long.” His body was still screaming at him to move, push the alpha on top of him down and ride him if he wasn’t going to take Nerevar already. He was squirming, antsy under Voryn’s gaze, and feeling too fucking empty again to think properly.

“Here,” Voryn whispered, pressing the head of his cock to Nerevar’s entrance. Nerevar’s breath hitched, before giving a long, drawn out moan as Voryn slid inside. “Why don’t we just see what feels right in the moment…”

“Voryn~!” Nerevar arched up, trembling slightly. 

It felt good. It felt right. It occurred to him, at that moment, that this was what he’d wanted every heat. Every struggling minute of desperation, every orgasm that didn’t quite feel satisfying enough—he wanted Voryn. 

Voryn threaded his fingers with Nerevar’s, pinning both of his hands to the bed as he gave a slow thrust, kissing him for all he was worth. No wonder his heats were so much more unbearable after he moved to Mournhold—he had assumed it was the heat and stress of being king, but he knew now it was his body screaming at him to return back to Voryn. To lose himself in Voryn’s embrace, just like this.

“Fuck…” Voryn groaned as he pulled away from the messy kiss. “Incredible—you feel incredible~”

Such a comment only stroked his pride, adding to the pleasure. He was making his mate feel good. He was making his mate feel just as good as he felt. It was enough to make his head spin, as every thrust quickly matched that sharp, hurried pace Voryn had set earlier with the toy.

“Claim me~” Nerevar whined, turning his head to expose his neck. Nerevar could feel it—he wanted to be claimed. Oh gods did he want to be claimed! Before he felt disgust whenever alphas glanced at his neck, trying to determine if he was a claimed omega or a beta of some kind. But now though he wanted it more than anything—

Voryn complied, moving down quickly, not letting the pace of his thrusts falter as he growled, nuzzling Nerevar’s neck. He licked and kissed, listening to every sharp whine from Nerevar that followed, before finally biting.

Nerevar’s mind went blank the second Voryn bit him, his eyes rolling back as he orgasmed.

It felt unreal—every fucking novel he read left him sorely unprepared for the pleasurable rush that hit him. It was pure bliss; every nerve in his body burning brightly from ecstasy, as Voryn growled deeply. 

He was officially mated. He belonged to Voryn. He found his mate and everything felt perfect, sparks still shooting up and down his spine as Voryn pulled his teeth out, panting and growling even more harshly as his hips somehow moved faster and rougher. He could feel Voryn’s knot forming too, pumping in and out of his cunt in a way that hit his sweet spot every time.

“Tight—!” Voryn snarled. “So tight, so damn tight… Neht!” 

“Knot me…” Nerevar moaned, coaxing Voryn further, feeling intoxicated from the pleasure still coursing through him. “Knot me, breed me up~” He ground his hips down at every thrust inside him, forcing Voryn to change the rhythm. Now, every thrust in he stayed a moment longer, grinding down, his knot catching on Nerevar’s entrance.

By now, Voryn had let go of Nerevar’s hands, face still buried in Nerevar’s neck as he moaned and growled into his ear. “I’m going to,“ Voryn panted. “I’m going to breed you, knot you until I know my seed takes—!” It wouldn’t, not after the potion Nerevar took, but he wasn’t thinking logically at the moment. All he was thinking about was how great it felt being fucked and bred by his mate, his alpha. “Mine! You’re all mine! Mine mine mine mine mine—!”

Finally, the knot refused to slip out. It swelled up completely, pressed firmly inside him, and Nerevar gasped as a new sensation overtook him. 

He felt himself tighten even further, making Voryn  moan long and loud, as the two were now firmly locked together. An orgasm hit him next, even more intense than the one from the claiming bite. If the bite was an intense, all encompassing blast of fire—like a star going supernova—this one was a drawn out burn. His mind didn’t go blank, instead forcing him to focus on the pleasure, as he felt heat inside him.

“Fuck~!!” Nerevar yelled, practically screaming, dragging his nails down Voryn’s back as his body shuddered, his cunt clenching and milking the cock still firmly sealed inside him. 

He knew what it was, yet he never really experienced it, so his knowledge was only really how it would be in theory. He never let an alpha knot him, after all; even if he had to have sex for political reasons he doused himself in perfume oil to hide his pheromones and always made sure they pulled out. Supposedly an omega locking happened much more commonly in heat, tightening around the knot as they orgasmed, keeping every drop of seed in to ensure conception…

Nerevar felt another wave of the long orgasm following, a broken, garbled moan spilling from his lips as Voryn rocked his hips.

“Stop moving!” Nerevar pleaded. If he kept rocking his knot right there—right against Nerevar’s sweet spot—he was never going to stop climaxing.

“Stop cumming!” Voryn hissed back, before groaning. “Oh gods you’re milking me for every drop!” He continued the slow rocking, as Nerevar felt fuller and fuller, his vision going hazy as tears rolled down his cheeks. 

“I can’t…” Nerevar whined. “Too full…” Nerevar groaned, still trembling. “It’s too much….” There was too much inside him—before he felt painfully empty, and now he felt far too full. Voryn’s cock, his knot, and every drop of seed was filling him—

Another wave of pleasure followed, as Voryn growled. 

“Your body wants this so badly…” He snarled, nipping at the claiming bite he left. “Get pregnant!” He hissed, enjoying the way Nerevar’s body tightened around him once more. The command was enough to make him shudder, yet another wave of pleasure following. “Get pregnant, get pregnant!” Voryn urged with a bit more rocking, before Nerevar tugged him into another messy, open mouthed kiss.

If it wasn’t for the potion, Nerevar knew he would be. It seemed impossible for him not to conceive when it felt this good—when he was so full and not a drop spilling out of him despite Voryn’s movements… 

Eventually the pleasure subsided, Voryn’s movements slowing as their kiss went from feral and intense to something slower and lazier, kissing each other over and over as Nerevar ran his hands through Voryn’s long hair. 

“Fuck…” Nerevar groaned, breathlessly. “Intense…” It felt like an understatement, but that was the only word that came to mind as Voryn panted. 

“Gods…” Voryn groaned. “You were… Tighter than I had expected…” He hissed, shifting slightly again, but this time just to help them lay more comfortably. 

“It still feels too big…” Nerevar groaned. Now it was slightly uncomfortable, but he knew the more they did this, the more his body would adjust. To help ease his discomfort, Voryn pressed a few gentle kisses to his face, keeping himself still.

“Is it too full?” Voryn asked, and Nerevar nodded. Voryn sat up slightly, and the pressure being taken off his lower stomach was a relief, especially as Voryn caressed it. 

As Nerevar looked down, he could see why: there was a slight swell in his stomach from the pressure. He groaned, already regretting the decision to have sex on his back. He knew now why omegas preferred mating face down, and that it had nothing to do with submission and instead purely comfort.

“Don’t worry,” Voryn reassured him. “Just a few minutes…” His voice trailed off as his eyes went dark, taking in the sight of Nerevar under him, panting and covered in sweat, filled with his seed. Nerevar could tell what he was thinking from the change of the scent in the air, sparks from their newly formed connection.

“Like what you see…?” Nerevar asked with a toothy, cocky grin, only to groan as he felt Voryn shift again.

“Keep acting like that and I’ll only want to take you again…” Voryn replied, his voice low. Nerevar still felt rather proud at that; his mate didn’t like a soft, demure, and submissive type of omega like he always kind of worried an alpha would demand once they mated. Instead, Voryn seemed to enjoy him earnestly, even with all of his showboating and teasing.

“Maybe you should…” Nerevar purred in response. “We can have dinner, a relaxing bath to recover…” Nerevar’s eyes were half lidded as he spoke. “And then you can fill me up all over again…” 

The warm, messy kiss Voryn gave him was all the answer Nerevar needed.  

[tobiasdrake]

That's everyone. Time to check out the Favor Tree, then we're on to the Clocktower meetup.

So how's this work? Do I just tell the tree what I want? Do I yank off a leaf and then write my request on it?

I dunno. Given that the rules are lax enough that a Favor Tree is as simple as "the biggest tree nearby" I think there's probably some leeway here. There may not be any particular rules for how we're supposed to pray to it.

Then again, that is the kind of logic that leads to the Bystander Effect. If everybody thinks like that and then nobody wishes for Vaugarde's salvation, that's a whoopsy-doodle. So it's better to inconvenience myself, at the risk of redundancy, for the sake of locking in aid for people in crisis.

Of course, it's not impossible to have your cake and eat it when it comes to wish-granting. All of these potential wishes are things that my team wants to do once the King has been defeated. Granting a wish for these things necessarily requires that Vaugarde be saved.

Therefore, I can wish for something for myself that nonetheless adds the strength of my wish to whatever existing pool of wishes towards Vaugarde's salvation already exists! This is what we call "gaming the system".

And while I wish the best for everyone, there is one person whose desires matter more than anybody else's.

Odile, Maribelle, and Isabeau all have dreams and ambitions for the future. That's great. I'm happy for them. But Bonnie doesn't. Bonnie has trauma. If I'm going to spend a wish on anyone, it's going to be for Bonnie to be healed.

If only one of us can have what they want, it should be them. A lost child's wish to save their family is worth more than gold.

Okay PARTY TIME

Alright y'all, come clean. Who ripped the bread in half and just left it on the table like that?

Or. Wait. Is that the bread, of "breaking bread"? Did we literally break bread? And then not eat it?

Are... are you supposed to eat it? Is it rude to break the bread and then not eat it? Or is it sacrilegious to eat broken bread? I feel like the bread's just going to waste if you don't eat it. But maybe it's a holy gesture? Maybe the act of letting the bread go stale... symbolizes its Change from a state of freshness to a state of badness.

Or maybe one of us here is just a dipshit who doesn't understand the phrase. Looking at you, Isa. On the "Risk of Dipshit" Scale, you're Suspect #2.

Suspect #1 is me but I'm, like, 65% sure I didn't do it.

You made the entire feast all by yourself? I am simultaneously very impressed with you and also tremendously disappointed in the rest of us. Four grown-ass adults and not one of us pitched in to assist the child in the kitchen. I am ashamed of every single one of us.

SPEECH SPEECH SPEECH SPEECH

Uh. No. Appreciate the sentiment but you're wrong. I don't know if you have Pocket Notes on the stakes of this thing but "Everyone dies tomorrow" isn't something people get to opt out of.

I know you don't want to think of membership in this crew as compulsory but... it kind of is. Our options are "Roll the dice tomorrow" or "Find a nice place to die". The latter of which is something most of the town is actively preparing for.

People are capable of tremendous acts of selfless courage when they have no hope of survival. With that in mind, I intend to be very brave tomorrow. There's only one place to do that.

You know, I'm used to rousing campfire speeches having a lot more swearing, raging narcissism, and thematically inappropriate criminality. But this is nice too. All-a y'all are swell. I'm happy to be a part of this.

My dude, I was wide awake. I slept all day today. I was just trying to be politely still so everyone else can sleep, while quietly going over Rock Paper Scissors strategies in my head.

The trick is to not throw the wrong symbol. But to make them think you're going to throw the wrong symbol, so they play into your hands when you throw the right symbol. *sage wisdom*

I love you too, man. Still making sense of things too much to decide if that's romantic or platonic but one way or another we're tight.

Mm. Pillow beats Rock. Good to know. See, that is why I've been silently reviewing Rock Paper Scissors strategies.

Good night, Isa. We'll continue this talk on the day after tomorrow, so long as it comes to pass.

[dokidokitsuna]

...I just remembered I wanted to make my own statement on the AI thing. ^^;

So you've probably heard, but in case you haven't: Tumblr just sold out everyone's data to the AI trash compactors, they probably did it long before they gave us the option to opt out, and even if you do opt out they're probably still taking and using your work anyway (telling people to opt out instead of actually asking for their permission is already scummy business practice, but when it comes to AI it's functionally meaningless. :/ It's always "well, we're telling them not to use these people's data and we're hoping they'll be nice and go along with it" with no regulations or consequences if they decide to just steal everything indiscriminately...)

Despite that, I am not leaving Tumblr anytime soon. I'm looking into other sites*, but at this moment in time, I have nowhere else to go. ^^; Besides, I still like it here. When I left DeviantArt I was already getting sick of the place, having my art stolen regularly by "fans" and paradoxically getting less and less interest in my work over time. By the time the devs turned the website into eye-blinding slop with Eclipse, I was more than ready to move on.

But I still enjoy using Tumblr. I like writing long text posts that no one would bother to read anywhere else, I like answering asks, and I like the unique sense of humor and style among the users here. ^^ It would take a lot to force me out.

Also, I can take a little solace in the fact that AI-bros do not value "low-quality" art like mine. ^^; If messy cel-shaded sketches with visible pixels ever become popular, then I'll worry, but for now I think it's highly unlikely that anyone will want to wholesale regurgitate my art. If anything, I think prioritizing it in their datasets would only make them worse...and on that note, if you do have "high quality" detailed/painterly/semi-realistic art that would be targeted, I'd recommend 'poisoning' it with Nightshade/Glaze. Although I heard a rumor a while back that AI is "building immunity" to Nightshade and already learning to work around it, but I'm really hoping that was just a wishful lie from the trash compactors themselves. I haven't heard it repeated since then, so I think it's still worth a shot. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

So anyway, like the post I reblogged said, I think the best thing we can do now is to make it clear that WE DON'T WANT AI ART. We don't care how easy it'll be to instantly generate thousands of hours of mindless 'content' to look at; we don't want it. Since regulation is lagging so far behind (wanna know why Disney's copyright hounds didn't shut this down on sight? Most likely, they're hoping to profit from it down the line) the only way to fight this right now is with individual litigation and consumer demand.

Don't support projects made with AI**; don't hate-watch them or spotlight them. Focus your energy on the millions of human artists who are still here, and need your support now more than ever.

*I've heard people mention moving to Twitter and/or Artstation: fam, you're jumping out of the frying pan and into the fire. ^^;;; IIRC, Arstation was one of the FIRST art sites to start flirting with AI, and Twitter has been selling off its users' data for several months already. Go there if you must, but don't go under the impression that it's "safer".

**Please keep a cool head when discussing AI art, and keep in mind that it used to mean something other than "mass theft". Artists have and still do create AI tools that are built on limited data sets with permission/compensation, that are used to aid them in their work and encourage human artistry (Vocaloids and DAW's, for instance) rather than stamp it out. Until a specific word evolves into popular use for exploitative AI, we're kinda stuck with this confusion, so remember to get the facts before you speak out.

P.S. Praying every night that this is a dumb fad that will soon die and go to the same hell as NFTs. >_< Praying every morning that the influx of AI art into its own datasets will eventually corrupt itself and make it useless. >_< >_< Praying every afternoon for both at once! >_< >_< >_< Like to charge, reblog to cast, all that

[misc-obeyme]

Hello! Weird ask, but I’ve been toying with this idea for awhile.

Out of personal experiences, I’ve always wondered how the cast of OM (more specifically the brothers) would react to a human MC who’s a devout follower of God. Even if they’re not super strict about their beliefs, they did grow up in a religious household and had experiences praying to God. (or some kind of god, any specifics of religion can be vague to fit the MC’s background and culture).

I think it’d make for an interesting and weird dynamic between all the brothers, especially Lucifer. Because it’d be hard to ignore why he and his brothers + his sister were outcasted from heaven, when it’s not only essential to the plot of the game, but the brothers entire narrative. Their trauma and collective grief is a big part of their identity. And the way I see it, if MC is religious, having to actually face with the real tangible truth that God is real (like actually, and not some mystified being) but also that they must face a question of their own faith.

Qhosojbejaodlwllspxps not to get existential here 😭 But I fell down a rabbit hole of religion and read a few interpretations of religious texts. There was this one quote about Jesus being a son of a carpenter, that when when he smelled the cross made out of wood, he must’ve thought of home. Not exactly relevant, but it did lead me to a spiral of revelation that Jesus was a human being after all, and he was very much like everyone else; despite how certain biblical texts hail him as a mythical figure. Religious themes and symbolism are my TEA! So I was wondering how the brothers of OM would react to an MC who’s religious.

Man, I wonder how Lucifer would feel. Knowing that the person he’s grown to love believes and loves his very own father that has sent him down from Heaven after he avenged his sister. Would there be spite or shame on his part? Could he and his brothers stay cordial for an MC who worships their father that’s forsaken them? Would they, the brothers, beg MC to worship them—to believe in them as much as they love their god?

Or possibly, how would staying in the Devildom affect an already questioning MC? Would it only reaffirm that the idea of God is not someone humans should mystify as a force of good? All the while, that after meeting the brothers and learning about Lilith, also rectifies that God IS real and very much a being capable of not only miracles, but punishment? Would it even be worth to questioning believing God?

Hope this makes sense 🫶

Hello there, anon!

I wouldn't say this is a weird ask at all. In fact, I think it's something that it makes sense to explore considering the game's source material.

I feel the need to begin by saying that I am agnostic myself. I had a religious upbringing in my younger childhood, so I had a foundation of Christianity. But I've been agnostic for years. I might also add that for most of my life, I lived in a place that had a very dominant religion that I was not part of. So I have a bit of an outsider's perspective on devout religion.

All that being said, I have very much thought about what it'd be like if the human who had been chosen was religious, specifically Christian.

Because yo, if I personally ended up in the Devildom and discovered that demons, angels, and God are real and exist, I would have a HUGE crisis about it. I've spent a stupid amount of time questioning the existence of God and coming up empty on answers, so to finally have an answer that I couldn't deny? That'd be difficult for me personally.

So I'm trying to imagine what it'd be like for someone who has always believed. Where instead of finding the truth they were always seeking but never found, this person finds the truth that they knew all along.

If you truly believed in God, you prayed to him and maybe even to his angels, and then you found out they were all real? I think that MC would either take it all in stride like, yes I always knew, or they would be like so overwhelmed by it that they would go through their own crisis for a bit.

But once things settled down, can you imagine an MC who is a devout believer in God and has prayed regularly even able to handle being with the brothers at all? And I don't mean in a romantic context. I mean even just living with them or being near them. They're demons. They're the definition of God's enemies.

My MC's mother is a devout Catholic, so my MC deliberately does not tell her that they live with Lucifer. Because to her, she's going to hear that name and think her child has been taken by the devil and dragged into hell and that their soul is forfeit. (Most of that would be true lol, technically MC did get taken by the devil and dragged into hell... but anyway...)

The issue is that she would believe that her child's soul was going to be damned for all eternity. If she really believed that her child would spend the rest of forever being tortured, wouldn't she do anything she could to save them?

This is how I think it'd go for religious MC, specifically Christian. Because associating with demons and living in the Devildom would likely be enough to cause MC to be damned for eternity.

Now. Is it possible that Diavolo, as the next demon king, has some sway in this regard? I would assume that it's the Celestial Realm that is passing judgement on souls. That they're the ones deciding who gets damned and who doesn't. So you could argue that MC wouldn't end up in hell because the Devildom and Diavolo have an agreement with the Celestial Realm to have a human representative in their exchange program.

So let's assume this is the case and MC isn't going to be damned for eternity simply for associating with demons.

The next issue is absolutely what all of this means for Lucifer & his brothers. Depending on MC's religion and how devout they are, they themselves might take issue with being the roommate of Lucifer and his brothers. But even if we put that aside, too, then there's the issue of MC likely loving what they consider a benevolent God that Lucifer and his brothers see as the one who betrayed them.

It's been my experience that people are very good at pretending religion doesn't exist. Even when they truly believe. They're able to put it aside temporarily or in the name of preserving friendships. How much of this a person can do depends on how much they believe.

So let's say that MC is at a place where they believe, but it isn't so prominent in their life that they can't put it aside just to get to know the brothers. To do all the things OM's MC does in the story and to develop feelings for one or more of them.

Imagine MC and Lucifer fall in love, but deep down MC has this nagging feeling about it. And Lucifer does, too. He knows that MC prays to his Father. He knows how MC feels about it.

I think in the end they'd have to confront that directly. They'd have to discuss it. Could Lucifer put aside his own trauma and grief over his sister and the fall of his brothers in order to accept this part of MC's identity? I don't know for sure, but my first thought is probably not. So it might come down to how much of their own beliefs MC is willing to give up.

I kind of think all of the brothers would feel awkward about it. Lucifer is the most mature and stoic, so he might be able to just not say anything if he's not in a relationship with MC. But imagine if it was Mammon we were talking about.

Imagine religious MC falling in love with Mammon instead. I don't know, maybe people will disagree with me on this, but I really don't think he would be okay with it. I feel like Mammon fell with his brothers not just because he will always follow Lucifer, but because he saw that they were going to need him. They needed his strength, his protection, the way he was able to keep it together better than any of them. They needed him to hold them together. Lucifer needed him to take charge when he was too injured physically and emotionally himself. Think of all that Mammon had to shoulder in the fall and then imagine an MC who loves and prays to the God that caused all of that suffering to begin with.

Lucifer blames himself for what happened. He has daddy issues, sure, but I think he could look past it. And we saw in the latest lesson that he's willing to accept his Father's love again.

But Mammon? I just don't see it.

I kind of think everyone else could manage to get past it. They might all struggle with it to a certain extent, but I don't know how much it would interfere with their feelings for MC. I think it would vary a little bit for each of them. And maybe some of them would want MC to worship them instead (I could see both Levi, Asmo, and Belphie all kind of getting into that territory lol).

Now, I also think it's interesting to consider a questioning MC.

Because the thing about this is that yeah, you can no longer question whether or not God exists. But you get to decide whether or not you worship him.

If it was me, I'd be like okay well I can't be agnostic anymore because God obviously exists, but there is no way I'm going to worship him. I would refuse. I would side against him every time. I find him and the Celestial Realm's love to be toxic and oppressive and I would never be able to forgive him for what he did (or didn't stop) to Lucifer and his brothers and sister. That whole situation is way too fucked up for me to be like oh well okay, God exists therefore I must worship him. Like hell no lol.

But of course it's going to be different for every MC. And I think it depends partly on what their religion means to them. How much of it are they willing to question or to give up or to compromise on?

OOF sorry this was a really long response. I could probably write a whole lot more lol. But this is just a very interesting topic and I think it really runs deep. I didn't really consider religions outside of Christianity, so there's also that, but that was mostly because that's where my experience lies.

Anyway, I hope this answered some of your questions! I kinda ended up all over the place. And of course this is all just my personal opinion. Other people might think about it differently!

[vinnoa-articles]

[Image by Eiichiro Oda]

Habit Substitute Drabble Series! This will be final out of the 8 drabbles I will be writing, I am sorry for being so inactive.

Here are the links for the others.

[Luffy] [Zoro] [Usopp] [Sanji] [Law] [Smoker] [Crocodile] [Do Flamingo]

Rating: Everyone

Word count: 888

Type: Flirting, threats

Characters: Do Flamingo, reader

Trigger warnings/content: Some threatening words, mentions of death

A groan. A long agonizing groan emanated from his lips. So sharp, and yet heavy that his silence was emanating his scary aura within the walls of his palace. The newspaper was crinkled within his talon grasp. There was anger, excitement and yet…

“Sir?”

“Hm…?” The hum drawl came out from that slender neck. Legs crossed, left hand cupping his jaw, he looked like a statue. “What is it?” Though his eyebrows were not there, his glasses moved a tinge, hinting his curiosity. “Speak.”

“I-” The newspaper cutting off what you were going to say, nothing could prepare you from him throwing down the papers, now hovering above you with his 10-foot frame. Your muscles felt like jelly, in comparison to his taut muscles that nearly popped out of his clothes, hidden under his big pink feather cape.

“I thought I told you to speak.”

“Well, sir…with the rate you are killing your subordinates…” That killer smile crept up, fully presented on his chiseled face. You swallow the excessive spit forming in your mouth, yet your tongue feels dry. Maybe it was because of how intrigued with what you had to say about his methods, yet he felt like his face was getting closer. That was until his nose touched yours.

“Hm…but it's a little fun, no? They deem no purpose for me, and who knows…maybe you will be next.” There was that lack of presence of his nose touching yours, you couldn’t move, your throat was on fire, yet there was something alluring about his energy. It’s why you served under him, and next to his side on his throne. “So…go on.”

“Oh! R-right,” you want to look away from this man, yet you couldn’t, it would mean weakness, and Do Flamingo does NOT like weak humans, creatures, things. “With killing your subordinates, you won’t have enough members in your group to assist you with future plans sir. I suggest-”

“Suggest what?” The glint of his red sunglasses sparkled into your eyes. “That I slaughter them differently?” Footsteps are now circling you, a hawk ready to devour his pray. Tongue hanging out of his pointed lips, breathing softly despite his shadow enveloping you as he walked behind you.

“A muse”

“What?” The dust scattering around the feet of both of you, was the only whisper you could hear. Though no one else would suggest it, you were nearly next in command. This was it, you were going to die as you stood beneath him. “Would you care to…repeat that?”

“A muse…sir,” the words struggle to come out of your throat, nearly gagging on the words from the sheer thought of death. You hang your head to see the remaining blood stains from those who stood in the exact spot, whether it be knelt down or standing, it doesn’t matter. It was the end of you, at least it would make sense. “Someone who can take your mind off killing, and focusing it on something else.” He hummed at your explanation, a small glimmer of hope was getting crushed by the thickening air.

“Now, what would I do with this…supposed muse?” Do Flamingo’s padded palms gripped your shoulder, further heightening your fear. One false twitch, one shaky breath and he will know. “Could it be anyone of my choosing?”

“Yes sir.” The presence of his hand finally lifted, along with despair.

“So if I were to choose a muse, what would you do?”

“I would just give you and the muse time, sir.” He slowly walked back to his rock throne, sitting right back to his nonchalant form. Lounging around as if his intimidation session never happened. “It can anyone within your group, or from the city-”

“Then I will pick you.” Shock was the only thing you felt, you looked up to meet his sunglasses. His figure didn’t look as big, maybe more like a smaller version of himself. “You got a problem with that?” Stumbling, kneeling in front of him, you wanted to know just one thing…

“Doffy-, I mean sir, why?”

His laughter erupted, crackling into your ears, it was near deafening. Your chin, clasped between his pointer finger and thumb, he watched your every movement.

“You are the only person who I can tolerate that nickname, and have the sheer balls to bring up such a stupid idea.”

“Sir-”

“So if I wish to kill someone, instead, what should I do to you? Hm?”

“Anything to take your mind off,” a near whisper as you try to speak to him calmly. Your heart was racing, and you knew he could feel it between his finger tips.

“Then, maybe a kiss?”

“Sir, you do not have to-”

“Only if that is alright, I do have standards, you know.” His voice was calming, Do Flamingo was a huge savage, but it surprised you that this murderous and cold man had some restraint. Maybe he had a heart after all, deep down in his ruffled feathers.

“Then, sir, I would be honored-” As his face dips in just to kiss you, he lets go, backing up again, nearly teasing you and edging your want for contact. What was this? This wasn’t the Do Flamingo you knew now. “Sir?”

“What? Just because you are my muse, doesn’t mean you can’t work for it now, does it?”

[bubbleonice]

timothee and kylie were spotted talking and laughing at the innovater awards in New York. and she is wearing the matching cartier bracelet that he has in necklace form. are you sure they’ve broken up?

I have gotten many many many asks today about this particular situation. I don’t have time to reply to everyone at this moment, I appologize. ❤️And I also do not have my cards with me at the moment. However, I still want to comment a few things because I can feel the stress this is causing some of my readers. I feel the collective energy and worries.

I myself am still firm in my reply as to they have ended things. I pulled some cards of this a while back and I believe I said things ended right about the time Paris Fashion Week ended, actually a little before that. But it also can be around December. I stay firm to that reply.

I also said eventhough they end things, we will probably not know of it until months later. And form KJ side, they will still make it seem like they are together.

But to be fair, I also don’t want to say: I am absolutely right and always right. There will always be a possibility I am wrong. I do not want to get anyone’s hopes high. And we should ‘t really pray upon anyone’s misery such as a break up. But this has never been a real relationship. It was a hookup turned into a pr show. So I am even unsure about when I say things ended, that might lead to someone actually believing they had a thing for real.

So just to say a few words in comfort, I want everyone to trust their guts, stay calm and think a little about this:

- if it was indeed a real relationship, wouldn’t we have seen more candid photos accidentally snapped by fans or someone from the street? Two young people dating would be all over the place, resturants, concerts, movies, shopping, walks in the park…etc!

- the few times we have actually seen them together were always in arranged settings with lots of cameras. How does this apply to a couple in love wanting to be lowkey? And when they come out as a couple, why go in hiding when events over? Does it make any sense?

-every allerged sightings of them spread on internet were never proven by photos. But by robot accounts, telling a story. And no one else ever validates those stories but this one storyteller. And they are always very much about they are all over eachother, they look so good, they are so in love. Like why does anyone need to sound like they are convincing anyone?

-remember the Kardashians run many media and social media outlets. When I recieved these asks I had to go online to see what you are talking about, this award show. And from my knowledge Timothee was at the award show presenting an award and Kylie was there to recieve an award. They were invited for two different reasons. And now the tabloids are calling it a hot date! And Timothee being there to support Kylie. See hiw they manipulate the public into believing something that wasn’t the case? They did not even arrive or leave together. What does that say to you? How easy it is to make one thing seem like something completly different, right?

-In addition, Kylie was forward an award for her fashionline which she just launched, I think 1 day ago? This tells me she was not nominated, this award was purchased and paid for. This is planned. Her seat next to Timothee and at the same table as Martin Scorcese was probably arranged the same way. But did we see any loving interactions? Kisses? Hugs? Even a glance at eachother? No.

All I want to say is have faith and trust your guts. This is a media game. If someone is truly in love and truly a couple, there would be much less doubt. They won’t be trying this hard to show it off to the world. And they would be much more genuine and cozy around eachother. We would see more unstaged photos than actually staged ones. And no doubt, we can expect more to come.

Bless you all❤️❤️ I’ll reply to the rest of my asks this weekend. I wish everyone a pleasant day.

[redsixwing]

worst blorboficiation in dark souls, if there even is any

OH THERE IS.

Nonny, I hope you wanted an essay. I chose violence in long form.

With the caveat that I've played 1 and 2, not 3: the worst blorbofication award is a tie. I'd put it between Solaire and Reah of Thorolund. She's less well known, so let's look there first.

It's understandable: Reah is a genuinely tragic figure. The fair maiden in a bad, bad place, left all alone by her companions and in need of your help to get free!

I've seen one too many fandom portrayals stop right there and never consider what she's doing, why she's doing it, or the part where she is the leader and motivator of that little expedition into the Catacombs.

She wants the Rite of Kindling, the secret behind feeding humanity into the bonfires to strengthen them. She does not get.

She does retain humanity, possibly by stealing it from her companions to save herself. Her order, the Way of White, seems to have a pattern of preying on its own in attempt to reach that secret rite.

(As, in fact, one of her own might prey on Reah herself once you free her.)

I like her piety. I think she's a fun character, even.

But I can't read her as an innocent little lamb to the slaughter. That there is a competent ranking cleric - if she rarely deigns to dirty her hands in combat, it isn't because she's harmless.

And that leads us to Solaire.

Once again, the blorbofication makes some sense. He really IS a ray of sunshine, first and last in an unrelenting grey place. Every time you summon him, he uses his signature arms-up salute before hustling off to knock heads, and his skill really is remarkable. (Not just informed by his gear description- he's legitimately a tough summon.)

He's a great soul in every sense of that phrase. Led to the Flame, he will succeed at his quest. And pray he makes a gentler sun than the last!

But he is not particularly sane, our beloved Solaire. He wants nothing, nothing, more than to find his very own sun. At the very first meeting, he wants to stay behind and gaze at the sun - the sun that's invisible behind clouds, and thus maybe not burning his eyes.

Maybe.

I got his bad ending on my first playthrough, much to my dismay, but it informed how I read him.

He's got a horrible glowing parasite glommed onto his head. He proclaims himself to be his own sun and attacks everyone who might get close enough to take it from him.

Including you, his friend, who might even have feelings for him.

But I really don't think it's a sudden turn. The sunlight bug made it so much worse, yes - but he is, from the beginning, just seeking the proper fire to throw himself into.

That gets lost a lot with sweet, sweet cinnamon roll Solaire.

I am genuinely tempted to write fic about it, but it's gotta wait for me to finish something else. :)

[the-almighty-god]

Dear God, I desperately need your help.

I'm not feeling myself. That's the long story short.

I can't feel my legs and my head, and it feels so lightweight. It's almost as if I'm going to faint or my soul flying away.

This used to happen to me before, but only when I'm crossing roads(??) And now, it's happening all of the time. I wake up, and the next thing I know is that I'm this close to blacking out. Also, my energy levels are fluctuating like hell! And so are my moods. I'm constantly thinking, getting distracted, having trouble focusing, and I can't get my job done! I feel so old in my young body. I'm feeling like a 13 year old and yet like a 32 year old person. I look at myself and go, "Wait! That's me. Why do i look like this? It's weird. I'm not supposed to be this girl." And this is so much for a 15 year old (almost 16) me. I should be just stressing about my studies, not anything else!

Why am I like this? I pray that I'll be well soon, but it's so hard. I've tried talking to my parents. I always try, but they just dismiss it outright, or sometimes they interrupt and start venting about themselves.

(I'm asking for help, I'm practically screaming, but no one hears it or cares to help. Why am I so alone? What did I do to deserve this?)

Also! Here's your whale! 🐋

I hope you're having a good time in your place!😊😊

I hear you. You did nothing to deserve this. You are not alone.

You're (almost) sixteen.

Teenage years are difficult and confusing for everyone. I'm not saying that to dismiss or belittle what you're going through. Quite the opposite actually. I'm saying that so you know that there isn't anything wrong with you.

It sounds to me like you're experiencing anxiety, and perhaps a bit of disassociation, too. And there still isn't anything wrong with you.

The world is scary, especially right now, and so anxiety is natural. That doesn't mean it can't be managed.

Although I'm God, not a doctor, so you'll need a trained professional for an actual diagnosis, as well as to help you find a treatment that works for you.

These feelings that you've having will never fully go away. In fact, when you're thirty-two, you--or at least part of you--will still feel like you're sixteen.

You don't feel yourself at the moment because right now you're still figuring out who yourself is. And the older you get the more yourself you'll become.

The new parts of you that you discover. The new parts of you that you create. The parts of you that were there all along. Some of them hiding, that you're now ready to show. Some that you never hid. The influences from others, real and fictional. The growth from experiences, good and bad.

You'll never fully figure out who you are, because you'll always be growing and changing. But you will develop a stronger sense of you and from then on, you'll just be refining it.

I'm sorry that your parents are dismissing your legitimate concerns, some of which may need medical and psychological attention.

While I can't speak for them, I can speak for myself as a creator. I admit that when your child is struggling, it makes you feel like a failure, and so it can be easier to write it off as ungratefulness or childish complaining, or turn it around and it make it all about yourself and your suffering.

Part of growing up is realizing that your parents are human. They have flaws, and they also have traumas. They're not perfect, and can't be expected to be. Another part of growing up is forgiving them for this--if they deserve it. Not all parents do.

Likewise, parents also must realize that their children are human. Their own people, independent beings separate from the parents. And sometimes what your children go through actually isn't your fault (regardless of whether your child is blaming you in the moment), but rather just part of the general struggle of human existence, and actually has nothing at all to do with you.

This revelation can be jarring. You go from your child depending on you for their every need to them no longer needing you. Or at least not for the things that were simple to take care of, like meals and diaper changes, but now needing you to guide them through the more complex problems of life, without solving the problems for your child--if they even can be solved.

Not all of them can. And that's a lesson that is as painful to watch your child go through as it is to go through it yourself when you were their age.

It's a difficult transition for everyone involved. It's your first time as a teenager, and perhaps their first time as parents of a teenager. All of you are going to make mistakes. (It's still on your parents to be the adults, though, because you're still a child.)

Now all of that was more explanation than advice. So here is my advice:

To address your lightheadedness, almost blackouts, and lack of feeling in your limbs, the first step is to make sure you are drinking enough water, eating enough food (especially food that will give you the nutrients and electrolytes your body needs), and getting enough sleep. Lack of sleep, low blood sugar, and not enough electrolytes can contribute to low energy levels.

Exercise is also something that can help with sleep and energy, as well as with stress and anxiety. A 15-20 minute walk or jog, preferably outdoors in nature, can be beneficial for mental and physical health. If you can do this safely, I'd recommend it. (If you feel there is a chance you might faint, don't go alone.)

Of course, you can do all of the above perfectly and still have issues, but it's somewhere to start because you have to start somewhere. Both to rule these out as the cause of the symptoms, and because they do help, even if they don't fix everything.

If the symptoms persist, talk to a doctor (both medical and psychological) if one is available to you. Unfortunately, because you're young and you're female, there's a chance they may dismiss your symptoms at first. It isn't fair, but you might have push to get help. It's scary thing to do, but it's necessary. I know you can do it.

I hope this has been helpful to you.

Keep surviving.

Oh, and thanks for the whale.

[lestappenforever]

It’s time to appreciate you a little bit and let you know how much we love your cute little stories of our babies and what you share with us. Getting a notification that you posted something always makes me happy inside 🥰 especially if it’s during work and I can distract myself with cute lestappen. The prompt list is so cute and nice I couldn’t pick the best one 😩😂 but I’ve been having these idea of them being around others and being a pda mess a little and others reacting to them being in a cute bubble. How about 2 and 37? 🥰

This is such a lovely message to start my day with reading, thank you so incredibly much. 🥹

When I started this blog not long ago, I could have never imagined that it would bring people the kind of happiness you're refering to, and I feel so incredibly honored to know that it does. I'm so glad you're enjoying my blog and my writing. Seriously, you have no idea how much your ask means to me, and how much your words have warmed my heart. 💖

I already did 2. "Please?" "Those eyes won't work on me this time." here, and my brain literally will not let me reuse a prompt because as soon as I've written something using that particular prompt, it simply won't let me come up with anything else tied to that sentence for a while.

But, you did ask for two so you're getting two! Throwing in a little 1. "You're cold." "Am not." to make up for not using 2. Lestappen being a PDA mess coming right up! I also saw my chance to write this as a sequel to this and I took it.

---

1."You're cold." "Am not." and 3. "Just... hold my hand?"

Max doesn't know whose brilliant idea it was to gather on the roof of the Alpine motor home the night before the British Grand Prix — who is he kidding, it was probably Pierre's. Or Esteban's — but yet, here they were.

It wasn't as if it was freezing cold in the night air — the last time Max had checked it was around 14°C —but this was England. England with its stupid biting winds.

He'd told Charles to wear a thicker sweater, but the Monégasque had insisted he didn't need it. Hell, Max had even offered to let him borrow his favorite black hoodie, but Charles had been stubborn and refused.

And now the idiot was sitting next to Max, trying and failing to pretend that he wasn't shivering. Trying to hide how pale his hands had gotten due to the cold under the too-thin fabric of the arms of his sweater.

Pierre is telling a story from his karting days back in France, and the whole group is laughing, except Max.

Because Charles is cold next to him, and this whole thing could have been prevented if the Ferrari driver had just listened to him.

"You're cold," Max says to Charles, narrowing his eyes.

Charles turns his head to look at him, cheeks pink from the wind. "Am not."

"You are," Max huffs, rolling his eyes.

"I'm fine, Max."

"You're shivering, Charles."

---

Look, was Lando relieved that Max and Charles had finally done something about the years of unresolved sexual tension between them a couple of months ago? Yes.

Was he happy to see that two of his best friends on the grid had also realized that their feelings for each other went deeper than the physical attraction, and were now officially dating? Absolutely.

Because Max and Charles were still bickering. Not only that, they were bickering cutely. In front of everyone.

But the thing was, Lando had thought — hoped, fucking prayed — that resolving the tension between them would stop them from bickering all the time. Over nothing.

That, apparently, was too much to ask.

And honestly, as adorable as it was to watch, it was still exhausting. Because it was still constant.

Had he known his little scheme to get them to work out their issues would lead to the two of them becoming even more insufferable, Lando would have reconsidered the whole thing.

"Your face is shivering," Charles says to Max, and Lando rolls his eyes.

"That doesn't even make any sense!" Max shoots back, and Lando audibly groans.

The attention of their little group has turned to the pair of them, and everyone aside from Lando are apparently finding the whole thing amusing. Which makes sense, seeing most of them don't also have to deal with it outside of race weekends, when they're all gaming.

"Take my hand," Max demands, holding out his hand for Charles.

Charles glares at it as if it's a dangerous weapon specifically designed to kill him.

"I'm not cold, Max!" Charles insists, like a fucking child.

Lando wonders if throwing himself off of the building would kill him. Wonders if he truly cares if it would.

"Charles," The Red Bull driver says, pinching the bridge of his nose with the hand he isn't still holding out. He says it like Charles is the single cause of every ounce of frustration he as ever felt in his life.

Which, Lando figuers, isn't far from being the truth.

Charles glares at him, but there's no real heat behind it.

"Just... Hold my hand?"

It's a request now, and it's soft and pleading, and Max is looking at Charles with an adorable look on his face. Charles' entire façade crumbles.

"Fine, I'll hold your hand," The Monégasque says with an overly dramatic sigh, as he takes Max's hand and interlocks their fingers. "But I won't be happy about it!"

Max snorts, but doesn't argue. He probably knows that Charles is lying, just like Lando knows that Charles is lying. Just like every single person up here knows he's lying.

Can see it all over Charles' face the second their hands touch.

"You two are ridiculous," Lando announces, throwing his head back. There's fondness in his tone, though, and his words draw a collective laugh from the group.

Next to him, Carlos pats his knee.

"Just be glad you haven't shared a cool-down room with them yet," the Spaniard mumbles.

There mere thought of that makes Lando whine.

[08theverysmallhuman]

THANK GOD SOMEBODY IN THIS FUCKING FANDOM LIKES IGAGURI!!!!!!!!! OH MY GODDDD HE IS LITERALLY JUST A LITTLE GUY WHAT THE FUCK ARE HATERS SO MAD ABOUT!!!!!!! I thought the more recent scene with him and Isagi where he was given advice was incredible and I really hope we get to see more of him in future arcs still because he’s Isagi’s pal and first real rival!!! He’s silly comic relief yeah but he’s also genuinely likable and has a VERY heavy and real reason to be so driven and passionate to stick in Blue Lock! And I am SO happy seeing somebody else who likes him here FINALLY! FINALLY!!! THANK YOU

THAT MAKES WHAT. FOUR? IGAGURI ENJOYERS IVE SEEN ON HERE?? WHAT THE FUCK

FOR FUCKING REEEEAL !!!!! They're mad he's still in because it makes no sense well first of all he quite literally is established to not want to train if he doesn't have to and call him lazy and it doesn't make sense he's still in WHEN IN CANON he works hard enough to be good enough to run with the beasts blue lock is cultivating, to the point where he's actually straining his fucking body and injuring himself on equipment and throwing up???? Brother if you fall face first on a treadmill set to max you are not getting back on I don't know what to tell you. He's decided to train the thing he's good at, the same thing everyone else in the series is doing, the thing that Real Life Soccer Players accepts as an actual strategy and people are getting on his ass about it cause they can't fucking accept that he's a genuinely GOOD soccer player who's playing with actual superpowered geniuses

He's also like??? Really nice compared to some of these guys?? He talks a lot of shit but like it's comparatively tame and not really all that different from like regular team animosity? You got other people on this team saying some real out of pocket shit and you're on this guy's case about it ISAGI's ruder than this guy. He's genuinely happy for his friends when they reach a new level in their progress, he's comfortable asking them for advice and help with practice, he's literally isagi's hypeman on the field and he's cheering for every goal

It's literally just because they find him ugly there's literally no other reason. He's not even ugly he's bald but he looks fine dude he's literally living in a fucking temple what do you want from him. He might not even wanna look like this he very adamantly hates the thought of continuing to live in the temple let a man be

And yes his backstory is literally The most interesting one to me hands down I need to know what his home life is like I need to know his dad his mom his friends how he got into soccer in a reportedly strict shrine especially with his personality being like Super Not Buddhist, he prays to ask for stuff and not anywhere else, his jersey number is literally a reference to the 108 earthly desires Buddhists are meant to stay away from, that he specifically indulges in while he's away from home I wonder if he's used to being squished in a room with multiple people and that's how he finds such bizarre sleeping positions cause it's so open suddenly I need to know if he makes it out which he fucking better if he goes back I'm destroying all life on the planet let my boy go

Not even gonna get into the it shouldve kira argument I've said it a million times they only want him back because he's hot but kira was not fucking making it in blue lock . you want him to but he just fuckin wasn't maybe one day I'll get into it but you know in your heart of hearts Pretty Boy McSwaggy here was getting his fucking shit rocked

Igarashi Gurimu is a GREAT LIKEABLE AMD COMPELLING CHARACTER and just because he's not exactly bishie IT DOESNT MEAN HE'S A BAD PERSON?? Ive literally seen 'igaguri would be a pervert igaguri would be homophobic' he's literally one of the few people in blue lock who hasnt mentioned girls or romance bud. And my guy put up with shidou dude I think we're Fine