#I did in fact rip parts of the background from pictures

[lo-batteryy]

Fish ur boyfriends out of winter water it’s romantic

[dira333]

Life-Line - Shinsou x Soulmate! Reader

Anon Request for my Follower Celebration

Yes, Controller is my own OC, I am not ashamed of that. I picked Ectoplasm as the least terrifying person for Reader because he has the most terrifying smile (my brain works like that, sorry, not sorry)

1. longing

You stopped listening to the professor five minutes ago.

His voice is background music now, droning on and on and on about something history here, important there. The weather outside had been awful all morning, heavy rain and grey clouds. But right before history started, the rain had stopped and the clouds had started to part in places.

Now, the tiniest sliver of sunlight was peaking through the window. It catches on one of Megumi’s scales and breaks into a rainbow. At the end of it, sits Shinsou, lazily scribbling into his notebook.

He’s always pretty, you’ve realized that when you stepped foot into class the first day. Most girls in your class are more into the Hero Course students. Megumi fawns over Shouto’s cool demeanor, Shoul thinks that Bakugo could be cute if he would just stop cursing for a minute and Min Min blushes every time anyone mentions TetsuTetsu. But you just can’t be helped.

There’s something about him, from the vibrant color of his hair to the fact that his eyes never seem to miss anything to the lazy drawl of his voice. You’re absolutely smitten and you can’t even lie to yourself about it.

Lazily you twirl your pen between your fingers. It catches on the side of your glove, specially made just for you. The material is thin, the same color as your skin, and only covers your pinky. It’s the only thing that comes between you and death.

“Y/N?” You flinch in your seat. The professor is looking at you like he’s waiting for an answer.

“Uh, Japan?” You guess. Someone snickers behind you as Professor Oda harrumphs in disappointment.

“Shinsou, do you know the answer?”

“1985, Professor.”

“Correct. Thank you. Now, don’t think this wasn’t an important year…”

You stop listening yet again when Shinsou moves just a bit to the left and places a little piece of paper on the edge of your desk.

Your fingers shake as you unfold it and you have to fight the gasp that’s trying to break free.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” 

.

2. finding out

“Good work.” You squeak out when Shinsou passes you in the hallway. Your face is hidden behind your hands, long sleeves covering your fingers.

“Ha?” He turns, his eyes roaming over the people around him until he locks onto you. 

You’re not fast enough to escape, not sure if you should anyway even though everything in you tells you to run away.

“Did you just…” He asks, pointing at himself. You shake your head violently. 

He deflates, just a little. You can’t be imagining it, not with the way even his hair seems to sink down a little. Is he… disappointed?

It makes you rip your hands from your mouth again, squeeze out the words with all the willpower you have.

“That was a good match.” You squeak, nerves catching in your throat. “You’ll be an awesome hero one day.”

“You think so?” He asks, stepping closer. Is there a hint of pink on the tips of his ears or did you finally start to hallucinate?

“I…” Someone bumps into him and everything happens in slow motion. 

He stumbles forward, hands outstretched. Even knowing that your Quirk wouldn’t affect him if he’s the one touching you, you flinch away - but directly behind you is the window. Something digs painfully into your back just as his right hand catches on your shoulder and a burning pain erupts below his fingers.

The sound that bubbles out of your mouth sounds like a strangled sob and Shinsou pulls back his hand like he’s burned himself. You don’t wait for him to say anything, but run for your life.

At the end of the hallway, just ten steps behind Shinsou, is Aizawa-Sensei, red eyes glowing ominously in his pale face.

He does not stop you when you pass him, but his eyes seem to follow you as you disappear in the staircase, your heart beating out of your chest.

When you pull off your sweater in the safety of the girl's bathroom and prod your shoulder with your fingertips, there’s nothing there that could indicate a bruise.

But when you inspect it in the bathroom mirror, the truth screams back at you.

A brand new soulmate mark looks back at you, the color a dizzying mix of purple and white, the tattoo resembling something abstract, like a mouth and… a wave? Or is it air?

You feel a little sick as you crawl back into one of the cubicles, determined to skip the next period and the one after that, to stay away for as long as you need to get over this.

You cannot be Shinsou Hitoshi’s Soulmate. You just can’t.

-

“Y/N?” The voice has you freeze in the middle of the sidewalk. 

“A-Aizawa-S-Sensei…” You stutter out. He looks a little less murderous right now, hair pulled back in a bun instead of flowing around his face.

“Do you have a minute?” He asks. “I wanted to ask you some things about your Quirk.”

“I did not…” You start to defend yourself. 

“I wasn’t implying that. It’ll be just you, me, and Kayama-Sensei. We’ll just have a cup of tea and talk a bit.” 

“A-Are you sure?” The question is a little redundant but you’re also a little scared of Kayama-Sensei. She’s even scarier than Aizawa-Sensei.

Aizawa-Sensei seems to notice. “Tell you what. You can pick the teacher that’s sitting with us. I want you to be comfortable.”

…

“I have to say this is really nice!” Ectoplasm grins menacingly as he sips from a dainty cup of tea. “Now you said you wanted to talk about Y/N’s Quirk?”

“Yes. As far as I’m aware it’s called Life Absorption, is that right?” 

You nod, not daring to lift your teacup with your shaking hands.

“If I touch something living with five fingers of one hand, I absorb all of their life energy. It could be a tree, an animal, or a human being. So I always wear my gloves.”

“Interesting.” Aizawa drinks from his own cup, seemingly lost in thought for a minute before he shakes himself out of it.

“I assume you know Shinsou Hitoshi?”

You swallow harshly. “I… He’s a classmate.”

AizawaSensei is looking at you like he knows. You swallow again, fearing that he’s going to make you say it. Instead, he sets down his cup.

“Most people think that with a Quirk like his, he’s bound to be a villain. But he’s determined to become a Hero. You might have been told that with a Quirk like yours, you can only be a villain or a danger to society, but I assure you that is not the case.”

You gape at him.

Ectoplasm hums low in his throat.

“What are you implying, Aizawa?”

“You might not know this, but I am acquainted with the Hero “Controller”. Her quirk allows her to sense other people around her and control them. I talked to her about your Quirk and she mentioned that there is a possibility that you can train it. If you put yourself into it, you could touch people without absorbing anything and, better yet, give back life energy.”

You stare at him. 

“Are you…”

“Controller, huh?” Ectoplasm snickers softly before turning toward you.

“Before you make your decision on this, you should know that Controller is not only a one of a kind hero but also Aizawa-Sensei’s wife. If she thinks you can do it, you can do it.”

“How… How did you find out about my Quirk?” You ask, your mind still tumbling about. “Why are you interested in it anyway?”

“You didn’t hear that from me.” Aizawa-Sensei points out lowly. “But Shinsou just wouldn’t stop talking about it.”

.

3. winning

“That was great for your first training session.” Controller smiles down at you. She looks as threatening as Aizawa on a good day, but one hour into working with her has taught you just how sweet she actually is. 

You can’t remember being praised this much before.

“Oh, Hitoshi, you’re done training as well?” Controller turns to the now open door of the training room. You scramble to put your gloves back on at the sight of purple hair.

“Could I talk to Y/N for a second?” He asks, a nervous tinge coating his words. 

“Sure.” Controller walks out, brushes his shoulder with her hand as she passes him. It’s a gentle gesture and you wonder just how close those three actually are.

“Aizawa told me you started training.” Shinsou starts, rubbing his neck awkwardly.

“He told me you… you told him about me.”

“Ah.” He’s not looking at you but he cannot hide the blush on his cheeks. “Yeah, I… was kinda… I had a crush on you, I guess.”

“What?!” The word comes out a little too harsh, but you’re too stunned to care. “No way.”

“Yeah, but you had one on me too, right?” He lifts his hand, his face now red. There, on the middle of his palm, sits the same soulmate tattoo that you found on your shoulder.

“It’s… it’s okay though.” He clears his throat awkwardly. “If you’re not into that, I mean. We’re just soulmates. Plenty of soulmates don’t date. I just… I felt like I had to at least do something for you, if we were, you know.”

“Who wouldn’t want to be your soulmate?” You ask, your mind whirring so fast your mouth can’t keep up. “You’re gorgeous.”

The blush bleeds from Shinsou’s face. He grins, a wicked turn of his mouth.

“Oh, I’m gorgeous?”

“Shut up!” You press your hands against your mouth but he’s already one step ahead of you.

“No, say that again, please?”

That day, your first double selfie enters your phone. Because, as Hitoshi said, ‘Take a picture. It will last longer.’

-

“Step aside!” You call out to the people crowding the scene. “This is a rescue mission! Step aside!”

“No way!” Someone whispers behind you. “It’s Life-Line! She’s so cool!”

It’s a common scene. A burning building, you and your crew getting people to safety as others work on extinguishing the fire.

Megumi, with her dragon-like skin, brings out a little boy. She’s one of the few classmates that went into Rescue alongside you. 

“He’s not breathing.” She tells you, handing him over to you.

Your hands, no longer in gloves, touch his face. He sucks up your life energy like one does air after being underwater for too long.

“I’ll need more energy.” You call out to the people watching. “Who’s willing to give me a year? Anyone?”

An old man steps forward. “I don’t mind giving some of my time to this little boy.”

A young woman pulls him back. “No, I have more to give.”

Five, ten, more people reach out their hands. Five minutes later sweat is running down your back but the child takes one deep breath after the other, looking up at you with curious eyes.

“Are you a hero?” The boy asks, reaching out his fingers to touch your face.

“Yes.” You say with the confidence of more than five years of work under your belt. “I am.”

My Kofi if you want to tip me

[lotuslovers]

‘The Weeknd’ // E.Y

Pairing : female!reader x Eren Yeager, background angst jean kirstein x reader(bashing for the sake of the plot, obv fiction bc i love that man) 

w.c: 4 k 

Summary : Caught up in a world of money, fame, girls, and lies as the man of your dreams is ripped away from you in an unexpected cheating scandal. In response, you make a move with another high profile artist but unexpectedly it becomes a bit more than you bargained for when feelings for the brunette become unearthed. Modern fame AU/Fake dating AU

Trigger warnings: mention of alcohol, of age drinking, brief mention of weed

part 1 | part 2 | tbc

If you were being honest, you shouldn’t be here. Spending a random Friday night at a mutual friend's house in the hills, just to escape the last two months. In the living room of another large house, with closed doors, tables of booze, loud music vibrating off the walls, bodies and bodies of people who you vaguely knew. Pushing each other through the darkness, dim red lights showing the silhouettes of the   people moving to the music, lost in the adrenaline of the night. Lost in a lie, an appearance of ecstasy that differed heavily from the reality each person was facing. In the morning all of it would come back, however in the night they get lost in the ambience of it all. 

The reason why you were here was simple, it was all some risky move to rebrand and get back at what happened. And now, you stood in the corner of a kinda sorta stranger’s house with a cup of whatever was in the bottle you poured, stuck waiting until he would show up. Not him, you had given up the moment he was pictured in bed with another girl that you met at one of his shows, the one who was just his new PR marketing coordinator.  

Despite how much time had passed and how much reflection you did to move on, to you it was the most humiliating experience of your life to have your -now ex-boyfriend of five years cheat on you and to find out by waking up one morning to 23 missed calls and an explore page full of the photos. Someone, a close friend you most definitely knew, had decided not to tell you and leak the pictures to the press one morning. The news made it to all the gossip pages, reposted by everyone's sisters, and all over the tabloids. 

And what makes it worse is not the fact this person didn’t think to tell you first, but the fact that you had been so so public with the man and now you had no privacy to cope with what happened. The break up was put in the public light for everyone to see and judge. The calls never seemed to stop from “concerned friends” to blogs who somehow got your number and wished for any sort of comment from you. 

If anything happened, this was expected to be the response since both of you had made it known the lengths you would go for each other. In whatever endeavors we supported each other no matter what, we were only here because of each other's support. You and him were known for the dedication and love for one another, you non stop supported his music for two years before he was even signed. Showing up in the pouring rain when he booked an opening act for a local artist’s concert, and he supported your education by showing up to your lectures to take notes when you were sick, cooking for you when you were home late for your internship, and surprising you for holidays when he was suppose to be out of town as an opening act for a tour. The next years would be blissful as your ex rose to fame, the money and paper seemed to be a prize for the hours spent as the popularity grew. 

Overnight his music would begin to top the chart, slowly the work he put in would quickly grow the second an old song began to be played more, his managers would invest heavily in promotion and after a few weeks in the spotlight were able to get a co-sign from a much larger and much more established artists. Finally, Jean was a name heard in the industry and then his label would drop a song that was designed to hit mainstream success. And it did, he was now a mainstream artist as the money and streams increased. 

In the past, he interviewed for a small out of the garage podcast that was local, but now he was invited for his first mainstream radio show interview a few months ago before everything happened. Everything had seemed to be going great. Even to you, he was just as devoted in and out of the studio as he was before the fame. His hands wrapped around your waist, finding no bounds to the physical and emotional level. His dedication was shown in the song lyrics professing an emotional vulnerability for your love, in the gifts, cuddles, the lengthy instagram posts he would make, and the actions as he called you up on stage to serenade you each show. 

But like all good things, it had to end when you woke up to your phone being blown up with the pictures of him cuddled up half naked with another girl in your bed. In your home, the one you bought together half a year ago when the money started to come in consistently. In the very bed where both of you lay entangled, lazily talking about future plans in the early hours. 

“you here?” a text illuminated the screen in your hands, snapping away from the memories. Quickly replying back, “yup, back next to the glass door in the living room.”

A few minutes passed as the crowded room around you shifted to whatever song was playing in the background, it was something you could have named the singer if you weren’t so out of it. More hot bodies crowded around each other, arms flailing as people grinding up on one another in the night. The dim background lights lit up the shifting faces in the large room as loud music played from the speakers, flashes from phones lit up parts of the dark room. And yet you still hadn’t seen him until his hand slowly nudged your elbow. 

“y/n?” he tried to talk over the loud music, “wanna-” a nearby yell cut him off. Some drunk guy was screaming the chorus as he paused, leaning over to speak closer to your ear in an attempt to make sure you would hear his next words. 

“Wanna head outside so we can talk?” his voice idly spoke just barely over the music, his breath tickled your ear. He was so close, a mist of cologne hit your senses. It wasn’t anything like the one Jean wore, it smelled entirely different but still emanating a sophisticated subtle scent. 

The brunette stood above you, looking over as the gravity was just beginning to hit you and yet you still nodded. Sliding off the wall, you turned to your left and slid the glass door open before peeking at the man behind you as you exited the hot room into the cold night air. Yeager stood inches above you in an oversized black crewneck with tank top straps peeking out of the neckline and a pair of loose jeans. Moving out to the yard, away from peering eyes of the party you settle on the patio steps that were hidden in the dark. It was silent for a couple seconds, neither of you really knowing where to start. 

“hey-” you both spoke nervously at the same time. It shouldn’t be this hard to speak to him but it felt like a loud blaring alarm was warning you to shut up and run away. Any courage you had texting him earlier was gone, you turned to set the cup down off the top of the staircase steps. “I haven’t seen you in forever, how have you been Eren?” you said hoping it was the right thing to say. 

Brown eyes looked over you, taking you in for the first time in months as you did the same. He moved his arm, racking his fingers through his loose hair,“‘m good, it’s all been pretty stable since I signed” he said with a sweet smile he seemed reserved for you. 

It wasn’t anything like the photos you had seen of weeks ago, the Eren that was trending all over the timeline for a video of him cussing out paparazzi and a group of fans that showed up uninvited outside of his house. It was a thirty second video of him half asleep, only in a pair of loose shorts screaming out of his door and threatening to go outside and put his hands on them. It was way out of line, but they had violated his privacy and somehow got into his gated community to peek through his curtains and egg him on about his scandals at 7 am. Jean had sent you the video from some twitter thread, laughing about the whole situation but that was mainly because of how their rough relationship had been. 

You could bet good money that his PR team had gotten their annual bonuses if not more after the overtime they put in to help try to mediate and get the video deleted. They couldn’t control how fast it spread, but they swiftly issued a statement and Eren posted a story on the situation, after most of the media had died down naturally following the next biggest story. But still Eren’s reputation had not been entirely saved but it never was the best. 

“How’s Carla?” you said, “and is Armin still in med school? I haven't seen him since the big move”. 

His phone lit up briefly but he picked it up and slid it into his back pocket, “Mom’s been better, the bakery has been busy with the holiday rush. S’pose she might finally settle down and hire a few more workers. And Armin graduated med school right after you moved, he started a residency in the Marian Regional Center”. 

“He’s really all grown up now? I swear he was just entering college and your mom, that's so good for her she deserves a break. I know anytime I’m back in town I try to stop by but it's been a while” 

“She’s been asking about you too, I think half the time she calls me just to talk about you” he laughed. 

“Well you know, we’re all we got in this city. I think she misses back then when we were young” 

“And now we’re here, I thought we promised to see each other more” he chided, glancing up at the few stars in the sky. “I know, I know I've just been-” 

“busy?” we said at the same time, again just like we used to. 

“we’re here now, and we are going to have to see each other more now,” Eren said, “so do you really want to do this?” 

 I guess one could only run for so long, we had to speak about why we were even here, “I wouldn’t have asked you if I didn’t mean this.” 

He just sat turning to glance at you, even as he moved his face was hardly seen in the dark, “But you know the implications, you don’t have to.” As if giving me another way out, but I had decided this and I wanted to go through with it. 

Pausing to gather the words, “It’s only a few outings and rumors, I just want to make people know that I’m moving on. I won’t let him continue to make a fool of me, and continue to bring the break up to light again. He’s already tried to get me back, have you seen what he posted?” you said. Yeager simply nodded, everyone had seen the posts and had continued to blow up your dms asking if you were back with him. “Ren, I’m just done crying and I’m done with him. This will help me and this helps you, did your manager ever get back to you?”

He shook his head back, the hair framing his face fell back to reveal his eyes, “Zeke says it’s a good move, knowing mine and Jean’s history…” he trailed off. Everyone had known when the relationship between the two began to fail, and when Jean tried to say some sneaky shit targeting Eren on some interview, the two stopped talking entirely. “..this would be a good promotion for my tour that’s coming up. I’m just worried-” he said. “Why?” 

“Aren’t you worried at all? Do you really want to be in the spotlight again, can you even? You know they will do what they do, they will make up rumors and I know they aren’t going to be nice to you” 

Leaning back on your palms, you took a minute to take in the stars as you felt the burn of his eyes in your skin. “I’m sure ‘ren. I know you mean the best but I want this, I don’t think anything will ever be as bad as it was when it all first happened.” 

He signed, “okay,” he trailed off remembering something more “you know at first I never believed Kirstein ever managed to get you to date him” he laughed. “I always assumed he made you wear a blindfold when you first met up, and had to overcompensate with his personality”

You snorted, hitting his arm out of reflex, “hey! shut up”. He held his hands up in innocence, he said, “it’s funny, you can laugh”. But you shoved him, glancing at how your hand was placed on his forearm.  

“I missed you Eren, you know that?” removing your hand to place them both in your lap, “It's not fun when your friend hates your boyfriend” 

“Well I was right wasn’t I?”He snarkily said, priding himself in being right about how much of a dick Jean was. “Fine, you were right this time” you said, just feeling better to finally have your friend back, “it’s just really good that you're here.” 

“same y/n I missed your dumbass,” he said leaning over, only to pause as his phone began to vibrate, interrupting the moment. Pulling out the iphone from his pocket, the screen lit up with the name ‘Zeke’ and once again he sighed but refused to answer. “He no doubt wants some update on the whole media plan, I’ve already sent your manager's contact to him but he always needs more specifics. When did you plan on starting the rumors?”

“Uh maybe now since we agreed on it, I mean like tonight. Does that work?” you spoke, “I’ve already taken photos of my outfit to post and I’ve been on a few peoples stories tonight. I’m sure if you wanted, we could take a few pictures and then our team could leak them before tomorrow when they connect the dots.” 

I waited for some reaction, maybe a last minute refusal but he simply just smiled, “we’re really doing this?” He laughed, “It seems like we are, but who will take them?”

“I can text Sasha right now, she is inside with Niccolo,” I said, still waiting for him to change his mind. But he didn’t, “sounds good.”

Before reality could hit, the text was sent and Sasha met the two of you outside. She smiled at him, not really knowing him as much as you did but she knew him vaguely from Connie and that was enough for her to be fine with him. As if she was a pro photographer, she led the two of you back into the hot house and to a corner off to the side near the rest of the people but away enough to convey some sense of privacy. 

“y/n stand right there” she pointed to the right, backing you near the wall in the living room and shooing how you stood until she was satisfied with it. Moving to grab your arms and working to turn your upper body a bit to face Eren more. Only when it was perfect did she move to him, grasping his shoulders and turning them to angle his body over you. Yeager stood above you, glancing down as he smiled waiting for the photos to be taken. Sasha, who was joined by Niccollo, looked around moving pieces of your hair away from your face and hummed when she was satisfied. She pulled her phone out of her purse, stepping a good distance away in the crowd to attempt to make it look more realistic. The darkness was filled with the hazy air of bodies moving and loud bass, flashed of the lights and phones.

You hoped you could sell it, but you felt so stiff as he stood in front of you looking at you in a way that felt far too real. His brown eyes stared, not in some voyeuristic way but it felt like years ago when the two of you would be left after your friends all went home, hanging out until the stars came out. It’s all just fake you wanted to say, but he interrupted the moment by drawing his hands up to move a strand that fell away from your face. 

“sorry, that was in the way” he cheekily spoke but before you could respond Sasha came back. Loudly speaking barely above the music she said, “I think these are coming out pretty well, but there’s another one I want to try”. 

“Yeager can you stand a little more angled out, and press your back a little closer against the wall” he moved automatically as if it was some sort of a photoshoot, “and y/n I want you right in front of him, like almost pressed up and looking back at him. I’ll just get this one quick and we should be good.”

I think Sasha meant well, but as you stepped back you felt Eren’s thighs hit against your back and you knew you were screwed. You hadn’t been this close to another man since Jean, and it felt wrong in a sense that you never would have been in this position. “Is this okay?” he asked behind you, only met with a small nod. You tried to take your mind off of it, you were a single grown woman not some teenage girl getting close to a boy for the first time. 

Posing, you moved your legs out leaning back to turn to look up at him but not graze your hips onto him. Trying to get lost in the conversations around you, you looked up freezing at how close he was to you. He stood simply looking at you, posing until someone near you ran into you and you started and nearly fell forward in the darkness. In front of you, you stumbled closing your eyes until two hands were onto your hips gripping lightly and pulling you back to help you but falling a bit back into him as his face appeared on your shoulder. Whispering into your ear, “are you okay?”

“Mmhm” you spoke, not interested in the heat that hit your face or the way his breath tickled your neck. Once more, Niccollo and Sasha returned smirking at you before she sent them over to you, Eren, and both of your PR Teams in a group chat. The two of you returned outside as your agents were on call discussing the fine details, by 11:30 pm the media rollout was getting planned out and you were off the call in the passenger seat of Eren’s car picking out the pictures you would be posting to instagram. 

Deciding that the first photo would be one of you feeling good, with your hands running down the front of your mini dress hugging on to the curves of your hips. The second was another full body picture but looking to the side and the last was a cute group photo with Sasha, Annie, and Historia all smiling and laughing in the shot. Topped off with the caption “me, myself and i”. 

To anyone scrolling would see it as a cute going out post but to fans and those who would see the gossip posts it would be proof of your outfit and being at the party that night. 

Besides you, Yeager had turned the radio on low as he decided to light up a blunt and smoked as the song “Poison” by Brent Faiyaz played. The second the song began, you quickly turned the station to another station, not wanting to have another reminder as you busied yourself by texting back your PR agents. 

“Ren” you called, “hmm” he hummed back. “They are already reaching out to a big twitter account, they won’t know it’s you yet because of the lighting in the first photo but it will make it look more natural” you said, “I think after they will drop some of the rest of the pictures”. He turned over to you, his hazy gaze looked over at you. Briefly it looked like he was glancing at your lips before he turned to take another look at your form, “sounds good f’me y/n” he finally said. 

Looking between the blunt and your face in the darkened car, the small question hung in the air over the two. Something between the both of you had changed as the other hand moved to cover your hand that rested on your thigh. It felt for once you didn’t know where you stood with him, it all felt too intimate. 

His eyebrow arched, you nodded softly in an almost sleepy state. Yeager leaned over the center console to place his right arm against your seat's headrest, barely bumping his chest against your shoulder. Passing between his fingertips, the blunt slowly raised to your waiting lips. Inhaling a bit as brown eyes met yours, waiting for a few seconds to survey your face as if in hopes of figuring something out. He patiently sat drinking up every inch of your face in the soft light from the radio and the speedometer glowed in red. Moving to take the blunt, you blew out the smoke out of your mouth and into Eren’s awaiting face. ‘Holy fuck,” he though. 

Both sat staring, as if the years of yearning hadn’t amounted to this very moment. How many nights had he been kept up staring down at the instagram pictures you posted with your ex? A younger him used to say that it should’ve been him. You were one of the first real friends Eren met before we got into the industry, way before either of the guys were signed. Yet you had always been devoted to your relationship with Jean and his feelings weren’t going to come out in some jumbled confession when you were so happy. If only he had met you sooner, maybe he could have had a chance. And now he finally might have it, if only it were all real. 

You looked up, smoke slowly licking at the sides of his face. Eren seemed to be contemplating something as he looked lost for a second, all before spitting out the words that would change everything. “can I?” he said, dumbly you replied, “can you what?”

But he didn’t hesitate to ask, “can I kiss you y/n?”

The words were stolen from your mouth, this was ‘Ren. The boy you grew to know, not someone you went out with and dated despite what Carla had implied about you too years ago. He was someone you could get his support from no matter when despite how strained your relationship became. Something was beginning to stir within you, being single now taught you a bit about independence and self dependency but deep down you knew doing this, that it wasn’t motivated but the need to “cheat” back. Instead, you wanted to explore this connection with Eren, this spark wasn’t supposed to happen but it had begun. Now in the closeness of the car, you looked up and decided you wanted to explore this giddy feeling. This feeling that told you to kiss him, and so you did despite what tomorrow morning would bring. 

A/N: can you tell from how bad my party scene is that i go to a very small college with zero party scene? like how do you write a party scene…genuinely all i have is “loud music, hot bodies”. but anways here’s this, another thing that’s been in the drafts for YEARS. idk if this will be continued at all, so no promises I’m just taking advantage of my mini motivation to write. is it yeager? jeager?

[ingek73]

PRINCE HARRY EXCLUSIVE INTERVIEW

‘This is not about trying to collapse the monarchy, this is about trying to save them from themselves’

By BRYONY GORDON

Montecito is on mudslide alert, its residents nervously awaiting an evacuation order. I wake up on the morning of my meeting with Prince Harry to a media storm – his book, Spare, has found its way into Spanish shops almost a week before publication – and a meteorological storm, this normally bone dry part of southern California being battered by rain. Both squalls are doing a good job of reminding me that, while you might be able to run 5,000 miles from the source of your pain, you can rarely escape from it.

When I finally reach Montecito’s most famous resident – and possibly, right now, the world’s – he is nonplussed about the weather, which some have described as biblical, but I might describe as… well, British. Prince Harry tells me that the day before I arrived, he put on his waterproofs and headed down to the beach in the pouring rain with his dog, Pula, ignoring all offers of an umbrella from those around him. (I don’t tell him that I already know this, having seen pictures of said outing on a website that morning.)

And yet, even with the threat of mudslides, the Duke of Sussex clearly feels safer here in his Montecito home than he ever did in the royal palaces where he grew up. You could hardly blame him. The house is a sanctuary, surrounded by acres of greenery, complete with chickens, a play area and a teepee so lovely that I find myself jokingly asking if I can move into it. I am taken to a finca-style guest house where I find a generous spread of crudités alongside umpteen types of tea, served, of course, in the finest china. Soft music tinkles in the background. Candles flicker. It would all feel very relaxing, were it not for the fact it is only a matter of hours since the book somehow leaked to The Guardian newspaper and went on sale early at a chain of Spanish book shops.

There is some amusement from Harry about how the passages on his “frost-nipped penis” might have come out in translation, but mostly he is sad and disappointed that the general public’s first encounter with the contents of Spare will come not through reading the book itself, but via newspaper headlines.

In the book, he describes those who work on Fleet Street as a “dreadful mob of dweebs and crones and cut-rate criminals and clinically diagnosable sadists”, and that’s the more polite stuff. Am I mad to be speaking to him on the day that many of my colleagues are ripping him to shreds, especially knowing, as I do, that he has killed 25 members of the Taliban while on a tour of duty in Afghanistan? But the moment he walks through the door, a trail of dogs in his wake, I am reminded of his warmth and down-to-earth humour.

Today he is dressed in the TK Maxx uniform of T-shirt and jeans that he writes about in Spare. He welcomes me with a hug and rushes to make the tea. He is bright-eyed, looking far happier and healthier than when I last saw him at Buckingham Palace in early 2020, on his final day as a working member of the Royal family. He seems relaxed, more free – the nerves he had during our first interview, back in 2017, are gone, replaced with the quiet confidence of someone far more at ease with himself.

We sit on enormous cream sofas in front of a roaring fire, overlooked by a watercolour painting of a beach. I apologise for bringing my jet lag with me. He looks at his watch. “Think of it this way – it’s 11.10pm in the UK. You’re in the pub.” He quickly remembers that I don’t drink. “Or you’re not in the pub, but you’re OK. You can do this!” And so I switch on my tape recorder, and we begin.

He tells me that he is “someone who likes to fix things”. “If I see wrongdoing and a pattern of behaviour that is harming people, I will do everything I can to try and change it.” He worries about the other “spares” in the family. “As I know full well, within my family, if it’s not us,” and at this he points at his chest, “it’s going to be someone else. And though William and I have talked about it once or twice, and he has made it very clear to me that his kids are not my responsibility, I still feel a responsibility knowing that out of those three children, at least one will end up like me, the spare. And that hurts, that worries me.”

I first met Harry in 2016, when I began working with him and his brother and sister-in-law on their mental-health campaign, Heads Together. Right from the get-go, he seemed to grasp the issue of mental illness in a way that seemed quite unexpected from a member of the traditionally buttoned-up British Royal family.

I have only wonderful, warm memories of that period, which culminated in Harry coming on my podcast, Mad World, and speaking for the first time about the anguish he experienced trying to process the death of his mother. We developed what I would call a working friendship, which saw me get involved with various Heads Together and Royal Foundation events, and we have stayed in touch over the years.

The Harry I have come to know is perhaps best summed up via an anecdote in Spare, where he develops trench foot while out on an army exercise in Wales. He has been yomping through the countryside for several days, with equipment equivalent to the weight of a young teenager strapped to his back, during a heatwave. Halfway through, the heatwave breaks with a storm of torrential rain. They continue marching. Eventually, he realises that his foot is burning. At a checkpoint, Harry takes off his boots and socks, and the bottom of his right foot peels away. Medics inform him that the exercise is over for him, but when a staff sergeant tells him that there are “only” eight miles left, he resolves to tape his feet in zinc oxide and get the hell on with it.

“The last four miles were among the most difficult steps I’ve ever taken on this planet,” he explains. “As we crossed the finish line I began to hyperventilate with relief.” He hobbled about like an old man for the next few days, proud as punch that he pushed on through.

Here we have Harry – or Harold or Haz or H, depending on who you are – to a tee. You can say what you like about him (you probably have), and throw what you like at him (you may wish you could), but when he feels he is on the right path, he keeps going, through thick and thin and trench foot. What you see with Harry is what you get – a quality that made us love him until relatively recently, when it suddenly became the reason he has come in for so much hate.

He has been called a “cycle-breaker”, which is a term that refers to a person who changes decades – nay, centuries-old family patterns. There are some who cringe at all this “therapy speak”, dismissing it as “woke” Californian psycho-babble. That might have been the case way back in the 80s, but it isn’t now. The truth is that when Harry speaks about his feelings, about his escape from dysfunction, he doesn’t sound that different from any other person in their 30s who has been forced to confront issues with their mental health.The only real difference is a claim to the throne dating back to William the Conqueror. He speaks the language of recovery. And like most languages, being forced to learn it is painful. It is often messy, and mistakes are made. But boy is there a tremendous sense of reward when you start to be proficient in it.

Harry is matter-of-fact about this process. He accepts that any chance of reconciliation is unlikely at the moment. “What I’ve realised is that you don’t make any friends, especially within your family, because everyone has learned to accept that trauma [as] part of life. How dare you, as an individual, talk about it, because that makes us all feel really uncomfortable? So right, you may not like me in the moment, but maybe you’ll thank me in five or 10 years time.”

As someone who writes about mental health, I am far more interested in the detrimental effects of what Harry describes as living in “fancy captivity” than I am in the minutiae of who said what and to whom. To me, the most shocking thing about Spare is that he kept all of this inside him for so long, with only the one altercation with paparazzi. For all the side swipes about his privilege, trauma is trauma is trauma – whether it takes place in a damp bedsit or in front of a worldwide audience of billions as you walk behind your mother’s coffin. In Spare, Harry reveals that for 10 years after Diana’s death in 1997, his brain went into a state of complete shock, refusing to believe that she was actually dead, instead engaging in the kind of magical thinking that is most often seen in people with severe obsessive compulsive disorder or psychosis.

For an entire decade, Harry’s grief was buried so deep that he believed his mother had gone into hiding, that she would return to him and his brother at any moment. He refers to it throughout as “the disappearance”, a detail so heartbreaking that you would have to be cold-blooded not to be moved by it. At Eton, his brother shuns him – an occurrence relatable to most younger siblings, but one that nevertheless blows apart the narrative that Willy and Harold had been attached at the hip until Meghan came along. At 15 he has his head shoved in a deer carcass, an act that is seen as an aristocratic rite of passage at Balmoral, but that would be seen as child abuse anywhere else in the world. At 16, he is splashed across the front pages of the papers and frogmarched by his father to spend a day at a rehab in Peckham, because he has indulged in a spot of adolescent experimentation with cannabis (it’s hard to see how this story would be justified today). All credit to him, really: I think, had all of this happened to me, that I would have been on even harder drugs by the time I turned 13.

“Lots of people go through lots of s--t,” he shrugs, when I express sympathy for the litany of misfortune he has gone through. His critics have accused him of playing the victim, and yet I find a man who is anything but. “It’s interesting because so many of those moments have made me the man I am today. Would I encourage Archie to stick his head inside a carcass? Probably not. But people who’ve experienced trauma deal with it in different ways. I think when it comes to me and William, the fascinating part is that we both experienced a similar traumatic experience.

“He wanted to talk about it when [we were] younger, which built up a little bit of resentment. It wasn’t anything against him, I just didn’t want to talk about it. And then as we got older, I started to go slightly off the rails, and deal with it through drinking and drugs, and he went completely silent and completely shut down. And then my life started to alter and completely change, because I wanted, or had no other choice, than to confront the very thing that I had been running from, or scared of, for all those years.”

He tells me that he wasn’t walking around thinking of his mother the whole time. “I was doing everything humanly possible not to think about her.” Therapy, at first suggested by his brother, but properly engaged with once he got together with Meghan, changed everything. “It was like clearing the windscreen, clearing away all the Instagram filters, all of life’s filters.”

It allowed him to deal with the guilt he felt about his inability to cry (in the years after his mother’s death, before therapy, he shed tears only twice – once at the burial at Althorp, and then years later on a skiing holiday with his girlfriend at the time, Cressida Bonas). “I started to confront the idea that mummy wanted me to cry,” he tells me. “I convinced myself that she must have wanted me to cry, that that was the only way I could prove to her that I still miss her.”

He took ayahuasca, a psychedelic, with a professional – there is some research that the plant has positive effects on mental wellbeing. “After taking ayahuasca with the proper people,” he says, sipping his entirely non-mind altering chamomile tea, “I suddenly realised – wow! – it’s not about the crying. She [Diana] wants me to be happy. So this weight off my chest was not the need to cry, it was the acceptance and realisation that she has gone, but that she wants me to be happy and that she’s very much present in my life. And now, as two brothers, if one of you goes through that experience and the other one doesn’t, it naturally creates a further divide between you. Which is really sad. But as much as William was the first person to even suggest therapy, I just wish that he would be able to feel the same benefits of that as opposed to believing what he doesn’t need to.” (Harry claims that William thinks therapy has made him delusional.)

Maybe if the brothers had taken an ayahuasca trip together, none of this would have happened. As it is, Harry concedes that “it couldn’t be worse”. But he sees Spare as a last resort – not as a reconciliation, but an attempt to get his side of the story out (he doesn’t know the exact number of unofficial books that have been written about him, but believes it to be in “three figures”). He has been accused of airing his family’s dirty laundry. “But I always say: ‘What’s the difference between airing lies about your family through the British press, or airing truth through a book?’ In my case, this is all contained in one place where I hold myself entirely accountable and responsible for what I am saying.

‘William was the first person to suggest therapy – I just wish he could feel the same benefits’

“I don’t see why it’s so ingrained [in society] that whatever happens in your family, you should never talk about it. That no matter what’s happened, I can’t do this. But they [the Royal family] can? Because of who they are and what they represent? The way I was brought up is that, as a member of the Royal family, you lead by example. So you shouldn’t be able to use that privilege to get away with more things. No institution is immune to criticism and scrutiny, and if only 10 per cent of the scrutiny that was put on me and M was put on this institution, we wouldn’t be in this mess right now.”

“It’s so…” he shudders, and makes a guttural “urggh” sound. “It’s so dirty. It’s so dark. And it will continue and it will carry on and I look forward to the day when we are no longer part of it, but I worry about who’s next.”

He says he knows that the press “have got a s--t-tonne of dirt about my family. I know they have, and they sweep it under the carpet for juicy stories about someone else.” He tells me about some of the darkest moments in 2019. “I was coming back to Frogmore after Archie was born, and I would walk into the nursery and there she [Meghan] was in floods of tears, tears dripping on Archie while she was breast-feeding him. That was a breaking point for me. And she is someone who doesn’t read the stories. She would be dead if she was reading the stories.”

We talk about his reasons for doing this. “This is not about trying to collapse the monarchy, this is about trying to save them from themselves. And I know that I will get crucified by numerous people for saying that.”

The question so many have put to him is: is it worth it? His response is simple. “I feel like this is my life’s mission, to right the wrongs of the very thing that drove us out. Because it took my mum, it took Caroline Flack, who was my girlfriend, and it nearly took my wife. And if that isn’t a good enough reason to use the pain and turn it into purpose, I don’t know what it is.”

I tell him that from reading Spare, it seems clear that it nearly took him, too. “Yeah.” I get the impression that he didn’t want to exist, and then he met Meghan, and he had an experience of… “I want to live. I was never aware of how unhappy I was. I didn’t allow myself to think about it.”

I put it to him that even if Meghan is difficult – and I don’t think she is – it is unlikely that the monarchy have never encountered a difficult member of the family before. “But that’s the thing,” he nods, “that’s the unconscious bias. But they always tell on themselves. The press will tell on themselves and the family will tell on themselves as well. You look back on the history of how many members of my family have shouted at staff, [and] that is apparently all forgotten about and Meghan’s the bully.” He shakes his head. “It’s like, what? No, no, no. The members of this family that are literally brought up within this construct, have some issues to deal with.”

I talk to him a bit about the process of writing the book with the ghost-writer J R Moehringer. “It was definitely cathartic. It was painful at times. It was eye-opening.” In the book, he talks about “The Wall”, a mental block in his brain that divides his life before and after his mother died. “There were memories that I managed to pull up and over The Wall that I had forgotten about, that I didn’t even know existed. And there were times when I scared the s--t out of myself as well.”

In what way? “For example, Afghanistan. There were moments there that took me back. I would close my eyes and put myself back in the cockpit and fly those missions again. And JR was amazed by the level of detail that I could remember.” He tells me that the first draft was 800 pages, whereas the finished manuscript is just over 400. “It could have been two books, put it that way.” Some stuff, such as his life-changing trip to Nepal in 2016, had to be removed because of space issues. “And there were other bits that I shared with JR, that I said: ‘Look, I’m telling you this for context but there’s absolutely no way I’m putting it in there.’”

And why wouldn’t he put those bits in? “Because…” he pauses. “Because on the scale of things I could include for family members, there were certain things that – look, anything I’m going to include about any of my family members, I’m going to get trashed for. I knew that walking into it. But it’s impossible to tell my story without them in it, because they play such a crucial part in it. And also because you need to understand the characters and personalities of everyone within the book. But there are some things that have happened, especially between me and my brother, and to some extent between me and my father, that I just don’t want the world to know. Because I don’t think they would ever forgive me. Now you could argue that some of the stuff I’ve put in there, well, they will never forgive me anyway. But the way I see it is, I’m willing to forgive you for everything you’ve done, and I wish you’d actually sat down with me, properly, and instead of saying I’m delusional and paranoid, actually sit down and have a proper conversation about this, because what I’d really like is some accountability. And an apology to my wife.”

His wife is up in the main house, with the kids. We go there after the interview, with a smiling Meghan greeting me at the door. We spend some time together, drink turmeric lattes, and I get to see Harry in his element – Husband Harry, Dad Harry, the normal bloke in thoroughly abnormal circumstances. The children run around, the dogs jump on the cream sofas with muddy paws, and all is much as you would find it in any other home, during the witching hour just before the kids tea.

Before I go, Harry is keen to show me another wall, one he feels a little bit more positive about than the screen that sprung up in his head after his mother died. It’s a picture wall on a staircase, the kind found in homes all over the world. It features scores of framed photographs of his wife and children, alongside lovely hand-written cards from his grandparents. He has just finished putting it together, and as we admire it, I recognise that familiar look of pride I have seen on the face of my own husband – the look of a dad who has just completed a DIY task without destroying the plaster.

It’s tea time for the kids, and the early hours of the morning for my jet-lagged brain, so I say my goodbyes to Harry and Meghan, who pack me off with hugs and homemade jam. But I think about that wall for the whole of the drive back to Los Angeles, and then, on the plane, all of the way back to London. I think about the glee Harry found in it, the smile on his face as he showed me it. But mostly I think about how nice it would be for Harry’s brother and father to see the wall, and one day maybe even have some of their own carefree photographs included on it.

Lead picture credit: Bryony Gordon

[walriding]

character info sheet.

Name. Miles Luis Upshur Ramírez

Name meaning. Miles -- Latin, soldier. Luis -- Spanish, famous warrior or renowned fighter. Upshur -- English, literally just means 'from the upper shire', but the fun fact significance is that Upshur was the middle name of the famous American journalist Bob Woodward. Ramírez -- Spanish, wise / renowned ruler / counselor

Alias.( ses ). Fun Mount Massive nicknames: the Host, the Apostle, the Witness, Little Pig, buddy, etc. As far as actual aliases, he's used various combinations of his four names on fake IDs before -- i.e. Luis Upshur, Miles Ramírez, etc.

two pictures you like of your character.

The money shot, the big cryptid moment, the only third person view we canonically have of Miles:

2. Probably what I consider to be the definitive Oscar-as-Miles photo, one of the things I saw and was instantly assured of my FC choice. It might sound stupid but Oscar is such an irrevocable part of Miles to me. I can't see him any other way, and having such a strong visual representation of him has always been a huge help in making him feel real for all these years:

three headcanons you never told anyone. Disclaimer that I have probably mentioned all of this at some point but it's been seven years of writing this guy and I fear I'm out of completely new material lol

He's never been much of an exercise buff but Miles used to be into running. He had a set circuit when he lived in DC and tried to keep a consistent schedule even when traveling for work. Never got to marathon level but did a lot of 5 and 10Ks, even a half marathon here and there. But it's not something he does anymore largely because there's... really no point. One of the benefits of being possessed and also kinda dead is you don't need to workout! Yaaaaay! Unfortunately without the endorphins and the satisfaction of exertion, running has lost its luster.

Prior to Mount Massive, Miles had a long-term boyfriend from college until they were in their late 20s. The last couple years of it were a tumultuous on-and-off-again relationship that started to deteriorate after he lost his staff reporter job and had to travel more. Prop 8 meant that same sex marriage was off the table, but they talked about engagement and building a serious life together. If Miles hadn't lost his job he probably would've proposed. But, then, if he hadn't lost his job a lot of things would've been different.

Miles is genuinely obsessed with roadside tourist traps -- giant balls of twine and other objects, weird architecture, fake alien sites, that sort of thing. The kitschier the better. If you're roadtripping with him and he spots a funky sign, he's pulling over.

three things your character likes to do in their free time.

Listen to music -- he's almost always got tunes on in the background but will sit down and really get absorbed in an album when he can.

Read -- mostly current events articles, sometimes a good nonfiction book.

Drive -- loves driving around the middle of nowhere to clear his head, even though it's not quite the same without the Jeep (rip).

three people your character loves.

Not technically a person, but the Walrider. Judge him if you want, but after a decade he's accepted that they're fucked up soulmates that were always meant to be <3. It's been a slowburn enemies to lovers journey, but over time he's adapted and stopped hating it for things that weren't really its fault. He's gone from denial to acceptance to tolerance to feeling genuine affection for the Swarm. Maybe it's too complicated to really define as love, but he can't think of a better word.

@mslangermann in some form in all verses always.

People with conviction. People who stand up for themselves and the things they believe in. People who are thoughtful and who care about something bigger than themselves.

two things your character regrets.

Not being a better son and brother before everything went to shit. His life choices and the prideful stubbornness with which he committed to them drove a wedge between himself and his parents, which trickled down into a strained relationship with his sisters. In hindsight, they were just worried about him and only wanted what was best for him -- but he was too absorbed with his career and trying to piece it back together to see that. He regrets arguing with them so much. He regrets not making the most of the time he had when he didn't know it was running out.

Somewhat verse specific, but he very deeply regrets what happened with @mslangermann's husband Blake after Temple Gate. Murkoff picked him out of the wreckage and brought him to another facility -- Miles found him while trying to dig up whatever he could about the cult. Blake was completely catatonic, and probing around in his mind revealed that there was nothing left of him mentally, either. Rather than leave him to suffer in Murkoff's hands, Miles elected to put him out of his misery. And still hasn't told Lynn. He doesn't regret doing it -- truly, there were no options that would have saved Blake -- but he regrets not being honest with her. He also blames himself a bit for not finding him sooner and possibly preventing tragedy.

three phobias your character has.

the dark

confined spaces

heights

tagged by : @demcnsinmymind ty!!! tagging: @cyberpawn, @slidethirtysix, @paramnesias

[jojossillywalk]

Mohammed Avdol's Knowledge Analysis: Part 2 The Assassins

This goes over Avdol's knowledge base of the Tarot assassins! Additionally, other stuff that's sort of in universe that has to do with them: the value of knowledge, silence, and some potential interpretations for that.

Fun fact, it seems like Avdol knows more about the Tarot than some of the Tarot does!

I'm looking at how Avdol judges people's character as well! I Have No Idea If Anyone Cares About This But Me but if anyone has takes p. please :(

I'm putting forth the theory that in the second part of SDC, Avdol's actions are influenced by his knowledge gaps. The third Wall of Text is also be about Polnareff because Sighs he's relevant. I was going to include him here but it got way too long

Before I actually get into it: in addition to being very adept at using his Stand, it's established very early on that Avdol is an excellent tracker.

So, it's really easy to say "haha, Joseph's being an idiot, how is Avdol supposed to get anything from a single picture with a dark background."

However, you could also ask, "Why the hell does Joseph have reason to believe that Avdol can get anything about this image, it's a guy in a dark background."

Which. I don't think is entirely unjustified! A fucking background fly in the background could give Avdol your IP address.

Other notes, Dio was going out of his way to avoid being detected by the Joestars, yet they had knowledge of the fleshbud and knew it could kill people- as Avdol was the one who had been tracking assassins and Stand users, who Dio sometimes fleshbudded, I think it's plausible that the initial discovery of the fleshbud's existence might've come through Avdol.

Avdol phrases a lot of his knowledge as "I heard rumors of"/"I heard of," which Things Can Be Extrapolated There, but basically it establishes that he does have/had contacts.

You have the beggar incident, where Avdol will seek out contacts if he can't gather the information by himself. Moving on

The Assassins

Who Avdol knows, and who he does not know!

The Tower "I've heard there's a user with a bug Stand who enjoys ripping the tongues out of victims." "Stand who commits mass murder by framing his kills as accidents. The airplane crash responsible for 300 deaths last year in England is said to be his doing. I'd heard rumors, but he's allied with Dio." "making it look like an accident in return for pay." The fact that Avdol knows the shape of the Stand means that his rumor source was most likely another Stand user, as they were capable of seeing it act. We're not sure who tells him this, either they're dead or it's someone who Avdol isn't comfortable with getting involved with fighting Dio. This person may have seen Tower mid attack to learn about the tongues, but you could also discern that this guy takes tongues because the corpses of some of the victims have their tongue missing. Whether Avdol examined them or his contact did, we have no way of knowing.

The Moon "A waterfaring Stand. A Stand that I, Avdol, have never heard of." Understandable that he hasn't heard of a waterfaring Stand, but his phrasing is interesting. It has an "Whoa, even I didn't know" connotation. Avdol has good reason to believe that he has a good roster!

Strength "I was closest, but I didn't feel anything." "The only explanation for them seeing it is the enormous energy that it's giving off. It would take tremendous power to control such an enormous Stand." "It is the first time I've encountered that energy." Avdol's pretty visibly freaked out by this one! Interesting to note that Avdol uses "feel" instead of "see," I guess you could consider it an early indicator of that sensor ability that he has.

The Devil "Mafia, militaries, and governments around the world employ him. Just once, I saw Devo's appearance. He was covered in injuries, from provoking people to attack." (in response to what kind of Stand it is) "No one knows. Everyone who has seen his Stand was killed." Avdol knows a lot about this guy, right down to employers. Interestingly enough, Avdol saw Devo's face, but didn't attack- this makes sense, as we see that Avdol doesn't seem to pick fights that he's not sure he can win. Furthermore, Avdol is aware of the fact that everyone who's seen that Stand is dead. I have the running theory that Avdol is more than capable of reverse engineering people's abilities via the circumstances of their death. By his description, I think it's unlikely for him to have heard of the Stand's function through rumors. He seems very certain that everyone is dead.

Temperance No way to tell what he does or doesn't know! He doesn't say anything about hearing or knowing about a Stand capable of mimicry, though.

The Hanged Man So! While there's again, no real way to know, Rubber Soul says something interesting: "I've heard rumors," when asked about the functionality of the Hanged Man. Since rumors were in fact in circulation, I don't think it's out of the realm of possibility that Avdol had heard about someone with a mirror Stand. Presumably, he didn't know the guy had two right hands.

The Emperor Another instance of We Just Don't Know. That said, Hol Horse says this: "My gun and J Geil's mirrors don't work well against Avdol's flames, so we thought that Avdol would be the most difficult enemy. Lucky! There's no more scary pieces in this game." Avdol himself is very confident that he can melt Hol Horse's bullet and Hol Horse seems to believe the same; there's multiple occasions where Avdol knows of the Stand, but he doesn't know the extent of its ability (Tower's speed, Judgement's strength, High Priestess's size). With the Emperor, he seems certain. It's also very easy to see how Magician's Red hard counters the Hanged Man: literally it's an AoE, Geil would have been done the second that he changed reflections at the wrong second. Hol Horse was positive that even two against one, Avdol was going to be immensely difficult to beat. You could sort of theorize that Hol Horse's words could imply a prior confrontation between him and Avdol, which ended badly for Hol Horse.

Everyone Up To Judgement No way to know! Enya does mention "I'm sure you've heard rumors" to Hol Horse when she's summoning Justice, so again, there's an active rumor mill- Avdol could have heard of Justice easily. That said! He also says "This is the first time I've encountered such energy" when talking about Strength- Justice is capable of mimicking an entire town and controlling an army. He probably hasn't seen it/faced it head on. Avdol was also not aware of the speed of the Tower, though, so it's not unprecedented that he has general knowledge without the full extent of its power.

Judgement "Cameo of Judgement, you were?" "Hell 2 U" Avdol recognized that Stand on either sight, ability, or both, and identified the user. Probably either heard of him, saw him, etc. However, he also does that "Hell 2 U" thing without hearing it directly from Cameo, unless he was, uh. Sitting There Watching? I think it's probably more likely that he just knew of that catchphrase, similar to how he knew about Tower's tongue ripping habit. Cameo also seemed extremely apprehensive about the idea of facing Avdol, and was surprised at the notion that he might be able to win this. He's like "Oh shit, I actually am going to get to share my good news!" To me that implies that at very least, they probably haven't fought in the past. 10. The High Priestess "I've heard of it." "It's a long range Stand, so the user is probably on the surface." Off the bat, Avdol identifies the Stand and user's name, he knows her abilities, but he wasn't aware of how big the Stand was capable of getting, and he didn't know how fast it was. Once again, he's "heard of it." That said, High Priestess's setup and use of environmental advantage shows that she's pretty experienced. I don't know whether she knew to avoid trying to face Magician's Red or if Avdol didn't pick that fight because he hadn't had the opportunity to set the board!

Finally: "I don't know. Even I don't know. Nine of them?"

Again, it's hard to tell whether or not Avdol doesn't know because he's never identified someone outside of the Tarot, or because he knows enough users (hostile or not) that it's too broad to narrow down nine people who might have started working for Dio.

In the event that he's only ever identified Tarot: it's possible that his informants came from the Tarot, which would imply that given the right circumstances, he'll actually ally with some of them, or some of them are people who were his allies at one point, but they've all betrayed him at one point or another.

I do think that Avdol has definitely killed assassins before, and not just because he carries those knives to help people speedrun burning to death.

This is his stated motivation for killing Dio. In addition to saving Holly, Avdol himself will search for and kill someone who he deems bad enough. This especially seems to be provoked by the involvement of bystanders.

He didn't seem too concerned with the possibility of Dio having Simply Pulled More Tarot Cards either. Thus, I think his probable history is that he definitely knows of and has done away with assassins outside of the Tarot (who he just happens to share a naming convention with), he just can't narrow down nine right off the top of his head.

Silence, Knowledge, Rumors

So! Silence is extremely important for the Tarot, and we get two statements in a row about this.

"There's not a single assassin who reveals their Stand to people. The only time that they reveal it is when they or their opponent is dying. Everyone knows the weaknesses of you people, whose Stands are known to people." -Devo, at the end of the first

"That (the knowledge) alone, I can't tell you. I have pride. - I remember now! Death, Empress, Hanged Man, and the Emperor. - I really don't know! Stand users don't reveal their powers to others, that'd expose their weaknesses." - Rubber Soul, who did know the appearance, vague abilities, and identity of J Geil, as well as his murder of Sherry.

Silence is extremely valued among the Tarot- however, rumors of others circulate among the Tarot, so it can already be inferred that there's information leaks.

It goes without saying that Hol Horse is probably a huge culprit for some of those leaks- out of all of them, he's the user who defaults to acting with a partner, so he's naturally the one has the highest likelihood of actually seeing someone using their Stand without being the one to fight him.

Enya's someone with a huge base of knowledge, as well as the ability to send out and hire assassins.

That said, the Tarot are exceptionally tight lipped. Avdol isn't excluded form this statement, either.

Assuming that Rubber Soul can be taken at his word, he himself didn't actually know of any individuals who were after them. Furthermore, he only knew any level of detail about the Hanged Man.

We know for sure that Avdol knew of: The Tower, the Devil, Judgement, and the High Priestess, then could feasibly have been in a past confrontation with the Emperor- this is literally everyone who was after them while Avdol was present, outside of the Hanged Man and the two Stands who literally rely on water.

However, he seems to disclose on a need-to-know basis. I understand that this is just storytelling, but like, in-universe, people like Polnareff and Jotaro repeatedly try to drag information out of defeated assassins. Avdol literally has more knowledge than two of those assassins, combined.

This isn't only because he's not sure if they're coming after them, either. Most of the Tarot who he knows about are explicitly mass murderers or mercenaries. He has very good reason to suspect they'll be coming.

However, here's a part of Rubber Soul's quote: "I still have pride." The word he actually uses is "hokori," which is the exact same word that Avdol uses as a compliment when he says that it'd be a shame to kill Polnareff.

Avdol has a very strong moral compass and sense of pride, which we already know doesn't always work to his benefit. It's very possible that, even in the wake of everything that the assassins have done, he limits his disclosures until he knows, 100%, that they're being targeted by these people.

However!

I don't think he likes doing this.

When Dio encounters Avdol 4 months before the plot starts, he says, "I've heard you have a special power that normal people don't have. It'd make me happy if you showed it to me, a little." Creepy lip licking

Dio went for Kakyoin's survival instinct and Polnareff's desire for revenge. IN contrast, on the surface it literally just looks like he showed up on Avdol's doorstep like "Hey :) I'm Hot."

I think, considering Avdol's circumstances, it's very possible that Avdol was just skilled at hiding things about himself, so Dio literally had to just spitball on that front. It's helped by the fact that even 4 months prior to the plot starting, it's only in the first couple episodes that Dio was like "... The Joestars... they've Found me >:("

Could be that Avdol is just very good at making himself obscure- at this point, it looks like Dio didn't actually know that Avdol was working with the Joestars.

That said! The fact that Dio explicitly asks for Avdol to show him Magician's Red is interesting in the light of the fact that knowledge is heavily curated among the Tarot. You don't show people your Stand! You don't tell people about who you might've seen. When you are showing off your Stand, it's usually because things are getting violent.

Dio's words immediately step right on that convention. He comes out of the gate asking to be shown Magician's Red, stating that he'd be "happy" if it was shown to him.

Avdol's pretty vocally distressed about the fact that he was drawn to Dio. He states that he recognized him "immediately," but took a moment to flee, and the fleshbuds actually move a lot slower than they did towards Kakyoin and Polnareff. He also admits that if he hadn't recognized Dio as quickly as he did, he might not have made it.

If Dio wasn't just chucking an approach at the wall, I think he was not only trying to exploit Avdol's desire for companionship (he was like. definitely doing that, which. hm. eugh), he was trying to use Avdol's dislike for the fact that silence is inextricably linked to a sense of "honor and pride" when it comes to the Tarot. He asks to be shown.

There's multiple examples of Avdol kind of forcing himself to back off of something when he's distressed about it: Jotaro pulling the bud, Polnareff leaving ("I'm just disappointed in him"), the D'Arby fight, holding Polnareff back from going after D'Arby the Younger, and trying to promise that Polnareff and he won't save each other.

If Avdol was withholding information about the Tarot, I think there's a pretty decent chance that he was very conflicted about so.

Other Indications That Avdol Has That Caution Towards Knowledge

He uses a lot of fake outs, feigns injuries, and obscures how strong his Stand is- he does this with both Polnareff and Cameo. That's very smart, because it lets you still hide your Stand ability while you're in combat. It lets you get away with still having cards up your sleeve.

In the Hanged Man episode, he's like "The enemy knows about you. You say you've lived alone, but from this point on you can't win alone." Avdol shares the awareness that people knowing about Silver Chariot is the reason why Polnareff's at a severe disadvantage from this point on.

Avdol is a contrast to this! Despite the enemy knowing about them, Cameo never knew the extent of Avdol's strength. While watching Avdol gear up Crossfire, Polnareff goes, "It's coming. You're going to show your real power- interesting, I'll stand and take it." Even deployed by Dio, Polnareff didn't know the true extent of what Avdol was capable of. He also never knew about the sensor! That said, he knew Magician's Red likes a lot of room.

Avdol tells Polnareff about the multiple versions of Crossfire, but states that he's "sharing a secret" in exchange for Polnareff being transparent about Chariot.

All of this is pretty indicative of Avdol being about as cautious as you can get.

Furthermore: Avdol believes that some people are too evil to let live, hates bystander death, and is aware of the Tarot. However, he uses "heard of" most of the time and didn't know the extent of a lot of those assassins' abilities, which indicates that he hasn't actually fought some of them.

My gut feeling is that Avdol stays away from fights where he can't set the board, prior. All the Tarot enemies like doing this- Tower attacks in an area where high maneuverability + small size are augmented by lots of areas to hide and a room too small to act as freely as it can.

High Priestess attacked them in a submarine, where again, small space and high maneuverability are augmented by Everything Is Made Of Metal Good Luck, and they're surrounded by minerals even if they can escape.

Judgement attacked an isolated, bereaved individual. Divide and conquer is a strategy that all of them like, unless they can pull off an AoE or have something like the Lovers or Death 13 going on.

Experienced Stand Users Like Rigging The Game.

Avdol is zero stranger to tactical retreat. Magician's Red could have annihilated the flesh buds, but Avdol bolted because he didn't know what Dio's Stand could do, and he wasn't taking the risk.

He didn't want to respond to the provocation of the Hanged Man, he suggests distancing from Bastet until they leave her range, Devil's ability is probably why he didn't attack. When Priestess attacks, he immediately prioritizes getting the hell out of the room (which actually almost gets him attacked).

He prevents Polnareff from jumping after D'Arby, and tries to make Polnareff promise to abandon him if it's tactically disadvantageous, and states that he will do the same.

Often, his emotions work against him in these circumstances. Both times that he tried this with Polnareff, Avdol couldn't bring himself to follow through. He almost attacked Tower in the damn plane when he saw the murders.

So once again, I don't think Avdol necessarily likes the fact that this is the best fighting style. Not picking a fight you're not sure on is actually very smart- if he went all out against someone who got away, that's an instant information bleed. If he was killed, he can't do anything to them in the future. Those are very good reasons for playing it safe.

Still: Polnareff calling Avdol a coward seemed to really hit him where it hurt. Even though Avdol defends himself by saying that his ability to back off is what will allow them to win, his immediate reaction shows that hearing that from a friend badly stung.

In The Absence of Information

Egyptian God Time. In the wake up everything I went over in this godforsaken post!

The Gods were like. Probably Avdol's nightmare scenario? During this period, Avdol is very thrown off kilter, and it shows.

First of all: we can already gather that Avdol doesn't really pick fights that he can't win when he has the option (or isn't emotionally overwhelmed). With the Gods, he's basically been cornered into a situation that he would never have put himself in if it weren't for the Joestars.

The thing is, we can see him trying to act like he would have in the first half: he makes a good, swift calculation on how to counter N'Doul, and he was literally 0.5 seconds from winning that one in the first five minutes of that fight. N'Doul got very lucky.

The Bastet fight is a pretty solid indicator of how off balance Avdol gets in a fight where he's not confident. He looks to guidance, he walks right onto the railroad track, and he goes along with things that he's uncertain of. I don't think this is out of character, because you see stuff like this in real, very competent people:

On these occasions that when Avdol is that off balance, he'll act in ways that he wouldn't if he was in his element. This is pretty common with people who are very acclimated to a high pressure environment (idk what that's called but)! Healthcare workers come to mind because that's the field I work in and grew up with, but you'll see a looooot of that.

For example! Raised by an ER nurse who wanted to move to another speciality, literally no one wanted him to leave because he was one of the best nurses there for 20 years. The same guy walked around with his arm gone almost numb and in enough pain to not be able to move his neck when he was at home.

I've done very similar, I've seen people do very similar, this is a thing that happens. Not everyone does this, but some people who are incredibly skilled under pressure will just not do as well when they're winging it.

Current coworkers, EMS workers, chef coworkers when I was a cook, etc etc, that's just how some people are. Autism can also contribute: masking is an assembly of various traits that I imitate, but when I'm in a situation where those traits lose their function/aren't working in that environment, I'm functionally a paperweight?

PTSD is also a contributor: coping mechanisms work in one situation, but they can lose function or even turn against you when you are removed from it. This is why I'm fine in an OR, but need to actively regulate my breathing in the fucking shopping mall.

Avdol is highly adept at dealing with Stand users in the circumstances that he's used to. He wouldn't have put himself in this situation if he had the option, he stayed by obligation, and it's going pretty poorly. Like. Imagine springing this on a neurosurgeon: "Surprise! Do this fucking coronary bypass graft! You lack context and information, you didn't expect this to happen (he didn't: all the Tarot were dead), and By The Way You Are On A Timer Someone's Life Is At Stake. Have fun!"

That's basically what's been done to Avdol, and it makes me twitchy just thinking about it.

Then there's the D'Arby fight- very stressful! We also see him actually exercising appropriate caution once again- he tells Jotaro to be ready with Star Platinum (the fastest of their Stands) while Polnareff is busy trying to Solve Cat Food.

Additionally, Avdol is aware of how disadvantaged they are: this is probably why he tries to push the "we can't save each other" thing on himself and Polnareff. He's already very conscious of the fact that everyone is at a severe disadvantage.

So yeah! Wrapping up the knowledge analysis with the statement that I think the second half of Jojo's was literally Avdol's fucking nightmare circumstance.

Next up is Polnareff, and why his bond with Avdol is so poignant in the wake of all of this context.

[insanepoll]

[ID: white slide with a picture of goro akechi with a transparent background taking up almost all of the page. behind him, there is a submission that can’t be completely seen bc of the picture of goro, but reads:

hes literally so insane and so so stupid omg, like this guy has dedicated so much of his life to getting revenge on his dad, and his whole plan was to fucking work for him and help him achieve his goal of being prime minister and then tell him "oh yeah btw im your illegitimate son that you abandoned how does it feel to know that you only got here bc of me loser" like dude????? thats a shit plan what are you on????? and like he was so focused in on this stupid ass plan that when his dad started ordering him to kill people for political reasons he was just like "welp no turning back now" like dude??????? (to be fair his dad wouldve probs killed him he disobeyed but uhhhh yeah my point still stands this teenager is not mentally stable AT ALL)

he hides behind masks like CONSTANTLY too like obvi he pretends to be a good little lackey for his dad, but like he's also a celebrity (he's a highschool detective, girls think he's hot i guess)(and i guess he is actually kinda smart cuz hes a good detective but like my point still stands that hes so fucking stupid at the same time like. my god.) he like puts on this whole goody-two-shoes shtick that the media and all his fangirls are SO in love with but like hes not like that at all hes so fucking unhinged deep down like holy shit

when you get confront him in the second to last palace he tries to fucking kill akira(the main character) and his friends but like its mostly abt akira specifically??? and like dude calm the fuck down WHY are you so bloodthirsty man, i know you wanna kill akira and rip him apart, i know you despise him because you're jealous of him, i knowwwwww dude god and when you get him as a party member in the secret third semester section of the game he is just so fucking unhinged

in the battle segments just goes on and on about how the shadows are weaklings and hes gonna have so much fun ripping them to shreds hes so bloodthirst and unhinged you dont understand

OH OH AND HES GAY AS HELL DID I MENTION THAT his whole relationship with the mc is so homoerotic my god dude and the only thing stopping them from getting together is the sheer force of goro's emotional contipation ohhhhhh my god dude your just jealous of him!!!! thats not what hatred is dude!!! you fully enjoy akira's company and cherish his companionship! you showed him your favorite place to go, somewhere youve never shown to anyone! you went to a cafe together! you shared your tragic backstory with him while you two BATHED TOGETHER ALONE! you couldve killed him or arrested him for being a phantom thief a long time ago but you kept hanging out with him!!!!!! he kept your glove! he almost surrendered to a fabricated reality just so you could live!!!!! the only reason he didnt is because he knew you wouldnt want to live under someone else's control!!!!!

sorry this became a shuake rant at the end in conclusion, he may be every good at hiding it but he is in fact incredibly unhinged anyway if you wanna see him being unhinged in action here's some videos for you viewing pleasure: (the cutscenes are the important parts, timestamps are 0:00, 8:43, 10:50, 21:30(ok this cutscene doesnt show him being unhinged but it is important to me that you see it)) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5tVAekUc-lg (most of the quotes after 7:02 are unhinged but feel free to listen to the whole thing if you wanna see the difference between the real him and the good boy facade) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IygJD2Et74E&t=4s

/End ID.]

[mahleahmcmaster]

Embroidery- Appliqué

Today, we experimented with more embroidery, to be more specific we practiced Applique and reverse Applique.

The plan today was to add photos or work from past workshops and layer them with other materials that could still relate to my narrative and see what we could produce.

Firstly, I chose simple images to embroider into in order to get a feel for how this could work on a larger scale. This also gave me some time to develop ideas.

In this picture above is a photo I took in St Kitts where the Atlantic Ocean meets the Caribbean Sea. I chose this image as I thought it was the perfect representation of my story. The metaphor the picture emits is the fact that the two seas, portraying my two communities and cultural backgrounds, meet in the middle, allowing me to embark on my own journey, conveyed by the land and pathway through.

I began to embroider around the main aspects of the photo to create a black outline on the black. The next process was to rip away some of the image in order for you to only see the material behind it.

Lastly, with this image, I began to create a border for my photo to experiment with the zig-zag effect which did much to ameliorate the image.

This is another image of me and my dad's side of the family. I made an effort to outline our figures in depth so that on the opposing side you could identify the people. We also used multiple layers which is called Applique. I thought about cutting away the layers where I am in the photo because I layered the photo with white and black material beneath to relate back to the black and white in me so cutting away parts of both layers left a rigged white and black space almost as though I am the odd one out.

I was thoroughly pleased with this process and I'm glad I tried it out, it is definitely something I will engage with more in my other sessions as I'm sure there are many more pieces I could venture into and revamp. I think the only struggle I had with this was trying to free-hand stitch and move the material in the right direction. For some reason it was tricky but with more practice, I'm sure I'll improve.

[onetimetwotimesthreetimess]

LOVE REALLY HURTS WITHOUT YOU- DELETED SCENE

Magnus picks up on the first ring, and Alec lets out a sigh of relief.

Fucking finally.

He has been trying to call Magnus since the second he received the care package, but the connectivity in the area was shitty.

The call connects, and Magnus’s face appears on his screen, and Alec’s heart swells in his chest at the sight of the other man.

“Alexander.” Magnus smiles. “Hi, sweetheart.”

“Magnus.” He breathes.

He doesn’t have anything else to say.

Magnus’s name is enough. He hopes that Magnus knows what his name means to Alec.

How his entire world lives in these two syllables.

“Happy birthday, my love.”

Alec’s eyes soften at his words. His birthday was three days ago, but Alec couldn’t make time then.

He knows that some sacrifices are always going to be a part of his job, and he has long since accepted this.

He doesn’t like the fact that Magnus has to make more than a few too.

He tries not to think about that right now and focuses back on Magnus’s face.

“Thank you, baby.”

“Did you receive my gift?” Magnus asks.

“Yes. But I haven’t opened it yet. I know you like it when people open their gifts infront of you.” Alec grins.

“Good. I would have been mad if you had opened it without me.” Magnus says with a mischievous smile on his face.

“Sure. You’re incapable of being mad at me.” Alec replies with a smug face.

“Very sure of ourselves aren’t we?” Magnus huffs.

“It’s my birthday so you can’t disagree with me.” Alec adds. “That’s the biggest birthday privilege.”

“It was three days ago,” Magnus replies and lays down in the bed and hides behind a few layers of blankets.

He looks really soft right now, and Alec wants to do nothing but snuggle with him.

It sends a pang across his chest.

“I love you.” He says simply because he hasn’t been able to do that in four days.

Magnus’s face brightens. “I love you more than you will ever know.”

“It’s not a competition you know.”

“It is and I’m winning.”

Alec rolls his eyes at him. “Okay, I’m opening the gifts now.”

He takes out the package from the drawer next to him and removes the wrapper painstakingly slow because he knows it annoys Magnus.

He likes annoying Magnus.

Magnus groans after a few seconds pass, but he still hasn’t unwrapped the gift completely. “Just rip it apart, Alexander. This isn’t rocket science.”

His lips curl upwards. “I think I will take my time.”

Alec is finally done with riling Magnus up, and he opens the package.

There are a lot of things inside, and it makes his heart warm. Magnus never knows what to send him in the care packages and almost always overdoes it.

He finds the habit endearing, considering Magnus is incredible at giving gifts to other people. But apparently, he can never decide on what to give to Alec.

“You made these cookies?” Alec raises an eyebrow picking up the cookie box.

“Yes.”

He raises his eyebrow again because both of them know that Magnus hates cooking or baking or anything related to the kitchen.

Magnus huffs. “Fine. Maryse made them. But I helped okay?”

A soft chuckle leaves his lips.

“Putting the cookies in the container does not count, baby.” He teases.

“Shut up.”

He rummages through the box and finds a few polaroid pictures of Magnus and his family at an event.

A few letters by everyone.

Dried flowers that Alec was going to cherish as much as he would the alive ones.

A crossword puzzle for some reason.

“You got me a crossword puzzle for my birthday?”

“Yes. Did you like it?” Magnus asks hopefully.

Alec wasn’t sure if there was much to like, but Magnus could send him an empty cardboard box, and Alec would still like it.

“Yes, I love it.” Alec says with fake cheeriness.

A wide grin appears on Magnus’s face. “You’re an idiot.”

“I’m sure you are right about that but why?”

“Look at it properly.” Magnus points at the crossword.

Alec frowns at that and takes another look at the crossword.

He reads the clues that are printed on the board.

His face brightens when he reads them.

“You’re a dork.” He laughs.

It’s a customised crossword puzzle with a background picture of Alec and his family.

And the clues are from random moments in his life.

What was the place where you asked me to move in?

If the world was ending and the only way you could survive was through Izzy’s cooking—would you eat it? Or would you rather die? He would rather die.

Who is more annoying—Clary or Simon? Jury was still out on that one.

His face lands on clue number 8th.

Do you miss me?

Alec huffs, but it comes out all soft.

“I miss you all the time, Magnus.” He says softly.

“I miss you too.” Magnus sighs.

His eyes flicker back onto the board, and the next clue brings a peal of laughter out of his body.

According to the laws of boyfriend-hood, who is the rightful owner of your dark green sweater?

“Did you like it?” Magnus asks again.

His eyes meet Magnus’s on the camera, and there’s a strand of hair falling on his face—and he wishes he could put his back behind his ears.

“It’s cute. I love this.” He replies.

Magnus sighs in relief and lays more comfortably on the bed. “Of course you did. I’m the best gift-giver.”

“You are.” Alec chuckles. “You are also the best boyfriend in the world.”

Magnus grins. “I’m your only boyfriend. You have nothing to compare to.”

“I don’t need to compare. I know you are the best.” Alec announces because he believes it to be true.

“Sap.” Magnus replies.

There was nothing better than Magnus.

They talk for another half an hour before Magnus’s eyes start drooping close.

“Night, baby.” Alec says after another fifteen minutes pass without any word being exchanged between them.

“Happy birthday, darling.” Magnus mumbles in his sleep. “I love you.”

Alec leaves the call on and lies back in his bed.’

Even without all the fanfare that his family would have done if he had been back home, Alec swears this was the best birthday he had had in years.

With Magnus by his side—this was enough.

-Since I haven’t been able to post in a while. Keep this.

[babylooneytoonz]

the Other Lane.

pairing : Clark Kent x Reader

requested by: @dashingcavill [Hope you like this! 💛]

warnings: Angst with a happy ending, and a lot of fluff in the end.

A/N: Ah, I'm really sorry I couldn't help but put some major angst in here, but I swear the ending is happy and I added the right amount of feels and fluff to make it hurt less. 💛

[The Masterlist]

You often wondered if you were born to your parents only to become a commodity that could be compared to your sister, Lois , at all times. Yes, the two of you were different, she had glamourous blonde hair and sparkling blue irises that made her strike out, while you had sombre [Y/H/C] hair and dull [Y/E/C] eyes that peeked out from the tint of your glasses. If the glasses weren't enough to fit you perfectly into the category that was termed as 'nerds', the fact that you loved to bury yourself into mounds and mounds of books, and literature was sure to fit you into that bill. All that comparison, but that didn't lessen the bond that you shared with Lois though.

However, things slowly started changing, the dynamics messing up when Clark Kent came into your life, as a friend and as a colleague.

Lois worked as a reporter for Daily Planet, and you, well you were mostly working in the background, struggling to make a run with your tiny little column on relationship advises. It wasn't like you were any less intelligent, but maybe you just were okay with how everything was going.

It didn't mean that there weren't times at all when Lois made you secretly jealous. To be fair, it didn't bother you when you heard stories of how Lois got herself into trouble yet again, with none other than the Superman came to her rescue. You could still take that, considering the fact that Superman took his duty towards the civilians as his topmost priority, but when you began noticing obvious changes in your sister's behaviour when she talked to Clark, his alter ego; your colleague at work, you couldn't help but start feeling the little pangs of jealousy.

It all began subtly— starting from lingering glances at the workplace, to hands brushing with each other's, almost innocently, yet the two of them had a sparkle in their eyes when it did. At first, you decided to ignore them at work, trying your best to not run into Clark Kent while you were in your office building. The reason for this was still inexplicably strange for you. You didn't even know the man that well, yet you could do nothing in your control to keep your budding feelings for him under check. It was like, the more you avoided Clark Kent, the more you began aching to get a glimpse of him.

As the days passed, you realized that your crush on Clark was slowly getting more prominent, and you started feeling scared, dreading if there ever came a day that your secret crush on him with finally be out. To top it up a notch, you wondered how Lois will react, knowing well aware that there was something blooming between the two of them, although she had never admitted this to you herself. Also, you kept hoping that whatever this was, between Clark and Lois, it was maybe all in your head and that maybe, just maybe, it wasn't even true, and you hoped it wasn't.

Soon, days grew into weeks and weeks flew by as long months, and you realized that what you felt for Clark wasn't just a silly crush, but you were actually falling in love with the man. It was the littlest things that he did that made your heart melt. You would, sometimes, run into him in the cafeteria, where he would be filling up his mug of coffee. He was a gentleman, he would smile and greet you warmly, your eyes meeting his sparkling bright ones as he would move out of the way and insist that you went ahead first. You would often end up taking elevator rides with him, and he would make sweet small talks with you, talking to you about everything, ranging from the weather to a possible alien invasion.

The plan that you had cooked up to avoid Clark Kent went down the drain from those days onwards. Instead, you almost began running into Clark almost everyday. The gossips about Clark and Lois had, by then, died down and you couldn't help but feel relieved, relieved that maybe you had just been dreaming, and there was nothing between Lois and Clark.

"Hey [Y/N], can I borrow your turtleneck? I can't seem to find mine?"

You looked up from the book that you had been binge reading on, flustered and embarassed, as you immediately tossed the book unceremoniously into your blanket. Of course, you couldn't let your sister in on the fact that you were secretly reading the fifty shades series. She would tease the living hell out of you. And then there was the fact that you felt ashamed of the fact that you could practically imagine Clark Kent in your mind as Christian Grey, and it was making you all heated up and bothered.

Lois raised an eyebrow when she saw you red you had turned, "Are you okay? You look like a massive human sized tomato."

"Gee, Lois, thanks?" You mumbled, still reeling from the way she had suddenly barged into your bedroom, as you pushed your glasses over the bridge of your nose, "couldn't bother to knock?"

"Since when do we do these formalities?" She wiggled her eyebrows dramatically, and dashed towards your closet, throwing it open as her fingers began working through the hangers, looking for what she was looking for. She was practically messing up your closet, so you sighed and decided to give her a helping hand. Abruptly, you slid out of the covers, forgetting about the novel that you had hidden underneath and the novel suddenly slipped off the side of the bed and fell to the floor, it's covering full on display.

You facepalmed, burying your face into your hands as Lois walked up to the book and picked it up, smirking obviously as she read out the title out loud just to tease you.

"Looks like my baby sister is finally growing her wings."

"Stop it, Lois. Don't embarass me," you grumbled, looking away. Instead, you dashed up to your closet and pushed her to the side, roughly pulling out your turtleneck as you handed it to her.

"Come on, [Y/N]" she laughed, shaking her head, messing up her perfectly styled blonde waves as she ran a hand through them, "We all have done this. You're not the only one. Nothing to be embarassed about. It's not like you're watching porn."

"It is technically still porn if I'm reading it," you whispered, watching her as she examined the turtleneck and smiled, as though she had pictured just the best trousers to go with it in the back of her mind as she absentmindedly replied back, "Again, sis, we all have done it."

You noticed the way she kept glancing at her phone, with a smile threatening to spill across her features. You raised your eyebrows and smacked your lips together, blinking curiously. She finally looked up and saw that you were staring at her so she grinned, "Guess who has a date tonight?"

"A date?" You asked, absentmindedly.

"Clark asked me out, [Y/N]. He is taking me to this really good Thai place that opened up in the suburbs and I just couldn't decide on what to wear!! This will just go perfectly with my jeans."

It happened so suddenly, but it still did. You felt like someone had just ripped your gut out with bare hands. You suddenly felt empty, was an understatement. You suddenly felt strange and cut off, and everything around you suddenly felt cold and distant and gloomy. You looked up at her, your earlier warmth having dissipated into a cold, dark look and you gave her a smile, biting your lip, "That's great, Lois. Have fun."

Lois noticed the way your face fell, but she couldn't understand or take the hint. She kept watching as you moved away, turning your back towards her and didn't utter another word. She parted her lips, wanting to ask her what had gone wrong suddenly, but decided not to, or rather, keep the discussion for another time. She didn't want Clark to reach before she had even gotten ready. You didn't step out of your bedroom, that night when Lois returned from her date with Clark, and Lois frowned when she saw that the lights to your bedroom were already switched off. You were a late sleeper.

Two months later,

Lois looked up from the article that she had been reading to find you enter the dining room with a breakfast plate in your hand.

"Mornin'," you mumbled, your voice barely audible as you sat down on a chair in front of her, next to your father, Sam Lane. Your father looked up from the newspaper that he was reading, and glanced at Lois who shrugged her shoulders in response and he cleared the throat.

"Honey, don't you think you've been locking yourself up in your room for long now? When was the last time you actually did something that didn't involve either the bed, or your office desk?" The cutting crispness in his voice was enough to slice through your heart, but weirdly, you felt nothing, ecen when you heard Lois gasp and mumble something to her father in protest.

"What do you want me to do, dad?" You asked, sipping your juice, your eyes fixed to your plate.

Ignoring you, Sam turned towards his elder daughter as he narrowed his eyes at her, his loud, booming voice echoing through your house, "Lois, what the hell happened at work? She just quit? And didn't even give a damn valid reason as to what on earth happened?"

"I don't know, dad. She hardly talks to me anymore," Lois replied.

You chuckled dryly to yourself, wondering when you had become so invisible to the world. You were right there with them and yet they regarded you like you weren't even there.

"It was difficult to get you job at the Daily Planet and look at you, throwing it away for whatever the hell the reason was." Your dad barked.

Your fingers clenched into a fist and Lois visibly tensed. Hurriedly, she stood up and announced that she was leaving. You stood up too, but not for work, but rather to go back to the place that you had locked yourself in for the past two months. When you reached the door, you turned around and regarded your father, mumbling, "Why would you care anyway? You never really did before."

You kicked open your room door and slammed it back shut again as you ran straight for your bed. You were trembling like a leaf trying to detach itself from the tree when you buried your face into the pillow and screamed as loudly as you could into it. You were a mess, a walking , talking, living, breathing mess.

You cried, for almost thirty minutes, until you were out of tears. You then sat up and rubbed your eye sockets, finally taking a deep breath. You were letting Clark and Lois affect you so much, you had forgotten what it was like to live normally. How were you supposed to go on like this? If you wouldn't take a command of your own life again, then how would learn to get back up on your feet? When would you learn to accept that you would never get Clark? He wasn't the one for you.

Feelings are so transient, it's like you can feel them slicing through your insides one minute, and then the other minute, you feel unrealistically numb.

With those sorts of destructive thoughts in your mind, you sneaked a bottle of whiskey that night from your father's liquor cabinet at two am at night. You rolled the window pane and snuck out onto the fire escape until you were climbing up towards the roof the building of your apartment, the bottle in tow.

You fixed yourself on the ledge, using your teeth to twist the bottle cap as you took a swig of it, feeling the warm liquid burn your relentless thirst for relief. Sip after sip, you kept staring at the starless sky, mediating your gaze from the sky down to the glittery buildings.

"Will I ever forget you, Clark Kent?" You whispered, into the thin air, laughing bitterly at yourself as you took the last sip from the bottle before it rolled away. The way the lights glimmered in front of you, and one of two cars drove past your building, looking like tiny little blinking lights from the height you were at, you realized one thing. No matter how bad your heart is broken, the world doesn’t stop for your grief.

You were lost in a turbulence of your own thoughts, so entangled into them, you didn't hear the soft thud somewhere behind you, neither the sound of the faintest footsteps that got closer to you, with every passing second. You took a sharp breath, and slowly stepped over the ledge, feeling shudders all over your frame as the winds hit you all over you. You footing, however, slipped, a sharp scream erupting from your lips as you fell backwards against gravity, your heart almost stopping.

Someone suddenly reached out towards you, gripping your wrist, leaving you hanging from the ledge, your body flailing in the air.

He pulled you with a jerk towards you, and your body hit his front, your hair falling all over your face partially covering it. You felt intoxicated, so much, that you had almost died by falling off the building but you didn't feel the scare, the only thing you felt was a sudden surge of adrenaline.

"WHAT THE HELL?!" Superman growled, through gritted teeth, his eyes sparkling as you jerked you by your shoulders.

"Clark? Is -- that you?!" You slurred, holding on to his cape tight to hold you in place. You were in a weird state of mind, you could see that it was him, but you couldn't figure out if it really was him, or if it was your mind that was playing an illusion on you.

"Are you trying to kill yourself?" Clark fumed, still holding on to you by the low of your back. He suddenly jumped off the ledge, with you in tow, away from the edge, so the two of you were in the middle of the roof now.

"K-Kill myself? No, I.. I.." You stammered, struggling for the right words but your brain felt frozen.

"Two months, and you don't show yourself. And when I finally see you, you're trying to jump off a fucking building?!" His eyes just then fell on the empty whiskey bottle. He growled, clenching his fists tight as he let go off you and walked up to the where the bottle lay, his cape flying behind him. He bent, lifting it up as he examined it, noticing how the neck of the bottle had your lipstick imprints on it. "And you're drunk. To top it up a notch."

Your nostrils flared in an anger you hadn't experienced ever before, your secret feelings finally crushing you completely, mixed with the alcohol that was rushing through your blood. You growled, like a cornered animal, that was wounded yet didn't want to back down. You pushed him, once, twice, throwing out all your pent up anger and frustration into his steely body like he felt no hurt. You screamed, you lashed, you scratched and you cried, finally coming undone, like beads of a rosary coming apart and scattering all over the floor.

Clark's heart broke at the sight of you. He had always seen you as a strong, happy woman, always smiling for him whenever he saw you at work. And this woman, that stood in front of his eyes right now, was far from it.

"I am not weak! I wouldn't kill myself! You give yourself too much importance, to think that someone would give their life for you!" You lashed out.

You were tired of hitting him like a punching bag. He grabbed you by your wrists, holding them together in front of you, pressed against his chest. He slowly moved, so he was towering over you, his back shielding you from unwanted, prying eyes as he gazed into your eyes, trying to find the answer to where all of this was coming from.

"You don't know what you're talking about. Come on, Lois is worried about you."

You couldn't stop yourself when your hand jerked itself free from his hold, and your palm struck his cheek. There was a crackling noise, of skin against skin, and tears formed in your eyes when the realisation hit you, all the intoxication washing off of you. You had just slapped Superman, a man that could snap your neck by grabbing your throat. Yet, he just stood there, too shocked to even register that you had slapped him right across his face and what was worse, he couldn't understand the reason you had done that. Anger was surfing through his veins, but worse than the anger that he was feeling, he was feeling like someone had pulled his heart out, ripping it to shreds right in front of his eyes.

"Why?" He let go off your other hand, his own palm coming to rest against his cheek as you gave you a look full of hurt.

"Why did you even save me, Clark? You should have let me fall. Atleast, it would have spared me the pain of listening to her name flow out of your lips again."

"Why do you hate her so much? She is your sister, [Y/N] and she cares for you. She worries that you're killing yourself and she doesn't know the reason why--" Clark was losing his temper, slowly but surely. He didn't understand you and that was eating him up.

"The reason why? WHY??! Oh Clark can you stop? And listen to yourself. I love Lois, but she needs to stop trying to govern my life. I'm allowed to feel sad, I'm allowed to feel a fucking heartbreak--" You didn't realise, but your lips were trembling now, your eyes leaking salty tears. You shivered when you felt Clark hold you by your shoulders but you didn't push his arms away.

"Who broke your heart?" He whispered, his voice cracking.

"You're fucking daft for a man who saves the world--" Hissing bitterly , you pushed yourself away from Clark's grip and turned towards the ledge but this time, you didn't try anything that would risk your life. You simply revelled in the cold feeling of the wind striking your tear stained face as you took a punctured breath, feeling Clark's breath on the side of your neck.

"Who broke your heart?" He asked again, but this time it was much softer, and it made you bite down on your lip to hold yourself from breaking into a hysterical crying.

"You did, Clark. You broke my heart." You finally whispered, staring into the abyss in front of you, your eyes cloudy and your throat parched as you continued, your lips trembling, "I loved you. Always did, but you never looked at me. It was always Lois. And it killed me, watching you love her, knowing that you will never love me the way you love her--" Clark let you speak, he wanted to listen to you, for you to let it all out, all those bitter things that you had locked up inside your mind, that was slowly eating you up and killing you from the inside. "I am tired of everyone, for you, for my father and for the world to see me as the Other Lane, as Lois Lane's little sister. My name is [Y/N]. I like to draw although I am shit at it, I can sing in the showers and I hate partying. That is me. I want a normal relationship too, but it seems that the world is against me. I fell in love with one man, and turns out, he isn't even human, he is a freaking superhero from Krypton?"

Clark let out a gruff sounding snort, as he looked down at you. Reluctantly, he reached for a strand of hair that was sticking to your tear coated cheek, removing it and gently tucking it behind your ear. He felt a shudder run down your spine, with just a gentle touch of his hand and he smiled, biting his lip. How was he supposed to tell you what the truth was?

"You remember how we met at the cafeteria every morning ? And I let you take the coffee?"

You nodded, listening to him, trying to control the crying that had now turned to sniffles, as Clark kept speaking.

"And the countless times I ran into that elevator with you and me stuck inside for just two floors?"

"You must have been thinking how weird I was. How unlike Lois--" You began, but you were cut off by Clark's voice.

"I used to wonder if there was anything I could do to make the elevators stop working, so I'd get to spend more time with you. Wretched elevators, not once did anything go according to what I wanted." He mumbled, but he had a small smile playing on his lips, while you just looked on, staring at him in disbelief, wondering if your mind was playing jokes with you once again.

"I thought I would take Lois' help, to you know, figure out if you felt the same way, but you never said anything to her."

"What about the date? Lois and you went on?" You asked.

"Well, I --" he shrug, looking down at his feet, sheepishly, " Lois thought you would confess how you felt for me if we pretended to--"

You were too numb to react; so you just blinked in retaliation. Your blood ran cold, and you suddenly felt light headed. All this while, while you had secretly been pining for Clark Kent to love you back, was it actually the other way round? Was Clark going through the same thing wondering if you felt the same for him?

"That was cowardly." You hissed, through pursed lips, "Trying to pretend to be in love with my sister."

"I was in love with the other Lane," he bit his lip, his face slightly inclined towards you, so he was looking down at you, and you up at him, "I think you are amazing. You are intelligent, and smart. And you're unique. There are these little things I adore about you. The way you greeted everyone whenever I was around-- ranging from the security guard, to the building keepers at the Daily Planet.. the way you forgot to wipe your lips after drinking coffee, and you had this froth all over your upper lip giving you a faint moustache?" He chuckled because you literally let out a gasp, suddenly embarassed.

"Then there were those days you had a bad day and you locked yourself up in your cabin, working all day. I wondered if I should just knock, but I was scared you will tell me off--" he continued, his blues peeking into yours. Your stomach fluttering, you couldn't help but laugh, as though a weight had been lifted off your chest suddenly and held him steady with your hand on his arm. Finally mustering enough courage, you pushed yourself on your toes, and reached up, letting your palm graze delicately over his cheek, caressing his cheekbone with your thumb, "I would have never told you off, Clark. Though that's not what is bothering me right now."

"What is ?" He asked, innocently, relaxing under the touch of your thumb.

"You said you're in love with the other Lane, Clark."

His lips creased, slowly tugging upwards into a smile that was enough to make you feel giddy. Superman wrapped a sturdy arm around you and felt yourself being lifted off, until he was practically holding you in his arms, "Mhm, yep? You got a problem, Miss Lane? Or do Kryptonians don't fit the bill ?"

"Oh, hush, Clark. You're such a dork. But will you be.. my dork?" You bit your lip, holding on to him as though your life depended on it.

"I thought... you'd never ask?" He began, unsure of how to properly weave the complexity of his feelings , churn them into words, something only Clark Kent was good at , and not his alter ego, but found himself halted by the soft press of your index finger against his lips and the sweet whisper of your voice against his ears as he held you close.

“I know, neither did I.” You whispered as he clasped your face in his massive hands and gently touched his lips to yours.

Three years later,

This had probably been the longest that Clark Kent had been away from you, his lover, his best friend, his wife-- four months to be exact. Needless to say, he was excited to be able to see you again, to hold you again.

The familiar silhouette of the cottage on top of the hill came into his view, flowers hanging into tiny earthen pots hanging out on the front porch. The freshly painted white picket fence looked beautiful, and inviting as Lois stood with Martha by the gate, both the ladies sipping tea from their respective cups and saucers. They couldn't contain their smiles when they saw Clark, even though he was covered in what looked like grime and blown up alien intestines?

"I don't even want to know what happened," Lois chuckled, while Martha hugged her son and he kissed the side of her cheek before she scrunched up her nose in disgust at how awful he smelled.

"Well, I guess I'll draw you a bath, you two can talk out here until the baths ready." Both Clark and Lois watched as Martha Kent disappeared into the home and he smiled, when Lois spoke again.

"FYI, she is at the orchard, harvesting the apples for an apple pie," Lois gave him a smug look, fluttering her lashes, "Oh don't pretend you don't want to see her. I can see your eyes darting around, trying to find her. I'll be inside, both of you, just come back in for supper."

He nodded, watching Lois leave and slowly, his fists clenched on either of his sides, he found his way into the tiny orchard that his lovely wife loved to spend most of her time at. He fixed himself by the wooden gate, his eyes admiring you from afar, as you stood on your tiptoes and picked out apples, tossing them into the basket that you held in your arm.

"Need help, Mrs. Kent?"

The basket dropped from your hand as you turned towards the source of the voice, your lips parted in shock. Clark's eyes travelled from you down to your beautiful swollen bump that your loose maternity dress was doing nothing to hide. He chuckled at your response as he walked towards you with longer, faster steps while you simply waddled towards him.

"Jesus, Clark-- I thought you'd miss the birth," you cupped your husband's cheeks in between your swollen fingers as he nuzzled his nose against yours, before kissing you.

"How is my monkey?" He brought his palm to rest against your nine month old baby bump, stroking over the fabric as he whispered against your lips.

"Moving around, not letting me get an ounce of sleep," you smiled, letting your fingers rest over his hand that rested against your stomach, "but I cant really complain now, can I? After all the little nugget's got Kryptonian blood running through their veins."

Clark chuckled, his blue eyes crinkling slightly as he knelt down in front of you, his face in line with the base of your bump as he planted a kiss on the curve of it.

"Come on, Kal Jr, will you stop bothering your mom? She needs all the sleep she can before you push your way into the world and steal our goodnight sleeps for a while," you smiled warmly, as you peered down at him, running your fingers through his hair and he looked up at you, planting another kiss against your bump.

You suddenly frowned and looked at the brown mess on your fingers that stank.

"God, Clark? What the hell? Did you seriously take a dive in a shit pool?"

He chuckled as he pulled himself up again and his hand once again found the base of your stomach to lay his hand protectively upon.

"Alien blood. You should have seen the intestines that covered me. It looked like noddles dipped in black bean sauce and meatballs--" You smacked him hard against the chest to shut him up, but instead he began laughing, his laughter rumbling out of his stomach as you began dragging him inside with his stained cape.

[shokami]

I HATE ALL MEN...

pairing ; megumi fushiguro x reader

word count ; 2.8k

genre ; fluff to angst. established relationship!

warning(s) ; major character death (not descriptive). mentions of blood, injuries. minor spoilers to ep nineteen.

i hate all men, but when he loves me… i feel like i’m floating...

doubling over in laughter, you held your side as you let out several gasps of air. listening to the ridiculous spout of words between itadori and kugisaki, never failed to make you crack a wheeze or two.

your bubbly sounds echoing around the room quickly caught your boyfriend’s attention. those laughs were always capable of making him stop dead in his tracks, all so he could take a mental picture of that moment. your laughter slowly died down as you turned to look over your shoulder, finding fushiguro watching from afar. he looked at you with nothing but fondness in his gaze, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

fushiguro swore that you were the sunshine in human form. that genuine smile, and intoxicating laugh— was exactly what he would expect the sun to appear as. those were also the very things that had made him fall for you so long ago. he never spoke about it, but he was glad that being surrounded by curses, and the constant negativity invading your life, never dulled your happiness. he didn’t know what he would do without such a beaming sunshine.

“you know, i heard that staring isn’t polite.”

basking in your presence, and appearance caused megumi’s mind to momentarily drift off into an abyss of his own thoughts. so much so, that he hadn’t even noticed that you had approached him from across the training room.

“earth to megumi— hello?” you snapped your fingers in front of his face, rolling your eyes at the distant minded boy as his eyes suddenly snapped to yours “hi, yeah. there you are!”

“sorry, i was distracted.” fushiguro said simply, that same soft smile from earlier returning to his face.

to those who didn’t see him the way you did, or even to those who weren’t a part of your immediate friend group— no one saw fushiguro smile. ever. if you had to compare his daily facial expressions to someone, you’d probably say he reminded you of nanami. always straight faced, serious, and ready to get to the point. but his smile was never foreign to you.

despite the assumption to anyone else, a smile or laughter, or sense of joy from megumi was not a rare sight. in fact, it happened more and more than usual. his tormented soul began to lighten up, and feel free once more. some say it was because of you, but that wasn’t a credit you deserved to claim. not when itadori existed, and gave him the friends he deserved.

you were but a mere bonus in his life.

megumi was no stranger in displaying the fact that he fell for you based on your smile, and humor. he would tell you until he was blue in the face, but what he didn’t know was that the sight of that once rare grin is also what had you swooning in a matter of minutes.

leaning up towards his face, you pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek that quickly became the rosy color of the flowers outside in the garden. he was always so easily flustered, “distracted by what, hm?”

between you and megumi, neither one of you craved public displays of affection. you preferred keeping any acts of shared love just to yourselves, behind closed doors only accompanied by the soft glow of the moon.

that however, never stopped the occasional peck on the cheek, or subtle hand holding.

“what am i ever distracted by?”

“training? cursed techniques? shadow puppets?”

fushiguro snorted, “shadow puppets?”

several more giggles left your throat, sounding just the same as earlier, “yeah! you know, demon dogs… flying owl things—“

“divine dogs, and nue.” he interrupted.

“shadow puppets!”

“... shikigami.” megumi looked at you, quickly shaking his head at your antics and refusal to use his cursed techniques proper titles. “no, to all of those... i was distracted by you.”

you gasped loudly, drawing the attention of yuuji and nobara still standing across the room, “by me?! me oh my! not THE fushiguro megumi being distracted by little ‘ol me!”

yuuji and nobara bursted into a fit of laughter, enjoying the scrowl that crossed megumi’s face. though you loved him indefinitely, there was nothing more you enjoyed doing than bringing him embarrassment from your flare for dramatics.

“you’re worse than gojo, you know that?”

“worse than gojo how?” you jetted your bottom lip out, creating a fake pout.

“annoying. a nuisance. unnecessarily loud,” for what felt like the first time in your relationship, megumi took no care in sharing a moment of affection with you in the public eye as he leaned in to steal a kiss. “and a brat… but i suppose that’s why i love you.”

three words was all it took. three words and suddenly the world froze. you couldn’t see anything beyond megumi, you couldn’t hear your friends gasps’ in the background, and you struggled to exhale the breath stuck in your chest. love?

neither one of you knew love before each other, just like neither one of you dared to drop that damned four letter word until now… love terrified you. how could it not in this life? how could love not make you want to run in the opposite direction, fearing that the moment you loved— something would rip away that serenity.

“you… you love me?”

“i love you, y/n.”

another long pause.

your mind was racing, your heart beat felt like it would pulsate out of your chest at any given moment. why did the temperature skyrocket so suddenly? please don’t faint, you told yourself over and over.

surely, at this rate megumi thought he screwed everything up. did you not love him back? was the feeling not mutual? after months of being with one another, growing close, learning each other inside and out… did he read it all wrong?

“y/n, i’m sorr—“

“i love you too.”

that was the moment everything in this dark and gloomy world suddenly made sense. if you had nobody to love, what was the point of living?

megumi fushiguro may have seen you as the sun, and his never ending happiness… but he didn’t know that he was your reason for becoming that light. he would never understand the joy he brought to your dull world.

when he calls me pretty, i feel like somebody.

why is it always raining? you wondered.

to be fair, you didn’t hate the rain. you enjoyed it at times, and found peace in the sounds that came along with it; but it became a hassle when you’d have to travel across the jujutsu high campus. you cursed them for making the dorms such a distance from classes.

mentally preparing for the journey to your room, you tucked your books away into your bag to shield them from the downpour.

the onslaught of rain grew as you stepped out from the awning that protected you. an earthy smell wafted through your nostrils, filling your senses. the wetness against your skin was freezing, making goosebumps rise with each prick of the harsh rains. seconds ago you dreaded stepping out into the horrific weather, but now you stood perfectly still with your face tilted towards the sky enjoying the refreshingness.

all you could hear was the raging thunder up above, and it made you feel free. no sounds of other students could be heard, no screaming noises from the bustling city of tokyo, no ugly walling from cursed spirits. just the thunder, just your breathing, just the droplets of rain falling against the concrete and rooftops around you.

it was a beautiful moment.

which is why you dropped your bag, spread your arms as far as they could reach, and spun in the violent rainfall. the world slowed down for those few seconds.

“are you crazy?!”

your eyes snapped open as you turned to watch fushiguro rush towards you, an umbrella in hand.

“you’re going to get struck by lightning one of these days,” he picked up your bag and tossed it over his shoulder, before holding the umbrella over both of your bodies. “what the hell are you doing out here?”

smiling up at fushiguro, you stepped out from the umbrella once again with a laugh, “i’m enjoying the rain! enjoy it with me!”

you snatched the umbrella, quickly closing it and tossing it to the ground. letting all of your worries and fears fade away, you yearned to have one moment with megumi that wasn’t ripped away by the darkness of your world… one normal moment.

one normal moment where you were just kids playing in the freezing rain.

expecting him to look annoyed at your antics like usual, you were pleasantly surprised to find him matching your smile and looking at you with nothing but bliss.

“you’re so annoying.”

“and you love me,” you grinned.

“... and i love you.”

fushiguro stepped towards you, encasing his arms around your waist as he picked you up and spun you around in a circle. laughter filled the air, and you felt nothing but joy.

time froze as the two of you basked in your youth, enjoying only the company of one another and the rainstorm. it felt like an eternity before your feet met the ground once more. your hair and clothes were soaked, strands of your own hair felt plastered to your face as you giggled. megumi pushed those strands aside, and replaced them with smothering kisses.

“you look different when your hair is wet,” you told him as you pushed it all out of his eyes.

“and you look just as pretty as ever.”

ever since your relationship with megumi began, he’s slowly come further out of that shell that he placed himself in. seeing him be able to enjoy himself like this… it brought a new type of happiness.

kissing his nose quickly, you looked up at the sky as the rain finally lightened up, “you know, if i didn’t know any better i’d say i’m wearing off on you.”

“is that so?” megumi asked, picking up your bag again along with the umbrella.

“mhm! you’ve let loose more,” you huddled close to him underneath the safety of the umbrella for warmth, “finally taking back your youth.”

megumi chuckled, holding you close. “i guess i have my beautiful sun to thank for that, don’t i?”

even when we fade eventually to nothing...

everything was blurry. there was an ache spreading throughout your body, and it felt as if someone was landing a blow to your rib cage over and over again. there was barely any fight left in you, but you would continue to push forward until someone got to you. surely one of the teachers would find you soon, right? of course they would! gojo must’ve been on his way.

that’s what you thought.

it’s what you desperately wanted to believe, but as the time passed you began to think their fight had just begun. you knew what was happening back at the school, you were there when that special grade stepped out and attacked you and inumaki.

the problem was, everyone knew you weren’t strong enough to fight in that battle. inumaki knew. before you knew it, megumi’s divine dog was shoving you away as inumaki commanded you to run in the opposite direction. damn him.

you wanted to curse him for sending you away with the shikigami, but deep down you knew he was right. there were still lower level curses running around, and they needed to be dealt with… but you didn’t foresee coming face to face with mahito as he made his get away from jujutsu high.

“your friends left you all alone? what a shame.” he spoke with a bubbly laugh, watching the blood trickle down from your hairline.

you wanted to speak, you wanted to charge at him and rip him to shreds for everything he’s done. yet, all you could do was cry out in agony as you fell to your knees. every part of your body felt like it would combust into flames at any given second, you weren’t sure if it was from the pain or the sickening warmth of your blood soaking through your clothes. your eyes became heavier, struggling to focus on the laughing maniac in front of you.

the shikigami shielded you from mahito, a deep growl emitting from its body as it took a stance to protect you. the divine creature had one job, and it was to protect you when he was not with megumi; but you couldn’t stand by and watch another one of his shikigami be destroyed. not for your sake.

“return to megumi.” you reach out, your fingertips barely ghosting over it’s fur.

with a sad whine, the divine dog gave you one last look before disappearing from the air. he was safe, and that is all that mattered. he could protect megumi now, and be far away from the monster you faced.

“that demon dog could’ve been your only chance of survival, y/n!” mahito laughed again, causing you to grimace at the sound.

“divine. dog. you scum,” you made no move to try and stand, nor defend yourself. the wounds in your chest, and side were fatal and crippling. there was nothing left for you to do, other than to accept your fate.

as a jujutsu sorcerer, you are taught to live without regret. to live without fear of death. to accept it, when your time comes… but you were terrified.

what kind of cruel life was this?

this was why you did not want to love fushiguro… because every sweet thing, has a bitter end.

you couldn’t remember when your eyes had closed, or when all of the pain in your body seemed to go numb. all you knew is that when you awoke, mahito was gone. you were face to face with gojo as he carried you away from the scene.

your teacher noticed your eyes drifting open almost immediately. for the first time, you saw him look concerned. he wasn’t smiling, or laughing like usual— he looked like he was in as much pain as you felt.

“gojo…” you coughed, blood quickly filled your lungs and nearly made you collapse at the loss of breath.

“save your energy, yn.”

your eyes slowly shut once more, the willpower to survive was fleeting, “tell him… tell him i love him?”

in a whisper that you barely caught, gojo tried his best to scold you for your shitty goodbye, “you’re not going to die, you’re staying here.”

“protect him, satoru… protect them all.”

they say that when you die, you experience a flashback of your entire life in seconds. that was the worst lie you had ever heard. aside from finally escaping the pain, all you saw was a blinding flash of white and the memory of the very last kiss you ever shared with megumi…

… you will always be my favorite form of loving.

weeks after your funeral, megumi visited your grave every single day. each day, a new flower was brought from the garden of jujutsu high. the garden where he grew the nerve to ask you to be his girlfriend, the garden where you kissed for the very first time, said your first i love you, and danced in the rain as if your youth depended on it.

an array of flowers built up around your grave, and you all swore that before you knew it? megumi and nobara would have their own garden to tend to around you.

you hoped they would, and that it would bring them joy… just as you once had.

staring down at where you laid in the ground, megumi placed down the head of a single lotus flower on the front of your tombstone.

ETERNAL SUN Y/N L/N.

friend. family. student. lover.

cherished by many, adored by all.

in life, or in death, you would always be the eternal sunlight to megumi fushiguro. no matter the consequences to your spirit, you vowed to never leave his side and to always protect him and your friends.

a loyal guardian from the other side. their guide.

your spirit smiled, glancing from megumi’s tear streaked face to the sight of the moon as you placed a hand on his shoulder. being a part of the supernatural world now, fushiguro could sense your presence.

“the moon is beautiful, isn’t it?” megumi mumbled to your grave, the rain pouring down around the umbrella you once shared together.

you whispered to the wind, “i can die happy…”

authors note ; this was so fun to write. this is the first thing i’ve written that’s over 1k words and posted. if megumi is ooc, mind your business </3 i’m trying to learn him as a character xoxo

reblogs are appreciated!!

© All rights reserved by SHOKAMI. Do not modify, repost on any platforms, plagiarize, or claim as your own.

[nerdy-simp-7120]

hi! if you're comfortable writing this, could i ask for a scenario? this has been in the back of my head for a while.

what would be the reaction of the brothers + dateables of watching mc play resident evil in the dimitrescu castle? who would be down bad the most

thank you! feel free to ignore this if you don't want to write this ofc

I love this ask (stan tall vampire lady). The only thing is that I accidentally turned it into a “how they feel about the game.” I managed to add in some parts with MC playing as well to make up for it

Update: I literally finished the request yesterday but my wifi went down and I lost everything  😩 😩

I also wrote this in the middle of the night so sorry if there are any errors! Enjoy!

Warnings: cursing.

How the OM! characters would react to you playing Resident Evil (Dimitrescu Castle edition)

Lucifer

Will not care at first

"I hold no interest in such trivial simulations."

His weakness? Being a simp for you.

He decides to look into the game a bit more in private later on.

Will lowkey practice the game

If you ever catch him playing it, do not say anything because he will stop immediately, deny everything, and might not ever do it again

With time, however, Lucifer will come to master the game.

Here comes the showing off.

When you're rambling about the game with Levi, Lucifer will join the conversation and you two will be like "wow, boomer knows something for once--"

Or when you're struggling on a part of the game he will be like, "hand it over"

Before expertly getting through that part.

Can defeat Lady Dimitrescu if you ask him to but be careful cause he might make you beg

sadistic bastard

or you can be a badass and show him your skills

Will be a tad shocked at how easily you handled it but won't let it show (okay Elsa)

Also proud though

Lucifer's internal monologue: “That’s right- show them how it’s done, Y/n.”

Mammon

Scared.

Will watch you play and cover his eyes during every battle

"wHAT IS THAT?!" at everything you come across

I hope you're good at playing one-handed because you'll have to use the other hand to hold his throughout the entire thing

Admires you're bravery but would never admit it

"You were horrible! ...N-nice job beating the game, not that I c-care or anything. You sucked anyways!"

Not even 10 seconds later...

"Can I watch you play again?"

Comes to find that the faces you make are adorable: when you're concentrating on a battle, when you win, find a valuable item, etc

He loves being able to see how you're feeling up close.

If you catch him staring when you take a break or something he'll blush and either ask you if you have a staring problem or that you have something on your face

He may or may not buy cheap merch (a tiny key chain of Lady Dimitrescu or your favorite character) for you, all the while spewing lame excuses

Please bear with him- he's trying.

Leviathan

"YOU ALSO LIKE RESIDENT DEVIL?!?? Ah! I-I mean..."

Congrats, you just found yourself someone to discuss the game with

Is open to cosplay the characters with you

You two will have competitions to see who can beat the game faster.

You both also share theories with each other all the time

Or simply discuss the characters together

He purposefully stays quiet to hear you ramble on and on- dude finds it adorable

You two also sometimes argue debate over a character name or event in the game

Because while you have Resident Evil

He only knows Resident Devil

This is the equivalent of Devilgram and Instagram

I mean

They’re the same,

But a couple things were altered, y’know, to prevent copyright

So yes, there are definitely a few quarrels here and there

But all in all, it’s a fun gamer bud experience

Don’t tell him I told you but he thinks it’s hot when you show off your badass skills in a boss fight

Satan

He plays it on the lowkey.

Not because he’s embarrassed

But because he partially takes his anger out on the characters

During gory scenes, he imagines it’s him torturing Lucifer, fueling his determination to win

A calculated person, Satan is a smart player

But there are times when he’s particularly angry and he becomes a reckless one, jumping into fights impetuously

This is where you come in and beat the enemy for him

He may get angrier, thinking you are underestimating him

But, for the sake of the person he loves, he calms down knowing you didn’t mean to offend him

A small part in the back of his head also admires you for being able to handle the fight a ton better than he did

Congratulations, you just earned yourself the great Satan’s respect (resident evil-wise).

Asmodeus

“Oh my, I never knew you were into such gory games! Does this mean you’re into blood play, because I know many things about--”

He may look carefree on the outside

But on the inside?

Let’s take a look, shall we?

Holy shit

What the fu--

Jesus christ, can you pull a move like that in real life?

He needs to be careful to not piss you off.

If you can handle this, who knows what you could be capable of?

Hold on.

Wait, you look so concentrated

Eeep! How cute!

Anyways, it ends with him snapping a bunch of pictures 

Keeps them for himself and may brag to his brothers about how he got some “special” shots of you

Obviously never elaborates on what the special part means to keep his dear siblings on edge because, what the hell, they want to know what these special shots are

Would not play the game because there’s “tOo MuCh BlOoDsHeD”

We all know he’s most likely seen his fair share of bloodshed

“What if the adrenaline gives me acne?”

He’s probably just bad at the game--

Verdict: Asmo is a simp and not afraid to flaunt it.

Beel

...Are you okay?

Do you think about homicide--?

Oh, that lady looks nice.

Huh, she’s 9′6″??

What’s her name? Lady Dimitrescu?

Okay-- WAIT WHY IS SHE TURNING INTO THAT??

Not scared, just a tad bit concerned 

Poor Beel, concerned for Lady D :’)

Also, seeing the death’s of Bela, Daniela, and Cassandra hit different

Because he know what it’s like to lose a sibling.

Safe to say he understands Alcina’s pain when she raged about her children being dead.

Also concerned about how the gore could affect you

Because isn’t stuff like this supposed to traumatize humans?

Would support you regardless though

And thinks that you’re really brave for playing the game and still being able to stand strong

On another note, Beel decided to make small flower graves for the three sisters and Alcina because he’s adorable and kind like that

Belphegor

Likes the game but is too lazy to play himself

Regularly watches Satan play (or at least as much as he can before deciding it’s nap time)

I hope you enjoy Belphie using you as a body pillow and watching you play from now on 

Makes small comments here and there to help you out

“To your left... Oh, and open the window- yeah, that one.”

Will smirk, impressed, when you deal with the fights and win yourself without his comments.

“That’s my Y/n”

(Sorry I don’t know what else to put for him :’))

Diavolo

“Is this a human trend?” meme

Will watch excitedly and “oooo” whenever you do something cool

Be careful though, because the questions will not stop as you play

“What’s that? I see. What’s it for? How do you win the game? Who’s that character? Why can’t you do this? What about--?”

Diavolo, you’re awesome and all, but please

shush

On the inside, is also one that might be a tad concerned about your mental health because doesn’t that gore traumatize humans?

Wait, you do this for entertainment?

...

Another warning: he will shower you in merchandise from the game

I am not above the fact that this man has a game room 

And he will try to master the game

Casually pushes all his paperwork over to Lucifer so he can play Resident Evil

RIP Luci

Unfortunately, Diavolo will have trouble grasping the game and how it works

You will have to explain many things to him

Good luck- he’s a bit of a boomer (but willing to learn) and may or may not get distracted staring at you

But anyways, he enjoys engaging in the competitions you and Levi have

Whether it be playing as well or simply watching

He just loves to see you happy

Barbatos

Oh my, what’s this?

Will watch you play

and constantly criticize how filthy the Dimitrescu castle is

“Do they have any idea how many rats this can attract?”

Barbatos, your weakness is showing.

Seeing you so happy while playing the game helps him relax from his daily troubles tasks

He rewards you with a pat on the head any time you beat a foe

When Diavolo goes over to the HoL or when you come over to play in he silently cheers you on in the background.

Solomon

Yuh

Is educated on the game and knows his shit as the only other human 

Maybe knows a bit too much of the game

You will later come to find out that, somewhere in his mass tangle of shady connections, he knows a developer

Might give you tips and tricks to get on higher levels

But never, and I mean never, challenge him like you would with Levi to see who can beat the game faster

Because he will beat you by a seconds on purpose, just to piss you of

all the while doing that dark, shady chuckle

Asshole

But anyways, if you manage to finesse and beat him, he will be 

So confused

“I thought I did it all right, what went wrong...?” he thinks to himself.

On the outside, however, he’s smiling

Will hand over some praise to his little apprentice, but if you look carefully you will see a spark of annoyance

We get it Solomon, you’re a sore loser.

In the end, he will still leave somewhat impressed at your skillz

Simeon

w h a t

Is a little scared

“Is this one of them video games you kids play nowadays...? Just kidding. What are you playing-- oh my”

Might try to figure out how to play

But alas, 

Simeon is yet another boomer

So he will have quite some trouble even figuring out how to move

And why does he hold the controller like that what

If you’ve seen that one picture of him holding his phone sideways you know what I mean

On another note, if you look through his poem book, then you may or may not find a few poems describing how amazing and badass you looked hustling the entire game

Luke

about to bomb this master hill

No literally is considering bombing the computer or whatever you’re playing on because wHAT IS THAT

He is just

So 

So 

Scared

This will give him nightmares for weeks

Apparently Alcina reminds him of Lucifer so he kinda

Hates her

Says he will protect you

--as he runs out of the room in fear

Irrelevant but the one he hates the most is fetus baby

Michael have mercy on this poor boy--

[exovapor]

I'm OBSESSED with your writing. Can you try.. Maybe, Donnie being a filthy boy being an 'stalker-ish' of his long time crush? Be checks their FB for new posts, saves every picture of them he finds? He doesn't mean to be a creep, feels guilty, but just doesn't know how to ask for more than friendship?

Good afternoon Anon. Here is my short story in relation to your ask.

I wasn't sure where you wanted me to take this, so I had to do a bit of guessing on my part. I hope this something like you were wanting.

I will admit that this ask was a bit of a struggle for me, not knowing a clear direction to take it outcome made me a little unsure of my writing and guessing abilities LOL. However, I will admit to crying along with the characters in this story more than once.

Thanks again for the ask and the initial compliment. I hope to continue to earn your favor in future posts.

· Stalker [noun]: 1a person who harasses or persecutes someone with unwanted and obsessive attention. 2a person who hunts game stealthily.

· Donnie stared at the definition on his one of his monitor screens while his various other screens were busy flashing receipts of files downloaded, text trail streams from your phone, notices of any social media post/update/like/heart/emoji, a GPS line grid of your routes today (overlayed over the routes you’d taken previously), and data search hits of anything and everything that pertained to you.

· At this point, the boy had literally every picture you had ever posted, anywhere, of yourself. In fact, he had all the pictures that other people posted of you in them. He had even gone through the effort of designing a face recognition program that picks you out of the background of total strangers’ pictures and, yeah, he had those in a file too.

· He has special file folders that compile things that you like, things you don’t like, things that make you happy, things that make you sad. He is your own personal Pinterest and you didn’t even know it… and maybe that is the part that keeps bothering him so much.

· He sits staring at that word and definition and chewing his bottom lip. True, he knows the word and the meaning, but he needed to LOOK at it, analyze it, mull it over in his guilt ridden brain.

· He just KNEW the word Stalker couldn’t apply to him.

· After all, he isn’t harassing or persecuting you, you don’t know! So, it isn’t necessarily ‘unwanted attention’. It is just…unknown attention.

· Stealthily, hmmmm, did that part apply to him? Well, He isn’t EXACTLY being stealthy.

· If you knew about technology like him, then you would probably see his programs running on your devices and be alerted to his activities. AND, if you shared his love and view of technology, then you would probably be more understanding of his activities and not consider them stealthy…just data mining. In fact, you might applaud him.

· ‘Ok, that was taking it a bit too far’, Donnie thinks to himself and he feels a band tighten and squeeze around his infatuated heart.

· He is almost certain that you would be shocked to learn of his extra curricular activities and how they revolve around every aspect of you.

· Regardless of how he tried to spin the truth and wiggle out of the definition of stalker, Donnie still felt guilty for invading your privacy. However, he honestly couldn’t help himself…at least not anymore.

· He has fought the urge, the nagging thoughts and the burning need, to know more about you for what seemed like an eternity.

· Listen to him, he is starting to sound dramatic like Mikey! What is his turning into? He is losing his rational edge!

· To be accurate, it hasn’t been an eternity. In fact, he has known you 1 year, 36 days, 14 hours, 11 minutes, and 23 seconds to be exact. However, you started occupying space in his mind 2 minutes into meeting you and your claim over his mind has grown exponentially over time.

· You were quiet and reserved during that first meeting, so there wasn’t much to go on. It started as a simple visual interest with a thought of ‘Oh. She’s pretty’.

· However, then you started talking and that changed everything.

· You opened up more and more each time you hung out with their little group, revealing layers and layers of interests and personality. You were fascinating…and that’s when his thoughts about you really started to snowball and spiral out of control.

· You went from being a simple pretty face to being a walking embodiment of everything he seriously ever dreamed of having in a mate.

· Early on, there were three sticking points that really made Donnie’s feelings problematic. 1. He was a nearly seven foot tall walking talking turtle and you weren’t. 2. You had a boyfriend that you were deeply in love with and adored. 3. Donnie was too insecure about #1 and how you felt about inter-species dating to let you know that you had started to OWN his heart.

· Now, thanks to his surveillance, there were only two sticking points….#1 and #3.

· He still remembers the feelings of that day, 44 days ago, when the blip of information popped up on this screen alerting him to the fact that your boyfriend was starting to stray.

· Donnie had severely conflicting feelings bombard him at once and it was overwhelming.

· The initial knee jerk reaction was elation, one of the problems blocking him from you may soon be null.

· However, the feeling of elation only lasted for a second or two before the intense anger and sadness set in. Donnie was honestly shocked at the depth of his anger, he didn’t even know he had that level of malice in him. Had he been in physical proximity to your boyfriend at that moment in time, Donnie isn’t sure that he wouldn’t have hurt your guy…or worse.

· How COULD this guy do this? WHY would he? He HAD YOU! What the heck was this guy thinking? Not only did he have you, but you thought the world of him. When you spoke about him you would smile so genuinely, your eyes would shine and gaze off into a bright imagined future. Donnie was always so jealous to watch it happen, he wondered what it would be like to be THAT GUY. And here the idiot was throwing it all away and meeting up with another girl!

· WHAT THE…(yes, this called for a curse) HELL…IS WRONG WITH HUMAN MEN?

· As the anger set root in his heart, the sadness engulfed Donnie like an all-consuming wave. He realized he was going to have to share this information with you, somehow, and that he was going to have to watch as it destroyed you.

· At first, Donnie had a plan to try and save you both from that fate. True, it would hurt him more to save your relationship, but he would rather be the one facing the pain and not you.

· He TRIED to circumvent the situation. He sent anonymous messages to your boyfriend stating that he knew about the infidelity and that he would tell you if needed. However, it didn’t seem like your boyfriend cared because he sent messages back stating Donnie could, basically, go fuck himself.

· Life had cruel sense of irony, thought Donnie, that is exactly what I do since this moron has the woman that I love.

· So, after trying for nearly two weeks to stop what was happening behind your back, Donnie had no choice but to let you in on the secret.

· Donnie couldn’t come right out and tell you that he caught your boyfriend cheating by hijacking your data streams and the data streams of those around you. So, Donnie intercepted some texts between your boyfriend and his mistress and he then sent you a text, under the guise of your boyfriend, telling you to meet him at a specified restaurant for a date.

· It had been a gut wrenching night for Donnie. He remembered watching it all play out on camera feeds from around the restaurant and street outside. He watched you dressed up in your pretty dress get out of your cab in front of the restaurant. You had such a lovely smile on your face, you must have thought you were in for a romantic evening.

· He watched as you walked inside and how the hostess got flustered and confused by a 2nd girl showing up for your boyfriend’s seated-for-two table.

· Donnie stopped breathing as your eyes found the new couple holding hands and giving each other sweet kisses across the table. Hands and lips that were supposed to be yours were touching some stranger.

· Donnie watched your smile and eyes die…the light of your inner sun go out…

· …and it killed him.

· He’s not sure who was crying the hardest, you standing there in that restaurant witnessing the scene or him back at the lair watching your world crush around you on his monitor.

· It had taken a while for you both to recover from that night.

· His brothers noticed his melancholy mood for a couple of weeks but Donnie wouldn’t tell them what was bothering him. And you stayed in your bed, refusing to face the world, for nearly as long.

· Eventually, the group began to notice your silence and absence, so April stopped by your apartment to check on you. She was the one to pull you out of bed, get you to shower and eat. She visited everyday and made sure you had someone to vent to and a shoulder to cry on.

· Donnie was glad that April could be there for you when he couldn’t. He didn’t think it was appropriate for him, a male, to be your confidant at that time. Especially since he felt so much guilt over having to be the one to expose you to that pain.

· No, he didn’t CAUSE the pain, but he did have to make you face it and he didn’t like not being able to protect you from it. You were such a rare, precious creature and watching you in pain felt like he was suffocating slowly.

· There were some points during those first few weeks that he questioned if he did the right thing, but logic told him it would have eventually come to pass with or without his involvement. It was better to rip the bandage of quickly and let you start to heal than it was to let you linger and drag out the inevitable.

· Donnie did secretly check on you every single night during patrol. And, of course, his surveillance feeds were always running. He watched from a distance as his beautiful phoenix burn down to ashes and, eventually, started to rise again.

· Now, it’s been over 3 months and you’ve begun to be more like your old self. Donnie can tell there is a silent sadness there, but you are able to laugh and smile with the group during your get togethers. And each time you two are left alone, his mind nags at him about those last two sticking points.

· Would you be at all interested in him? And HOW does he go about telling you that you have become the center of his world?

· Still staring at the monitor and the Stalker definition, Donnie sighs and rubs the bridge of his snout to release of the pressure now pushing against the inside of his head. The memories of what has happened, the emotions of what was and what is, it was all starting to be too much.

· “Bro, what’s all this?”, Mikey says standing behind Donnie’s chair, talking around a mouth full of pizza.

· “NOTHING!”, says Donnie, voice breaking from the stress of being caught. A startled Donnie quickly taps some keys on his keyboard and the screens revert back to the standard lair camera feeds.

· Mikey may look or even come off as naïve at times, but he’s no fool, he can sense that his older brother is trying to hide something. “Dude, seriously, what was that? I’ve been standing back here reading the screens. I saw Y/N’s name and that looked like her phone number on that other file…, you know the file that looks like texts messages. And why is there a plotted map of the area around her apartment, her work, and to the lair? What’s up?”, Mikey said giving a disapproving look at being thought a pushover.

· “Just standard surveillance, Mikey, nothing to worry about.”, Donnie says trying to placate Mikey’s curiosity. Donnie hates lying, especially to Mikey, but he’s feeling so guilty about being such a…(inward sigh)…stalking creep that admitting the truth is hard to do.

· Mikey stands there staring at Donnie and, as he does, Donnie begins to fidget with his computer chair armrests.

· Mikey stuffs the remnants of the pizza slice into his mouth and does his best Leo impersonation by crosses his arms and staring down at Donnie as sternly as his jolly face can achieve, “Dude, I’m not going to ask you again. You’ve been weird for months. We’ve let it go for the most part but now you are hiding things from me…from ME, dude! You and I, we’re like peanut butter and jelly, we’re ice cream and chocolate fudge, we young dudes have got to stick together. Trust me, bro, I’ve got you!”.

· Donnie stared at the floor, too ashamed to meet Mikey’s eyes any longer. He gave a heavy sigh and reluctantly started to speak, “Sorry Mike, I…I honestly don’t know what’s come over me lately. I’m doing things I never thought I would do, I’m feeling so guilty about it, but I don’t know if I can stop doing it either. I feel…lost.”.

· Mike relaxed his leader stance and leaned against one of Donnie’s lab tables, “Bro, I can tell you’ve been carrying some heavy stuff lately. You need to let it out.”

· Donnie felt the heat rise up through his body like he was suddenly being consumed by a fire and he ripped his glasses off his face and drew them down on the desk in frustration, “Mikey, I’m in love with Y/N. I have been for a while. I have been…”, Donnie hangs his head in shame, “…tracking all her digital foot prints and watching her. In fact, I’m the reason she found out that asshole boyfriend of her's cheated.”

· Mikey’s mouth drops open at Donnie’s demeanor and use of the word ���asshole’, “Whoa, dude, why didn’t you say something earlier?”.

· Donnie can feel a stinging at the corners of his eyes, this was so embarrassing, so frustrating, so…..so many things at a once. He didn’t have a response for Mikey, all he could do was shake his head.

· Still with his head hung down and staring at the floor, Donnie starts to hear Mikey chuckle. Donnie looks up to see Mikey’s eyes on him and for some reason they are full of merriment at his painful dilemma. Donnie stares at his, normally, very considerate brother in astonishment, this isn’t like Mikey at all!

· “Mikey, I’m more than serious here, now is not the time to make fun of me. What is so funny?”, Donnie asks exasperatedly.

· Mikey shakes his bald head and claps his brother on the shoulder with his green hand, “Bro, she thinks you’re cute.”.

· “W-What?!”, Donnie stammers out.

· Mikey, still chuckling, says, “Yeah, dude, that’s why I asked WHY you didn’t say something about liking her sooner, she’s always thought you were cute. She and I talk about it all the time.”.

· Donnie just stares at his jolly brother in silence. His mind is too blown to form a sentence.

· Mikey turns to leave stating, “And by the way, dude, stop watching her like that…that’s just creepy.”.

@turtle-babe83 @tmntspidergirl @kokokatsworld @nittleboo @the-second-circle-of-shell

[jack-kellys]

i’ve come to ask for hunted au hcs 😁 (i definitely like this au a Normal Amount and am Not unhinged about it at all)

oh no of course. it’s a totally normal au so yeah why would you

send me an au (mine or an idea u got!) and i’ll give you some headcanons!

so jack’s dad was a cop, which is complicated, because jack’s dad was an asshole.

but jack thought it was something that he could do better? like he never saw his dad as a cop just that his dad was an asshole and a cop as well. so the idea of doing it better, being the hero, seduced him into it… so jack’s hatred of the NYPD is much more systematic than davey’s because. that’s literally how they got his ass. and he’s sooo ashamed of it so it’s both a guilt complex and a driving force behind his work, which are my favorite kinds of characters.

jack is alsooooo not an alcoholic but not…… not…… he has an issue let’s call it

also he’s not adverse to blood, but he actually really doesn’t like it. like he’ll look away from a body when he can afford to.

most of my daveys are rationalizers and justifiers, whether it be funneling his own emotions or defending his actions. historically bad at being wrong, especially since he rarely is. but when he is, this davey specifically is… ugly about it. he’s uncomfortable with being wrong, and when he knows he is, he’ll nitpick and criticize and rip into the person who is right’s way of working. petty, as all the greatest daveys are <3

davey also has very few pictures of his family like on display in his apartment. not like he doesn’t have any, but for him, it distracts him since he’ll get emotional and therefore distracted.

charlie morris is the best character (headcanon). it’s a fact i’m joking

but is more of a little brother figure than i normally make him (despite. ok bfu is an outlier he’s young in that) like he’s five years younger than jack, finished college like a couple years prior. he’s also a really good sketch artist because jack taught him

he also very accidentally stumbled into whatever profession this is.. like he studied biomed in college and thought he was going to work in labs for the rest of his life, which was fine, since that’s not too much movement for him and also solid in like. job retention. but in the meantime he was going to do some assistant work. but jack’s ad for an assistant did not indicate the forensics of it all, so c didn’t learn on the fly per se bc it’s his background, but his detective work is seriously extremely impressive since that was newer for him.

basically he’s the genius of this story. big shock rizz gives charlie the coolest parts of the aus they write

finally we have katherine. and katherine is a reporter, which is bad. which can be good. but while kath is more protective of jack because of their personal history, i will say that she will stop at nothing for a good article.

which i’m hoping will bite ppl in the ass later. we’ll see what i do with her.

[burnedbyshoto]

good little omega

— He was an alpha, you were an omega. Can I make it anymore obvious? He was a crime boss and you were a movie star. What more can I say? Oh, he wanted you, really wanted you, but you swore you would never, ever need an alpha.

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pairing: alpha!shigaraki tomura x omega fem!reader

warnings: 18+, smut, abo/omegaverse, chad alpha!shiggy, virgin celeb!reader, kidnapping, drugging, sex slave auction, biting/marking, belly bulge, knotting, sex toys, heat, implied murder (lol rip shigsters last omegas), mind break, breeding, degradation, finger fucking, fucking in front of a crowd, modern world!au

word count: 6,174

a/n: this goes out to my shiggy stans. I never understood you until recently and now I blush like a schoolgirl when I see him. mondays are so busy, are they not? ive been home for 6 hours today wtf????

kinktober day 12 main kink: abo/omegaverse | kinktober masterlist

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You sat before the mirror, your eyes intently staring at your reflection. The people around you running around, chaotically bringing brushes and pencils to your face, the smell of chemicals in the air, tickling your overly sensitive nose. 

“Are we ready?! Is Y/n ready?! I don’t think she’s ready?! We need to be out of here in five minutes, people, let’s hurry it up!”

Breaking your gaze from your reflection onto your agent in the background, you sighed softly at the growing sour and distressed omega pheromones. Oh, you realized suddenly, your nose unable to keep from scrunching at the mildewy detergent scent, they were really stressed out.

Today was the night of the biggest award show one could attend as a movie star celebrity in Japan. The Motion Picture Awards gave only the most prestigious and prodigious actors and actresses their due. A night of fashion, alcohol, and nervous pheromone pumping alphas and betas in a single room to reveal who was the best this year. Working in an industry such as your own, you had become quite the living legend already at the mere age of twenty-two.

As an omega, you grew up in a society that banned you from enlisting or attempting to join the ranks of the best in just about every field of focus or study. So that even included the area of acting. Casting Directors had always said the same thing each and every time you were forced to present your secondary gender to them all when being called back for auditions.

‘Omegas can’t be movie stars, your heats are too often and too long, they cause rifts in filming schedules this project cannot afford.’

‘We have too many prime alphas on set. Our film's projected main character is an alpha, we wouldn’t want to be caught up in a lawsuit should she find you to be too… fertile.’

‘Omegas can only be good, suitable nurtures and well, mothers. This movie just seems a bit too intense for a little omega like you!’

Omegas can’t do this, omegas can’t do that. Alphas, the pride of society, couldn’t be made to hold themselves back to your alluring scent and occasional heats. Betas, the majority of the population, didn’t feel a challenge when working alongside omegas. Omegas? Well, if there were any that actually existed within the film industry, they were for sure never heard from, or seen of.

At the age of eighteen, you had nearly given up on your long aspiring desire to become the first omega actor or actress to ever grace the scene. But just as you were ready to tell your agent that you were tired of all of the same, repetitive bullshit, a gentle alpha had approached you with an exciting role in mind for you.

Movies and cinematic films had always showcased omegas as sweet, nurturing individuals. For the most part, you agreed that that’s how you omegas were. You enjoyed hugging your close friends, scenting them softly as means of a small pack you had created as none of you were mated this young, yet didn’t ever wish to be bothered by self-righteous alphas or betas. Through many, many biology courses revolving around your secondary gender, you knew that the hormones that made you an omega also affected the brain to accept and view things in a… softer light. But unlike what they taught in school, and unlike what the alphas in society knew about omegas as they could never honestly watch an omega in heat while alone, was that omegas weren’t always the most nurturing or kind.

The week before your heat, the week of, and the week following your heat, you were always irritable, angry, almost cold. You’d flash your small fangs at anyone who dared to approach you with a scent you hated, your heat room never once escaping with everything torn to shreds, and you definitely did not wish to seek any fiber of soft love.

So when the alpha male sat in front of you, a single fang poking out of his lip as he exposed his neck in a motion of vulnerability and conceding to you — the omega — you knew he was serious.

He explained to you his plan on creating a more realistic movie surrounding the brutal truths of what being a single omega was like. Films had, after all, had always depicted omegas as being mated the moment they presented and going as far as saying that there were others means to be coupled to other alphas without actually being marked. It was atrociously wrong of the omega lifestyle, and it always made your stomach curl to see that it was an alpha or a beta actor putting on the role.

But he wanted to focus on the realities. The anger, sadness, and horrors you could face as a single, unmated omega. The director raved that you were the face for that movie and had a soul that made him come seek you out. And without so much as consultation from your agent, you agreed on the spot.

The title of the film had been an ironic one. Good Little Omega was what it was called in the end.

All in all, the movie had done poorly in the eyes of the critics. Many individuals — namely alphas and betas — claimed that the depiction of omegas within the film had been horribly wrong. Omegas were never sad, never homeless, never abandoned by society! That’s what they had all cried the moment the trailer flashed with bright letters:

AND INTRODUCING: Y/L/N Y/N (Ω)

Still, the movie made billions as many went to watch it because they ‘needed to see how horrible the movie was.’ They wanted proof that omegas weren’t cut as movie stars because how could someone who was out of commission for a week every two months be proactive on set. But all they got was a cinematic masterpiece.

You had taken a claim in the industry, one while small, that hadn’t hurt that much because you were much more focused on the fact that you now were a household name. Well, that is until you were nominated for the awards ceremony you were currently about to attend, only that it was the one from four years ago.

You were the first omega actress and now the first omega nominee. You hadn’t won, but that had solidified the step you had in the door. After that, the interests to hire you in omega roles came pouring through the door.

But you were brought back to reality when the setting spray splashed against your face, your eyes fluttering when they covered your scent glands with the flesh-colored band-aids they got for you. Alphas could never complain about you being a distraction if you smelled the same as betas. 

Rising to your feet, you smiled graciously to your makeup and styling team, thanking them profusely as your agent placed her hand at the small of your back and began pushing you towards the exit.

“Goodluck!”

“Thank you!”

.

..

.

Shigaraki glared down the table of averted eyes, and his hands brought up under his chin twitched at his annoyance.

“Are you going to say anything, or are we going to remain silent?” he asked, his voice quiet yet heavy in all of their ears as they flinched. “Don’t think you’re going to get away without giving me an answer.”

The sour smell of fearful alphas should have corroded Shigaraki’s nose. It should have done something to unsettle the way that the young head sat on his black leather seat. But as a matter of fact, the young alpha had to resist the way he wanted to bare his teeth in a bloodied smile, his red eyes slit in his cruel lust for fear.

“O-Of course not, a-alpha!” croaked one of the smaller alphas down the table. Shigaraki snapped his eyes towards the yellow-haired croony, his neck exposed for the alpha, eyes refusing to look at his leader. “I-It’s just that, um, I — I mean, we don't know w-what happened to your mate!”

“I thought I gave clear and distinct instructions that you were supposed to have found them by this meeting,” Shigaraki stated, his voice somehow growing colder, meaner yet never once changing as his hands dropped from his chin to rest on the arms of his chair. He tilted his head, watching the pathetic alphas quiver like some scared, stupid omega. “Useless. Get out of here before I change my mind on killing you all where you sit.”

The crowd of alphas left quicker than Shigaraki could blink, leaving behind the reeking smell of scared alpha pheromones. 

“Tomura-kun, you killed your mate,” came the singsong giggle from behind him, and Shigaraki didn’t bother turning around, his nose and ears sharp enough to pick up exactly it was behind him. 

“They’re all a bunch of pissy lackeys,” Shigaraki simply stated, his eyes rolling as he slowly fell to the back of his chair, red eyes meeting golden ones that shone with mirth and joy. “What do you want, Toga?”

Toga leaned against the leather armrest, uncaring that Shigaraki hated his personal space invaded. The young female was an alpha, much like most of the people within this gang group, but unlike the others, she had a distinct, almost terrifying way to change the way she smelled. She could smell like anyone or any secondary gender. She often preferred to smell like an omega too. 

“We have a guest visiting us today!” Toga chirped, her fingers clasping together. “I wanted to introduce him!”

“Bring Giran in,” Shigaraki snapped, his eyes narrowing with no real malice for the alpha next to him who simply pouted at the surprise — not a surprise — being ruined. Giran reeked of cigarettes and cheap body sprays that, when wafted with his distinct omega pheromones, made Shigaraki want to throw up. “Hurry up.”

“UGH!”

Shigaraki’s mouth was set in a firm line, his eyes watching as one of his most trusted allies walked to the table, and taking a seat in the abandoned chairs as Toga purred in happiness, sitting on the armchair of Giran’s chair, arms enveloping him. 

“Shigaraki, how are you doing?” Giran smiled, the cigarette that seemed to take a permanent residence in his teeth moving with his words. “I came bearing some great news.”

“What do you have for me?” Shigaraki simply states, his eyes focusing on the letter that is unpocketed from Giran’s pockets and placed onto the table. “Don’t tell me you’re trying to sell me your omega niece again.”

Giran chuckled, looking at Toga, who was smirking softly, “I guess he still hates that joke, huh?”

“Absolutely livid!” Toga laughed.

Shigaraki growled, his mind and his inner alpha snarling at the lack of respect to the command of his question. He outranked them, outpowered them; they needed to respect his orders. 

Giran took a deep inhale of his cigarette, sliding the card over to Shigaraki, his eyes averted, but his stance still firm. “I know you go through omegas faster than a teenage boy goes through a pack of tissues, but I think this can answer the pleas you have at night.”

Observing the card in his hand, Shigaraki scowls, unsure of how to feel about the print on the invitation. 

“Say the word, and I’ll get you a seat,” Giran whispers, like a sinister god begging a mere mortal to sign over their life for something completely worthless. But Shigaraki knows his worth, and more importantly, he knows in this game he outranks Giran, who would never betray him. In the slightest. He huffs, his back hunched, and his eyes looking with subdued excitement. 

“Who else is showing up?”

Giran knows the seat will be wanted that instant.

“No one who could hold a candle to you, alpha.”

“Don’t make me regret this.”

“Of course not, my liege.”

.

..

.

The award sitting in your hand feels almost fake as if the entire night was nothing more than a heat-driven fever dream. You had won, had actually won the most significant award of the night that an actress could win!

“Oh my gods, okay, okay,” your agent muttered beside you. Her eyes glued to the shiny gold statue between your legs. “Well, I know your heat starts tomorrow, and I’ll leave you alone for a week. But I swear, y/n, as soon as your mind isn’t a full-blown lusty heat brained bimbo, we’ll reconvene, and we will make sure you are nothing but the greatest!”

“Yeah,” you breathlessly state, eyes transfixed on the prize that felt like it could melt away any second right now. “That sounds wonderful.”

The car you were in pulled up to your front door, and you felt meek excited the car in nothing but a silk robe and slippers. The dress you had worn that night had already been put back into a plastic bag to be returned to the stylist who had offered to style you for the night. You waved with an almost transfixed look in your eyes as you closed your front door behind you, your heart hammering as adrenaline still coursed through your veins as if you had just been declared the victor of the category yet again.

Placing the trophy onto the table, you sighed in a wondrous, dreamy way.

You had done it.

You had won.

Fuck all those directors who had ever said anything different.

Still deep in your thoughts, you almost missed the knock on your door, and you figured that you must have left something in the car. Walking back over to the front door, your nose curled at the lack of scent, was it a beta?

Opening the door, you don’t remember seeing faces or even a scent of a pheromone. A single cloth wrapped over your head, and before you could send out your painful, fearful moments-from-heat omega pheromones, you were knocked out.

Cold and lifeless, you sunk against their arms, bile rising up to your throat as you know exactly what was going on. You were being kidnapped. 

No… please not… not after all of this had happened.

.

..

.

You wake up to the sound of moving feet, sneering laughter, the feeling of coarse, hot, hands on your ass and wet, simmering tongues on your lubricated cunt. The sense is vivid. You can feel the very littlest touch on your body, the layer of scented pheromones on your glands, and slick from alphas — you know it's alphas imprinting themselves on you as a mark of a claim.

You knew about this from high school; it was an extremely outdated and frowned upon version of mating and claiming as it simply turned away any sort of pursuer who wasn’t the thick pheromone individual. You also knew it was frowned upon because if multiple individuals sought mateship with the typical omega individual, it would result in a massive, unsolvable death match. But these alphas, even with layering their scent on you so thick you thought you were turning crazy, didn’t attack. No, they took languid stripes of your fresh, intoxicating slick and growled to you, maybe, how that was how slick was supposed to be. 

You wanted to move, to kick the stupid, demeaning alphas in the snout before running away, but in a twist of horrible realization, you soon figured out that despite your alert mind, you couldn’t move your body. Couldn’t shift it even the smallest of bits. 

“I hope all you wonderful clients have been able to taste and smell your potential mates out here!” A loud, commanding introduction voice echoed from somewhere where you couldn’t see, his voice vibrating into the straps of your legs, but you couldn’t make a sound or even open your eyes. “As you know, we have such an arrangement for you all, the best of the best, really! We don’t wish to rush, but as always, all of these events are incredibly time-sensitive, so if you would, please alphas, please come and sit down, and we’ll begin bidding on our first of seven beautiful, fertile omegas tonight!” 

The words sounded foreign in your ears yet at the same time, something so familiar because this was something you omegas were always warned about. This had to be some sort of omega mate auction, and by the stench of alphas who smelled like they owned millions and killed millions, you were in no doubt somehow caught up in one of the worst ones imagined. 

Two long, completely hardened fingers suddenly entered your cunt, and as if for a single millisecond, your mind and your body were able to work in tangent, your hips bucked at the sweet feelings. Oh, your eyes tried to flutter, enjoying the way the two fingers circled the walls of your long lonely cunt.

“Please, alpha, please refrain from touching the merchandise for now, please join us so that we may begin!”

The two fingers buried within your cunt as if it was their right, slowly withdrew out of your pulsing walls, and you heard the sound of sneakers against the hardwood floor and felt relaxed and sickened at how you sort of liked it.

Heat brain, you reminded yourself. Just your stupid, horny heat brain.

You were a celebrity, you mantra, a dignified star who didn’t need a beta or an alpha unless you saw it fit. Right now, as you had repeated many times to the countless amounts of reporters who had asked, you had no interest in someone to share your heat with.

“Alright, and to start off our night in a rolling go! Please, everyone put your hands together for the fertile and beautiful thirteenth in-line the Princess of Cabodia: Dayanara!”

This auction was insane, all six omegas before you all sold from a price that ranged from 198 hundred million to the one right before you who sold for one billion dollars. You were a prideful omega, and you saw worth to your abilities, smell, and looks, but were you even worth anywhere in that range?

The entire time you had been set up in who knows what, the small, overwhelming pound of your heat sinking into the depths and pores of your body was becoming heavy. You couldn’t move a single muscle still, your body still refusing to respond to the call of your body, but the seep of your slick running down the innards of your thighs, undoubtedly beginning to pool on the ground, must be embarrassing of you. 

Suddenly someone spread the skin below your ass out, and you couldn’t react as something sharp and prick stabbed into your flesh. You howled in the surprising pain, and you were fast to find that whatever they had injected you with had allowed systematic movement within your body. Your eyes fluttered open as two, impossibly huge alphas grabbed you by your forearm and hoisted you to your feet. 

Your neck was far too weak to carry the weight of your head, so your eyes were transfixed on the white silk of the slutty dress they dressed you in. It showed off your cleavage with no regret, and by the feel and look of it, it barely passed the bottom of your ass. Your vision swam, the alphas all over the room distorted and melting within one another as you stepped onto a stage, the spotlight on you feeling deliriously hot and melting your skin.

Your hormones, already going crazy with your heat, seemed to intensify at the small of so many capable, potent, possessive alpha pheromones that suffocated the room. Handcuffs slapped onto your wrists, and you moaned pathetically at the sting of cold metal on your skin, and you obediently followed the command of one alpha to go on your knees. 

A nail slammed between the metal links of the handcuffs, practically stapling you to the wooden floor, and you whimpered at the feeling of a stuffed pillow mount being placed beneath your lower stomach. You were in a forced and easily accessible mating position with your slick and cunt exposed for all the alphas to re-smell and see. 

Moaning, you shifted against the mount, your body not able to have the full movement you needed to ward off that building, insufferable heat in your core, but nothing you could do seemed to satisfy it.

“And for our biggest prize of the night, we have the one, the only, the beautiful sensation Y/l/n Y/n!” the auctioneer roared. His voice echoing in your ear as he walked over to you, exposing your dripping cunt to the crowd of alphas who had all gotten a sweet taste of your essence already. His hand came down to slap your ass with a chuckle. “Where do we start the bidding on this one, alphas? She needs no introduction, and none of you better be pussies because we know this bitch of an omega won’t take any tiny cocks as her alpha! She needs to be broken in, fucked to submission. No one likes a trailblazer… someone needs to remind of what fucking trail she’s supposed to be on. Besides, the bitch is in fucking heat, and if you don’t claim her, I just might do it myself!”

“75 million!” someone started the bidding.

You stiffened.

“75 to the man in the back!”

“90 million!” someone challenged.

“We’re up to 90!”

“125 million!”

“Do I hear another offer?”

“250 million!”

“250 million!”

The number climbed and climbed, the same voices coming to challenge each other until finally, they rounded out to a quantity that sounded bizarre even to you. 

“950 million!”

If it had been possible for your knees to give out, you would have been collapsed onto the floor, the pool of slick that continued to lubricate your cunt without a doubt drowning you as you craved the need to be fucked by someone with undoubted alpha pheromones and cock in this room. 

“950 million?” the auctioneer repeated, his voice for sure carrying a shark-like grin. “Going once, going twice—”

“Five billion.”

The gasp in the crowd was undeniable, and the omega in you crooned, knowing that this alpha valued you and your omega to be the price of five billion US dollars. 

“Fuck!” screamed the man who had presented the 950 million deal. 

“Wowee, five billion dollars, everyone! Anyone think they can beat that?! Going once! Going twice!” The crowd remained in silence, and you shook against your restraint, the heat emitting from your cunt almost demanding to be seen and fucked through this heat week. “SOLD! The virgin celebrity, Y/l/n Y/n sold to our own Shigaraki Tomura!”

The cheers of amaze weren’t nearly as loud as the smell of reeking petty alpha.

“Come and pay up, alpha, and then you can show us… a demonstration of how you’re going to break this omega.”

“Shut up.” Shigaraku growled, his footsteps heavy in your ear as you feel him climb up the stage, and you weakly tilted your head to look at the white-haired alpha boss hand over a simple credit card before walking over to you, his eyes unreadable as he looked you dead in the eye.

He reached out a finger that raised your chin up for him to study your face, moving and tilting your head as he pleased as a small, sinister smile pressed to his lips as he dropped your head. A sharp, uncomfortable pain fell on your chin as it crashed to the floor, and you shivered at the feeling of his calloused and rough fingers running down your exposed back.

“You’re such a small omega, still stupidly tiny. I bet you’ve never thought your first knot would come from someone like me,” Shigaraki laughed, his fingers and voice ice cold. His words were soft, spoken in a way that had your omega stupidly cooing for having secret conversations with your alpha who promised to fuck you till you were carrying a litter of pups. “I hope you realize that this is real life, that I will break you, and no hero in this world will be able to fucking save you.”

“Fuck the omega!” someone from the crowd screamed, and Shigaraki glared upwards. Still, you shivered in the thought of this alpha who spent five billion dollars to make you his claiming you, fucking your stupid heat brain into mush in front of these smaller, irrelevant alphas. 

“I’ll do what I fucking please,” Shigaraki snapped, but the fingers you remembered to have been the last ones to enter your slicked crazy walls seemed to be his. They moved deep within you, curling and spreading your tight, sopping wet cavern apart, letting your pathetic, chirping cries echo powerfully in the room as lusting, near rutting alpha pheromones filled the room. “For fucks sake, omega, your pussy’s fucking tight as shit! Don’t you have any real knotted toys?”

You couldn’t respond back, your body on the road to a complete shut down at the feeling of something other than silicone deep within your body, fingering and dragging against your pheromone soaked walls.

“Alpha, y-your fingers feel so good!” you gasp, your hips thrusting backward, enjoying the way his fingernails press onto your warm velvet walls. “So good, you make me feel so good already.”

“I’ve seen you all over the news,” Shigaraki growled low into your ear. “Talking about how you didn’t want an alpha, how you never needed to feel the tightness that a fat knot could bring you, and look at you now. I’ve barely touched you, barely begun to make you mine, and yet you’re already begging for me, omega.”

Your arms tug at the handcuffs, pathetically wanting them off. Exasperatedly seeking more friction from your newly bought alpha. You can’t think straight, can’t come up with a single response except the stupid apologetic, “I’m so sorry alpha, I didn’t know i-it would be y-you!”

“Don’t be shy on her, Shigaraki! Fuck the slutty omega already! Fucking knot and claim her in front of us, I want to hear the omega whore scream. It’s always hotter when it’s the first claim ever!”

“You better learn how to shut the fuck up, or I’ll kill you for interrupting my fucking session here,” Shigaraki seethed, his red, smoldering eyes ripping from yours and glaring at some loser alpha behind you. You couldn’t care. You only wanted what looked like the growing cock in Shigaraki’s pants; you wanted to feel the cock fill up your cunt, and his knot to lock you both in place.

You drooled at the thought, your loud, whimpering cries unable to keep from pouring out as the slick from your core seemed to pour endlessly from your pussy, demanding attention and a knot. “Breed me, fill me with your pups,” you begged fingers taking in his dirty fingers in your mouth, tongue wildly and uncontrollably flicking across his fingers in hopes it would be a sinking prayer of your promise to be good. “I want your knot, alpha, I want these stupid alphas to know you’re so much better than them~!”

Shigaraki’s once snarl fell when he looked at you, a slowly growing smirk falling on his face as his lips spread into a cruel smirk, one that had you moaning around his fingers as he pinched the pink muscle in your mouth before disappearing before you.

“I smelled your distress when I put my fingers up your sloppy little cunt right before the auction happened; I could tell even with your growing heat that you hated the feeling of my fingers up your pretty pussy. But look at you now, I haven’t even set you on my goddamn knot, haven’t stretched that tiny cunt to its max. You’re smelling better than a bitch in heat,” Shigaraki growled in your ear. His clothed chest pressing deliriously into your exposed back, the huge cock outline in his pants grinding incessantly into your wet core, undoubtedly leaving a damp patch where his cock ground into you. “You’re an actress, aren’t you, little omega? I bet you just needed this audience cheering your name to break your mind over this. How. Pathetic.”

And the pressure on your tongue is gone, the drool and saliva sticky and cold on your chin as you whimper for your alpha. You promised that it wasn’t right, it was just that you had been scared before, but your alpha was so strong, his pheromones so scary and mean, he could protect you and fill you up with so many pups you couldn’t help but to be excited now.

The smell of Shigaraki seemed to brighten, and you moaned when his hands pressed the white dress up, allowing for your naked ass to be seen by him and everyone who stayed to watch. Shigaraki squeezed your asscheeks away, chuckling at the way your small asshole clenched in your embarrassment and pain at how your hormone-driven heat demanded that he fuck you and knot you now.

“So fucking wet,” Shigaraki observed, his fingertips tracing the slick on your folds before a small pop told you that he licked you clean from his fingers. “Such sweet slick too, you really are a prime omega, little one.”

You whimpered, ass shaking for him to continue to touch you, to continue to fuck you more. 

“I don’t think you’re ready for my knot, precious omega,” Shigaraki taunted, and his words were a sealing deal in your lusting mind. Your hips knocking backward in some sort of desperation for more.

“She won’t,” commented the auctioneer.

“I will!” you scream, eyes filled with painful tears that could only be resolved with your alphas knot and claim. “I can take your knot, alpha!”

Shigaraki makes a small noise, and you choke at the feeling of something huge, nearly monstrous, shift into your cunt. You were a virgin, but even you knew that it was merely the head of his alpha thick cock, not enough for you to be satisfied, not far enough in you to breed or fuck you properly. All the moans in your throat were slightly painful, and the tears in your eyes continued to fall as you rocked your hips backward, trying to sink yourself further on his cock, wanting him deep in your womb.

You craved him.

“Ah, good, you can take more,” came the airy, almost insane driven coo of Shigaraki, the lack of humor making your cunt flutter against his thick, long cock. “Cry for your alpha, little omega.”

With that, Shigaraki slammed into you with no mercy, his cock bottoming out into you with a powerful, edging thrust. You screamed in pain, tears leaking from your eyes, and even with the pool of lubricating slick, his cock was far too big, incredibly thick that you felt your inner walls splitting in two as he fucked you as if you weren’t in delirious pain.

Drool and tears covered your arms, your painted fingers digging into the floorboards with crazy strength that you clawed scars on the floor as Shigaraki rutted deep within you.

Shigaraki commanded you with every thrust he gave, and soon the omega in you was cooing, howling for more, the pain of having your virginity ripped from right under you having become bubbling, glowing pleasure. You screamed in pleasure, Shigaraki grabbing onto your rolling hips to slam you back onto his cock, allowing for his thick cock to hit deep within you over and over again. The angle and power he possessed with every thrust were almost inhumane, nothing your lonely heat filled nights could ever dream of recreating ever. Shrill moans and pleas drowned out the annoying commentary of your onlookers, Shigaraki’s chest still flushed against your back, his hips landing heavily on your ass that was at this point raised because of the mount beneath you. 

“My alpha,” you babble, eyes unfocused, hazy, and incredibly heavy as you stared at some point on the wall, overwhelmed with the feeling of Shigaraki’s hot cock pounding in you. “My alpha, such a good alpha. His cock is making my tummy feel funny, making my pussy feel so tight. Please fill me with your children, I’ll be a good omega to you and them, I promise! I promise — I — oh myyy goddd — I promise, alpha!!!”

Shigaraki puffs up with the praise, but he continued to fuck into you roughly, mercilessly, as if you were nothing more than the breeding whore omega that he had purchased you for. The wet slaps and satisfying squelches rang in the blazing heat room, the smell of the pleasured and heat insane omega saturating deeply within his nose, and in the other's nose, the prideful smell of a satisfied alpha.

Your spongy walls clenched and spasmed against his penetrating, pounding cock, sometimes even forcibly because, by god, it was hot when his cock would twitch within your womb, especially against your cervix.

“Fuck, you’re so damn annoying,” Shigaraki snarled into your ear, his teeth biting and scraping along your neck, and you wailed when his teeth dragged over the sweet scent gland on your neck. The one and only place for mating bites to go. His hand gripped your hair, tugging your head back so that you could feel his rough facial skin rub up against yours. “If you want me to fill you with my pups, you better be the best fucking omega on this goddamn planet.”

“I can be the best! I’ll be the best!” you cried, your ass shifting backward to meet his drilling hips. 

The delirious sensation of his cock rocking against your cervix slowly begins to inflate the knot on his cock, restricting his still barbaric thrusting as he made to move faster. He wanted you to cum before he knotted entirely within you. 

The pressure in your stomach is scorching and impossibly tight, and he takes another long stripe at your scent gland. You tremble with need, your fingers tearing into the wooden floors. You can feel the knot on his cock swelling up, catching onto the opening of your cunt with every successive cunt, and you begin to cry, shake, and tremble as the knot becomes too big.

Your eyes cross, your tongue falling out of your mouth as you babble his name. Your walls clamp around his knotted cock with the ferocity of a vice, and your body jerks violently as you cum hard around his cock. The slick essence of your orgasm slipping out of the few lasting places open before Shigaraki’s knot fills you out entirely. Despite his cock unable to move, the swollenness of his knot preventing him from moving out of you, Shigaraki still shoves his weight into his hips, the inflated knot stretching your cock out so widely, your vision went white, and you came yet a second time.

A small pop was heard, and suddenly with a rush of thick, hot, and heavy white cum exploded within your womb, his teeth sink around your scent gland, marking you — mating you. He filled you, filled you, and filled you. His cum wouldn’t stop until your belly was swollen with his hot cum, and he eventually fell off of you with a shaky, shallow breath.

You still remained on the mount, your eyes unfocused, breaths mumbling to your alpha, a promise to carry out every single pup he gave you and would give you. You were his omega, his good little omega, and you would never disappoint your alpha. Not now, not ever.

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

The next week, you opened your door with a broad smile, your usual clothes replaced with a dress Shigaraki had picked for you and a frilly white apron on as your agent was standing outside of your house, eyes wide, mouth gaped at the still bleeding mate wound on your shoulder.

“Ah, how funny!” you laughed, waving your hand as you sighed dreamily, your eyes fluttering at the thought of your alpha who was on a business call right now. “I’m actually going to be quitting! My alpha and I have many plans right now, I gotta produce as many litters as I can, being an actress would never give me this sort of meaning in life!”

“B-But, you’re doing so much?! You have so much to do! You can’t give up?!”

“Oh, my love, we both know that I look much cuter with a pregnant belly! Don’t worry,” you smile, taking your agent's hand, brightly smiling at her one last time. “I’m sure all omegas will eventually find their alpha so they won’t be so depressed and angry like I was!”

Your agent doesn’t get another word in.

You slam the door in her face, your hands already resting on your belly that you knew was already growing the life of your first litter of pups. It had been known the second Shigaraki filled you up anymore.

You were a good little omega, and your alpha needed you!

[mikeluciraphgabe]

Michael is a Love-Stuck Idiot: Part One

Micheal confessed his feelings and immediately walks away, not waiting for his love’s answer.

Angst (sorry), fluff? A bit anyway, brothers being brothers, Michael loves his boys even if it isn’t mentioned, some more angst because I love ripping heart out, Adam is a tired boyfriend who just want to make out like horny teenagers, pinning Michael because who doesn’t like that?

One two final

Me to you:

Throwing his phone across the room like it will undo the message, Michael groans and hides under his pillow and blankets. And, because the universe literally hates him so much, the phone ping only minutes later.

Reaching for the phone like it will kill him, Michael peaks out of the safety of his pillows. The on-screen reply reads;

Addy: Sure :)

He unlocks he phone and stares at his background. It’s his brothers (sons Adam says but Michael argues they are his brothers) and Adam piling on top of Michael. All had huge smiles on their faces and cake covering their faces. It was his birthday that day and the four threw him a surprise birthday. One of their friends caught the picture at the right time in the perfect light.

Michael loves this picture. They look like a family in it.

Me: Wait, don’t you have that thing with your brothers?

Addy: you mean go and hangout with their bitch asses instead of with my favorite person ever?

Addy: never knew you thought so lowly of me :(

Michael snorts softly as he flushes a bit.

Me: I’m your favorite person?

Addy:

Me: Omg really? That’s kinda gay Adam…

Addy:

Me: ok ok I’m sorry 🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️

Addy: what time do you wanna meet up??

Me: any is fine

___

They agreed to one in the afternoon the next day at their favorite coffee/book shop. Adam found it one day and it became their little meet up place for when they had time. Which was pretty often as of late surprisingly. It may have been due to that fact Michael just graduated and is finally getting his life on track and it happens to be in the middle of the school year for his not-sons so he has much more time than before to hangout with his friends.

Especially one handsome friend in particular.

They went so often in the past couple of months, the workers knew their ordered better than them so when they walked in, their order was practically already on the table before they sat down.

Shuffling in his seat, Adam looks at Michael as he takes a sip and set the cup back down. God, did he have to flutter his stupidly perfect eyelashes at him like that? Did Adam know what that did to him? “So, what did you want to talk about?”

Looking away from one of his favorite sights in the entire world, Michael hums and picks at his finger. “Uhh, well… never mind. It’s not a big deal. Tell me about your week.”

“First of all, it’s Tuesday. What the fuck could I have done in two days worth telling? I mean, I throw coffee at Lily from work but what’s new about that? Second, answer the question before I throw a bagel at you. Marcy will even supply me with enough until you answer.”

Michael raises his hands in surrender. That Marcy part was mostly true. That woman would probably steal an ancient artifact for Adam. She adores him. “Alright.” This could ether end with marriage, or it could end with him down a friend. “I… imsortakindainlovewithyou-“

“Whoa whoa! Calm down!” Adam places a gentle hand on Michael’s and rubs a circle on the back of it with his thumb. “You’re what? You talked to fast for me to understand.”

God the kindness in his best friend’s eyes made Michael feel like he could do anything. This is one of the reasons he so deeply in love with the man. The unmoving support and kindness for him and really anyone was endearing. Who wouldn’t fall for the guy?

Taking a breath and looking out the window, “I’m in love with you. I have been for the past three years. Or maybe it was sense we met but I knew I was for three years. God Ad, I’m in love with you. I never thought I would tell you but that guy Liam you started seeing just… I don’t know. When I saw the two of you the other week, I knew you guys had a thing that could be built on in a beautiful way. I realized how bad I wanted that with you instead of watching from the sides as a friend.”

There came no response and Michael slowly begins to stand.

“I understand if you don’t feel the same. I can leave you alone for awhile. I don’t think these feelings will go away for me, but hopefully we can still be friends. I would rather be friends that nothing at all. I’m sorry if I but you in a weird position or made you uncomfortable.”

“Michael-“

Giving the other man a sad smile as he lays down cash, Michael walks towards the door. “You don’t have to say anything right now. I know this is a bomb shell and dropping it on you like this and leaving is kinda a dick move, but I really need to walk away before I start sobbing and making awkward for the both of us.”

He hears Adam shouting behind him, but Michael blends into the New York crowd quickly. He walks for a long time before he blinks and realizes he made it to his favorite park. His phone rings for the millionth time and he finally looks at it.

It’s only Lucifer.

He is probably just asking when he is going to be home or for dinner, possibly for both. It can wait a few more minutes Michael feels. Right now, he wants to willow in self pity. Lucky for him, it begins to rain.

Perfect time to cry! No one will tell if they are tears or rain!

Maybe the universe has a soft spot for him.