#Sorry its not that long and not that great

[mononijikayu]

triassic love song — gojo satoru.

“They were together until the very end.” you said softly, your voice carried by the gentle wind. “I hope they’re still together, wherever they are.” The tall man took a deep breath, turning his head to look at you. For a moment, his blue gaze seemed distant, as though he were seeing something—or someone—far beyond the present. But then his lips curled into a small, sad smile.  “They will be, you know?” he replied quietly, his voice deep and filled with a quiet conviction. “Some loves are strong enough to last forever. They…they transcend, even time.”

GENRE: alternate universe - reincarnation au!;

WARNING/S: edo japan era, nsfw, angst, fluff, romance, hurt/comfort, engagement, hurt, physical touch, implied character death(s), natural disaster(s), mourning, pain, grief, happy ending, depiction of natural disaster(s), depiction of suffering, depiction of character death(s), depiction of violent destruction, depiction of grief, depiction of suffering, mention of implied character death(s), mention of death(s), mention of suffering, mention of destruction, mention of earthquake-related destruction, fiance! gojo, fiance! reader, reincarnated! gojo, reincarnated! reader;

WORD COUNT: 8.6k words

NOTE: this song has ruined me beyond understanding. paris paloma, your album was just insane like im sorry. the fact that she wrote a song about the triassic cuddle inspired me to write something similar and i just??? i can't help myself. ive been so crazy about this song that i just decided, you know what. this is great. this is just something i would in fact like to bawl my eyes out writing. and i did. i did that. and i hope you cry with me and enjoy it. anyway, i love you all so much <3

masterlist

if you want to, tip! <3

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IT WAS ENJOYABLE TO BE TOGETHER. IIt was forbidden to be together at this time, with the curfew in place, but you couldn’t help yourself. Not when it came to him. The world outside was still, bound by rules meant to keep order, but within the quiet sanctuary of your family estate, the constraints of the outside world seemed distant and unimportant. Inside, warmth and anticipation filled the air, thick as the lingering scent of incense that wafted through the halls. The soft glow of lanterns bathed the room in a warm light, casting shadows across the delicate shoji screens, and reflecting off the polished wooden beams and traditional tatami mats beneath you.

Gojo Satoru sat beside you, his presence magnetic as always, but tonight, something was different. His signature smirk still played at the corners of his lips, and his bright, sparkling eyes glimmered with mischief. But beneath that playfulness was an undeniable depth, a new layer of emotion that wasn’t there before—an unspoken excitement, a shared understanding that you were no longer just childhood friends.

You were now betrothed.

Bound by the ties of engagement that your noble families had arranged, it felt as though a long-awaited dream had finally come true. And though you had known each other all your lives, this new bond between you carried a weight of its own, something that made your heart race in a way you hadn’t expected. The happiness you felt was undeniable, shared in the way Satoru’s hand occasionally brushed against yours, in the subtle glances that said everything words couldn’t.

“You’re quieter than usual, don't you think?" Satoru remarked with a teasing lilt, his voice soft but carrying an undercurrent of something more serious. He leaned in slightly, his gaze locking onto yours, as if daring you to speak first.

You smiled, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks under his intense scrutiny. “I could say the same about you, hm?” you replied, trying to match his teasing tone, though your voice betrayed the flurry of emotions swirling within you.

Satoru chuckled softly, leaning back on his hands, eyes never leaving yours. “Well, it’s not every day you get engaged to your best friend!” he said, his tone light, but his expression softened as his usual bravado gave way to sincerity.

That sincerity took your breath away, and for a moment, the reality of the moment hit you fully. You weren’t just sneaking out to spend time with him as you had countless times before. This was different. This was a promise, one sealed by the love you’d always shared but never fully acknowledged until now.

“I’ve been waiting for this, you know?” you admitted quietly, your eyes meeting his. “For us to be more than just... childhood friends.”

Satoru’s playful demeanor softened even more, a rare seriousness taking over his expression as he reached out to take your hand in his. His fingers were warm, and the simple gesture sent a shiver down your spine.

“Me too.” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “For a long time.”

For a few moments, neither of you spoke. The world outside was still and silent, but inside this room, the air seemed alive with the energy between you. The gravity of the situation settled in—this wasn’t just a fleeting moment. It was the beginning of something much bigger, something that both excited and terrified you.

“You always did like breaking the rules.” you teased lightly, trying to ease the tension, though your heart pounded in your chest. “Staying out past curfew, sneaking into my room like this...”

Satoru grinned, his usual confidence returning. “I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t, right?” he quipped, though the softness in his gaze lingered. “Besides, how could I stay away from you tonight? Our first night as an engaged couple... I had to be here.”

You laughed, but it was a soft, breathless sound, the kind that came when words failed to fully capture the emotions coursing through you. “I’m glad you’re here, Satoru.” you whispered.

He smiled, that warm, heart-melting smile that was reserved just for you, and for a moment, it felt like nothing else in the world mattered. Not the rules, not the expectations placed on you by your families, not even the looming responsibilities of your engagement. It was just you and him, sharing a quiet, intimate moment that you knew you would cherish forever.

“I brought something for you.” Satoru said after a brief pause, reaching into his sleeve and pulling out a small bundle of paper. “I wrote these for you.”

You blinked in surprise, watching as he carefully unfolded the papers. “Poems?”

He nodded, the tiniest hint of embarrassment coloring his cheeks, something you rarely saw from him. “Yeah, don’t laugh!” he added quickly, though the look in his eyes told you he trusted you completely. “I’ve been working on them for a while...”

You took the papers from him, your fingers brushing his as you did. The sheets were neatly folded, each one carefully written in his distinct handwriting. It touched you deeply to know that he had taken the time to craft these for you, that he had poured his heart into something so personal. Something for you, with all his love.

You looked up at him, your heart swelling with affection. “I could never laugh, my dearest.” you said softly, your voice sincere. “Thank you, Satoru.”

"I made these for you, my beloved." he whispered, pulling out one of the carefully folded parchment from your grasp and unfolded it. "Listen to me, alright?"

His slender fingers traced the delicate paper before he began to read softly, his voice like a gentle breeze:

"Beneath the cherry bloom, I wait  

for you, a light that never fades.  

In silence, your name takes root in my soul—  

a promise written long before time."

His tender words wove into your heart, each syllable filled with the love he had always held for you, now finally given shape. You leaned against him, feeling the warmth of his body seep into yours, comforted by the sound of his heartbeat that matched your own excitement. The future felt certain, and the night was perfect. You kept listening to his voice, letting it guide you into the tender slumber of the night.

Satoru leaned closer to you, watching your expression, his bright blue eyes filled with a mix of anticipation and affection. Your orbs gazed at the tender strokes of his writing.

His calligraphy had always been so beautiful, but to form such words in order to capture not just the feelings he had for you, it was even more beautiful. And to have him read it with such affection, such love — for you and only you…..what could be more beautiful? What could be more perfect, more delightful?

But then, the ground beneath you shifted, a low rumble reverberating through the tatami mats. At first, it was subtle, almost imperceptible, but within seconds, the shaking intensified. It was subtle at first, a low rumble that made the lanterns flicker.

Satoru paused, his brow furrowing. Before you could ask, the ground shook violently, and the delicate house groaned under the pressure. Screams erupted from other rooms, echoing through the halls as the tremor grew stronger.

"Satoru?" you whispered, your heart suddenly pounding in your chest, not from love, but from fear.

He was already moving, his hand gripping yours tightly. “Stay with me, my beloved.” he commanded, his voice steady, though his eyes flashed with a seriousness you had never seen before. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

The room shuddered violently as the earthquake hit full force, and you could hear the distant crashing of objects falling in other parts of the house. Screams erupted outside even louder—voices of your family, the servants, all caught in the chaos of the sudden disaster. And then all the sudden, it was eerily quiet. And that made your heart drop to your stomach 

For a moment, you thought that it would finally be over. But then, the earth beneath you trembled once more. You squealed as Satoru let his body encompass your own with the enveloping of his whole body on yours as the world crashed against you both. The walls were swaying left and right, the roof tiles were shattering one after another. It was chaos.

"Hold on to me. Don’t lift your eyes." he said, his voice calm but firm, even as the world quaked around you. “I’ll protect you.”

You clung to him, your heart pounding in fear as the floor shifted beneath your feet. His grip was unyielding, pulling you closer until there was no space between your bodies, shielding you from falling debris as the shaking intensified.

“I’ve got you, my beloved.” he murmured into your hair, his voice steady despite the chaos around you. “D–don’t worry.”

You feared when he stuttered, that he had gotten hurt. But he did not falter. His fingers gently stroked your back, trying to calm your trembling as the earthquake raged on. You could hear the distant crashing of porcelain and wood, your ears ringing from the harsh sounds of the destruction. But in his arms, you felt an odd sense of safety amidst the destruction. Because it was your Satoru holding you, protecting you. Because you’re together. 

As the tremors finally subsided, Satoru’s grip on you loosened slightly, but he didn’t let go. His breath was shaky, and when you looked up at him, you saw a rare flicker of fear in his usually carefree eyes. He swallowed hard before giving you a small, reassuring smile. You were still stunned, your head shaking as you tried to make sense of the world.

"Seems like the earth itself wanted to remind us of its power." he joked softly, though the tension in his voice betrayed him. He was just as afraid, perhaps even pained by some injury he would never show you. “We’re….we’re alright, my beloved. Don’t worry.”

You let out a breathless laugh, still clutching his robes as you pressed your forehead against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. The night was no longer perfect, but in that moment, with Satoru holding you close, it felt like nothing could tear the two of you apart—not even the earth itself.

The earth, which had momentarily stilled, seemed to shift again beneath you, this time more violently.More catastrophic, more angry and volatile. You screamed as you held tightly to him, his body wrapping itself against you once more. The walls of your room groaned, beams creaking as the tremors returned with a vengeance, fiercer than before. The floor shook so hard you could barely keep your balance, even in Satoru's arms.

He pulled you even tighter against him, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, “Stay with me. Don’t let go.”

You could feel his muscles tensing beneath his robes, his usually easy going demeanor replaced by something more protective, almost desperate as his entire body forced itself to become a shield against anything against you. What remained standing of your ancestral home rattled more easily around you, dust falling from the ceiling in thick clouds. Outside, the screams grew louder, more frantic as the destruction worsened. Perhaps, it wasn’t even your family any longer. Perhaps it was the town, perhaps it was a neighboring village. You do not know anymore. And that’s what frightened you even more.

You could hear the unmistakable crash of something heavy—perhaps a roof beam—collapsing nearby. Suddenly, a deafening crack split the air. The wide, elaborate shoji doors rattled on their frames before they were blown open by the force of the quake. Your own room felt like it was being torn apart piece by piece. One of the wooden beams above groaned under the strain and, without warning, splintered and fell, hurtling toward the two of you.

Your beloved Gojo Satoru reacted in an instant, pushing you down and covering you with his body just as the beam crashed into the floor where you’d been trying to stand. The air was thick with dust, and the scent of earth and shattered wood filled your lungs, choking you. You shook as your eyes slowly opened to see your fiance pinning you down with his body shielding you.

“Satoru!” you gasped, your hands gripping the front of his robe, desperate to make sure he was unharmed.

“I’m fine, my beloved.” he muttered, though you could hear the strain in his voice. His arm was still braced above you, shielding you from any further debris. His other hand cupped the back of your head, pressing you into the crook of his neck. “We need to move. The house isn’t going to hold.”

You nodded against him, heart pounding in terror. Everything felt surreal, like a nightmare you couldn’t wake from. The childhood home that had always felt so safe, so untouchable, was crumbling around you, and the only solid thing left was Satoru. He was all you had, you think. Everything…Everything was gone. Your body was shaking. 

He pulled you to your feet, guiding you toward the door, but just as you reached it, another powerful tremor sent the ground pitching beneath you. You fell forward, and Satoru caught you, his arms wrapping around your waist, holding you close as the floor buckled and cracked beneath your feet. You could feel the splintering wood beneath your sandals, the whole structure of the house breaking apart beneath the relentless force of the earthquake.

“Satoru, we need to get out—” you started, but your voice was drowned out by the sound of another beam collapsing behind you, followed by a sickening crash from outside the room.

“I know, I know.” he said, his voice tight with focus as he scanned the surroundings. "We’ll find a way out. I promise."

He led you toward the door again, but just as you stepped forward, the entire room seemed to tilt. The floor caved in with a horrific crack, and suddenly, you were falling. Satoru’s grip tightened as you both plummeted into darkness, the floorboards and debris collapsing into the space below.

“Are you hurt?” Satoru’s voice cut through the chaos, his hand cupping your face gently as he pulled you close, checking for injuries in the dim light. His fingers trembled slightly, betraying the fear he usually kept hidden so well.

“I’m okay,” you gasped, though your body felt battered and sore.

He exhaled in relief, his forehead pressing against yours for a moment, his breath shaky. “We need to get out of here. Stay close to me.”

Even now, with the world collapsing around you, his determination didn’t waver. He pulled you to your feet once more, and together, you began to make your way through the rubble. The house was a maze of fallen beams, shattered walls, and debris, the once-beautiful estate reduced to ruins in a matter of minutes.

The aftershocks still rumbled beneath your feet, making every step treacherous, but Satoru kept you steady, his arm around your waist, guiding you through the wreckage. The air was thick with dust, and the distant screams of those outside continued, filling you with dread for what might await you once you escaped.

As you neared what used to be the outer courtyard, the quake hit again, this time more violent than any before. The very ground seemed to split open beneath you, and with a loud, earth-shattering roar, the outer wall of the estate gave way. You barely had time to scream before the floor cracked beneath your feet, and you fell into darkness once more.

This time, Satoru’s grip on you tightened, and you felt his body pull you against him, sheltering you as the ground gave way entirely. You hit the ground hard, the pain radiating through your body, but before you could react, you felt the warmth of Satoru’s arms around you, shielding you from the worst of it.

“Don’t leave me.” he whispered, his voice trembling as he held you tighter than ever. “I won’t let anything take you from me—not this, not anything.”

In that moment, as the world continued to crumble around you, his words were the only thing that kept you grounded. No matter what happened next, as long as you were with him, there was still hope. You clung to him, your fingers digging into the fabric of his robes, as the tremors finally began to subside, leaving the two of you alone in the wreckage, but together.

You landed hard, the wind knocked out of you as your back hit the ground. The tatami beneath you was torn, and debris scattered everywhere, yet Satoru still held onto you, his arms wrapped tightly around your body, as though his grip alone could shield you from the crumbling world. The force of his embrace had absorbed much of the fall, but the impact still left you breathless. For a moment, everything was a blur—dust and darkness clouded your vision, and the deafening roar of collapsing beams filled the air.

Your body throbbed with pain, and panic surged in your chest, but even through the chaos, the warmth of Satoru’s body against yours anchored you. His presence, solid and unyielding, kept you grounded in the midst of the chaos.

"Satoru..." you gasped, your voice barely audible, but he heard you.

“I’m here,” he whispered fiercely, his voice steady despite the tremors still shaking the earth beneath you. His breath was ragged, but his grip on you didn’t falter. His white hair, now disheveled and covered in dust, clung to his forehead, but his eyes—those impossibly blue eyes—remained focused on you. “Are you hurt?”

You tried to shake your head, but your mind was still reeling, struggling to catch up with what had just happened. The earthquake raged on, though the initial violence of it had passed. The ground trembled beneath you like a sleeping beast disturbed from its rest.

Satoru shifted, pulling you up as carefully as he could. The house around you was nearly unrecognizable—wooden beams had collapsed, shoji screens were shredded, and parts of the roof had caved in. The once peaceful and warm room where you had shared your engagement was now in ruins, littered with broken objects and torn memories.

The sound of screams echoed from outside, faint but piercing. Servants. Family. It was hard to tell who, but the urgency in their voices cut through the haze of shock that clouded your mind. Your breath caught in your throat, panic gripping you once more.

“My family... my parents.” you muttered, scrambling to get up, but Satoru stopped you, his hand on your shoulder, firm yet gentle. “Satoru—”

"Wait," he said softly, though his voice carried the weight of authority. "We need to get out of here first. It’s not safe."

He tried to keep you calm, his steady hands guiding you through the debris, but you could see the tension in his posture. He was on high alert, his senses sharp as he glanced at every unstable beam, every shifting pile of rubble. He was scanning for danger, but more than that, he was trying to protect you from seeing the worst of it—the destruction, the death.

But as you stumbled through the wreckage of what had once been your home, you couldn’t avoid the horrors that surrounded you. Bodies. Littered through the halls, some crushed beneath fallen beams, others lying still in the open. Your breath hitched, and for a moment, the world spun around you.

"Satoru..." you whispered, your voice trembling as you pulled away from his protective hold. "Where are they? My parents... my siblings?"

He didn’t answer immediately, his eyes darting around, trying to keep you moving forward, away from the bodies, away from the worst of it. But you knew. The silence was louder than any scream. You could feel tears fall from your face and that broke his heart to see.

"Satoru!" you cried, your voice breaking as your legs buckled beneath you. "Where are they?"

He knelt beside you, his hands cupping your face as he gently forced you to look at him. His bright blue eyes were filled with an overwhelming sadness, but he tried to hide it, to be strong for you. He had to be strong. He had to. He can’t be weak, not right now.

“I don’t know,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “But we have to go. We need to find shelter. I’ll take you to my family home. They’ll know what to do.”

You nodded, though the words didn’t fully sink in. Your body was moving on autopilot now, your mind numb to the world as Satoru pulled you back to your feet. With every step, the destruction around you became more apparent, more real. The walls were crumbling, the air thick with dust and smoke, and the scent of burning wood filled your nostrils.

Together, you navigated the ruins of your estate, stepping over debris and through the remains of lives that had been lost in the quake. GojoSatoru kept a firm grip on your hand, leading you with a determination that seemed almost impossible given the circumstances.

But even he couldn’t hide the way his shoulders tensed, the way his jaw clenched when another body appeared in your path, forcing him to shield you from the sight.

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IT WAS A CHALLENGE, TO GO AND LEAVE THE DESTRUCTION BEHIND. The sky deepened into a somber shade of dusk as you and Satoru finally reached the estate’s edge. The once proud gates, symbols of security and honor, now stood twisted and mangled, crumpled by the sheer force of nature’s wrath.

Beyond the gates, the town stretched out in a nightmare of ruin—buildings reduced to heaps of rubble, streets fractured and littered with debris, and the air thick with the lingering scent of smoke and dust. The cries of the wounded and the wails of those searching for lost loved ones echoed through the broken streets, a chorus of despair that filled the silence left in the wake of destruction.

“Keep your head high,” Satoru urged, his voice low but firm as he tightened his grip on your hand. “Don’t look. Just… don’t.”

But it was impossible not to look. How could you not see the devastation, shared by all? Every corner of the town had been touched by this catastrophe, and every person who remained alive carried the weight of loss. It was a destruction understood by all, but none more deeply than you at that moment.

The memory of your home—once filled with laughter, warmth, and the presence of family—now lay in ruins. Your parents, your siblings… their fates were unknown, swallowed by the chaos. You hadn’t seen them, and the hope of finding them alive was growing fainter with every passing moment. Satoru’s words rang hollow in your ears, even as you clung to his hand for strength.

He guided you through the crumbling streets with a fierce determination, always positioning himself between you and the worst of the wreckage. The buildings, once grand and vibrant, had become tombs of stone and wood, each step revealing more of the town’s shattered soul. Bodies lay strewn across the ground, some half-buried in rubble, others left untouched by the debris but claimed by the quake nonetheless. It was too much, too overwhelming.

Every time you stumbled, your legs trembling with fatigue and grief, Satoru was there, catching you before you could fall. His presence was like an anchor, keeping you steady amid the storm of devastation that swirled around you. His hand never left yours, his touch a silent promise that you weren’t alone in this. You didn’t have to face it all by yourself.

The survivors—those who had managed to escape the collapse of buildings or who had emerged from the wreckage—followed behind you, a somber procession of hollow eyes and ashen faces. Their steps were slow, heavy with the weight of shock. No words passed between them, no cries for help—only silence and the occasional sob as they moved like ghosts through the streets, trying to find some semblance of safety, of life, in this broken world.

Your heart ached for them, for their pain, but your own grief consumed you. The memory of your family’s voices, the warmth of your home, felt so distant now, like a dream you had just woken from. And yet, with each step you took beside Satoru, you realized that this nightmare was real, and there was no waking from it.

The earth beneath your feet still trembled occasionally, aftershocks reminding you that the worst might not yet be over. Each tremor sent a fresh wave of fear through your body, your grip tightening around Satoru’s hand. He responded in kind, his hand strong and reassuring, though you could sense the turmoil roiling beneath his calm exterior. His family, too, was somewhere in this mess. Their fate hung in the balance just as much as yours.

As you made your way through the gates, leaving behind the wreckage of your estate, you couldn’t help but glance back one final time. The place where you had grown up, where you had shared laughter, joy, and the news of your engagement just hours ago, was now unrecognizable. In the span of mere moments, everything you had known had been reduced to rubble, leaving behind only echoes of the life you had once cherished.

“Satoru…” your voice cracked as you spoke his name, the words barely audible over the distant cries. He stopped, turning to look at you, his eyes softening with concern.

“I know,” he whispered, his hand brushing against your cheek, wiping away the tears that had begun to fall unnoticed. “I know it’s hard. But we’ll make it through this. We have to.”

His resolve was unshakable, but you could see the grief hidden behind his determination. He was trying to be strong, not just for himself, but for you. His family’s estate lay ahead, yet you both feared what you would find when you arrived.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the land in shadow, you continued onward, the fire of Satoru’s presence the only thing keeping you from sinking into despair. The path was treacherous, littered with fallen beams and shattered stone, but Satoru led the way with careful, deliberate steps. He kept you close, his arm around your waist now, guiding you over the broken streets as you navigated what felt like the remains of the world.

Every glance revealed more heartache—broken homes, toppled lanterns, and the pale, lifeless faces of those who hadn’t made it. But Satoru never let you linger, gently urging you forward each time your gaze began to drift toward the horror around you.

Finally, you reached his family’s estate. Or what remained of it. The grand structure that had once stood proud and formidable was now a heap of collapsed roofs and shattered walls. The once beautiful garden, where you had shared many moments of happiness, was now a twisted, chaotic mess of uprooted trees and scorched earth.

Satoru stood still for a moment, his eyes scanning the destruction with a silent, composed fury. The pain was etched into his expression, though he quickly masked it as he turned to you, his voice low but firm.

"We’ll make it through tonight," he said. "We have to survive, no matter what."

In that moment, even as the world crumbled around you, there was no fear in his eyes—only determination. For now, all you could do was follow him. Follow him through the darkness, trusting that somewhere, beyond the destruction, hope still lingered. 

As you finally reached the outskirts of the Gojo estate, the enormity of the destruction hit you again. The town below had not been spared either. Smoke rose in the distance, and the ground was littered with rubble, buildings half-collapsed, and people wandering aimlessly, searching for loved ones.

Satoru didn’t hesitate. He pulled you forward, his grip never loosening as he led you through the streets toward his family’s home. But when you arrived, the sight that greeted you was even more devastating.

His family estate, much like your own, had been reduced to little more than a broken shell. The grand gates had collapsed, and the once beautiful gardens were torn apart, now little more than mounds of earth and stone. The house itself had fared no better, with parts of the roof caved in and walls shattered.

Satoru’s face paled as he took it all in, his hand tightening around yours in a desperate attempt to remain calm. But you could see it in his eyes—the grief, the disbelief. This was his home. His family. And now, it is gone.

For a long moment, he stood still, his gaze fixed on the destruction before him. His breathing was shallow, his grip on your hand tightening almost painfully. But then, with a sharp breath, he pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you protectively.

As you both began your journey toward the Gojo family estate, the weight of the day settled heavily on your shoulders. But Satoru’s hand never let go of yours, a silent promise that even in the face of unimaginable loss, you would survive this—together.

When you and Satoru finally reached the outskirts of his family estate, the sinking feeling in your chest returned with full force. What should have been a place of refuge, a sanctuary from the horrors you had just fled, was nothing but devastation. The Gojo estate, once majestic and proud, had fallen to the same fate as your home.

The gates were twisted and mangled, barely hanging from their hinges, and the walls that had once stood tall now lay in heaps of rubble. Smoke rose from what remained of the manor, a bitter scent of burning wood and stone hanging in the air. The destruction was so complete, so absolute, that it felt like the very earth had swallowed everything whole. The silence was deafening.

Gojo Satoru froze at the sight, his grip on your hand tightening until it almost hurt. You looked up at him, but his expression was unreadable, his usual brightness dulled to a vacant stare. His family, his home....everything he had known, everything he had grown up with. All was gone. Nothing was left but the earth where it all once stood.

You tried to say something, to offer words of comfort, but the lump in your throat made it impossible to speak. More tears could only pour out of your eyes from then on. All you could do was squeeze his hand, hoping he would feel your silent support. He didn't need to hear your words right now; he just needed to know you were there.

For a moment, he stood motionless, his blue eyes scanning the destruction as if trying to comprehend it, trying to find any sign of life among the wreckage. But there was nothing. Just like at your estate, the earthquake had consumed everything.

Finally, Satoru exhaled a shaky breath, his shoulders slumping ever so slightly. But even in his grief, he didn’t break. He couldn’t—not with you depending on him. He glanced down at you, his eyes softening with a kind of sadness you had never seen in him before. 

Satoru stopped for a moment, turning to you with a look of determination in his eyes. “We’ll make it through this,” he promised, his voice steady, though his eyes betrayed the fear he was trying so hard to hide. “We’ll get some place safe here, and I’ll make sure nothing ever hurts you again. You hear me?”

You nodded, though the world felt unsteady beneath you. The future that once seemed so bright, the engagement that had filled your heart with hope, now felt overshadowed by the tragedy that had befallen your lives. Still, with Satoru’s hand wrapped securely around yours, you knew one thing for certain—no matter what came next, you wouldn’t face it alone.

“We need to stay warm tonight.” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “It’s not safe to wander around in the dark. We’ll make a fire here, and then tomorrow, we’ll figure out what to do.”

He led you to a relatively clear patch of ground, away from the worst of the rubble. The sky was darkening, and the air had grown cold, a biting wind cutting through your torn clothes. Satoru quickly set to work, gathering what dry wood he could find, his movements steady and focused despite the grief that must have been tearing him apart inside.

You watched him in silence, too exhausted to help, too numb from everything that had happened. When the fire finally sparked to life, its warmth was a welcome reprieve from the cold that had settled deep into your bones. You sat beside him, huddled close to the flickering flames, the only source of light in the endless night.

Your Satoru didn’t speak for a long time. He simply stared into the fire, his expression distant, lost in thoughts you couldn’t fathom. His hands, usually so relaxed and playful, were tense, gripping his knees as if he were holding himself together by sheer force of will.

But then he turned to you, his gaze softening when he saw the exhaustion written on your face. Without a word, he pulled his outer robe from his shoulders and wrapped it around you, tucking it gently against your chin. He tried to do it, smiling like nothing happened. As though to comfort you even in all this suffering. And yet, you could see it all in his eyes. He was exhausted, he was in pain. And he didn’t know what to do.

“Sleep, my beloved.” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “I’ll keep watch.”

You wanted to protest, to tell him that he needed rest just as much as you did, but your body betrayed you. The exhaustion, the grief, the sheer weight of everything you had been through—it was too much. You nodded weakly, laying your head against his shoulder as you curled into the warmth of the robe.

Satoru shifted slightly, easing you into a more comfortable position so you could lie down near the fire. His hand rested on your arm, a protective gesture that reminded you of his earlier promise. Even as the world fell apart around you, Satoru Gojo was still there, watching over you.

As you drifted off to sleep, lulled by the crackling of the fire and the steady rise and fall of his breathing, Satoru leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head. His lips lingered there for a moment, as if he were afraid to pull away, afraid that something might take you from him if he let go.

“I’ll keep you safe, my beloved.” he whispered against your hair, his voice trembling with the weight of his vow. “No matter what happens. I won’t let anything hurt you.”

The fire flickered, casting shadows across his face, but his resolve was unshakable. He couldn’t save everything—his home, his family—but he would save you. That much, he was certain of.

As you slept, Gojo Satoru remained awake, his eyes scanning the horizon, alert for any sign of danger. The devastation around him was complete, but his focus never wavered from you. You were his world now, the one thing he had left in the midst of the ruin.

The night stretched on, cold and unforgiving, but Satoru didn’t move from his spot by your side. Even as the grief gnawed at him, even as the weight of everything he had lost threatened to crush him, he stayed strong. For you. Because no matter what came next, no matter how uncertain the future had become, Gojo Satoru had made a promise—and he would keep it.

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THE YEAR 2018 WAS AN INTERESTING YEAR FOR DISCOVERIES. You remember reading about it in the newspaper on your way to university—the discovery of two lovers found in an eternal embrace, huddled together in a shoreline cave, their bodies preserved for three hundred years by the elements that had claimed their lives. 

The volcanic eruption, the earthquake, and the tsunami that had ravaged Japan centuries ago were some of the worst disasters the country had ever known, obliterating entire villages and swallowing countless lives in an instant. And yet, even in the face of such unimaginable destruction, these two had remained together, their bond undisturbed by the passage of time.

Standing quietly in front of the memorial, you felt the weight of their story settle around you. The air was still and somber, carrying with it the distant hum of waves crashing along the shore. The stone monument before you was simple yet profound—a silent marker of the love these two souls had shared, a love that had endured in the most unimaginable of circumstances. Their bodies had been found in the ruins of a household long buried by the mud and debris, a household much like the ones surrounding this coastline, now reduced to scattered memories.

You had followed the story from the beginning—the day the archaeologists uncovered them from the earth, the painstaking care they took in revealing the remains. The headlines had drawn attention, not because of the tragedy alone, but because of the story those two bodies told.

There were no names. No clues as to who they had been, what their lives had looked like before the disaster struck, or even how they had ended up in each other’s arms when the end came. But it didn’t matter. Their identities weren’t needed to understand the significance of what had been found. What mattered was that they had faced their final moments without fear. They had faced the end together, with love.

It was that thought—the resilience of love in the face of overwhelming disaster—that had touched you most deeply. In a world where so much is fragile and fleeting, the strength of their connection had remained, even after centuries had passed. It was as if their love had transcended the destruction, as if they had chosen to defy the disaster by holding on to one another in their last breath.

You stepped forward, placing your hands together in silent prayer. You wished them peace, a kind of peace that transcended the tragedy of their death, that honored the love they had shared.

You prayed that their spirits had found rest, and that wherever they were now, they were still together, watching over the place where they had once stood. The offering you placed at the memorial was simple, a bouquet of white chrysanthemums, symbolizing purity and remembrance.

"I pray that you'll always be together, the two of you." you murmured, your voice soft, barely louder than the breeze that rustled through the trees around the monument. "Wherever you are, I hope you’ve found peace, and that your love is still as strong as it was in those last moments."

You stayed there for a while, the silence of the memorial surrounding you, offering its quiet comfort. The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm glow over the scene, a contrast to the deep sense of loss the place carried. But you didn’t feel sadness. Instead, there was something almost beautiful about it—knowing that even in the face of disaster, these two had been together, and their love had transcended time. As you prepared to leave, footsteps approached from behind. You turned slightly, curious to see who else had come to visit this quiet, forgotten place.

A man with striking white hair and bright blue eyes under the rim of his glasses stood at the edge of the memorial, his head bowed in silent prayer. He was tall, his presence commanding even though he moved with a quiet grace. His features were sharp, but softened by a kind of deep, unspoken sorrow. He knelt down beside the monument, laying a single white flower on the stone, his fingers brushing the surface with reverence.

You watched him for a moment, feeling an inexplicable sense of familiarity, though you couldn’t quite place it. The way he stood there—tall and composed, with an air of quiet reverence that just seemed to draw you in.

There was something almost ethereal about him, as if he was intrinsically linked to the story of the lovers you had come to honor. The connection felt deeper than mere coincidence, as though his presence was a significant part of the narrative that had touched you so profoundly.

His white hair glowed softly in the fading light, and his posture was relaxed yet dignified, embodying a calmness that contrasted sharply with the turmoil you had felt as you reflected on the lovers’ fate.

His eyes were closed in prayer, his face serene, as if he was offering a deeply personal tribute to the souls who had been found together in their final moments. The sense of connection was so strong that you could almost feel it emanating from him, a silent bridge spanning the centuries between his presence and the lovers' tragic end.

You hesitated, not wanting to intrude on his moment of solitude. Yet, there was something compelling about the situation—an unspoken invitation to acknowledge the shared significance of this place and the story that bound them all together. Your curiosity and empathy drove you to speak, despite the quietude that hung between you.

“Excuse me.” you began softly, breaking the stillness of the memorial. Your voice was gentle, barely a whisper against the backdrop of the crashing waves. “I couldn’t help but notice… There's something about you that feels so familiar, so connected to this place. I… I’ve been deeply moved by the story of the lovers found here, and I can’t shake the feeling that you share a connection with them.”

The man turned toward you, his eyes meeting yours with a mixture of surprise and understanding. He seemed to consider your words for a moment, his expression thoughtful and measured. There was a softness in his gaze, as if he had been waiting for this moment, this conversation, even if he didn’t quite know why.

“Oh.” Gojo Satoru whispered back, his cheeks tinged with a flush of surprise, as if your words had caught him off guard. He seemed momentarily at a loss, his usual confidence replaced with a bashful vulnerability. “Yeah, I… I saw the news, and I thought, I just had to come. It felt… it just felt right, you know? To come here and see them off, to wish them well.”

There was a sincerity in his voice, a raw honesty that struck a chord. You could see that this wasn’t just a casual visit for him; it was something deeply personal, a moment of reflection and respect that went beyond mere curiosity.

“I see…” you mumbled, your gaze softening as you looked at him. A smile slowly spread across your face, touched by his heartfelt gesture. “That’s kind of you to do.”

Gojo Satoru shook his head slightly, a rueful smile on his lips. “Ah, not… not really,” he said with a sigh, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly. “If anything, I think you were more kind. You brought them white chrysanthemums and everything. You probably had more of a proper prayer for them than I did.”

You waved off his comment with a small laugh, the sound light and airy in the quiet of the memorial. “Oh, not at all. I think… I think your intention was purer than mine. You came here just on a feeling, an instinct that something was right about being here. I was… I was interested historically before I was here emotionally, you know?”

His eyes met yours, a flicker of understanding passing between you. “I guess we both had our reasons,” he said softly. “But in the end, it’s the connection that matters. Whether we came here out of personal feelings or historical interest, it’s our respect and acknowledgement that count.”

You nodded, feeling a shared sense of purpose in your conversation. There was something profoundly meaningful about how your paths had crossed at this place, driven by a mutual respect for the story of the lovers and a desire to honor their memory. The distinction between your reasons for being here seemed to dissolve in the face of a greater truth—that both of you were here because of a deep-seated respect and a wish to pay tribute to the enduring power of love.

“So……” Gojo continued, a slight smile returning to his lips, ���I’m glad we met here. It feels like the right place for this kind of encounter, don’t you think?”

You agreed, feeling a warmth in his words. “Yes, it does. It’s like the universe brought us together in this moment to remind us of something important.”

He nodded, his expression thoughtful. “Yeah, something like that. It’s nice to know that even after so much time, and despite all the changes and challenges we face, there are still moments that can bring people together in such a profound way.”

You stood together in silence for a moment, the weight of your shared understanding settling around you. The memorial continued to stand as homage to the lovers’ eternal bond, and in that quiet, sacred space, you felt a connection that transcended all the limits given by the bountiful universe.

“They were together until the very end.” you said softly, your voice carried by the gentle wind. “I hope they’re still together, wherever they are.”

The tall man took a deep breath, turning his head to look at you. For a moment, his blue gaze seemed distant, as though he were seeing something—or someone—far beyond the present. But then his lips curled into a small, sad smile. 

“They will be, you know?” he replied quietly, his voice deep and filled with a quiet conviction. “Some loves are strong enough to last forever. They…they transcend, even time.”

There was something in his tone, a weight to his words, that made you wonder if he was speaking from experience. You gave him a respectful nod, choosing not to pry into the emotions that seemed to flicker beneath his calm exterior.

The two of you stood there in silence for a while longer, both paying your respects to the nameless lovers who had defied death with their love. The sun continued to dip lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the memorial. Finally, the man rose to his feet, brushing the dust from his clothes before turning to you.

“Take care, stranger.” he said softly, his voice carrying a warmth that contrasted with the sorrow that had lingered moments before. Then, with one last look at the monument, he began to walk away, his white hair catching the fading light like a beacon.

As you watched him go, something tugged at your heart. You didn’t know who he was, but in that moment, you felt as though you had shared something important with him—an unspoken understanding of love and loss, of holding on to someone even when the world falls apart around you. 

Somehow, there was something stirring within you—a feeling that you couldn’t let him just walk away, not without knowing more. There was something about him, an invisible thread connecting you, as if fate had brought you both to this quiet place for a reason.

"Wait! Hey, mister!" you called out softly, taking a few steps toward him. The man paused, turning back to face you, his expression curious but calm.

You hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to say. But then, with a gentle smile, you extended your hand. "I didn’t get the chance to introduce myself. My name is……"

He looked at you for a moment, as if weighing whether to reciprocate. Then, with a small, almost teasing smile, he took your hand in his. His grip was warm, steady, and comforting in a way that felt strangely familiar.

"I'm Gojo Satoru." he said, his voice smooth, yet laced with something deeper, as if his name carried a history he didn’t fully reveal.

The name hung in the air between you, and for a brief moment, you felt a flicker of recognition. But it was fleeting, gone as quickly as it had come. You smiled politely, though something about the way he said it, the way his gaze softened as he looked at you, made you feel like there was more to his introduction than simple formality.

"It's nice to meet you, Satoru." you replied, feeling a strange sense of ease as you spoke his name. There was something about the way it rolled off your tongue, as if you'd said it a thousand times before.

He tilted his head slightly, his sharp, crystal-blue eyes studying you with an intensity that was both disarming and oddly reassuring. It was as if he could see beneath the surface, understanding more than what was immediately apparent. Yet, instead of feeling exposed, you felt a sense of comfort, a silent acknowledgment that he grasped the depths of your emotions and thoughts.

With a gentle, almost shy smile, Gojo Satoru reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, extending it toward you. “Put your number in,” he said, his voice tender and inviting. “I think… I think you know more about this story than I do. I’d like to know more, if you’re willing to share.”

You blinked, momentarily taken aback by the request, but the sincerity in his voice and the warmth of his smile compelled you to act. With a nod, you took his phone from him and began to enter your contact information, a small flutter of excitement rising in your chest. There was something intriguing about the prospect of continuing this conversation, of sharing more about the story that had brought you both here.

When you handed his phone back to him, a playful grin appeared on your face. “It’s your turn,” you said, taking out your own phone and extending it toward him.

Gojo Satoru chuckled softly, his eyes lighting up with amusement as he looked at your phone. “Well, alright.” he said, taking it with a mock sigh of resignation. “If you insist.”

As he entered his number into your phone, the atmosphere between you shifted from one of solemn reflection to one of friendly connection. The small act of exchanging numbers felt like a bridge, linking your shared experience at the memorial with the potential for future conversations and deeper understanding. Maybe, just maybe — you’ll understand life the way these two in front of you did. Just maybe.

When he handed your phone back to you, he looked at you with a genuine smile. “Thanks for sharing this moment with me. It’s been… meaningful. I’m glad we crossed paths today.”

You smiled back, feeling a warmth in your chest that came from more than just the shared experience. “I’m glad too. It’s not every day you meet someone who understands the significance of something like this so deeply.”

Finally, Satoru spoke again, his tone lightening slightly. "Well, I should be going. The train is leaving soon. But... It was nice meeting you." He paused, his eyes lingering on yours for a moment longer than necessary. "Maybe we’ll see each other again."

You smiled, feeling the same unspoken connection. "I’d like that."

With one last look at the memorial, Satoru turned and began to walk away, his white hair catching the fading light of the day. You watched him go, a strange sense of calm settling over you.

As you stood there, the weight of the lovers' story still fresh in your heart, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t the last time you would see Gojo Satoru. Something told you that your paths would cross again, in ways you couldn’t yet predict.

And as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows over the memorial, you whispered one final prayer—not just for the nameless lovers, but for yourself, and perhaps for Satoru too.

"May we all find each other, in every lifetime."

[rotthepoet]

Come Home (Dark!Mattheo Riddle x Reader)

Notes; DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT. Dark!Matty has been plaguing my mind and I need an outlet omg. I lowkey rewrote some lore for this, so essentially the battle of Hogwarts takes place but Voldemort's influence still lives on through Mattheo, who basically runs the new Knights of Walpurgis(The slytherin boys). Everyone is evil, all good business. 

Warnings; again, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT. Dark!Mattheo, Murder/death/gore, stalking, kidnapping, mattheo might highkey be ooc but its fine, dubcon(reader REALLY wants him but like.. morals?), oral(F! And M!), mention of fem masturbation, predator/prey dynamic, spitting, degradation, lowkey breeding kink?, piv, lowkey porn with plot, Stockholm syndrome if you squint, at least he kinda gets a redemption arc

This one goes out to my beautiful @nottswitch i hope dark!mattheo comes to life and fucks us both <3

Word count; 6.3k

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The bitter breeze in the frigid air pricks through my thin shirt as the diner door swings open and shut again as a customer disappears into the icky black of our winter night. I stare out after him, a farewell unspoken on my lips as I cast my gaze towards an orange, flickering lamp post lining the parallel street, and I realize how truly cold it is inside the shabby eatery. 

As I tug the embarrassingly short, mandated skirt I'm forced to wear, I can only think of the comforting and safe walls of Hogwarts, my home only months ago, yearning for the soft crackle of a fireplace and the ambient chatter of portraits lining the walls. The muggles had nothing as interesting, nothing as familiar as the light of the silver moon passing through the large windows of the great hall. Nothing as comfortable as my own home back in England, with my mother and fathers smiling faces. Nothing as comfortable as the safe, unscarred arms of the once-kind boy I loved what feels like so long ago. 

Being on the lam for about a month now, I've been skipping towns and laying low where I can. It’s not often, but when I'm able to stay in a town for longer than a week, I take pitiful muggle jobs, my current being to take orders at a local diner, “famous for their milkshakes”, although fame must mean four regular visitors in this nowhere town. 

Jean, the gray-haired woman who owns the diner I work at, leans over the counter and points at the analog clock hanging on the wall. It reads almost 1:30, and it finally sets in how tired I am. She hums and looks me up and down, standing in the middle of the floor, standing stiff as a board while holding a broom. She clicks her tongue and shakes her head, a small smile gracing her aged face. 

“I’m sorry, I zoned out.” I apologize, leaning the non-flying broom against a nearby booth, and smooth out my wind-swept hair. 

Jean just shakes her head, “Go on and head home. You did good today.” she hums in approvement, tossing me my room key that was previously hanging on a hook in the kitchen. “Be careful out there, the papers said another storm is coming.” she warned, but a storm is the furthest thing from my mind as I push open the door. Silver light flashes across the street and my heart nearly stops beating, a pit forms in the bottom of my stomach. My eyes squint, finally adjusting to the lack of light, catch the face of a mannequin in the window of a shop. I let out a breath I don’t realize I’m holding and relax as I realize the moon had simply caught the silver details on the faux person. I turn on my heel and carry on down the dimly lit pavement towards my motel. 

It’s just as run down as everything else in this town, water stains stretching across the ceiling like swatches of muddy paint, and the hideous carpet crunches underneath my feet. It isn’t much. It is nothing, in fact, but a roof over my head and sanctuary from the ruthless dangers outside. 

I drop each article of clothing from my body onto the yellowing tile of the bathroom floor, stepping into the freezing cold water of the shower. I shudder, goosebumps racking through my body as I allow the water to wash away the grease and sweat, I collected today. I run a baby blue loofa over my skin, suds washing away with the now lukewarm stream. I close my eyes, and take a deep breath, and the smell of metallic rust from the old pipes fills my nostrils. 

Blood. So much blood. It covers my hands, and my knees, my face, and my clothes. I practically wade through a pool of it, the dark hallways of that god awful manor stretch on infinitely, and the smell of rot and decay suffocates my senses. My heart nearly beats out of my chest as his strong arms wrap around me as I collapse to the floor, and I'm hyper aware of the many motionless bodies lying at my feet. His lips brush against my neck, rough and wet, and I wonder if they have blood on them too. I wouldn’t put it past him. Malicious is not a word I thought I would ever use to describe my lover, the man I thought I was going to marry one day, but like many other things before, he proved me wrong. His warm hands caress the soft fat of my thighs, slipping underneath the loose fabric of my shorts, and he leans into my ear. “They’re all gone now… Let’s go take a shower.” 

I release a shaky breath and turn off the water, letting it drip from my head and down my face, mingling with salty tears. Wiping my face with my wet palms, which did nothing in retrospect, I sigh. I can’t go back there; I can never go back there. It isn’t safe anymore. He isn’t safe anymore. Come on, I can’t keep feeling bad for myself. This is ridiculous, and as I step out of the shower and dress myself, I feel a newfound sense of determination. Sleep, for the first time in months, finds me easily with her warm embrace. 

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As most things in my life do, my high spirits came to an abrupt end. Smoke fills my lungs, but there's a strange taste to it. It’s not a fire, no, it was tobacco. A smell I was all too familiar with. I sat up in bed, and my eyes met the inky black eyes of his silver, skull mask. My breath catches in my throat, only for me to cough out the smoke from his cigarette.

He couldn’t have found me this easily. It’s a bad dream, it has to be. Merlin forgive me, God save me, tell me this is just a dream! The mask on his face shifts a little, clearly amused at my coughing fit. “Have anything to say?”

Say anything. Stop gaping at him like a fish, you are a powerful witch, almost top of your class in DADA. Almost. Second place, notably. Right behind him.

Mattheo Riddle.

A sob racks through my body, tears falling down my cheeks before I even realize, and I’m paralyzed in place. Half of me wants to crawl into his arms, to beg for forgiveness, to beg for him to take me home. Home to that wretched, dark house, with blood seeped into the wood. With blood-stained grout on the kitchen tile. With blood-stained walls. So, so much blood. The other half of me screams at me to run. To run, to run, run, run, RUN! For god's sake, run! 

I push myself out of bed, fast enough to catch Mattheo by surprise. He flicks his cigarette to the side, letting it roll along the carpet floor. My hand reaches for my wand resting on a table beside the door as I duck out of his reaching arms, and I stumble to my feet as he lunges after me. I throw open the door, pulling it shut in his face as he screams for me.

“You bitch! Come back here!” he screams through the wood, struggling with the now sweat-slick doorknob. 

The door splinters open with the blast of, “Bombarda!”, but I scramble down the wet, cold streets, my bare feet scratch against the rough pavement as I sprint, thankful that it had been just warm enough to not freeze. I duck down another street, pulling out my wand to apparate elsewhere. I rack my brain for a safe location. Hogwarts? I might be able to, but I don’t want to risk splinching. My job? It might separate me long enough to get my shit together. 

Air is knocked out of me as a heavy body slams into mine, knocking my wand out of my hand. A heavy, black boot pins my wrist to the ground, and a silver mask that was not Riddle’s leans over me. He laughs under the mask, but I can’t tell which of his mentally fucked goons had caught me. I reach for my wand, but another set of boots kicks it out of my reach. Leather gloved hands grab my hair and lift me up to face the group now circling me. 

“She looks pitiful, really. Like an angry kitten.” An Italian accent draws next to my ear with a mocking snicker, and I thrash to kick Theodore Nott anywhere I can, luckily landing a solid blow to his shin. He curses in pain, and hisses something inaudible underneath his mask as he throws me back to the ground. The rough concrete scratches against my exposed skin, drawing blood from the soft flesh. I yelp in pain, landing at the feet of someone else. A black, steel-toed boot presses against my cheek, pushing my head to the side as I watch another figure ominously approach. I would recognize my Mattheo’s casual amble anywhere, and he peered down at my stray wand laying at his feet.

I don’t even have time to protest as he steps his boot onto the wood, sparks fizzing out around the magic object as it snaps under his weight. A choked sob escapes me as he approaches, my eyes wide with horror and betrayal.

“Enough of this, love. It’s time to come home,” He drawls, kneeling down to my level and lifting my chin to meet his empty gaze. “Be a good girl and come back to me, I’m tired of this little game of yours.”

“Fuck. You.” I spat on the silver of his skull-like mask, noting the wild look in my own eyes as the saliva slips down its reflective surface.

Mattheo groaned and tugged off his mask, and my breath caught in my throat. What the hell is wrong with me? I can’t think this awful man who betrayed me, threatened me, hunted me down, can still be attractive. Then again, he was still the man I had loved–part of me still does love– all those years ago. The handsome face I fell asleep looking at, the doe eyes I found comfort in. He looked roguish now, his brown curls were longer than the last time I had seen him, and he had a new scar running across his cheek from our last encounter. My mouth goes dry as he leans into my face, his breath hot against my lips. 

“I’ve missed you, love,” He practically purred, pressing his dry lips against my trembling ones. I whine against him, wriggling my body underneath the heavy weight of whoever was holding me. 

Mattheo groaned, gripping my chin harder, “You used to be so obedient, pet, but don’t worry. I’ll fix you.” he mumbled, kissing my forehead as I felt his wand pressed to my temple. He mumbled an incantation against my skin, and I felt my body go limp before my eyes closed themselves, and sleep consumed me. 

ﾟ+*:ꔫ:*﹤

It was cold, damp, and reeked of copper and mold. My body laid on the floor, sore and unresponsive to my will to move. As my senses came back to me, I tried climbing to my feet, but a chain tugged my ankle back to the floor. I tumbled to the stone floor, scraping my hands against its rough surface. I whimper in pain, and only as I go to wipe my hands on my pants do I realize I’m completely nude. Horror racks through my body as I take in my surrounding and own appearance. I know I'm back in that old house, that old, disgusting, horrible house of horrors, and tears fall from my stinging eyes again.

I don’t know how long I laid on that floor, shaking from the cold as I sob into the air, screaming and cursing with conviction, damning Riddle’s name to an eternity in hell. I scream, and wail, and cry until I tire myself out, my voice breaking into nothing but a hushed plea for freedom. 

I fight sleep, sitting myself against a wall near my chain, breathing deep into my burning lungs. My eyes drift closed, but I will them open as the loud creak of a door alerts me. It’s only then that I notice a stairwell, casted in a white light with the newly opened door, and my heart nervously skips a beat as a tall shadow approaches the stairwell. The stairs creak under his weight as he descends to what I can only infer is a basement, and I stare up at his form.

Mattheo wasn’t nearly as scary like this, dressed in black slacks and a loose white shirt. Had he not been so threatening, and the reason I was chained to the basement floor, I would have swooned over the top buttons being undone. Perhaps I still do get butterflies in my stomach, but that may just be nausea. 

He looks down at me with an expression I can only describe as mock sympathy, clicking his tongue softly. “Down here for less than three hours and you’ve already managed to hurt yourself,” he scolded me, shaking his head in disappointment, “My clumsy girl, what am I going to do with you?” 

The smile he cracked made me want to claw his eyes out, or kiss him, and I worry that he may have slipped me a love potion. My ears ring, and my head suddenly aches with a mild pain, and Mattheo smirks.

“Like the shirt, do you?” He teased, kneeling down to my level. I curse under my breath, face heating up with anger (Or embarrassment, I can’t really tell), of course I forget he’s a legilimens. “Drop the act darling, I know you’re going to crack eventually. Save us both the trouble so I can finally bring you back to bed.” His warm hand tenderly caressed my cold cheek, and I fought the urge to lean into the comforting touch. “I hate seeing you down here like this, but you need to remember your place.”

My eyes snap back to his, and I whip my head to the side to bite his hand. He scowls and rips his hand away, reeling it back and back-handing me across the face. It knocks my breath out of my chest, and the rings on his fingers cut my cheek. Metallic blood drips to the floor. 

“Fine. Stay down here and bleed out for all I care.” He snaps, rubbing his sore hand as he turns on his heel and storms up the stairs. The door slams loudly behind him, and I’m engulfed in sudden darkness.

ﾟ+*:ꔫ:*﹤

My cheek and hands had long stopped bleeding the next time he came back, staining my skin red with its slick. My head lifts as the door opens again, and light makes my eyes dilate painfully. Mattheo trudges down the stairs, his head hanging low, and a small white box hanging from his hand. He approaches me and kneels at my level. I meet his gaze, glaring into his soft eyes.

“Darling, you know I didn’t mean to hit you, right?” He mumbled, holding my chin to twist my cheek towards him, his rough actions bringing tears to my eyes. “I was just so worked up, and you were pushing too many buttons, you’ll forgive me, right?” He asks hopefully, but I don’t answer him.

He sighs in defeat, opening the little box and retrieving a cloth and bottle full of a clear liquid. My eyes go wide, and I scramble backwards as far as the chain allows me to. “No, No, Mattheo please don’t-” I plead, heart racing as he looks at me with confusion.

A smile breaks across his face, “Oh darling, no, no, it’s just alcohol.” he laughs a bit, a deep sound that makes pleasant shivers run down my spine and too an embarrassing heat between my legs. What the fuck is wrong with me? He approaches me again, dousing the cloth with the solution before taking my hands. He shushes my soft whines as he presses it to my scraped palms, which makes me hiss at the burning sensation. “Good girl, there we go. That’s much better, isn’t it?” he asks as he takes a roll of gauze from the box and wraps each of my hands. He lifts my palms to his lips, pressing a storm of soft pecks and kisses to the gauze and skin. My face heats up at the gesture, and I force myself to look away. He was always so chivalrous for a monster, though it hurt to call him that even after everything.

He presses the cloth to my cheek next, his thumb tracing calming circles into the opposite cheek. “Such a pretty girl, my pretty girl.” He whispered, placing a bandage over my skin. Just like my palms, he kisses my cheek, though much slower and intimate this time. “I don’t want to hurt you, you know?” he promised, leaning over my trembling body. He looked down at me, eyes drifting past my collarbone, and he whistled softly. “A sight for sore eyes… and It’s all mine.” He smirked, leaning down as he supported his weight on his forearms. His chapped lips press suspiciously soft kisses to my neck. A loud thud coming from upstairs makes Mattheo groan and pull away. He looks down at me, wide eyed beneath him, “I’ll be right back, love, don’t worry your pretty little head.” He hummed, patting my cheek as he stood up. 

He casts me one last yearning glance before he shuts the door again, much softer this time. I lean back against the stone, releasing a breath I didn’t know I was holding, and try to ignore the wetness between my thighs as I drift off to sleep.

ﾟ+*:ꔫ:*﹤

I’m startled awake as the basement door slams shut, and heavy footsteps descend to my prison. Mattheo storms into view, and before I can even get a word out, he grabs me by the hair and pulls me up to my knees. He sneers down at me, and my head is spinning from the sudden switch up.

“Incompetent assholes. Have to do everything myself around here,” He mumbled, not really speaking to me rather than himself. He doesn’t loosen his grip on my hair as his other hand tugs apart the button of his slacks. 

My eyes go wide with shock, and he pulls my hair, forcing my chin up to look at him. “Open your mouth,” He demands, his voice lacking his previous warmth, and I'm reminded that this is not my Matty. My lip quivers and I shake my head slightly. Mattheo pulls his half-hard cock from the confines of his black briefs and pulls me by the hair to his tip. “I don’t have time for this attitude, I said open your mouth.”

I don’t even have a moment to react before his leaking tip is pressed against my mouth. He pushes his way past, groaning as my wet lips engulf his mushroomed tip. He pulls on my hair again, forcing himself further into my warm hole. “There you go, not so hard, was it? Now suck.” He orders in a tone I’ve never heard him use in bed before, and as he bucks his hips towards my face, I whine in protest while the ache returns to my lower stomach. My jaw relaxes on its own, familiar with the girth of his hung cock. An almost inaudible whine slips through my throat, and he groans at the tightness. One more tug lets me know his patience is running thin, and I reach my bandaged hand up to stroke the rest of him while I focus on his tip.

Mattheo bites back a moan, his hips stuttering as I descend further down onto his length. His leaky tip presses against the back of my throat, and he holds my head in place while he rocks his hips further into me. My nose presses against his groin as he slips down the back of my throat, and his grip moves from my hair to my throat, feeling my neck bulge with every movement. Saliva drips past him and down my chin, dribbling to the floor in thick droplets. He shudders as my throat tightens around him, nearly swallowing the head. 

“Yeah, yeah… Fuck baby. Keep going for me, almost there,” He mumbles, rocking his hips faster than before. I whine around him, my own hand slipping down to the ache at my core. My fingers gingerly brush against my clit, and the soft moan I try to let out makes Mattheo’s head roll back. Hot spurts of his seed shoot down my throat and my glossy eyes go wide at the feeling.

“Swallow,” Is all he says, and obediently, I do. He pulls my head off of him, his cum mixing with the drool in my mouth when it drips down my chin. He grips my face between his index finger and thumb, collecting the mess with a swipe of his finger and pushing it back into my sore mouth. “All of it.” 

When I satisfied him, he pushed me back to the ground, and I yelped in pain as I collided against the stone surface. “When I come down here, I want you on your knees waiting for my dick. Understand?”

I nod weakly, and he smirks down at me. “Good girl. Keep it up and maybe I’ll bring you back upstairs.” He says, before pulling back up his pants and running a hand through his hair. 

When he leaves again, I’m left with an unbearable, wet mess.

ﾟ+*:ꔫ:*﹤

With nothing else to do in my makeshift prison, I sleep a lot. And when I wake up, I force myself to sleep again. I sleep God knows how long before the door opens again, and Mattheo trudges down the stairs. I scramble to my knees, honestly fearing what might happen if I disobey him, and when Mattheo catches sight of me, he smiles. 

“There’s my pretty girl.” He hums, holding a platter with a bowl of something steaming, a slice of some sort of bread, and a bottle of water. My stomach growls as its divine aroma fills my senses, and I can’t remember the last time I’ve eaten. 

Mattheo sits down in front of me and puts the tray between up. He rests his elbow on his knee and leans into his palm. “Eat,” he orders me, gesturing to the platter with the wave of his free hand. “Or would you prefer I feed you myself?” He asks with a smirk, watching how I shift from my knees to rest on my hip. I grab the water bottle first, chugging half of it in one go, before I subconsciously offer him a sip. What’s mine is his. Was his. Was. I look up at him, taking the water and sipping from it. I tore my gaze away before he noticed.

“I don’t want to stay in the basement anymore,” I mumble, dipping the bread into the soup before taking a bite, shivering at its deliciousness. Mattheo sighed and shook his head. “You know I can’t do that yet. You ran away, darling. I can’t trust you won’t do that again,” He explained, reaching his hand across the way to rub my knee soothingly. I sigh and push the tray away, my appetite gone. Mattheo frowned and moved the tray away, leaning over me. “Princess, c’mon, don’t be this way.” he hummed, pushing me onto my back. My heart rate quickened, and he definitely noticed. “But you’re right. I’ve been neglecting you… That’s why you ran away right? My poor girl was lonely and scared.” he hummed, pressing his lips to my collar bone. “Not anymore. My attention is solely on you, I promise.” 

My head rolled back a little, lolling onto the floor as he trailed his kisses down my sternum, stopping at my breasts to gently knead them. Butterflies fluttered in my stomach as I reached for his hair, tugging gently on his loose curls. He groaned in response, his lips finding my perked nipple and taking it into his warm mouth. His other hand slipped down my soft stomach, dipping between my thighs. Out of reflex, I squeezed them together, and Mattheo parted from my tit. He sat back on his haunches, using his strong, scarred hands to pull apart my thighs and admire my glistening, needy cunt.

“It’s been all about me, huh? Need to show my girls some love.” He mumbled, before dipping his head down. His warm breath fanned across my puffy lips, and I shivered at the breeze. He didn’t waste a second more, drawing a long, needy moan from my lips as he licked a long strip from my hole to my clit. My hands tangle into his hair again, and my mouth falls open with pleasure. “Fuck, Matty–” the nickname fell from my lips without a second thought, and he practically purrs against me. His hands grip my thighs, pulling them over his shoulders as he dives nose deep into my pussy. My back arches off the floor as a string of curses flies from my lips. I feel his wet appendage push against my hole, and I clench at the feeling as his nose brushes against my sensitive bud. I tug on his hair again, “Fuck, Fuck, Fuck!” I mewl, my edge fast approaching as Mattheo swirls his tongue over my clit. He sloppily makes out with my lower lips, pulling me closer to the edge with each passing second, and I’m in near tears when there's a loud crash up above us. 

Mattheo practically roars in anger, pulling his soaked face away from my aching cunt, the knot in my stomach loosening at the sudden separation. I whine and sit up, trying to pull him back down, but he stops me with a firm hold on my wrist. “Stay here and don’t make a sound.” he ordered, “I need to take care of this, and I promise as soon as I’m done, I’ll come right back.”

Anger flashes through me, and I bite back my cries. “Don’t you dare leave me like this, Riddle.” I snap, and he gives me a warning look that makes goosebumps prick at my skin. He leans in, pressing a wet kiss to my lips, and I can feel him shiver as I lick my own arousal from his lips. “I’ll be right back, princess. Be good for me, and we can talk about a reward.”

And with that, he left yet again.

ﾟ+*:ꔫ:*﹤

I was starting to get sick of his mind games, switching up his attitude, finally giving me relief before ripping it away from me. Fuck. What am I saying? I watched him murder dozens of people; I watched lives being taken right in front of me. I shiver at the memory and try to focus on anything else before it becomes too much to bear. 

I hate how he makes me feel. Sometimes he’s my Mattheo, and sometimes he’s nothing but a parasite attached to a face I can’t help but love. My back hits a wall, and I can’t count how long he’s been gone. I miss his warm, familiar touch, but anything was better than the cold, dark basement. I close my eyes, my lip trembling as I reach my hand down, fingers hesitantly spreading my folds. Cold air hit my wet lips, and I gasp at the feeling. I brush my fingertips against my hole, whining softly at the pleasure that coursed through my body. Maybe I'm sick in the head, maybe I hit my head too hard one day on the run and never recovered. Maybe I never really hated Mattheo. 

What is wrong with me?

I don’t move when the door opens again. I glare at him, anger coursing through my veins. This was not ‘right back’. As Mattheo’s black boot lands on the stone floor, my mouth goes dry. He’s weaning that stupid mask again, and that stupid costume, tilting his head stupidly at me. He approaches me in a way that makes my heart race in fear, like I'm nothing but cowardly prey between the jaws of a large wolf. 

He knees down, retrieving his hand from his pocket. Wordlessly, he unlocks the chain around my ankle, and he looks up at me. With another wave of his wand, I’m dressed in a loose tank top and shorts. It’s not much at all, but it’s better than naked. A rush of emotions rushes through my chest, and I almost gratefully throw my arms around Mattheo, but he stops me. 

“Go. Run,” He orders, stepping aside. I stare up at him in confusion, mounted to my spot on the ground. “I said run, little pet, like you want to.” He pulls me from the ground, pressing my cold body up against his comforting warmth. “Run, and if I catch you,” he leaned down into my ear, and through the skull mouth of his mask I could feel his breath fanning across my ear. “Well, I think you know what’s going to happen.”

I still don’t move, wondering if he would be less harsh if I stayed with him, but he only laughed. “Such a good girl, don’t worry,” he pulled his mask up just enough to expose his pearly white teeth. They sunk into the soft flesh just beneath my ear, “I’ll always find you. Go, now.”

I don’t know what possessed me, but my feet started moving on their own. I raced up the stairs of the basement and pushed past the door. The house was just as I remembered, dark with walls that were too tall, black cloths hung over the complaining portraits. I was disoriented in the dark, but my feet carried me through the house until I found the overtly large entrance. I pushed open the doors and ran out into the cold, snowy night. 

Frost nipped at each of my limps, and my lungs found it harder to breathe the frigid air. I ran anyway, out towards the woods surrounding the manor. I cast a glance over my shoulder, finding Mattheo staring back at me through the blacked-out eyes of his mask. I ducked into the tree line, just as he started his casual stroll towards me. Cocky bastard. 

I run for as long as I can before my lungs give out. I leaned against a tree, walking slowly into a clearing. I take a deep breath, pulling my arms behind my head to breathe deeper. Just as I find a moment of peace, a branch snaps behind me. I whip my head around, my heart racing as Mattheo approaches me. He doesn’t run, only walks towards me with his hands stuffed into his pockets. He ditched that awful mask, and I can see the smirk pulling at the edge of his lips. I stumble backwards, falling into the fresh snow. He continues his pace, unbothered by my racing heart as I scramble away from him and finally back to my feet. I don’t get one leg in front of the other before strong arms are wrapped around my waist, slipping under the loose fabric of my shirt.

“I win,” He mumbles in my ear, voice dark and raspy. It sends a chill down my spine that pools in my underwear. 

Mattheo throws me over his shoulder, ignoring my flailing lips as he walks back to the manor. “Didn’t even get a mile, love. Lost your talent it seems, or maybe you knew you’d miss me too much.” he teased, running his warm hands up my thigh, pressing a kiss to my exposed skin. 

It isn’t long before we’re back at the manor, and I thank every god I'm in good ties with when he walks past the basement. He takes me to his room instead, our room, the room where I've fallen apart under his touch more times than I can count. 

I breathe in his familiar scent as he deposits me on the bed, and I roll over to bury my burning face in the pillows. Mattheo chuckles at me and grabs my hips, pulling me back against him as he grinds his hardening bulge against the plushness of my ass. 

“You’ve been extra obedient, haven’t you?” he asked, his voice dripping with a tone I could quite place. Lust? Possession? Love? It all blurred together as he rutted his hips against me. “Good girls deserve a reward, don’t they?” he asked, before hooking his fingers at the hem of my shorts. He pulled them down to expose my glistening cunt. He spread me out along his fingers, admiring the way my pussy pulsed around nothing. He leaned in, pressing a possessive kiss to my clit, holding my hips as I try to buck away from him. 

His warm fingers trace along my thighs, sleeping between my legs and collecting the arousal that pooled there. I release a shaky breath into the pillow as his finger circles my clit, and I arch my back to present myself further. He hums in appreciation, trailing his finger further up to my dripping hole, slowly pushing his middle finger inside of me. I gasp at the intrusion, not being able to remember the last time something so long had been inside of me. I keen under his touch, gripping the sheets for stability as he slowly pumps his finger in and out of me. A moan escapes me as he curls his finger, and his thumb brushes against my needy pearl again. Mattheo adds a second finger, spreading out my tight, gummy walls. I crumble under his touch, mouth falling open and eyes going half lidded as he pulls his fingers from me. 

I hear him dropping his pants, and the bed dips behind me yet again as he leans his body completely over mine. His arm wraps around my neck, pressing me close to his chest while his breath fans across my face. The tip of his cock presses against me, and I whine at the sensation, pushing my hips back against him.

“Needy girl, thought you didn’t need me anymore.” He teased, pushing just the bulbous tip into my hole. It’s enough to make the knot in my stomach tighten, and I shake my head. “Need you, Matty, Need you so bad.” I admit, face flushed with embarrassment as he smirks. “Gonna run away again?”

He doesn’t let me get an answer out before he’s pressing further inside of me, the stretch burning pleasantly while my eyes roll back. His arm around my throat tightens, “I asked you a question, darling.” He teased, licking away the stray tear that fell from my eyes. I gasp as his cock brushes against a gummy bundle of nerves, and my head drops to the pillows. He tugs me back against him, pushing even further until he balls slapped against me. “No! No, never gonna leave again,” I promised, involuntary whines spilling from my throat. 

Mattheo pulls his hips back before drilling them back into me, “Good girl,” He grins as he sets a punishing pace, watching my face contort into pleasure underneath him. “Who owns you?” he asks, and I push back against his hips desperately. “You! You do, God, you do!” I moan, feeling my head go light from the lack of airflow. 

“God isn’t here, Love, It’s just me now.”

He drills into my pulsating hole, my back arching at his every thrust as my brain goes mushy from the pleasure. The arm around my throat pulls away, slipping down my stomach to find my pearl. His fingers are just as fast as his pace, and I can’t fight back the whorish moans in my throat. His lips attach to my shoulder, biting a possessive mark into my skin as he fucks me good, better than he ever had before. 

Tears fall from my eyes, and my hand grips his desperately as I’m worked to my edge. “Matty, Matty please…” I trail off into a string of moans, and Mattheo adjusts himself behind me. He bucks his hips into me once more, and I fall apart all over him. My pussy flutters around his cock, and he rides out my orgasm with a few last thrusts of his hips, before he spills his hot seed deep into my womb. Mattheo collapses on top of me, still deep inside as he pins my body to the bed. He hums into my neck, burying himself in my skin. 

“That’s my good girl. Let’s go take a shower.”

[consistencynevermether]

Spring Flowers (Vere x gn!reader) (Touchstarved)

content: this is technically a sequel to this post, but it can be read as a stand alone. Vere x reader, gender neutral reader, tried to write this so any origin will work, Jealous Vere, SFW, cannon typical swearing, violence, etc

(optional) part one: Winter Nights, here

summary: Vere wants to go watch the flowers bloom, and you help him out (its lightly implied Leander has a crush on MC)

word count: 3.7k

A/N: i've decided to make a series out of my first fic, each one coordinating with a different season. this is technically part 2, works as a standalone. i've also been considering maybe some Kuras writings, if anyone is interested in that, lmk! enjoy :)

The winter in Eridia was especially long this season. That's what Mhin had told you at least. Not that they minded apparently. They had no strong dislike towards the colder months, unlike Vere. You didn’t go a single day without him complaining about the weather. But finally spring had begun to take over the city. While you were walking back to your lodgings in the Wet Wick sometime earlier this month, you had even seen crocus flowers popping up early, with a light dusting of snow on their purple petals. You imagined the melting ice and sunny days would put Vere in a better mood. And they did, for a time.

One lovely day he came to the Wick in a foul mood, and as he walked past your table he oh so very rudely shut the book you were reading while he walked past. You let out an offended cry but he didn’t even stop to look at you, he simply stomped right past and sat down at the bar, ordering something strong

Rude. More rude than normal. Usually when Vere did something like that, it was to tease or get your attention. But this time he just wanted to spread his sour mood. And it was working. The book you were reading was a tome of very basic yet interesting spells, something “almost anyone could master” according to Leander, the person who lent you the book. And now your place was lost because Vere made his attitude everyone’s problem.

Luckily, you were more mature than him. And deep down you also knew better. Vere was a fickle beast, but usually his reasons for being genuinely upset were pretty valid. 

You sighed, tucked your book away in your bag, and headed over to the bar where he was sitting. Without a word you sat in the seat next to his and turned towards him, arms crossed.

Vere was already slouched over the bar, scowling into his drink. 

“Oh for the love of- what do you want?” He groaned. 

“That wasn’t very nice.” You counter dryly. 

Vere scoffed, throwing his hands over his head. 

“It’s a damn book! It is not that big of a deal. You're really upset over that? What, do you have to spend two seconds of your day looking at something other than Leander’s book? Oh what a terrible fate.” He spat, his mocking tone rising in pitch at his clear annoyance. 

Bad mood indeed.

“I’m not really upset, no.” Your even tone only makes Veres' little rant sound even more immature. “But that was rude, and it’s not my job to put up with your pettiness when you're upset. It makes me not want to be around you.”

You watched as Veres' eyes narrowed and his ears slightly flatten against his head in response.

Usually you wouldn’t let anyone get away with half the shit Vere got away with, but you were basically his only friend besides Ace. And that relationship was all kinds of complicated. Vere was great at charming people, making them fall for him, manipulating them, the whole nine yards. But he wasn’t great at keeping actual friends. It was a bit of a new concept to him, and because of that you gave him some leeway. 

Of course part of the reason you gave him that grace was because he puts up with a fair amount of your shit too. And you enjoy being friends with him of course, but you’d never tell him that. 

You continued to stare him down and he continued to glare at his drink until finally he mumbled something under his breath at you.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” You questioned.

“I SAID I’m sorry I touched your precious book ok?!” Vere snapped back. 

Vere was no longer hunched over the bar but instead had laid his head down on the counter and was glaring up at you through strands of his scarlet hair.

You smirked and laid your head down on the bar as well, now eye level with him. He rolled his eyes, but there was a slight smile behind the snark. You could tell.

“So, why are you actually upset?” you question. 

Vere let out a long suffering sigh.

“Ugh. It’s something entirely stupid. I don’t even really care.” He responded. 

“Well that’s clearly not true, you obviously care.” You countered. “But that’s fine. It’s alright to be upset over shit that doesn’t really matter. Just yesterday I dropped my slice of cheesecake and declared the Gods hated me personally. Well, even more than they clearly already do.” As you state that last part you hold up your bandaged hands, accentuating your point. 

Vere let out a quiet chuckle. Then a few moments later he sighed and began to speak. 

“There’s this festival happening that the sinobium is hosting. A viewing of some flowering trees that’ll be in full bloom. I don’t even care about the damn things, but it’s a huge social event, and you know how I thrive on those.”

It was true. Vere was like a flame to moths. People swarmed towards his charismatic personality and sharp wit. Not to mention he was probably the most beautiful person to exist. (Not that you were biased in this opinion at all).

“So why aren’t you going?” You questioned, urging him to continue. 

Vere shrugged. “No monsters allowed.” 

You were disappointed, but not surprised. This type of event definitely sounded like a gathering for the people of high town, and people like that don’t enjoy rubbing shoulders with monsters. Only the richest people in the largest city still standing had the luxury of creating a whole event out of watching flowering trees bloom. You could definitely see how this event would be right up Veres' alley. You couldn't help but feel sorry for the fox devil sitting next to you, it wasn't fair he had to miss out on some boring stupid garden party because he was a monster. He should miss out on the boring stupid garden party because he's a menace and a psychopath. 

Still, he was your menace, and you wanted to make him feel better about missing out on the stupid fruffy party. 

Then a thought came to you.

You didn’t need to comfort him for missing the party if he didn’t miss the party. 

Vere stared at you in tired amusement. He knew you well enough to know you were going to do or say something stupid, by the look on your face. He just didn’t know what yet. 

“I have a plan.” You declare. 

“Of course you do.” He took another sip of his drink, waiting for you to continue.

“Well-“ you reopen your tome as you speak. “I just happened to be reading a disguise spell before you so rudely interrupted.”

“Mhm. And can you cast said spell?” He questioned lazily. 

“Well-

-We can certainly try right? I’m sure I’ll pick it up naturally.”

“If you turn my hair green, I will kill you. I hope you know this.” Vere responded, sounding very serious.

You knew he wouldn’t, he lost interest in killing you after the first month.

Probably.

Well, you wouldn't know unless you tried. Plus you actually needed some practice to get this right. Not that you would ever use any of your friends as test subjects (or at least ever admit to it).

You didnt turn Vere’s hair green. You did however turn it purple twice by accident. You two had spent the rest of the day trying to make vere look human. It was admittedly a lot less trial and error and more just-

Error. 

It was a lot more frustrating for you than you'd assumed it would be. Which meant Vere had a lot more fun than he expected. But by the time sunset had come around, you had done it.

His scarlet hair was now a deep brown, and his magenta eyes were now a light chestnut color. The markings on his face were gone, as were his claws. The most shocking change of course was the lack of his fox ears and tail. They were still actually there of course, just invisible. After all it was a simple illusion spell, not the kind of magic that could actually change a person. 

It was…strange. You had never really thought of what Vere would ever look like as a human. His face was the same, but something about him felt like it was missing. Or incomplete. It was hard to describe the slight uncanny feeling you felt looking at this version of him.

A snap brought you out of your thoughts. 

“Hello? Still in there? You've been staring for like two minutes” Vere questioned.

“It's weird.” you defended.

“What? Why? What did you do to me?” Vere snapped as he grabbed a small silver mirror out of his pocket.

You watched as Veres eyebrows shot up at the sight of himself. He examined his reflection for a few more seconds, gingerly feeling where his ears were, and looking at the illusionary human ears that now graced the side of his head.

“That's….impressive” he finally stated. “I really look human.”  

“Which means you can go to the boring flower party!” You exclaimed, clearly delighted with your work. Oh yea, you were an incredible friend. 

“Well,-“ Vere pursed his lips. “-what if something happens to disturb the illusion? This kind of magic is easy to break. If only someone would come with me and make sure to be there so if the illusion breaks, they could recast it.” 

You felt yourself deflate slightly. A whole day of sitting around watching flowers bloom? When you could be working and making money? You hadn’t wasted time like that since before you moved to Eridia. 

But it was Vere. If he wanted you to go, you would go. And he already knew it, judging by the smirk on his face. 

You sighed, defeated.

“Fine, let’s go to the party where we all sit around and look at trees. How fun. When is it?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Fuck.”

Vere simply chuckled before looking back down at the mirror, examining his new human appearance. You could also feel him occasionally glance over at you. 

Hmph. Probably shocked you could pull off the spell. Oh he of little faith. 

Just as you were about to flick a peanut at Vere just to be annoying, a drink slid right in front of you, prompting you to look up.

You were greeted with a pair of green eyes and a wide smile. Leander. 

“You looked like you needed a drink. Make a new friend?” He questioned, eyes narrowing. 

“Huh?” You questioned. What new friend was he talking about?

Leander gestured to the now brown haired Vere, who was still looking down at his reflection.

At that moment Vere decided to stop preening and instead hopped off his own barstool, moving behind yours and resting his chin on your shoulder.

“Awe, can the great mage really be fooled so easily? Either they're better at this than I thought, or just as dense as I suspected.”

Leander’s eyebrows shot up. 

“Vere?!?”

Leander’s look of bewilderment quickly turned into realization as he looked back at you. 

“Hey, you figured out that illusion spell from the book! Aren’t you a little prodigy?” He beamed. 

“Hmm. Yes, they are.” Vere smiled, putting his hands around your shoulders.

 Though his fangs were hidden behind your illusion, it was clear he didn’t need them. There was something dangerous about that smile, like the edge of a knife. You had no idea why he had gotten so hostile all of the sudden, and how Leander was keeping such a carefree look on his face.

“Now, they're taking me to the flower festival tomorrow with this lovely disguise, and I refuse to be seen with someone who smells this bad. So how about you head up to your room and hit the showers?”

As soon as Vere finished his sentence you saw a slight twitch in Leanders eye. But you were too busy with the smell comment from Vere to really care. 

To make his point Vere twirled a lock of your hair in his fingers and lightly sniffed it. 

Fucking rude. You didn’t smell that bad! Right? Maybe you should use more shampoo though… after all you don’t need to be so conservative with your products after Vere had gifted you quite a few of his own. Or maybe this was a bit of revenge for that time you had said he smelt like a wild animal? It had been a while since that night, but you did know Vere was one to hold a grudge. 

You lightly shoved him off you and headed upstairs (yes, to take a bath). 

Leaving the boys to glare at each other or whatever they were doing, you headed up and headed to bed. 

The next day, you were up bright and early to accompany Vere to his little party.

And unfortunately, as much as you loathe to admit it, the flowers took away your breath the moment you walked in.

The tiny pink blossoms softly shed their petals, coating the ground in a pale pink haze and leaving a sweet scent in the air.

Speaking of scent, you had made 100% sure you smelt incredible for this damn event. Suck it Fox boy. 

Vere scoped out a spot and called you over, motioning you to set down the outdoor blanket you had brought under one of the trees. 

“I’ll be right back, I’m going to buy some flower oils.” Vere beamed, clearly very pleased that his human disguise was holding up so well, and he had successfully fooled the sinobium. 

You signed and waved him off, plopping down on the blanket you had just laid out. 

As Veres' form receded into the crowd of people, a tall white silhouette appeared to your left.

You gave an easy smile. It was always nice to see Kuras. 

He gave you his own small smile, and you gestured for him to sit.

Vere may have issues with Kuras, but the two of you were perfectly cordial, and you’d even consider the two of you friends.

“So, you decided to go with Vere and not Leander. That’s certainly interesting.” He stated.

You tilted your head to the side in confusion. Why would you be here with Leander?

Kuras seemed to see your confusion, and you watched a familiar mischievous glint appear in his eyes.

“Oh, maybe he didn’t get the chance to ask. How peculiar. Leander was planning to ask you to see this blossom viewing with him.” Kuras stated, calm as ever.

You knew what you wanted to ask. And clearly Kuras also knew what you wanted to ask. But he was being mischievous. And you were being stubborn.

“Well I best be going. I only stopped by for a second, but I need to get back to my clinic.” Kuras stated as he stood up and lightly brushed himself off, looking immaculate as ever. 

He took a step to leave, then looked back at you.

“Yes. Vere knew.” 

And with that, he strode off into the crowd, sparing you from the embarrassment of him seeing your reddening cheeks. 

You were so focused on figuring out if that meant anything, you hadn’t even noticed that for some reason, Kuras had immediately recognized Vere, regardless of the illusion over him. 

You were so absorbed in your own thoughts, you didn’t even notice Vere had returned until he plopped his head right in your lap.

He gave a sniff and his eyes darkened.

“You smell like the doctor.” He spat.

You just shrugged.

“He stopped by for two seconds to say hi.” 

Vere snarled in response, and you couldn’t help but snort at his unfiltered displeasure. 

You began to gently stroke his ears, his real ears, invisible to sight currently, but you knew where they were without sight. 

Ever since he allowed you to touch his fluffy ears, it was one of your favorite things to do whenever he crashed at your place. 

He huffed in displeasure, but almost immediately leaned into your touch, his eyes fluttering closed in contentment as you gently traced your fingers along the back of his ears. He burrowed his head more into your thigh, and wrapped one of his arms around your back. 

“What did he say?” Vere questioned, his eyes still mostly closed. 

Clearly he was trying very hard not to drift off. 

“He just said hi.” You fibbed.

You didn’t know how to bring up what Kuras had told you about, doing so would imply you thought Vere didn’t want you to come here with Leander. Which opens a whole new can of worms.

Seeing that that was all you were going to tell him, he pushed himself up off your lap and leaned back against the tree, scowling. He knew that wasn’t the truth. But it seemed like he didn’t feel like prying either. 

Before you could say anything to cheer him up, he grabbed a bottle from his sack of purchases and took a long swig. It was strong alcohol, you could smell it from here. 

“Do me a favor,” he seethed, glaring at you through his bangs. “Don’t talk to me. I don’t want my flower viewing ruined by you.” 

You could only sigh. If you were going to be friends with Vere, you needed thick skin. Luckily, you had dealt with him enough to expect this. He knew you were omitting some information, and was pouting.

You did feel a little guilty, he wouldn’t be moody if you didn’t hide things from him. But at the end of the day, you were entitled to private conversation with whomever you choose. Vere knew this, which was probably why he resorted to pouting instead of interrogating you for information.

You simply gave him a smile and made the motion of locking your lips shut with a key. 

Vere rolled his eyes and took another heavy swig. Though you could see the sulky look on his face after just a few more sips. He always wore his emotions more plainly when drunk. 

The two of you sat in silence, both enjoying the flowers. It was around sunset when Vere finally seemed to be over being upset with you.

Or he was too drunk to remember. 

He leaned against you, clearly unsteady from all the alcohol.

“Hey.” He slurred.

“Hey.” You responded. 

“Do-

-Do you like me like this?” He questioned. 

“What, absolutely wasted? I mean it is a little funny.” You smirked, and moved so that he could lean against your chest more fully. 

“Ugh. No. I mean human. Still beautiful, obviously, but with brown hair. Like Leanders. No fangs. No claws.”

His voice was slightly muffled as he spoke. 

“Can I be honest with you?” You asked.

“One second.” He responded.

He grabbed one of the bottles of alcohol and chugged the remains. That makes 3 bottles in under one day of some strong drink. Impressive and concerning. 

“Alright, shoot.” He grinned wildly, chuckling low to himself, Gesturing at you to continue. 

“Fuck no.” 

“What?” 

He removed his head from your chest, and leaned back on his arms, looking at you intently, the bewilderment clear on his face.

“You asked if I liked you better looking like this, the answer is fuck no I don’t. If I’m being honest it's a little unnerving. When you walked over earlier I didn’t even subconsciously realize it was you till you laid down on my leg.” You shrugged. 

“Even though my eyes are scary?” He asked.

You let out a bark of laughter.

“Your eyes are not scary.” 

“Even though my hair is blood red?”

“Why would that be a bad thing? It’s beautiful.” 

“Even though I've scratched before?”

“It didn’t even draw blood. And that was my fault. I forgot you had claws and basically rammed my shoulder into them.” 

“Even though I’ve got markings all over my face?” 

“It feels weird if you don’t have them on your face.”

Vere lapsed into silence, pointedly avoiding your gaze.

“I didn’t expect you to be the type to have insecurities.” You cautioned.

Now it was Veres' turn to laugh.

“Oh I assure you, I don’t. I find myself to be the most beautiful creature to exist. I just… wanted to know what you thought.” 

You sighed.

“I really hope you're too drunk to remember this tomorrow, but I think you're the most beautiful person I’ve ever met. Please don’t be insufferable about this.” 

Veres' face split into a lopsided wicked grin.

“Oh darling, I’m going to be so insufferable about this.” 

You just smiled and stood up, gently grabbing Veres arm and helping him stand as well.

“Alright. I need to get home before dark so I don’t get nearly eaten by a soulless. Again.” You say, worry slightly bleeding into your tone.

The sun was already starting to disappear completely from the sky, you needed to get back before the last rays faded. 

“You won’t make it in time. I’ll walk you home and crash at your place.” Vere stated, in a tone of finality.

“Sorry, no. You're far too wasted to fight anything.” You countered.

Vere let out a bitter laugh and tugged in the chain running down his chest. 

“Even with this damn thing limiting me, and 5 more bottles of that drink, I’d still be able to kill any of the pathetic soulless in eridia with one hand tied behind my back. I’m walking you back. That is final.” He declared, then looked at you as if to dare you to argue. 

Vere did a lot of shocking things, but that one motion affected you more than anything he had ever done before. He hated acknowledging the chains around his neck. No matter how much you had come to consider him a friend, you weren’t stupid enough to ever push too hard on that topic. 

You could only nod in agreement. 

“Let’s get out of here then.”

As the two of you walked out of the gates of the sinobium where the grove of flowering trees laid, you let out a sharp snap of your fingers, and the illusion surrounding Vere dropped instantly. 

“That's better.” You remarked.

“Agreed.” Vere smirked back.

The two of you walked back the wet wick in comfortable silence, arriving back well past when darkness had fallen. After all, there was no need to rush.

[sturn-saturn]

just this once

pairing; fem!reader x bf!matt

warnings: cooch eating <3

a/n: im LITERALLY writing this as im in class LMAOO sorry if it sucks. writing a fanfic in class is crazy.

one thing you and the triplets knew was school fucking sucked. it sucked absolute balls. your dream since you were younger was to be in the medical field and here you are. you're currently in med school majoring in nursing but thankfully this biology course is offered online.

you woke up this morning absolutely exhausted but this class was only 90 minutes so you weren't complaining too much. you were just hoping this would be the quickest 90 minutes of your life.

matt wakes up pretty early as well but his brothers on the other hand love sleeping in. matt usually stayed in the living room while you're in your virtual class. matt lets you use his desk, which gives you the space to focus and just get through the class.

you're currently on the call and you were just exhausted, dozing off, staring off, picking at your cuticles, twirling your hair, you name it. your elbow was on the desk and your head was leaning on your hand until you hear a creak.

you turn to your right and you see your boyfriend peeking through the door. you give him a deadpan look because he knows how easily distracted you are especially when he's around.

luckily your professor doesn't mind if your camera is off as long as you're participating in class. "matt, what are you doing?"

"i'm bored, hungry, and theres nothing on netflix." he explains walking further into his room.

"babe, you know i have a class."

"i know, i know." he whispers walking to you and kissing your head. "are you almost done? i'm hungry."

"god we really need to get you and your brothers into a cooking class."

"honey, i know how to cook. i just choose not to cause i love when you cook, you put so much love into it."

"oh you know how to cook, huh? that salmon you tried to cook the other day says otherwise." you laugh. "i'll be done soon don't worry."

"but i'm hungry now." he whines. "you know what, fuck it."

matt pulls the desk chair away from his desk and sneaks under so hes on his knees facing you.

"m-matt. what are you doing i'm in class!" you yell.

"cameras off, i'm hungry, i'm taking advantage of this." he smirks looking up at you. “you need to keep quiet, sweetheart. can you do that for me?”

“yes.” you breathe out. matt begins to pull your panties down and kisses your inner thigh softly while holding eye contact.

your professor was talking at this point and the only thing you heard come out of his mouth was living organisms. “ms. y/l/n could you explain further?”

“fuck” you mouth looking at matt.

he pulls away from between you and gives you a smirk. “well ms. y/l/n? explain further.”

you unmute the zoom call and do everything you can to refrain from moaning. “a living organism is anything that has life and consists of cells as its basic unit of organization like t-trees, animals, algae, b-bacteria, as well as humans of course.”

“correct, thank you ms.y/l/n.” your professor announces.

you go back on mute and you look down at matt and spread your legs wider to give him access. he taps your legs so you can put your feet on the arms of his chair.

“you’re such a good girl.” matt whispers.

“mmmm” you hum

“and…you…taste…so…good.” he says in between kisses to your clit.

“matt, quit teasing.”

“say please.” with a deadpan look.

“matt, please quit teasing.”

with that, be inserts a finger and your head falls back into the chair. he trusts in and out until you’re a mess. “what you didn’t realize was you and your professor were the only ones left in the call.

“y/n, are there any questions you had for today?” you professor asks.

you almost jump out of your seat when you heard your name from the screen in front of you.

you quickly unmute yourself, “no, professor, great lecture today, looking forward to next week!” you ramble on before you end the call.

“fuck i’m looking forward to getting inside you. get on the bed, sweetheart.” you boyfriend says with a husky voice.

tag list:

@sturniolos4life16 @hoeforchrizz @luckyscharms @emely9274 @chrispotatos @weirdratperson @simpson12 @ilovemenwithlonghairr @angeldvstee @pussypie456 @valentinasturniolo @khalei-20 @cravingchrissturniolo @wonnieeluvvr @flouvela

[saltywinteradult]

How is Dany is abusive to Jon?

Honest question, I’ve never given it a thought

I'm sorry this took me so long, anon, and I am really sorry for how long this post got. I had a lot of thoughts on this.

Before we begin, I'd like to point you to this compilation of Jon's reactions to Dany, which hardly paints a picture of a man who is happy and in love, as well as this post and this gifset, both pointing out the parallels between Jon's relationship with Dany and Sansa's relationship with Littlefinger, the latter being a relationship I hope most people can agree is abusive.

It's absolutely crucial to remember that in this relationship, Dany is the person with the power. She is the one with the dragons and the biggest army, and she is willing to both use and abuse that power to get her way.

Furthermore, Dany wants the North's loyalty, but the North needs her help. (The fact that it's Dany's duty as well as in her own best interest to help fight the Others is a different discussion; she doesn't seem to understand this anyway.) She has agreed to grant that help, but she could easily withdraw it if she chooses. She has more power than literally anyone else and there's simply no escaping that power imbalance - it permeates every single interaction Dany has with Jon and all the other Northerners for all of s7 and the first half of s8.

I want you to remember how Dany treats Jon on Dragonstone. His weapons and his boat are taken away immediately upon his arrival. She says Jon is "not yet" her prisoner, but 1) that line very clearly implies that she could make him her prisoner if she chooses to, and 2) how much does it really matter that Jon is "not yet" her prisoner when she's already taken away his means of defending himself or leaving the island? Remember how she later tells him "I haven't given you permission to leave." Girl, what happened to Jon not being your prisoner?

I think it's also very telling that Dany never once addresses Jon by his proper title of King in the North, even before he bends the knee. As you may recall, Dany cares a great deal about titles. She never grants Jon the same respect she demands for herself, and she likes to remind Jon that she is his Queen even during a supposedly intimate, romantic scene.

(Gif by yocalio via gameofthronesdaily)

Earlier in this scene, Dany pointed out that they could stay here in this secluded spot, away from the kingdom and its politics, and no one would find them. Yet even here, away from the rest of the world, she makes a point of referring to herself as "your Queen".

I point all of this out to illustrate that from the very beginning and throughout their relationship, Dany views Jon as a subordinate, not an equal. That is very much not a good foundation for a healthy and equal romantic relationship. Her constant expectation is that Jon will submit, obey, give things up to benefit her, and ensure that the people he has power over act the way she wants.

Case in point:

"Your sister doesn't like me. [...] She doesn't need to be my friend, but I am her Queen. If she can't respect me..."

The implication is that Sansa is doing something wrong by not liking or respecting Dany (meaning "not acting deferential enough for Dany's taste"). The fact that Dany is saying this to Jon and not to Sansa herself implies that it's Jon's responsibility to ensure that Sansa behaves acceptably. "If she can't respect me..." Then what? What exactly is she implying will be the consequences? That their romantic relationship will end? Something worse?

At this point, the North has bent the knee to Dany. As their monarch this is not an entirely unreasonable thing to ask of her subjects - but it's not a very reasonable thing for a girlfriend to ask of her boyfriend, is it? The line between Jon and Dany's political relationship as monarch and subject and their personal relationship as girlfriend and boyfriend isn't just blurred, it's practically nonexistent. To state the obvious, there is a reason we decided that absolute monarchies are bad here in the real world. There is also a reason why a boss dating a subordinate is frowned upon in the real world. Big power imbalances are a bad idea in general and in romantic relationships especially. They should at the very least be considered and navigated carefully. Dany not only fails to do so; she is only happy with her and Jon's relationship when she has power over him.

For proof, let's look at how she reacts when that power imbalance is upended by the revelation of Jon's true identity:

This revelation is a bombshell for Jon. Everything he thought he knew about his own origins turns out to be untrue. However, Dany's first and only thought is how this affects her. Her first reaction is denial and scepticism; the second is to turn cold as soon as she realises that this makes Jon a threat to her ambitions.

There's also this line:

"A secret no one in the world knew, except your brother and your best friend. Doesn't seem strange to you?"

Which implies... What, exactly? That Sam and Bran made this up? Why? Just like with Sansa in the previous scene, we see Dany questioning the actions and intentions of Jon's loved ones. Remember that.

Things escalate in episode 4:

Dany is faced with the notion that Jon might hold more political power than she thought, that they might actually be on somewhat equal footing, and this makes her unhappy.

"I want it to be the way it was between us."

Her desire is to continue their sexual relationship and to return to the previous status quo where she held more power than him and therefore didn't consider him a threat. Jon having a stronger claim to the throne than her threatens Dany's sense of her own identity and purpose, and she reacts by trying to deny and suppress this reality:

"You can say nothing, to anyone, ever! Swear your brother and Samwell Tarly to secrecy and tell no one else! Or it will take on a life of its own and you won't be able to control it or what it does to people!"

(Imagine this with the genders reversed. Yikes.)

Dany is demanding Jon keep his own identity secret from his own family. That's not a reasonable thing to ask of a person you love. Not for one second does she show any consideration for how Jon might feel or what Jon might want. It's all about her. Her expectation is that Jon suppress his own identity, his own reality, to benefit Dany's ambitions. Never once does it seem to occur to Dany that what Jon does with this secret is up to him to decide, not her. His agency is of no concern to her.

Jon: I have to tell Sansa and Arya. Dany: Sansa will want to see me gone and you on the Iron Throne. [...] She's not the girl you grew up with. Not after what she's seen, not after what they've done to her. [...] Jon: They're my family. We can live together. Dany: We can. I've just told you how.

Here we are again with Dany questioning the motives and agendas of Jon's loved ones. Now she's no longer implying but outright stating that they're working against her. What we have here is a pattern of Dany implying that Jon's loved ones are up to no good and can't be trusted. I don't need to explain why that is a dangerous and manipulative thing to do to one's partner, right?

I also want you to pay extra attention to how Emilia delivers that final line. Throughout the whole scene Dany is distraught and desperate, but at this point she turns cold and closed off with an unmistakable anger that Jon won't agree to do as she demands. It is very hard not to read a threatening undertone into that line. "Keep it secret, or else."

Before we move on to episode 5, I'd like to highlight this line, spoken by Dany to Tyrion and Varys in episode 4:

"Speaking to Cersei will not prevent a slaughter. But perhaps it's good the people see that Daenerys Stormborn made every effort to avoid bloodshed, and Cersei Lannister refused. They should know whom to blame when the sky falls down upon them."

Let's be clear on one thing here: Cersei could choose to back down and surrender to avoid bloodshed - but, and I cannot stress this enough, so could Dany. Cersei and Dany are both being selfish and power-hungry by refusing to give up the throne in order to avoid bloodshed. But to admit that would ruin Dany's deeply rooted self-image as morally superior to her enemies. So what does she do instead? She deflects blame. She's the one with the dragons, but if she makes the sky fall down on people, as she puts it, it's not her fault. Keep that in mind.

Now for the absolute low point:

"What did I say would happen if you told your sister? [...] She betrayed your trust. She killed Varys as much as I did. This was a victory for her. Now she knows what happens when people hear the truth about you."

Okay. Varys was conspiring against Dany, which he could've chosen not to do; I guess Dany was within her rights to punish him. She still could've chosen to imprison him, or at least give him a trial. Nobody made her kill him. But as we've just seen, Dany doesn't like to accept responsibility for her own decisions. She'd rather deflect the blame onto the people who displease her.

What's more, she's not just blaming Sansa for Varys's death but Jon as well, for telling Sansa the secret in the first place - which Jon was well within his rights to do! He never agreed not to tell anyone. That wasn't up to Dany to decide in the first place. Jon did what he wanted to do and not what she wanted him to do, so now everything Dany does as a result of Jon's actions is Jon's fault? Do I even need to explain how shitty this is?

"Far more people in Westeros love you than love me. I don't have love here. I only have fear."

This is entirely true. She never stops to think about why Jon is more beloved in Westeros than she is, but whatever. What's important is that after this, Dany initiates a kiss and Jon rebuffs her.

(Gifs from snowsource)

"Alright then. Let it be fear."

Again, what exactly do we think she's implying here? Remember the context. During this conversation, Jon already told her "you will always be my queen". He hasn't rejected her as his queen (which at this point he damn well should), he's just rejecting her sexual advances. And yet, Dany's reaction to his personal rejection of her is to embrace "fear", which again refers to how all of Westeros sees her, not just Jon. Dany already deflected blame for her previous actions onto people who displeased her including Jon, and now she's deflecting the blame for her future actions in the same way. And we all know what she did after this, don't we? I don't know how the line "let it be fear" can mean anything other than "you rejected me and that's why I'm going to embrace being feared, so whatever I do now in the name of being feared is really your fault. Look what you made me do." If that isn't abuse, I don't know what is.

[tomriddlehyperfixataion]

The Diary of Tom Riddle- Diary! Tom Riddle x Reader - P3

pairing: Tom riddle x Fem reader

warnings: Horcruxes, Manipulation, Tom being Tom, side effects of being possessed.

summary: 16-year-old (y/n) finds a mysterious black book on the floor of after it slips out of Ginny Weasleys caldron, curious, she picks it up and keeps it-which leads to one thing after another and discovers the book is far more than it seems.

-Part 1- -Part 2- -Part 4-

=

Thankfully, as she woke up, (y/n) hadn't moved from her bed throughout the night. She sighed and slowly sat up, rubbing her face, drawing back the curtains of her bed, seeing her roommates all up and getting dressed for the day. It was a Sunday, so it was Hogsmeade day for years 3 and up.

Hogsmeade sounded fun.

(y/n) looked at the diary and grabbed it, popping open her ink well and grabbing her quill, flipping open a book to the now blank page she’d been writing in the night before.

“Morning Tom.”

Tom took a moment to respond, her ink disappearing into the page as his elegant scrawl appeared in its place.

‘Good morning (y/n), did you sleep well?’

“yes I did, thankfully. Woke up where I should be too, in my bed.”

‘Very good. Are you feeling better?’

“yeah, much better, thank you. Im going to go to Hogsmeade today, would you like to come with?”

‘Well, I wouldn’t be able to do much, would I?’

(y/n) hummed in thought, Tom had a point, as he could only see what she wrote/illustrated in the book.

“good point, but I could maybe bring you to the bookstore there and get some ink you’d like?”

‘I don’t eat the ink (y/n)’

“not what I meant but that’s a very funny visual thank you.”

(y/n) giggled to herself, imagining the book eating the ink instead of just absorbing it to write back to her.

“I meant like, would you like some fancy ink? I saved up some money from my allowance and can get some good ink from the store if you would prefer it?”

‘How…generous of you, (y/n)’

“thank you :)”

Tom took a very long moment to respond, as if he was thinking long and hard about her offer. Finally, after a few minutes, he wrote back-though he did so while (y/n) was getting dressed for her outing to Hogsmeade, putting on an oversized sweater for maximum comfort.

‘I suppose it couldn’t hurt if you brought the diary along, I certainly don’t mind good inks to write with, I myself was never able to afford more than the most basic brands.’

(y/n) tilted her head a bit, a smile growing on her face. Tom was opening up to her a bit! Okay-play it cool-don’t overreact.

“aww really?”

‘I don’t need your pity (y/n)’

Oops.

“not pity! Im sorry! Just…idk”

‘What in the merlin does ‘idk’ mean?’

“Oh-I don’t know-its an abbreviation.”

‘Why don’t you just write ‘I don’t know’, it’s not hard?’

“idk, just easier.”

She felt like she could hear him sigh, which made her giggle and she finished getting dressed before writing to him again.

“okay okay, im going to go eat, ill be back to grab you before everyone heads out to Hogsmeade.”

Tom didn’t respond so (y/n) closed the diary and put it back on her bedside table, capping her ink well and cleaning her quill before leaving her room, heading out to the great hall for breakfast.

-

Hogsmeade, thankfully, took the rest of the events from the night before off (y/n)’s mind as she went from store to store, starting at the book store and writing down ink brands and types to Tom, who eventually picked out a non-expensive India ink, but it was definitely more costly than the usual ink she got.

She closed the diary and put it back in her bag, taking the new ink to the front and buying it, the shopkeep wrapping it in paper and then giving it to her in a paper bag.

She counted how much money she had left as she walked down the main path of the village, nodding to herself as she pocketed the coins. She had enough to do someday after Halloween candy shopping.

She hopped straight into Honeydukes, where loads of other students were buying their own discounted candy, and quickly got some candies that were under the discount.

Including a bag of candy corn, and it was the type made in shop-which was even better.

“What is it with you and candy corn (n/n)?” one of her friends that had accompanied her to Hogsmeade asked teasingly, attempting to steal one of the candies (y/n) had bought.

“It’s good!” (y/n) defended the candy, holding the box to her chest. She knew candy corn wasn’t a worldly liked candy-but it was hers and her dad's favorite, so it not only tasted good to her, but it also was nostalgic.

(y/n)’s friend snickered, taking a caramel apple lollipop from (y/n)’s bag full of discounted Halloween candy. (y/n) rolled her eyes, the two catching up with the rest of their friends, hanging out at the three broomsticks for a while before heading back to the castle.

Upon getting back to her dorm room, (y/n) poured out the candy onto her bed and spread it out, sorting it and eating a few pieces here and there as she separated the chocolates from the hard candies, and the lollipops from the taffy.

She took out the diary and the new well of ink, opening the wax around it and setting it aside, testing the ink on her actual notebook before writing to Tom.

“back from Hogsmeade! Using the new ink as well :)”

‘I can tell, it’s far smoother than the ink you were using before.’

“I’m glad you like it! I also got a lot of candy from honeydukes, they were having a day after Halloween sale, I got nearly 5 pounds of candy for one galleon.”

‘Sweet tooth?’

“big one.”

(y/n) smiled brightly as she continued her conversation with Tom, which turned to her asking Tom what his favorite candy was…is.

‘I haven't tried much candy if I must be honest, though I do like treacle tarts.’

“yum, those are pretty good”

“great now Im craving treacle tart thanks Tom.”

‘You’re welcome, (y/n)’

­-

(y/n) happily painted on some Slytherin green and silver face paint onto her cheeks, today was the first quidditch game of the year, and the Slytherin team had gotten a new seeker-the spoiled as fuck Draco Malfoy, who everyone knew bribed his way in but he still wasn’t a terrible flyer-and brand new brooms.

The whole Slytherin house was excited, ready to win the first match of the season against Gryffindor, since they hadn’t won a game against Gryffindor since Harry Potter joined the team the year before.

“You almost ready (y/n)?!” her friend called from the bathroom as she herself finished her makeup.

“Yeah!” (y/n) said, hopping to her feet after pulling away from her desk mirror. “I’m all done!” she wrapped a scarf around her neck and hooked her arm with her friends and they all went down to the quidditch pitch together, the roar of excitement already humming through the stands.

The game started quickly after that and it was exciting! The Slytherins were walloping the Gryffindors easily-quickly overtaking them 90-30. (y/n) whistled and cheered for her team, throwing her fists into the air with each score. “Woah what the fuck?!” she heard her friend suddenly exclaim and (y/n) turned to see where she was looking, her brows furrowing as a bludger began to deliberately chase Harry Potter.

“Is that a rouge bludger??” (y/n) said, her lip curling in confusion. “What the hell they’re like-impossible to tamper??” (y/n) and her friend stopped paying attention to the game as a whole, watching in near horror as Harry was chased around by a bludger.

The Weasley twins tried to bat it away from him but it kept coming back.

“that’s not good-we should tell a teacher-“ (y/n) stuttered, turning to head off the stands, maybe catch Madam Hooch’s attention and stop the game before someone got hurt. (y/n)’s friend nodded and followed her through the crowd of Slytherins and down the stands.

Just as they reached Madam Hooch, the bludger had slammed into Harry’s arm as he reached for the snitch and he hit the dirt soon after; though he had the snitch in hand, Gryffindor had won the game. “Oh shit,” (y/n) muttered under her breath, looking at Harrys very broken arm, as Madam Hooch blew the whistle, ending the game.

The Weasley twins somehow caught the tampered bludger, getting it back into the box and locking it down. Madam Hooch instantly saw to it, and while that all happened-the idiot Lockhart…erm…mended Harry’s arm.

“Ew,” (y/n) muttered as her friend gagged at the rubber look Harry’s arm had taken. Lockhart hadn’t mended shit; he’d removed Harry’s bones!

“That is so nasty,” (y/n)’s friend muttered, and (y/n) nodded in agreement, heading back to the castle after Headmaster Dumbledore told everyone the match was over and to head back to the castle while Harry, and any other injured players, went to Madam Pomfrey.

“Gotta be honest, Gryffindor deserved that win, I mean-odds stacked against them, with those new brooms and that bloody bludger, they won. Shame Potter’s arm got broken for it though.” (y/n)’s friend ranted as they walked back to the common room, (y/n) nodding in agreement. “I have to wonder who tampered the bludger? I mean Madam Hooch checks them right before the game, and if it wasn’t tampered then, how could’ve someone hexed it within the minutes before the game began?”

(y/n) shrugged as her friend continued to rant. “Maybe someone tampered with it mid-game? Because it wasn’t doing it at first, if it was tampered with before the game-it would’ve gone after Harry straight away? Wouldn’t it?” (y/n) suggested, walking into the common room after several other students and her friend nodded, tapping her chin.

“That does sound logical, though I’m not sure how or why anyone would do that, I mean-he’s just a 12-year-old kid? Who’d want to charm a bloody iron magic ball to hurt him?” (y/n) shrugged in response to her friend's rhetorical question.

“Someone fucked up,” (y/n) answered anyway and her friend sighed, the two entering their dorm room. Her friend went to wipe the Slytherin-themed makeup off her face while (y/n) went to her bed and grabbed the diary.

“Potter almost got killed by a bludger at the quidditch match today.”

(y/n) could almost feel the sense of ‘!!?!?!’ from Tom as he hurriedly wrote back to her.

‘Who starts a conversation like that? also what? how? I never liked Quidditch but I’m sure those Quidditch gear chests are impossible to get into?’

“that’s what I said, I think someone jinxed it mid game because it wasn’t going after him at first.”

‘How odd. And it was going after Potter specifically?’

“yeah! Only him, the Weasley twins kept batting it away from him but it would go right back after Potter. Its really weird.”

‘I cannot tell you it isn’t, because it is very odd.’

“yeah”

(y/n) perked up as her friend came back out of the bathroom. “I’m going to go get lunch, you coming?” her friend asked and (y/n) nodded.

“Yeah, lemme just wash my face,” (y/n) said, looking back down at the diary and telling Tom she had to go, setting the book down on the bedside table and going into the bathroom to wash her face.

-

(y/n) woke up very late that night, a ringing in her ears as she opened her eyes, feeling kinda nauseous. She groaned lightly, realizing she’d fallen off her bed, her head pounding as she attempted to get up, pressing her palms to her eyes as they ached.

“What the fuck,” she muttered, rubbing her face. She’d never fallen off her bed before, but considering the odd dream she had-she wasn’t surprised. She eventually got to her feet after the nausea had passed and climbed back into bed, yawning.

She laid back down, but couldn’t get back to sleep. Her mind kept going back to that odd dream. She had been walking through the halls of Hogwarts, at what seemed to be a late hour, and went into one of the bathrooms and…spoke a strange language-a hissing language, and the…sink had come apart??? After that she woke up, having fallen off her bed mid weird dream.

She huffed and drew the curtains around her bed, grabbing her wand, the diary, and her quill. “Lumos,” (y/n) murmured and the tip of her wand began to glow and she opened the diary, flipping through pages and pages of notes, and doodles.

She dipped her quill and began to write to Tom.

“I fell out of my bed,”

‘And why is that so important to tell me? It’s late I’m sure, you should be asleep.’

“you’re right but I cant get back to sleep, I had a weird dream and woke up after falling out of my bed, which ive never done”

“or at least I havent done since I was a kid?”

‘Interesting. What was your dream about if I may ask?’

(y/n) wrote down what she remembered from the dream, and then added a small detail she hadn’t realized till now.

“it felt like I was having an out of body experience, or like I was watching through someone elses eyes? You get what I mean?”

‘I suppose I do, though im sure there’s nothing to worry about, everyone has odd dreams sometimes.’

“have you ever had an odd dream?”

‘Yes, I’m not divulging that information though, you’ll tease me relentlessly about it.’

“no I wont!”

(y/n) huffed as Tom didn’t respond, and she could imagine the expression of ‘sure you wont’ on his face. She wished she knew wha the looked like…wait maybe she could find him in the gallery! He did say he was a prefect in his time, maybe there was a picture somewhere of the 1942-1943 prefects.

“you’re no fun.”

‘Go to sleep (y/n),’

“fiiiine, goodnight Tom.”

‘Goodnight, (y/n)’

-

“A first year got petrified?!” (y/n) asked in a hushed tone, her eyes wide as she gripped her friend's hand tightly as they walked to breakfast Monday morning.

“Yeah, apparently it happened Saturday night, or well, early Sunday morning if you think about it that way-but Professor Dumbledore found him in the middle of the night-just-stone still, petrified.” (y/n)’s friend rambled and (y/n) frowned, squeezing her friend’s hand tighter.

Early Sunday morning…she’d had that weird dream and fell out of her bed Sunday morning.

“What time did the first year get petrified?” (y/n) asked and her friend shrugged.

“Dunno, I’m only telling you what I heard from the grapevine, all I know is Sunday morning, a first year got petrified.” (y/n) huffed nervously in response, swallowing harshly, that weird feeling of paranoia returning to her gut.

Just a coincidence, just a coincidence. It had to be; besides, she’d just fallen out of her bed this time, she hadn’t sleepwalked, she hadn’t even left her dorm room.

…right?

-

“I’m leaving.” (y/n) huffed as dumbass Lockhart came onto the long dueling stage that was set up lengthwise in the great hall, replacing the house tables. Her friend grabbed her arm as she attempted to escape, tugging her towards the edge of the stage-making them be front and center.

“Oh, come on (y/n)~ it’ll be fun!” her friend said cheerfully, she’d didn’t understand why (y/n)…disliked ‘Professor’ Lockhart, even thinking he was hot.

It was one of the few things (y/n) vehemently disagreed with her on.

“it’ll be cringe as fuck that’s what it’ll be.” (y/n) grumbled, crossing her arms as she pouted. She expected maybe Professor Flitwick to be the head of the dueling club, but noooo it had to be the obvious fake Lockhart.

Though-Professor Snape had agreed to…help Lockhart in a demonstration, and that, was going to be fun.

(y/n) couldn’t help the peal of laughter that came from her as Snape sent Lockhart across the dueling stage, her friend gasping as Lockhart landed with a thump. “Is he okay?” her friend asked and (y/n) just snickered with the rest of the Slytherin members of the club.

“Who cares? That was funny.” (y/n) chuckled, smirking as her friend gave her a glare. After that everyone got paired into groups, Lockhart nearly putting the little 1st and 2nd years with the 5th and 6th years attending, Snape correcting that mistake and putting (y/n) against a fellow 6th-year Slytherin, though (y/n) hardly knew his name.

“Remember, disarm only!” Lockhart said and (y/n) rolled her eyes, bowing her to dueling partner with her wand at her side and then holding it out in front of her, her other arm over her head for balance.

The dueling began moments later, and spells shot out of their wands every other moment. (y/n) began with the disarming charm, expelliarmus, but her opponent blocked it and returned with a Stupefy. (y/n) went to block but it felt like she wasn’t in control of herself anymore, she stepped to the side-avoiding the spell-and held out her wand in a grip that wasn’t her own.

“Relashio!” With a wave of her wand her dueling opponent was forced to drop their wand and then (y/n) twirled her wand again. “Depulso!” A blast of white magic flew towards her dueling opponent and they flew back, hitting the ground with a loud thud.

There was an intense satisfaction that ran deep in her bones for a split moment, and an odd feeling to finish her opponent off-but that quickly went away and (y/n) pocketed her wand, rushing over to her dueling partner. “Are you okay?” (y/n) asked, offering her hand and her dueling partner chuckled painfully, rubbing their lower back as she helped them stand.

“I’m okay-that was wicked casting though,” (y/n) only nodded in response, licking her teeth as the dueling groups were stopped, a green haze in the air from the dueling 2nd years. She began to leave the great hall as Potter and Malfoy began to duel, only stopping when she heard a strange hissing coming from the stage.

She turned, the hissing sounding too familiar, coming from Potter as he…hissed at a black snake? Her ears began to ring, her vision going a bit blurry as she stared at Potter, the boy hissing at the snake before Snape destroyed it.

What the fuck?

That was the same hissing she’d heard in her dream on Sunday.

-end of p3-

im very happy with this part and i hope you guys are too-taglist!!!

@dracosslxt4eva @dream-your-own-way @slaggylemon

@slytherinbackintomyroom @starryhiraeth @larallott

[thatonefishfriend]

What app do you use for animation?

And if its not free, what app do you think is good for beginners? You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to

I’m trying to practice animation :)

It's simple, lightweight and user friendly. So it's great for beginners! But since it's simple, it doesn't have a proper timeline so it uses layers as its frames. But you can make some pretty cool stuff with it! :]

If you wanna turn animation on, click on Animation at the top and turn on animation mode.

Once you have that, turn on the onion skin to see previous frames.

If you want layers for each individual frame, use folders! I'll use another animation that I did as an example. :] (sorry had to chop off TSC's arm for this.)

Here, I'm able to scrub through my animation. Switching between frames is also important cuz you'll need to check if the motions are right.

Select Next and Prev frames are keybinded so I'm able to switch back and forth between drawings and flip through. To change your keybinds, go to File > Shortcut Settings > Animation

Clicking the cog wheel and setting "Number of display frames" is how long you want to hold your drawing for.

"Autoplay" (Animation > Autoplay) is self explanatory, but you can only display and export the GIF in the specific fps firealpaca gives you.

Now for Exporting your animation you can do it straight to GIF or export each frame as a PNG in the "File" setting.

(But if you use "Number of display frames", it's not gonna export how long you've held your frame. So you'll have to set the timing right again in your editing program.) And some great examples of animation made from firealpaca! :] Amelia B: https://youtu.be/NdPGX06Z3Vg

Atlas and the Stars: https://youtu.be/DSV7P5Nib2k

Hope this ramble helps. <3

[triangle-dog]

TW pet death

(Not one of mine, don't worry. You won't miss anything if you skip this post.)

I will always and forever be a collar and tags person (or, look, if you are really concerned about strangulation then a harness & tags person or a breakaway collar or whatever). Microchips are great, all my beasts are microchiped, but if one of them gets out I want to be able to find them and bring them home no matter what has happened to them.

Two years ago, almost exactly I think, friends and I were three miles into a beautiful autumn hike with the dogs. The leaves were turning, the wildlife was active, and there was a crisp breeze. We rounded a corner and immediately saw a body floating out on the lake, a dog, its long black fur drifting back and forth in the small waves. After some deliberation on what to do, and if it was safe, I waded out to the dog while the others in the party held our dogs way back from the lake in case the water was bad. He wasn't that far out really, but it felt like it took forever to get there because I was fervently hoping he'd have tags. I could actually feel the relief wash over me when I got there and saw patches of blue collar peeking out between the drifting fur.

I towed him into the shallows by the collar. I'm the most familiar with bodies, which is why I was the one who went out to him, and I know that they age differently in the water but by my judgment he'd died farily recently - less than a day ago. When he's in close enough to shore that I don't think he'll drift away any time soon, I unclip his collar and return to the group. We sit down and strategize for a few minutes. How do you make a call like that without raising their hopes? (Answer: you can't - just the phone ringing will be enough).

"I'm very sorry," I say, "but I found a dog in the lake and I thought you would want to know." She tells me she was half expecting a call like this, that the gate didn't latch correctly and both dogs got out but only one came home. She tells me that they were so worried he wouldn't be able to find his way home in the storm last night. She tells me he was very old, that his mind had been going for awhile now. She tells me that most of his life, until the last few years as his body became less able to manage the walk, they would come down to a beach near here and that he loved to swim. She tells me she hopes he at least got to relive those memories for a bit before he went.

I give her the coordinates, it's not too far from a road if you bushwhack - certainly less than the 3mi we did, and tell her we'll bring him to shore. I pick him up out of the shallows, he feels frail, yet he's so so heavy from the weight of the water in his fur. He's much smaller than Nova, yet lifting Nova has never felt like that. I lay him gently on the rocky beach in what I hope is a natural looking, less-traumatizing-to-the-kids position. I clip his collar back on, with the fur no longer drifting around in the water obscuring it, you can now see the little tag saying "Poochie" on the front. We head back the way we came. That was walk enough for all of us, it would feel wrong to seek a different ending, and it was an out and back trail anyway.

Ever since then, every dead cat or dog I see reminds me of those lakeside discussions. We are all overly dedicated animal people, we're fully aware of microchips and all of our own pets are microchiped, but carrying a waterlogged body 3mi to the car to drive it to the vet's office was just not feasible - I don't think it would occur to most people that that was even an option. Even if they did think of it, most people would be opposed to putting a dead animal in their vehicle. I'm just gonna make it easy on people and put my phone number on my animals.

(Sorry, that post was so much longer than it needed to be, but my brain must have recorded that experience in a different kind of memory than usual because it is so so clear and comes all as a set like that so that's what you got too)

TLDR: OP found a dead dog once and has big feelings about it. Put collars/etc. on your pets

[cityofmeliora]

notes / thoughts on the Papas' (lack of) involvement in the songwriting process and their connections to the concepts / themes of their albums

thanks for the kind words and thanks for the ask! these were great questions and really enjoyed writing this response. your questions really made me think! (and when i start thinking i always think too hard and take forever to answer– sorry this took so long!)

i'm putting these questions together because i feel they are closely related. this is a topic i've recently been thinking about a lot, actually.

A Ghoul Writer was first mentioned in that 2010 interview with Primo. the Ghoul Writer is Special Ghoul, the Nameless Ghoul character who gave interviews in Eras 2 and 3. in interviews with him, either he himself or the interviewers would usually mention he's the Writer. i'm not linking anything specific here because you can find this happening in pretty much any Era 2 / 3 interview. (though there's one Era 2 Nameless Ghoul interview that refers to the Writer as a separate character.)

the only Papa who wrote his own music was Nihil. the music video for The Future Is A Foreign Land shows that he and his Nameless Ghouls wrote the song together, and he's credited as a writer on Seven Inches Of Satanic Panic. (pic: back of the SIOSP record)

after Nihil, none of the Papas were involved in the songwriting process. everything after Nihil was written by A Ghoul Writer.

PITCHFORK: On the new album, the songs/lyrics are credited to "A Ghoul Writer." Are you this "Ghoul Writer"? If so, what inspired the words? PAPA EMERITUS: I am not the Ghoul Writer. Pitchfork (April 2013)

Does Papa contribute to the composing process? NAMELESS GHOUL: No, Papa doesn’t contribute to the song-writing. Metal Paths (August 2015)

so the later Papas were interpreters of the music, not writers.

as for the question of whether the Papas embody the sins of society or criticize the sins of society by parodying them, i think it's a bit of both– and i think it depends on which perspective we're looking from.

obviously from a real-world perspective, Ghost as a whole is meant to criticize and parody the issues the music is about, and the personality and characterization of each Papa is closely tied to the themes of his album.

from an in-universe lore perspective, as interpreters of the music, each Papa has his own relationship with the themes of his album. i think the Ghoul Writer writes each album for / about the Papa who's going to perform it. however, this is not necessarily a positive gesture.

here are my notes / thoughts on how each Papa relates to the themes of his album:

(trigger warning for mentions of misogynistic violence / rape / forced pregnancy)

Opus Eponymous and Primo: Primo refuses to comment on his interpretation of Opus Eponymous, but it's pretty clear what he thinks. Primo is a misanthrope who believes humans are “vermin” that have doomed themselves due to their “intellectual decline”. in his eyes, humanity is unworthy of life and will eventually be destroyed. Opus Eponymous has been described as an "orthodox devil-worshipping" album, and it is a very violent album, which is great for Primo because he's an orthodox devil worshiper and he loves violence and murder and wants everyone to die. 'Elizabeth' celebrates an alleged serial killer who is said to have killed hundreds of women / girls. 'Stand By Him' is about a woman being raped by a priest, who then accuses her of witchcraft and has her burned at the stake in order to cover up the assault. and the overall narrative of Opus Eponymous is about a woman being raped and forced to carry + birth the Antichrist, which will eventually kill her. this is something Primo thinks is good and anticipates happening because he believes in the cult very literally and agrees with its message / mission of human extinction. Primo is definitely a villain.

Infestissumam and Secondo: interestingly, there is actually an instance of Papa telling us about his interpretation of this album. in Secondo's own words, "the new album is about the presence of the Devil. The title, Infestissumam, means 'the biggest threat' and refers literally to the arrival of the Antichrist, but what it is also is about is what man has traditionally regarded as diabolical presence– namely female form and swagger." Infestissumam is about how humanity can connect to the presence of the Devil, both physically and spiritually. i think this theme really shows through Secondo. to him, all the things traditionally regarded as sin –especially sexuality– are good things. to him, Satan is the way to freedom and enlightenment. on the flipside, all the things promoted by christianity –holiness and virtue and repression– are stupid and stifling. Secondo is a jerk and he loves to have sex and party and he just doesn't care. Secondo, more than any other Papa, is dedicated to indulging in sin and saying "fuck you" to christianity.

Meliora and Terzo: it's complicated. i don't want to give a detailed explanation right now because i already have a separate post in my drafts about my analysis of Terzo's relationship with the themes of Meliora (it will be long). for now, this is what i'll say: Meliora is about the absence of god, and it's described as futuristic and "pre-apocalyptic." the title "Meliora" means "for the pursuit of better", but it's meant to be ironic. it's about the mistakes people make / the bad things people do in pursuit of better. so as your ask states, it criticizes ambition, greed, and abuse of power. i think Terzo wants to criticize those sins. but i think that he also embodies them, to a certain extent, and i think Meliora is also criticizing him.

Prequelle and Cardinal Copia: we don't really have any canon material that indicates Cardi's personal opinions on the album, but there is certainly a connection between the character and the concept / themes of the album. Prequelle is described as a "positive" album about the plague. it's an album about society falling apart during the apocalypse. it's also an album about celebration and survival in spite of being faced with the inevitability of death. i think Cardi certainly embodies this. Cardi is surrounded by death. Prequelle Era begins with Papas I, II, and III being murdered in order to promote Cardi's success, and it ends with Papa Nihil dying, which allows Cardi to ascend and become Papa IV. in a way, Cardi is both a plague rat and a survivor. it's not his fault they died. he didn't ask for them to be killed, and he was not their killer. but he is the herald and the carrier of the true killer, the actual driving force behind everything (Sister Imperator). through all this, Cardi is having a good time! he's dancing the night away! he's glad everyone standing in his way has dropped dead! he is a rising star and he feels invincible! and he is certain he will survive this.

IMPERA and Papa Emeritus IV: the main themes of IMPERA are "spiritual annihilation", reactionary sentiment, and regression. it's about how people who fear progress are afraid of losing their sense of meaning / purpose and their place in the world, so they turn to misogyny, violence, religious dogma, and fascism. they cling to the idea of having a cause to fight for. i think Cardi is certainly criticizing these issues. he doesn't agree with any of this at all. however, there's still a connection between the narrative of IMPERA and Cardi's character arc in this Era. narratively, IMPERA is a concentrated / condensed version of the apocalyptic narrative that plays out through the first 4 albums. it's about the cyclical nature of the rise and fall of empires. IMPERA Era begins with Cardi ascending to the title of Papa. but after the feeling of triumph wore off, Cardi became very aware of and very fearful of his own inevitable end. he knew that no matter how great his achievements were, he would be forced to step down so his successor could take his place, just like his predecessors had for him. Rite Here Rite Now is about Cardi struggling to make peace with this idea. as a side note: i really like the irony of the fact that Cardi was never actually the leader of his own empire– he was a puppet emperor who got his marching orders from his mother. it connects to IMPERA's theme of political manipulation.

[itstheendofthegoddamnworld]

Swallowed Whole by The Flame (Messmer the Impaler x Tarnished! Reader) 8

MASTERLIST

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Summary: The storehouse calls to you, your path awaits.

A/N: I've been ill for a while, so this is coming out when I feel better! Sorry for the delay! A promise is a promise! More interactions!

A03 link

-

Chapter 8: The Encounter

The rest of your day is spent avoiding Messmer as best as you can, despite the heavy enforcement of soldiers who seem to follow your every move. It comes to you with great unease and irritation, but you're thankful when you've eaten supper and you can be to yourself for the rest of the evening,

Your thoughts are spent thinking about the specimen storehouse and where your heart lies in the books you could be reading. It comes with great restraint not to sneak out and go there in the dead of night, but you promise yourself you would rather worm your way through befriending Ansbach better to gain some further insight.

You go to sleep slightly content with your goals, hoping you can go through with them easily.

Ansbach is who you go to seek out after breaking your fast, dressing simply in your usual garbs before you find him in his usual spot. You strike up a conversation with him for a bit before you know his suspicions are up, knowing you're up to no good.

"You know, Lord Messmer will not be too pleased in knowing you're not where you are."

"How so? He's not looking for me, he's not sought me out." You shrug, though you cannot help but eye the red-cladded knight who loiters close by. He's aware of your presence down here, but he is allowing it for some reason. Could it be some ploy to think he's fine with it all?

"I think his Lord is so caught up in worrying about me, he should be addressing the real issue." You continue, "Any news of Miquella? Or even Lady Leda?"

"It seems Leda has found the gift you left." Ansbach addressed plainly, "What she wishes to do to deal with our betrayals, I am still left in the dark of. I have no doubt she will be finding some way to create an ambush."

"Best be on our best behaviour then." You jest, but Ansbach grunts in response. Why must everyone be so grumpy in this Keep, no, these lands? You remember fellow allies like the kindly girl Roderika, the polite sorcerer Rogier, and Boc your seamster - even in the coldness and darkness of the world, they still found kindness that could be shared with strangers.

Two days pass since your conversation with Ansbach, and despite lingering for far too long in the storehouse staring at the endless shelves, you cannot finally help the urge that calls to you.

Only dressed in a nightgown and dressing gown, its green silk robes still feel foreign on your skin. You scamper to the door of your chambers barefoot, the cold wooden floor cool against your skin as you slowly pull the door open. Looking to see no one there, you gather yourself, shutting the door behind you as darkness engulfs you in the small tower.

Feeling along the walls as your aid, you trek downwards, careful to keep your pacing quiet.

Quick as a mouse, sharp as a cat. You tell yourself as you avoid what you think are soldiers who are posted along the lower grounds, patrolling as they go.

You stick to the shadows as best as you can, passing the infirmary as you near the steps heading down into the dimly lit storehouse. Your smile broads, victory is on the horizon as you continue to sneak before you find yourself in endless bookshelves. 

Finding a small candle and taking it along with you, you pace down the bookcases until you cannot find Sir Ansbach in his usual spot. Instead of him, you find the endless books you have been dying to open since you last spoke with him.

You feel a sense of pride wash over you, eagerly picking up the first book with too much force that it knocks the tower to the ground, some books clatter open with a loud crash as you freeze, assessing your situation before turning back to continue with the pages.

You find books on the history of the lands, of the Hornsent, the war and tyranny that seem to address in length of Messmer's battles, but you work your way to find one that is of great interest to you—the History of Queen Marika and the Golden Order.

It's when your foolishness and brashness bring you to be unaware for a moment, too engrossed in what's around you, that when you try to reach for a book on the shelf that is too high for you, a voice hisses out to you in the darkness.

"Thou art rather brazen at which hour thee sneaketh."

You almost scream out, but catch yourself, your voice being stuck in your throat as you turn to who stands behind you.

You should've known you were being followed, but nothing had prepared you to finally come face to face with the redhead. You had to admit, it was rather haunting how someone so tall as he was able to move around with ease of not disrupting noise. Despite the darkness, your candle caught a glimpse of his red hair, almost blending in with the bookcases. He appears to you how an apparition would, his form languid and swaying as if he is uncertain as to what your next moves shall be. He has a ghost-like quality that only he could carry in a Keep so full of others. He instead thrives in the abyss, in the dampened walls and cold grey spots. You wonder what he carries, the stoicism that he was born with, would it be broken if he finally saw his mother again? And just how long had it been since he last saw her?

"Firstly thee fight mine own men liketh a drunken in a tavern." He spouts. "Next I findeth thee sneaking off to mine own library. Bid me, where shalt I findeth thee next? Sneaking wine into thy chambers?"

"Are you taking note of everywhere I go?" You bemoaned. "If I had known better, it seems you enjoy stalking me."

The glare he sends you is not enough to make you cower, rather you swear you see his cheeks redden at your words. He averts his eye from you, but he keeps his mood sour. "Bid me, art thee going to starteth destroying mine own books?"

You stare at him incredulously, "I read, you know?"

It's his time to gawk, his snakes look between one another before looking up to their master, the three staring as if they are silently communicating. You can't help but feel like the fool at this moment.

Messmer surprises you as if he is a grumpy unapproachable cat, slowly inching his way towards you, his movement slow, hesitant. There is bewilderment present in his features as he whispers, "Thee... read?"

"Yes," Your words are mixed with a weary laugh that has been bubbling inside your throat, "you believe I'm ready to tear your books apart like a beast?"

He doesn't answer that, rather he's quiet, maybe from embarrassment for assuming.

"Look-" you begin to walk closer towards him, not even getting as close as you predicted before something is face to face with you, squaring off. You're startled back, keeping eye contact with one of the serpents that had unwound itself around Messmer's torso to stare down at you. You never realised even up close how vivid its scales were, bright and a brilliant crimson hue. 

You also realise the difference between both serpents: one had startling blue-green eyes, the other matching Messmer's. One is slightly bigger, the other slimmer and longer. You cannot help but feel inquisitive by the one inches away from your face, it also doesn't move as it inspects you. Instinctively, you hold a hand out, somewhat frightful it could change its mind and latch its jaws around your hand, but rather than that, it takes in your scent, its long tongue flickers up your finger before you gingerly stroke along its nose once it has investigated you enough.

"Woah," you marvel in wonder, "they are beautiful." Messmer seems stiff and unresponsive, watching but not daring to move. You assume he's in two minds: fight you off his serpents or allow you to continue, however, you're still hesitant you've overstepped.

His skin even ashen holds a light blush to his face, and it finally dawns on you. He can sense what the snakes feel, for his golden eye is sharp and wide in shock. He does not recoil from you, but he finally does seem to come back from whatever trance he's in, nodding in agreement with your statement. 

"Do they have names?" You ponder aloud.

Messmer's voice is soft as he points to the one with blue eyes, "Fos," he points to the other, "Eos."

It is Fos who turns from you to look up to Messmer, almost pleased to be finally formally introduced, which brings a smile to your face. To think, these serpents have their personalities and thoughts, working independently from their master if they wished.

You realise you need to say more so it does not fill the air with awkwardness, "You asked if I read?"

"I did."

"I do because I wish to learn," you answer, "Not only of these lands but of the one I have long forgotten. I am Tarnished, yes, but I also had a life before, one I have not remembered in a long time. If I am to defeat Miquella and know of his plans, I must learn more of what I'm up against."

Messmer is silent as he takes them in, his face stoic and cold but his eye is darting across your face, over the books surrounding you. It is only then that he sighs heavily. "Very well. If it is true t' is what thee needeth, it shalt be provided." The smile that grows on your face as you hear his words, "However, thee shall not seeketh this inf'rmation without mine own aid. Nor shall I allow thee to be in the storehouse alone."

A fair agreement. You think to yourself, soaking in his deal. "Deal?" You are the one to hold your hand out to him, an olive branch of peace. He stares at your hand then your face, slowly reaching out, his large clawed hand warm as you predicted, swallowing yours in the softness of his skin. "Deal."

It feels like a long time before one of you remembers to pull away, your hand feels extra cold away from his heat, the power he exudes. You go pick up the book you wished to read, but Messmer is quick to add, "T'is yours to read," his voice is a gentle whisper in the coldness of the night, "if it keeps thee from fighting mine own men."

It dawns on you, that his tone is not dour when he tells you that, there is a tinge of humour laced within him when he wants to be droll. "Now, that I don't know I can keep as a promise, Lord Messmer."

-

A/N: So, I wanted the serpent names to be cute and matching. Fun fact: Fos means light and Eos means dawn but also is the personification of dawn🥺

[creatingblackcharacters]

I want to second that anon on how epic you format things. I sometimes forget im reading halfway through a sentence or my brain turns off for a bit n i have to wait for it to restart as well as... Many other issues that make reading things very difficult even if im interested in the topic(got this 350 page book about a subject ive been very passionate about since i was 5 and its taken me 2 years to read 300 pages 😅).

I assumed reading your lessons would be the same but! No! Most ive been able to read through uninterrupted and if i dont succeed in that, ive been able to pick it back up without much confusion! I'll assume it'll take forever to read but then it'll be over fast and i only have to reread it once or twice to make extra sure i retain any new information or internalise or make updates to a certain way of thinking etc. If i notice im forgetting parts of a lesson the way you've made your pinned post makes everything so much easier too.

I know they're not 100% accessible to everyone since thats just straight up /impossible/ so im sure there are ppl out there with a good excuse for why they can't read them but it's just. I dont know. Youve done such a great job and im just really happy to be able to p easily read something for once! The effort, time and thought you put into these is just. Amazing to me. And it makes me very happy to be able to share them with others. I love all the art you reblog and the "Share your favourite Black character" submission thing and its really cool that you share a bunch of other important things too. You also just seem like a very admirable person outside of it as well??

Sorry for this ask being so long, I really hope it didn't come across as weird as i think it did and that you have a good day! :)

🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹 well thank you. I appreciate your support and your kind words.

[llamaisllama777]

LAES,TSAMS,EAPS DAILY*/WEEKLY* REVIEW SHOW!!!!

Sorry it's been a bit since I last did one of these, but I'm back and here to take a look at today's new episodes

I love this group so much!!!

I'm glad Molten,Jack, and Dazzle have finally found friends like them. It's so cute and wholesome!

I love how they just yeet a toy to its death in the beginning of the episode. I love how they just stinkin' trying to solve a murder (A FAKE ONE)

I love how Sun even gets involved and goes full Riddler. (Sun face it, you're a father now. And a great one at that!)

This episode was so fun and cute! I love it!

I wonder if Sun and Moon's will be as wholesome?

Oh....oh no.

Nexus.... did it.

He broke Moon.

I didn't think it was possible to break Moon unless it was like the death of Sun or something, but here we are!

Moon did still hold remorse for what happened to Johnathan and probably the July 16th kids as well it's just unlike Sun, Moon didn't express his emotions. He kept them inside, hidden deep. And now Nexus has brought all those emotions to the surface!

I like how Moon says that Sun and Solar will be fine without him. It's a problem ya but the fact he thinks Sun and Solar are so capable without him it's kinda wholesome.

Monty is actually a pretty good friend. Monty admits he is not perfect, far from it! But he's changing. He's better now. Thanks to the whole Celestial family! Monty tries to help Moon, but it's clear Moon is gonna need a bit before he can be back to his usual self.... if he ever does.

Now, with Moon out of action, this means it will be easier for Nexus and Dark Sun to kidnap Sun. This may have all been a part of Nexus' plan break Moon, take Sun. Nexus will probably try to torture Sun and break him to get the shards but considering the fact even after Creator badly mentally tortured Sun and didn't get what he wants I don't think it will as easy as Nexus think it will be. Sun is stronger than any of them know.

And lastly....

Eclipse ACTUALLY OPENING UP TO SUNRISE AND MOONLIGHT?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?! SHDHDVEUDGJWWEHEIEHWD!

YEEEEESSS!!!!

About time!

I'm glad to see that Eclipse is.... kinda sort of trying to be a friend.

Hopefully, Sun, Moon, and Eclipse can figure out what to do about this universe's Eclipse if/when he shows up.

Hi, Francis, long time no see. 👋

Also, Francis has a point, Earth, Puppet, Foxy, Sunrise,Moonlight, this world's Monty, and even Ballora are his friends. It's time for him to realize and embrace that and I hope he does soon.

Puppet.....please....get some rest! You are no help to anyone like this! Have you even talked to your son since the murder he witnessed!

Go talk to him! 👉 🦊

Seriously, Puppet, this isn't helping anyone. It's hurting you and the others, and you probably are Vincent's number one suspect for the murders.

GREAT EPISODES!

Especially, the Sun and Moon show episode! I really liked that one.

11/10!

[seekers-who-are-lovers]

Aahh! Finally, Bunshun released the short story about Yukiya’s two mothers, Fuyuki, and Azusa. Plus, the prologue of the fourth book, “The Empty Coffin,” where Yukiya embarks to study in Keisoin Academy and there he meets his classmates.

The short story, however, includes the incident where Yukiya and Yukichi got lost in the woods and a mysterious large bird saved them. It is here! (This is roughly Google-translated, but it is a start!)

Fuyuki was a cold-hearted, bitter, mean, but, above all, a loving woman.

She loved her son and trusted Azusa.

“If it were Azusa, she wouldn't do anything bad to my child, would she?”

It took a long time. Still, Azusa felt that Fuyuki’s real voice finally reached her.

Please take care of my child.

"Yes, that's right, Fuyuki-sama. Yukiya is our son.” Azusa said out loud as she walked.

"So please, Fuyuki-sama. Please protect Yukiya and Yukichi. Please let them go home safely.”

The moment she said that, she felt like the trees were swaying even though there was no wind.

One could see that the moon on the top of the tree was distorted in a strange way.

After a moment, the outline of the moon, which was pale and hazy, became clear and began to emit a sparkling light. With the big full moon on its back, a black silhouette was floating.

Azusa gasped as she fixed her eyes for a while.

It was an incredibly large shadow of a bird.

Even in the main residence of the North Family, where famous horses were gathered from all over the world, she had never seen anything with such a huge body. Azusa couldn't decide whether it was the same kind of species, it slowly approached her.

It landed leisurely in front of Azusa, who was standing up.

The moment it descended, Azusa's hair flew up under the wings.

When she saw it up close, it was still a ridiculously large crow.

She thought it was three times more than an ordinary Yatagarasu.

The black iron-like beak was sharp, and it should be scary, but strangely, it didn't feel like that.

The eyes directed at Azusa sparkled like crystals, and its feathers, even in the faint moonlight, gleamed with a hard, purplish-blue luster. Even without considering its size, there was something otherworldly about it, as if the very air around it was different.

Azusa, who was staring in astonishment, noticed that the crow was holding something in its beak.

What could it be? It looked like a basket.

Then, the large crow, having caught Azusa's gaze, gently placed it at her feet.

"Is this child your son?"

Unexpectedly, a high, clear voice like that of a young boy echoed.

Looking closer, she saw that her sons were sleeping inside a basket woven from wisteria vines adorned with flowers.

"Yukiya! Yukichi!”

She rushed over and clung to the basket as if to devour it.

Yukiya, who was covered in mud, was hugging his brother. Yukichi's eyelids were red and swollen, but neither of them seemed to be injured anywhere in sight.

“Don't worry. They're just sleeping for a bit, but they'll wake up soon. I'm sorry,” the large crow said clearly, tilting its head. “Because I hastily mended the barrier, they got caught in the gaps.”

Azusa was stunned because she didn't understand what the Yatagarasu meant, so he repeated it.

“It means that these children were stuck in a place where they couldn't get out on their own. It's my fault, so please don't scold them.”

Azusa nodded in a daze.

"Are you … Yamagami-sama's servant?"

"...Well, something like that."

"Thank you for helping my sons."

“It was originally my fault. When these children grow up, there may come a time when we meet again. They are good children. Raise them with care.”

After saying that, the big karasu rolled his wings and flew away. Once again, the moon distorted. In the blink of an eye, as if it were an illusion, the great crow melted into the sky and disappeared.

It is up to us to patch everything. I am crying. The story of Fuyuki, Azusa and Yukimasa is heartbreaking. Fuyuki, like Yukiya, hated her side of the family and the nobles. Oryo, her mother, was a former courtesan at the pleasure district it took long enough for her to be accepted in the family until she produced three children with Lord Genya. Every motivation here is politics.

Yukimasa, like we all know, was an opportunist, who took advantage of Fuyuki’s feelings. What Yukiya feels toward his father is justified and yet he has grown up rational enough to see how his stepmother and brothers treat him and love him as if he is their own full flesh and blood.

[ragsy]

"Olive Branch Unlimited Pasta Pass"

A less-than friendly encounter between Dogmark and Kenneth. 993 words. Read under the cut 👇

---

Mark grimaced at the jangle of the shop bell. It was ten minutes to closing; surely nobody needed taxidermy services this urgently. He was going to have to fucking sweep again, and why can't these people ever just put the dead cat in the damn freezer for the night?

He was halfway through his Customer Service Greeting-- a dry and listless "Hi, let me know if you need anything" with an implied "I hope you don't," when--

"Oh. Uh. Hi Kenneth," Mark coughed.

Kenneth, as it were, stepped into the Tucksidermy shop, taking in the many display shelves of magician squirrels, burlesque raccoons, and deer with hats, before finally catching Mark's attention. He smiled, though it did not reach his eyes. "Ah! Mark! Working hard?"

Kenneth let the shop door swing shut behind him; he held a large tupperware container tucked under one elbow, and his other hand gripped something in his pocket. For a man who had walked with a cane for as long as Mark knew him, Kenneth was moving with awfully fluid, easy strides.

Mark eyed the container with heavy suspicion. If there was someone's dearly departed family pet in there, he just might scream.

"Just. Uh. Closing up for the night," he said, setting his broom aside.

"Fantastic!" grinned the older man. "Then I hope you don't mind me asking: is Tuck in?"

Mark's pointed ears flicked.

Tuck had been different since coming back from the last mission. They hadn't told him everything that had happened, and the wedge between them and Kenneth remained vague handwaves and omissions. But still, holes in a story still leave behind the shape of some great and unspeakable thing.

And, if he was being honest, Mark was kinda creeped out by the way that guy was always so chipper. If he had more than a measly ounce of candor, he wouldn't have minded telling the old man to fuck off.

Mark slipped his glasses off and polished them on the front of his shirt.

"Tuck's not here," he lied.

Kenneth's face fell. "Oh! Are they, ah, are they alright?"

"Just-... Busy. I dunno."

This was, at least partially, the truth. The usual signs of Tuck is Working were present: Muffled FM radio pulsing through the wall. A hovering scent of blood and chemicals. A bearing in the workshop vent fan that squeaked at a frequency only dog ears could hear.

Kenneth furrowed his brow. "Oh. Hm."

That was another thing-- In the days since the mission to that facility, everyone had returned drained, bedraggled, frightened, or pissed off.

Everyone, that was, except Kenneth.

Kenneth, who Mark had seen take up jogging. Kenneth, whose familiar lines and wrinkles had begun to fade. Kenneth, whose sharpened eyes and revitalized wits now studied Mark, searching him for answers.

It all made Mark's skin crawl. Even as a grown-ass adult, he couldn't avoid feeling like a kid caught in a fib by a teacher. What the hell else was he supposed to say?Desperate for a break in eye contact, he replaced his glasses, grabbed the broom, and resumed sweeping.

Kenneth cleared his throat.

"Well, then, in any case, can I leave this here?" He was hoisting the container aloft in both hands. At Mark's skeptical stare at the plastic lid, he cracked open a corner, revealing a mess of pasta, tomatoes, and cheese.

Kenneth mistook Mark's sigh of relief for gratitude.

"Lasagna. I thought you both might appreciate some leftovers from dinner at Alice's house last night. So-- Ah, so sorry you had to miss it again!" The smile returned to his face. Uneasy. Apologetic.

Sorry. Right. Maybe they stayed home for a reason. Maybe they didn't want to be there with him. Maybe Tuck would have gone if he would just get rid of that fucking tape recorder. Mark's fingers twitched. Maybe he could take it from him the hard way.

He bit his tongue and swallowed his words.

"Um. Great," he said finally. He set down the broom and picked up the dustpan, dumping its contents unceremoniously in the trash.

"Ah," said Kenneth, crestfallen. Heavy silence fell over the two of them.

Once it was clear that Mark would make no move to accept the offering, Kenneth crossed the room and placed the container on the register counter. He patted the lid conclusively.

"Well, ah, I-... I hope you enjoy it!" A glimmer of hope clung to the edges of his words with desperation.

Once again, Mark said nothing. Folding his arms, his gaze darted from the tupperware, to the clock above it, to Kenneth. He sighed and swiped a hand down his face.

"Please go."

"Wh— Pardon?"

"We're closed."

Kenneth blinked. "O-oh, so soon?"

He swept his eyes across the shop. "Will, ah, will Tuck be back soon then, maybe?"

Mark thrust a clawed finger towards the door. "Get. Out," he growled, his human mask vaporized in an instant. A snarl curled up his snout, and his hackles bristled. Enough was enough.

The older man staggered backwards, eyes wide in terror. He raised his hands in submission and, without another word, fumbled open the door and slunk outside.

Mark slammed the shop door behind him and twisted the deadbolt shut. He glanced at the clock again. Five til was probably close enough.

Seething, he finished his chores and stalked out the back door.

Later, he rapped his knuckles on the doorframe to Tuck's workshop.

"Hey, we're all closed up now. I'm gonna get going." His voice shook a little, but he had at least managed to hide the dog back away.

Tuck looked up from its workbench. "Oh, heya Mark," it drawled. "Customers give ya any trouble today?"

"No. All good. See you tomorrow."

He hoisted the shop trash bag on his way out the door and slung it into the dumpster. It landed against the metal bottom with a heavy thud.

Kenneth's olive branch would be left there to rot until pickup day.

[mymisfitsbabe]

Camp AU

(This is a continuation of the camp AU I started for Harringrove week in June...https://at.tumblr.com/mymisfitsbabe/well-we-got-no-choice-all-the-girls-and-boys/6fk52io4bbi7)

Running on five hours of sleep had made Steve sloppy, he’d been too tired to pay proper attention to his job for the day. It was his turn to take the lifeguard post at the edge of the roped off section of the lake. Three large groups of campers were scheduled to have canoe training, they were preparing for the big race set to take place the last week of camp.

Kathy, Billy, Argyle, Tommy and Chrissy were the teens in charge of leading each canoe. Tina, Jason, Heather, Tammy and Steve were the lifeguards, they were scattered throughout the roped off section armed with floaties just in case any kiddies managed to fall into the water without the canoe leader noticing.

Steve normally loved life guard duty, but today he couldn't quite keep his eyes open as the sun glared down on him. The warmth soaked into him drying his wet clothes and lulling him in it's warmth, the water gently lapping at the wooden lifeguards post like a gentle song.

Peeking out through one half lidded eye Steve watched the first group gather on the shore. They wouldn't be in the water for at least another twenty minutes. With a heavy sigh he relaxed against the seat. Steve used his pointer finger to push his sunglasses up his nose, letting his eyes shut.

The first group would be Billy’s group and Billy had never once let a kid out of line enough fall in let alone tip the canoe. Somehow Billy could make even the wildest of campers fall in line, no one back talked Hargrove.

“Harrington!!” Billy’s voice boomed over the lake startling Steve awake.

Jumping to his feet on the wooden lifeguard’s post Steve searched for the voice that had woken him, he spotted Billy standing in his canoe about ten feet away pointing out into the water. 

Without hesitation Steve grabbed the floatation device next to him and dove into the lake as close to the flailing child as he could. The water was cool, not quite cold but nowhere near warm, Steve kicked his feet and pushed forward as the float in his hand pulled him upward toward the surface. The kid was half screaming, half choking when Steve reached her. 

“I’m here, grab on to-” Steve had managed to get out before the kid was scrambling over him.

The kid was panicking, she clawed at the water trying to grab onto anything that would keep her above the dark murky blue water. Steve was the first thing the kid managed to latch onto, she tried to pull herself up onto him shoving him down under the water as she flailed about.

Shit, Steve vaguely remembered something in training about what to do when a person is panicking in the water but he couldn't quite remember. Breaking the surface Steve gasped and sucked in a lungful of air before he was being pushed back under, the girl’s knee catching his mouth as she tried to crawl on top of him.

Fuck, fuck. Steve kicked his feet trying to put some distance between him and the girl, but when he’d managed to get about a foot of space between them she started sinking. Steve reached out and yanked her back upward, sending himself down deeper in return. Steve swam back up to the surface, he had his back to the girl as he broke through and reemerged. 

Immediately she was on him, Steve was still trying to take a gasping breath when she plunged him back down into the water. Water filled his mouth and lungs, Steve kicked furiously toward the surface. Once he resurfaced Steve coughed up the water and searched frantically for the floatie, the girl shoved him back down but he’d seen it. 

The damn float was at least five feet away now, all the struggling had caused waves to carry it out toward the rope that marked the edge of the safety zone. With burning lungs Steve swam for it, the girl still struggling on his back clawing at him when she’d dip into the water.

Steve didn't think he was going to make it, his lungs were on the verge of bursting, his vision was starting to go white and his head was pounding. Desperate Steve broke the surface again, he took a short gasps of air before diving down deep into the water. 

The girl held on tight even after he’d pulled her into the water she’d been so scared of, she was probably in shock, or maybe she was too scared to let go. Swimming as hard as he could Steve kept his eyes locked on the round white outline of the floatation device, he was almost there, he was almost there!

Just as Steve’s lungs gave in, sucking in a large pull of water, he broke the surface again scrambling to snatch the floatie. By some miracle Steve had managed it, he clung to the plastic ring choking on the water in his lungs. The girl thrashed forward trying to take the flotation device from Steve with one hand as the other gripped tighter to him. 

The struggle was causing them both to drown as waves crashed into them and the floatie dunked in and out of the water. Another set of hands grabbed onto Steve and the girl, the other person forced them apart and shoved the girl away. Steve dipped back down into the water, the floatie was wrenched from his hands and kicked toward the flailing child.

The girl snatched the float and tried to climb up onto it like a cat trying to claw it's way out of danger. Steve struggled in the other person’s arms as he tried to force out the water from his lungs AND breathe at the same time. 

“Don't fight, don't fight, I’ve got you. Just relax.” Billy spoke in Steve’s ear as he shifted so Steve was laying back to chest with him.

Steve fought the urge to panic, he was still trying to work out how to breathe, his body instinctively objected to being on his back while trying to dislodge the remaining water from his lungs. Billy grabbed Steve’s jaw and forced him straight, lengthen Steve's neck and tilting his head back ever so slightly. Billy slowly kicked his feet under the water till they were both almost prone across the surface of the water, floating on their back, or rather Billy floating on his back and Steve floating on Billy. 

Steve did his best not to tense when he felt Billy’s free hand on his stomach, low, Billy trailed his palm up Steve’s body till he reached the dip in between Steve’s collarbones. Billy repeated the process again and again.

“Just breathe, slow and steady, slow and steady.” Billy muttered softly, his mouth against Steve’s ear causing the sound to vibrate through Steve’s whole body.

Coughing out the last bit of water Steve swallowed hard, his throat hurt, raw from the water that had almost drowned him. Steve startled when Billy shifted in the water, he twisted around and slammed his arm down on the wooden platform of the lifeguards post.

“Get up, and stay here Harrington. If you so much as look at the water again I’m going to fucking kill you do you understand me?” Billy shoved Steve’s back into the wood and glared into his eyes, angry.

Shocked, Steve opened his mouth to speak but Billy pushed himself forward into Steve’s face and growled. “Do you fucking understand me?”

“Y-yes!” Steve sputtered as he shifted around to cling to the platform.

“Good boy.” Billy shoved Steve upward.

Steve scrambled up onto the wooden platform, Billy’s free hand dug into Steve’s hip helping lift him out of the water.

“Lay on your side and don't go to sleep.” Billy dove back into the water before Steve could say another word.

Steve laid himself back on the wooden deck just breathing in big lungful's of air while the sun soaked into him again. Groaning Steve rolled to his side, still the ever obedient person he was. Laying there Steve tried not to think about the burning claw marks that the girl had left all over his body or the tenderness of his throat, or the feel of Billy’s hands all over his body.

It wasn't long before a canoe pulled up beside him, apparently Chrissy and Argyle had come to help when they saw the kid in the water start to panic. Ashamed Steve climbed into the canoe with them and grabbed a paddle.

“Oh my god Steve! You look like you tried to give a cat a bath.” Chrissy started fiddling with Steve’s hair, brushing it back so she could check his scratches.

“I’m okay, I’m okay, I just want to get to shore.” Steve smiled weakly at her.

“Okay.” She smiled back at him warmly.

[reengeen]

NEW OBSESSION AQUIRED