#Transformers is the best fandom ever

[stinger-shot]

Yey! Silly vent because I feel like shit!

Read under the cut if you want the juicy ass details

So basically, I gotta let this shit out.. its fucking me up a bit rn.

I met this dude around the start of 2021 on tiktok AND HE WAS SO TALENTED AND FUNNY but he always said he wasn't. Anyway time skip a lil..

We started getting into a few arguments near the middle of 2022. And they where just small disagreements then they gradually got worse and worse every time it happend. And it especially got bad when I made another friend on tiktok who loved doing art related things and drew my old persona back then.

And HE WAS NOT HAVING IT and he said quite alot of bad things to me. Did I stay friends with him? Yes I did. Did I also block the nice guy just trying to be my friend? Yes. I blocked them out of fear of loosing my best friend.

And near the end of 2022 we started dating because things had gotten a better.

Oh how I was so wrong. Everything just went downhill when he left high-school. He always needed attention. He got mad at me because I couldn't set an alarm BECAUSE he was up at 10am and I was up near 1pm. So I forced myself to do so mutch bullshit for him. Like draw him art as an apology and it drained me do badly I could hardly do my own personal art.

I didn't even have personal art at this point. Every time I fixated on something it was what he was fixating on because he'd get mad at me and argue with me if I wasn't.

But everything was calm when it was around April in 2023 and we where finally getting along like an actul couple because of a game called final fantasy. We where obsessed with it for months! And then around June or July I re discovered transformers.

I have never felt as happy in a fandom since 2019! Like holy shit the fandom is so sweet.

But I kept it a secret from him he still doesn't know. Then at some point I made this tumblr to get my stupid little urges out and now look at where I'm at. I haven't been this happy in a LONG while.

And just st the start of 2024 my ex got into an argument with one of his friends and I offered to talk to them. so he agreed and I spoke to them.

Im so fucking glad I did.

Because without their help I'd still be fucking miserable. They gave me the confidence to dump that bitches ass and I honestly feel like a weight has been taken off. Because it honestly felt like a chore every day of my life just talking to him.

And my other friend on discord had helped me out to. Including you silly fuckers on discord/tumblr. If your even reading this... if you are why are you still reading this?

But anyway. I just needed this off my chest. Because it does hurt a little spite how good i feel but I just have an off feeling. I haven't put down everything that happend while I was with my ex and some things might be in the wrong order or time but at least I'm forgetting it?

Just. I love the transformers fandom so mutch mutch really helped me pull through...

Fuck I'm ranting. Uh. Bye!

Also a big thank you to Avery and rex for helping me feel better (rex I've only known you for a little bit but jesus christ I fucking laugh my ass off because of you) jesus I'm sappy as fuck. (and avery your so fucking cool. You helped me alot.) And belyyvolks (I've had alot of fun messing around about ironhide XD) I'm not tagging because I don't want alot of attention on this post.

[silverwhittlingknife]

Has Tim ever put Dick on a pedestal?

100% yes! This is basically Tim's backstory IMO. Prior to meeting Dick in Lonely Place of Dying, Tim's a kid who's got a distant, idealized, made-for-TV vision of Dick and Bruce - mostly Dick - and he sets out on a quest based entirely around that misperception.

Aaaand then he immediately crashes headfirst into reality, because the Dick Grayson and Bruce Wayne he remembers from his childhood memories and daydreams are like this:

But it turns out that the actual real-life human people are a bit more, uh, cranky than Tim's glossy vision - things are tense and neither of them are super-happy to meet Tim:

And Tim has to rethink a bunch of his mistaken deductions as it slowly dawns on him that - far from being a plucky team - Dick and Bruce are actually not getting along at all:

And so Tim has to realize his whole plan of "Dick has to be Robin again!!! That will fix everything!!! :)))))" was actually wrong, and based on a misunderstanding of Bruce and Dick's relationship. And having realized he was wrong, he immediately sets about trying to figure out what he’s failed to understand in the most intrusive way possible—by asking lots of nosy questions!

Actually-meeting-Dick is basically the end of Tim’s super-idealized vision of Dick. It's not a vision that can survive contact with an actual human being who's snapping at you. And kid!Tim is (I love him but) extremely pushy and annoying, and Dick's a prickly young adult who is not above getting annoyed, which means Dick snaps at him pretty regularly.

But Tim does continue to admire him.

So for their various interactions after Lonely Place of Dying, IMO "does Tim have Dick on a pedestal" is kind of a judgment call based on your assessment of Dick's relative strengths/virtues. What's unambiguous: Tim has a consistently higher opinion of Dick than Dick does of Dick, and they argue about it a lot.

I had way too many thoughts about this, so below the cut:

Comics where Dick and Tim have conversations along the lines of Dick: "I suck and I'm failing at everything." Tim: "That's not true!! Actually you're great and you're succeeding at the thing you think you're failing at!!"

So who's right - Dick or Tim?

Dick and Tim's high opinions/expectations of each other: the plusses and minuses

Comic examples

Here are a couple different variations on Tim thinking that Dick is great (often when Dick's less sure):

in Showcase, Tim thinks that Dick’s a way better teammate than Azrael, even as Dick’s thinking himself as a failure who let the Titans down; 

in Prodigal, Dick tells Tim a story about confronting Two-Face which to Dick symbolizes a moment of great failure and which Tim insists was a no-win situation where Dick did the best he could;

also in Prodigal, Dick’s despairing over how badly he thinks their encounter with Killer Croc went and meanwhile Tim thinks it went fine (after all, Dick listened to him and called an ambulance instead of beating up Croc!), and Tim tells Dick to lighten up and Dick talks about how he’s a failure; 

in Nightwing 6, Dick thinks he’s doing badly in Blüdhaven and he’s self-conscious about it and paranoid about what Tim might tell Bruce, and Tim insists that the fact that Dick’s being targeted means he’s succeeding and getting close instead of failing, and Dick retorts that this won’t be comforting if he winds up dead because getting close just isn’t good enough; 

also in Nightwing 6, Tim thinks Dick was a better Robin than Tim is, and Dick thinks he wasn’t that great and that Tim’s better;

post-Last Laugh, Tim’s insistent that Dick's being too hard on himself about attacking the Joker whereas Dick's really haunted by the experience and confides that it feels like he's discovered a terrible dark side of himself;

way later in Nightwing 110, Tim’s seeking Dick out and Dick’s trying to avoid him because he thinks he’s a bad person who’d be bad for Tim;

in BW: Murderer, Tim doesn’t trust Bruce absolutely, but in Red Robin, he does trust Dick absolutely (or at least, more than Tim trusts himself);

etc. etc. etc.

Who's right: Dick or Tim?

So, is Tim being too easy on Dick and looking at him with rose-colored glasses, and Dick’s harsher view of himself is the correct one; or is Dick a perfectionist who’s being too hard on himself, and Tim’s the one who’s actually seeing Dick’s strengths more clearly?  

I don’t think the comics really commit one way or another! These are moments of multiple-perspectives, where we notice that Tim has one attitude and Dick has another attitude and that tells us things about the characters, not moments that are meant to resolve to a simplistic “one person is Right and one person is Wrong.”  I think often you could argue that they're both right? So, like, if you wanted to take the approach of, "Tim's idolizing him but he's not actually as great as Tim thinks," I don't think the comics precisely contradict that interpretation.

... THAT SAID, look, I am a Dick Grayson fan at heart, and I tend to lean toward “Dick’s being too hard on himself.” 

Tim’s not oblivious to Dick’s flaws—he immediately figures out, for example, that Dick’s gonna attack the Joker, and rushes off to stop him; he just isn’t as judgmental about this moment as Dick is, and he doesn’t think it makes Dick an awful person forever.  The point is (Tim says later, practical-minded) that it was made right, and Dick shouldn’t beat himself up about it.  In Prodigal, Tim’s not unaware that their fight with Croc went badly; he’s just focused on how Dick’s morals and teamwork-centric attitude feel right to him in a way that Azrael’s didn’t, and look, Tim didn’t get shot even though he got shot at, and isn’t that the important thing?  Tim gets caught in the same ambush that Dick does in Nightwing 6; he just takes the glass-half-full attitude toward it while Dick takes the glass-half-empty attitude.  And so on.

Tim admires Dick, looks up to him, trusts him, interprets his flaws generously, and doesn’t think he’s a failure. And... this isn't quite in the comics, but it doesn't contradict them: I like to imagine Dick feeling like he's on a pedestal, and feeling kinda uncomfortable with Tim's admiration when he's forced to realize it exists, and feeling like he doesn't deserve it, and sometimes subconsciously braced for the other shoe to drop, convinced that Tim can't possibly really think this forever, that he's deluded somehow, and that eventually Tim will realize who Dick really is and get disillusioned and leave.

And I tend to think of Dick having this problem a bit with everyone in his life who thinks highly of him, but especially with Tim, because he doesn't feel like Tim's ever needed him or that he's done anything worth Tim's admiration. I feel like Dick - despite some insecurities - does know his own worth as a team leader, and he knows he was a good partner to Bruce, and he understands when he's helping people who are clearly floundering, like Damian and Rose. But all he's ever done for Tim is...hang out, and be nice. And he doesn't think Tim ever needed fixing or saving, and he vastly underestimates both the value of his own friendship in general and how much it's meant to Tim in particular. Not all the time, because later in their relationship when they've known each other for years I do think Dick does feel a bit more secure in that friendship and entitled to make demands based on it (and vice versa, for Tim). But I do imagine Dick periodically feeling like Tim lets him off the hook too easily, and thinks more highly of him than he should, and alternating between being grateful for it and uncomfortable with it.

But I would argue that Dick does deserve Tim’s admiration! 

Look, Dick's not a perfect person - no one is. He does screw up sometimes, and sometimes he's petty or jealous, and sometimes his temper gets the better of him. But he is pretty great! He's brave and thoughtful and kind and generous and caring. He takes his own grief and his own suffering and devotes himself to helping other people. And Tim sees that. Tim watches an orphaned kid crying on stage, and has nightmares about it - and later recognizes the hero in him. Tim stops Dick from beating the Joker to death, and he holds Dick back from strangling Hugo Strange, and he talks Dick down from two separate panic attacks, and he listens to Dick monologue about his various perceived failures, and he gets yelled at a lot when Dick's annoyed with him, and his takeaway from all of that is that he believes in Dick, and trusts Dick, and thinks he's a hero.

You could see that as Tim having him on a pedestal and refusing to acknowledge the ugly reality. But I tend to see it as Tim understanding that Dick's flaws and occasional missteps don't define who he is - the fact that Dick's human doesn't make him any less of a hero. Tim can see the hero that Dick can't always see in himself.

Dick and Tim have really high opinions of each other... for better or worse

Tim's not alone in having a high opinion of Dick - Dick thinks Tim's pretty great, too! Dick repeatedly compares himself to Tim and finds himself wanting, whether he's thinking that Tim's a better partner for Bruce, or having a fear toxin nightmare where Tim's a rival who's beating him out of a job, or deciding that Tim would never have let Blockbuster die (and that he'll be better off if Dick avoids him), or musing that Tim would be a better Batman. Dick calls Tim his equal and closest ally in Red Robin; Tim thinks Dick is "the best" in his origin story and basically never changes his mind.

I think nowadays we're sometimes pretty highly-attuned to the way that high expectations can be bad or oppressive, and... I have mixed feelings about this? On the one hand, it isn't untrue! Dick and Tim's mutual high opinions of each other, and correspondingly high expectations, are not an unmixed blessing! They 100% cause problems! Dick and Tim think highly of each other, and expect a lot from each other, and sometimes they're pushy or abrupt or demanding when they could stand to be more sensitive. And the iffy side of high expectations is something I find interesting, and I do think it's solidly canon-based - you see aspects of this in several of their comic conflicts - LPoD, Graduation Day, BftC, RR, etc.

But at the same time, it's complicated! I don't think you can fully untangle the higher expectations from "they rely on each other and have a lot of faith in each other." Love and trust are different things, and Dick and Tim care a whole lot about being trusted, not just about being loved.

I also think it's important that their belief in each other is often a gift rather than an inevitability: Dick and Tim choose to see each other in positive ways. Something they both do is after they have a conflict, they'll apply on a retrospective very positive gloss to whatever just happened. So e.g. Dick starts Resurrection mad at Tim, and ends it by declaring, "I let you make the choice... because I knew you'd make the right one." Tim spends most of Red Robin 1-12 mad at Dick, and ends it by declaring that he knew Dick would catch him because Dick's always there for him. And in both cases, we-the-readers are aware that they knew no such thing! But to me, that doesn't make these declarations meaningless - it makes them more meaningful. Their faith in each other is sometimes genuinely felt, and sometimes it's something they stubbornly brute-force into existence because they want to give that gift to each other.

And I mean... Tim did make the right choice. Dick was there when it really counted. Just because it isn't the whole truth doesn't mean it's not a truth.

Now, does this positivity also put some pressure on them? Absolutely! They're both people who are very upset by failure, so they tend to reassure each other by insisting that there was no failure, could never be failure, failure is impossible, even when they know perfectly well that's not true. They praise each other's skills as a love language, when what they mean is I love you no matter what. They talk about other people's needs but don't always acknowledge each other's. And it'd probably be healthier if they said instead, "Even if you'd made the wrong choice, it'd be okay, because it's okay to make the wrong choice sometimes," or "Even if you're not always there for me, that's okay, because no one can be there for someone else all the time."

And they do not say that, because Dick and Tim are relatively well-adjusted by Batfamily standards but that is a very low bar, and at the end of the day they're still deeply messed-up perfectionists who deal with their emotional problems by punching crime in the face.

But look, they're trying. And isn't that the important thing? <3

[naydralikessoup]

quick sketch of peak character designs

[senlinyu]

I'm excited to announce that I have signed a book deal with Del Rey at Penguin Random House in the US and Michael Joseph in the UK for my debut novel, Alchemised, a standalone dark fantasy set in a war-torn world of necromancy and alchemy, in which a healer with amnesia is taken as a prisoner of war and must fight to protect her lost memories and the secrets hidden among them. It will grapple with themes of trauma and survival, legacy, and the way that love can drive one to extreme darkness, and it is, as you may be able to tell, a reimagined version of Manacled.

I know I’ve been rather quiet about my publishing journey, and a lot of that has been because I didn’t want to spark any concerns or worry that I might be abruptly taking away a story that is such a deep part of myself and that I know has meant so much to so many people. This process has unfolded very slowly and quietly because I have tried to be mindful as I could be in every step of the way. 

As most of you know, I have been a reader in fandom long before I ever began to write. Fanfiction is incredibly special to me, and I have tried to do my best not to undermine its legal protection or allow my works to do so either. During the last several years, there has been a growing issue with illegal sales of Manacled, putting both me and the incredible community that shares fanfiction freely in legal jeopardy. 

After consulting with the OTW as well as other lawyers, it has grown clear that as a transformative writer I have limited options in protecting my stories from this kind of exploitation, but I wasn’t sure what to do; I didn’t want to just take the story down, in part because I worried that might only exacerbate the issue, but I didn’t know what other options I had. Then I suddenly had this idea of alchemy, which was peculiarly appropriate; an academic world filled with unique transmutational abilities, and a necromantic war against people who had discovered the secrets of immortality, and I could see a path to reimagining the story while still holding on to as much of the original spirit of Manacled as possible. 

I began redrafting the concept privately around Christmas 2022, and then as if the universe had aligned, just as I was finishing, Caitlin Mahony and Rivka Bergman of WME reached out to me and were delightfully enthusiastic about concepts and ideas for my new alchemical world and the ways I had reimagined the story. 

I'm thrilled to be working with Emily Archbold, my visionary editor at Del Rey, along with Rebecca Hilsdon at Michael Joseph in the UK, to polish this novel for publication in Fall 2025. I feel uniquely privileged that both my publishing teams are familiar with Manacled and understand how special it is to so many people, and how important it is that this reimagining captures the same spirit while also having its own wings. 

Manacled is not going anywhere at present. It will remain online throughout 2024, at which point it will, if you’ll pardon the pun, alchemise for 2025 and be removed from AO3. 

I'm so thankful to all of you who've enjoyed my works, and I hope that I can continue to rely on your support as I take my next steps as an author.

[lancermylove]

Body Swap (HC)

Fandom: Obey Me

Pairing: DB x fem!Reader

Warning: None

Requested by: Anon

Prompt: Can you do a body swap headcanon with demon brothers? So basically female MC swap body with one of the brothers

A/N: Hope you like it! Anon, who requests the N.SFW version of this. I don't write for gender bender, especially with 18+ HCs. This one is an exception because it's more emotional and comedic, so sorry!

———————————————

Lucifer

Lucifer is the most mature in handling the body swap incident. He doesn't make a big deal about having to deal with being in a woman's body, even though he secretly feels uncomfortable.

If you set any rules for him, he will gladly follow them as it is your body, and Lucifer does not intend to take advantage of it.

He asks Solomon and Barbatos to help resolve this situation as soon as possible. But for some reason, he can be himself without feeling pressured to uphold his title.

On the other hand, you don't like openly showing your emotions, even more than usual. You also feel the pressure of being prideful. It almost feels like things are out of your hands. You don't want to be prideful, but the universe forces you to behave that way. Is this how Lucifer always feels as the Avatar of Pride? Your ego also gets wounded more than usual.

But you can finally take off your...Lucifer's shirt...and get to see the scars of his wings firsthand.

Most of all, you enjoy ordering others around. Even though the brothers know that you are not Lucifer, they still get intimated since you are using the first brother's body.

You would have taken full advantage of this by transforming into Lucifer's demon form, but he already warned you not to do that by threatening you with a tough punishment once you two switch back.

Mammon

He is embarrassed! Why did he switch bodies with you? How is he supposed to sleep and go to the bathroom and stuff? Just the thought of undressing makes his mind explode.

When you suggest using a blindfold or closing his eyes, Mammon tries his best to do things without peeking at your body, even though a part of him is tempted. But no! Respect is more important.

Meanwhile, you have the sudden urge to hoard valuable things and 'borrow' things from others, and the most prominent thing in your mind is money. Money, money, and MONEY!

You feel your greed levels rising and have a hard time to control. Sometimes, you have to talk to Mammon to figure out the best way to control your destructive urges.

"Now, y'know how I feel..."

Those words hit you hard, and you forgive him for everything he has ever done.

While you were protective of the younger brothers before, you have a devastating urge to sacrifice yourself for them, even though your...Mammon's body trembles at the thought of what punishment Lucifer will give him.

You make a mental note to help Mammon get out of punishments in the future when you switch back.

Levi

Absolutely refuses to do anything and sits in his room in a fetal position. He can't even bring himself to go to the bathroom or take a bath. Even if you tell him to clean your body, he will refuse.

Though, Levi feels lighter because he can think more clearly being away from his demonic body. It's almost like he can think more clearly.

For some reason, you start to feel jealous of everything...every little thing to the point where it makes you feel down and suffocated. When you start crying from the feeling, Levi panics and tries to calm you down. After calming down, you realize that he always feels this way - no wonder Levi is always down. You give him (your body) a tight hug, making him blush profusely.

Unfortunately for the brothers, when you become aggravated due to an argument between them, your emotions accidentally summon Lotan. However, the brothers don't blame you for it, and Levi finally realizes how scary it is for the others when he calls Lotan out of nowhere.

You spend the most time in Levi's room and get into a habit of changing into his demon form and wrapping his tail around him (your body) just to get a reaction out of him.

This experience brings you two much closer than before, and Levi trusts you far more than before.

Satan

Oh my Devildom, he doesn't feel angry, even when triggered. This feeling is very difficult for him to get used to, but it's a refreshing change. However, he constantly reminds himself that this is only temporary and that he should not get used to it.

He is also mature about the body swap and does his best to respect your body as best as possible. Even though Satan won't admit it, he finds the experience fascinating and finally understands how a woman's body works. Although, he will never get used to random body aches, especially random lower back pain.

You, on the other hand, are not so fortunate. You feel like you are a ticking time bomb of anger. One little mishap, and you feel like destroying everything around you. Satan tries his best to pacify you, but it doesn't work all the time. At times, Beel and Lucifer have to restrain you after you have a rage episode. Then, you profusely apologize and nearly break into tears. It's a vicious cycle.

This makes you realize just how hard Satan has to work to keep his anger in check, and Satan realizes how difficult it is for his brothers to control him when he gets angry.

Once you switch back, you are tempted to tell Satan to meditate, but the thought of a demon meditating is hilarious yet odd.

Asmo

Asmo is the only one who is excited about the body switch. He doesn't feel uncomfortable in any way and actually enjoys being in your body. He has always wanted to see what it feels like to be a woman.

Even though Asmo is in your body, he has the urge to fix every skin problem you have. If you don't have any, he will continue to take care of your skin for you. He may even go as far as to develop a skincare routine tailored to you. If the two of you stay switched for a long time, he will whip your skin into perfect shape.

Meanwhile, even though you feel beautiful in Asmo's body, there is always a voice in the back of your head that whispers 'what-if' scenarios. What if you stop being beautiful? What if you get breakouts? What if no one loves you? What if others think you are unattractive? The pressure to be beautiful is suffocating. A part of you feels very bad for Asmo and can finally understand why he has to be beautiful at all times.

One thing makes you very uncomfortable, and that is Asmo's urge for desire. His avatar needs physical affection all the time. The thought of getting close to someone in Asmo's body is very disturbing, so he helps you out by cuddling with you whenever you need to get close to someone. At least you are hugging your own body...which is still odd to think about but better than the alternate option.

Beel

He doesn't like the feeling of being shorter and less muscular, but that doesn't stop him from working out. However, you will have to remind him not to start with heavy exercises if you don't work as much as him.

Most of all, he feels odd not having to think about eating 24/7. He can actually focus on other things, and it's a nice change. But he does miss eating endlessly solely for the taste of good food.

Meanwhile, you feel like devouring the entire world's food supply. Nothing you eat, no matter how much and how heavy, satisfies you.

You cannot focus on anything except food. The worst part is that Beel forces you to exercise, following his normal routine. He doesn't want his body to be out of shape.

On the plus side, you can see over most people's heads. You will never lose anyone in a crowd. Also, you have a great deal of strength to the point where you can lift an entire house if you want.

For the time you are in Beel's body, you act like a superhero, saving everyone from the bullies and villains. All you need to do is grab them by their shirt and lift them off the ground with one hand. That is enough to make them petrified.

You also get the pleasure of flexing in front of the mirror and admiring Beel's rock-hard muscles to your heart's content.

Belphie

He finds the situation hilarious and doesn't seem to care. Belphie almost has a 'it is what it is' reaction. Initially, he thinks his sloth-like nature will pass to your body but soon realizes that he has a lot more energy to do anything and everything he wants.

Belphie decides to use this chance to fulfill this bucket list before he returns to his sleepy body. Of course, he drags you with him everything, much to your dismay.

You feel sleepy, lazy, and lethargic. No matter how much you sleep, it's never enough. Your brain always feels hazy to the point where you can't even think straight. How does Belphie constantly put up with this? No wonder he sleeps most of the day.

You secretly try to consume caffeine products, but nothing works to keep you awake. Sometimes, Beel has to carry you around because you get into a habit of falling asleep anywhere at any time.

Though you don't tell Belphie, you are secretly happy to return to your body. A part of you doesn't feel like sleeping for days as you got all the sleep you needed in the few days you were in Belphie's body.

----

Epilogue:

After you switch back, you finally understand why the brothers behave the way they do. While you don't say it aloud, you believe the avatars are more curses than anything else. However, you learn to sympathize with them more. How do they deal with the curse every day? They are strong.

So, the next time Lucifer gets prideful, Mammon gets greedy, Levi gets jealous, Satan gets angry, Asmo goes on about beauty, Beel eats endlessly, and Belphie dozes off, you don't get mad at them. All you do is hug them and tell them, "It's okay."

———————————————

➣  Obey Me Masterlist: [1][2][3] ➣ Main Masterlist

➣ Buy me a Ko-fi? ➣ Commission: Open

[mysterycitrus]

Clearly you’ve got a lot of opinions abt the characterisations of the batfam in fandom /pos

Can you elaborate on your interpretation for all of them? /gen

it’s called caring too much — and it’s incurable! wrt my personal interpretation, that's a long and complicated answer, so ill just focus on the internal character of the waynes (specifically bruce and his five canonical kids).

bruce wayne is a control freak, we know this. his parents were killed for being in the wrong place at the wrong time, and he has literally never ever been able to truly process it. the degree to which he is controlling - firing robins, survelling his allies without their consent, compiling personal information from others, disregarding others feelings in favour of his own - is all about trying to achieve the best possible outcome. everything he does is justified, because if he's in control then he can stop bad things from happening. it is all in favour of the greater good. it's the logic of an eight year old who's just lost everything and hasn't grown up.

if bruce's trauma manifests control then dick's manifests personal perfectionism. he holds himself to such an absurd standard because he's a flier - when you're catching someone on the trapeze you quite literally have to be there, always, ready to take their hand. if you don't, they fall. if there's no net, if dick isn't the net, then they die. he’s always swinging back out and in again, waiting for the next person to slip through his fingers. he does not fear falling, only what will happen when he hits the ground. he’s a born performer made to be an atlas, carrying an unbearable weight that anchors him to the earth.

jason after death is a tragedy of his own creation, and dc's worst crime is trying to justify the terrible decisions he makes. jason isn’t right, because what he wants is not about protecting other kids from his fate or being a better batman. he wants to be personally vindicated, even though he knows it's impossible. jason rejected himself, bruce, everything, in order to transform into a weapon to enact violence. deep down he's so angry, so hurt, that he'll go after other children - tim, damian, mia - and still decry bruce in the same breath. killing the joker, killing bruce, killing dick, killing every robin before or since won't take him back to who he was before. you cannot go back. you can never go back.

cass sees everything. she can't unsee it, she can't ignore it, nothing in the body can be truly hidden from her, but like bruce that doesn't mean she's always right. she killed a man and witnessed his death, and thus will never take another life. she is all knowing, but she was not born knowing herself. she's jason in reverse — she turns from steel to flesh and bone. she will do whatever it takes to be good. she has made herself real.

tim chose this life in the most literal sense of the word, and then kept choosing it. it’s his duty, it’s his honour, it has hollowed him out and left nothing behind. his tethers to the world snap one by one — janet and jack and darla and dana and steph and kon — and suddenly it’s much harder to extricate himself from the black. robin, dick grayson, is his guiding north star, but his north star is only human. he knows he is capable, he knows this is his choice, and he knows he has long since lost the chance to unchoose.

damian is raised in the shadow of the bat. he is born of blood. he knew death before he knew his father. he is a child. he is ancient. he is a killer. he only wants to do good. he loves his mother. his father is gone before he learns to love damian. damian loves someone else who wears the bat but does not carry wayne name. everything he knows about himself is questioned — robin is given to him, and suddenly he can decide his own fate, make his own family. he wants to be the best, but he doesn’t know what he wants that to mean anymore. he wants the chance to find out.

[littlemonday]

Ansur and The Emperor

I need to share my thoughts on the worst-of-all takes from this fandom regarding the Emperor

I remember texting my brother once I completed the Emperor’s quest, learning that he was once Balduran and the love of his life Ansur attempted to murder him. I felt heartbroken reading the final letter he gave to Ansur telling him to fly away and be free of the torment of trying to find a cure. My brother told me this was the quest that made him decide to side with the Emperor in the end. There was such tragedy and loneliness to the Emperor’s story. First, there was the tragedy of Belynne’s condition and death, a condition I believe he’s either partially or largely responsible for, and then the tragedy of being turned on by the one person he loved and who was the greatest thing that ever happened to him.

You can then imagine my absolute shock to find so many players repeating over and over the outrage that the Emperor murdered his best friend, that he “chose” to become an illithid by choosing to live, that they (the player) would have sided with Ansur if they could, that this was the moment they decided to betray the Emperor, and (my favorite) he should have let Ansur kill him.

I’m hardly the first and only person to remind everyone that Ansur takes over your body against your will, he admits to trying to bring the Emperor a “merciful death” but the Emperor “chose to fight,” that Ansur doesn’t care why you sought him out, that he wrongfully calls you a thrall, and that moments after meeting him we are forced to kill him out of self-defense in much the same way the Emperor had to.

HOW do so many players misinterpret this scene so badly? How do so many players get basic facts wrong and frame this like it was a straight up murder and not self-defense? And, how do so many players take from this scene the belief that “the Emperor should have let Ansur kill him?”

This post is not me saying that you have to like the Emperor. Liking a character is purely personal, but I genuinely take issue with so, so many players seemingly unable or unwilling to engage with a text in a meaningful way and perpetuating this worst-of-all takes that the Emperor should have accepted death at the hands of his lover because of who he was without any further thought as to the implications of what they’re saying. This comes from the same fandom who absolutely loves Omeluum who also needs to kill people in order to feed and survive.

Something to consider with monsters in fiction, particularly modern fiction, is that monsters represent something about the anxieties and fears of the audience, but monsters are often, in the same text, meant to challenge our prejudices and fears, and invite us to see their humanity. That is: to see ourselves in them. This can be difficult with a character like the Emperor because he’s an unreliable narrator and his morality is messy, but his motivations are understandable, sympathetic, and his needs are quite human. The Emperor does represent our fears of losing our humanity, of losing ourselves, and the body horror of being transformed against our will is an extension of that. But we are also invited to see ourselves in him. That is: to see his humanity.

Others have already pointed out that the Emperor mirrors the player. If you dehumanize him, he dehumanizes you. If you empathize with him, he is kind back to you. But even if you’re kind to him, so often through the game you’re unsure what to think of the Emperor; you’re unsure of his sincerity, and you don’t necessarily know the extent of his manipulations, or how truthful he’s being. I think that’s what makes this scene with him and Ansur so interesting and so humanizing: there’s no mirroring going on, and there are no little bread crumbs of his life you’re trying to piece together. You’re just a witness to his tragic story of his greatest betrayal and loss. I found it heartbreaking, and I was surprised to find that for so many others all this scene did was solidify their belief that the Emperor is nothing more than a monster.

Edit: Rewrote a sentence since it didn’t say what I meant it to say.

[justmystical]

The Forgotten- 1

Pairing: Lucifer x Butterfly!fem!reader

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel x Star vs the forces of evil

Warnings: Pre-season of Hazbin hotel, Alternative Universe

Two | Navigation

(Name) Butterfly is the Second Princess of Mewni and the Younger Sister of Queen Eclipsa.She has long red hair ,light Turquoise eyes and red round shaped marks on her cheeks.

Being the second Princess she didn't experience using her Family Relic,the Magic wand of the Butterflies that was pass down to generations to generations. Ofcourse she already knew from the beginning she wouldn't wield it. However her late Mother Queen Solaria the Monster Carver requested that she would given a replica of the family wand.

When her Mother was alive she would always want to protect her two daughters,so when she reigned Mewni she requested to the Embodiment of the Magic Book of there family to make a replica for her Protection.Just when her sister turned fourteen she received it.

She was thankfull for her mother's gift even though it was the last gift she ever received from her.

When she touched her wand it turned to a key like wand.She also found out that she can turn it to a necklace,she expect what would happen next...

She was mourning her mother's death and wanted someone to comfort her, suddenly her tears fell from her eyes to her wand and it lit up.

That surprised her very much and watched as the one ascend through the air and watch it transforms to a cat?!

This was the best thing that happened to her in weeks after her mother's death, a cat that was loyal to her and comforted her in hours mourning. It felt she felt and she decided to name her KeeKee.

Timeskip

You were currently having breakfast with your sister and her husband, yeah you never did like Shastacan or what's his name. You see him as rude and so full of himself,so you really don't how your sister survives him. If you were her you would rather feed yourself to monsters.

"So n/n how's your lesson with Glossaryck been going?"Your sister Eclipsa asked you, you stopped eating and looked at your sister "well, to be completely honest sister?poor Glossaryck is having a hard time"i giggled and Eclipse joined in"my,my sister don't give him a hard time"

You saluted and she laughed again, You and Your sister were always close but sometimes you feel like she hiding something from you.

As Breakfasts came to an end, you said goodbye to my sister and well except for Shastacan.

You removed your necklace and let transform into a cat " hewo Keekee"you said in a baby voice and she rubbed her head on your hand.

"should we visit another dimension?i think Glossaryck is going with sister today"You told her" and i may have stolen a portal scissor , don't tell anyone okay"

You went to your room to change into something comfortable, you put on a cloak and gotten everything you need ready.

Keekee transforms back into a key necklace as you put the hood of the cloak on. You cut the air to open a portal.

Earth

You visited here multiple times cause you a curious Princess.

Here it was so different from Mewni,its very interesting to say the least.

You explored more around and Keekee already transformed earlier as she guide you through the paths,she was given to you like she was your babysitter as some people joke.

You were to busy looking around you didn't noticed Keekee to be distracted to something.When you finally noticed you ran try to find your beloved pet.

"Keekee?where are you girl?" You shouted and looked around until you saw her in the hands of a blonde short man with a top hat he was sitting down by a tree.

It looked like Keekee was comforting him like she comforted you..

You walked closer to get a glimpse of the man he had the most beautiful face you ever seen and you were shocked to see he had similar marks on the cheeks like yours.

"hello?"you said which made the man jumped in surprise.

He looked at you and you remove your hood"hi?"he replied voice hoarse.

Was he crying?

Keekee saw you and rubbed herself on your leg"oh is this your cat?"you nodded.

"well I didn't know sorry..."

"it's alright,it seemed like you needed it..."you said"can i sit down with you?"he looked confused but nodded.

"hasn't anyone told you about stranger danger?"he asked and i laughed.

"well i like danger and it looks like you could use someone to talk to...my cat doesn't usually comfort any other people... she's like a detector for people who need a little help" you trailed off looking at Keekee.

"how can you be sure i need someone?"

"well,Keekee does and i trust my feline companion"

He laughed and it was like music to your ears.

"I'm (Name) by the way , what's yours?"

He froze and looked hesitant in telling you his name.

"it's umm.."

You looked at him with a confused face

"it's Lucifer..."he fully expect for you to run away.

But you didn't and smiled.

"nice to meet you Lucifer"

Lucifer yet again had to suffer his punishment. Only seeing the bad of his doings, he was summoned by a bunch of people devoted to him. They had sacrificed a lamb , baby lamb.

He can't endure this.. he only want people to have freedom and this is the consequences he got.

He teleported out out of that part of the forest and sat by a trying to maintain his breathing.

He sobbed for this retched cursed upon him.

Until he heard a meowing and saw a cat walking towards him at first he was scared to harm this little creature.

But It seems like it wasn't scared of him and for awhile it comforted him.

"KeeKee!"

He heard a luring voice but didn't moved an inch.

Until the girl greeted him,he was hesitant in interacting with this girl.

For some reason this girl is giving a source of good energy, not only that she was also gorgeous.

At the end he thought she would ran away from his name. But for some reason this girl seem confused at my hesitantion

How odd...

A/n: i know Keekee is the embodiment of the hotel but for the sake of this story and it's an alternative universe

[5sospenguinqueen]

CURSES & CONFESSIONS - GARRETH WEASLEY

Summary: The four times people told you Garreth was in love with you, and the one time Garreth did. Slytherin F!MC. Seventh Year.

Fandom: Hogwarts Legacy

Warnings: Fluff, unrequited love, shitty writing.

Word Count: 4957

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#1. Imelda Reyes

Rolling her shoulders back, MC exhaled deeply, hoping to ease some of the tension in her form. The incessant nattering of her roommate was doing little to help her efforts. Side by side, the teammates trod across the dew-dusted field, unbothered by the growing moisture on their shin pads. Morning mist clung to strands of their hair; both of them sporting green ribbons securely tying back their long locks. The Quidditch field loomed in front of them. The cheers of their fellow students beckoning them forward. Having spent the entirety of Sixth Year begging, Imelda finally convinced her competitive friend to join the Quidditch Team as their final Chaser. 

Imelda noticed the steps of her friend falter as they drew nearer. “The first game is always nerve-wracking but once you mount your broom, all worries about impending injuries vanish.” 

“Very reassuring, Reyes. Why not just tell her to take a Bludger to the head?” Sebastian Sallow commented, long legs easily catching up to them. “It’s a good thing it’s not your job to give motivational speeches to the team- Oh, wait… Maybe that’s why we lost the House Cup last year?” 

Slinging his arm across his friend’s shoulders, he grinned down at her ashy face. “Merlin, you almost look nervous,” the Beater jeered playfully, poking her in the cheek.

MC frowned, a crease forming across her brow. Goblins? No problem. Giant trolls? Easy. Embarrassing herself in front of the majority of the school? Mortifying. 

“Shut it, Sallow. We’re not going to lose this year. We have the ‘Hero of Hogwarts’ on our side.” Imelda’s tone was teasing, watching her friend chafe against the title she had earned in their Fifth Year. And hated ever since. 

Eyes landing on the Quidditch tent, Imelda honed in on a smattering of red lingering outside the entrance to the changing rooms. His dark eyes were trained on the muscular arm that Sebastian had draped around MC, ready to storm over and rip it off. 

Loudly, Imelda declared, “Besides, we’re playing against Gryffindor today. We already have the upper hand against them.”

“Is that so? Do feel free to share with the group.” Leander’s haughty tone broke through the cacophony of excited spectators.

The trio turned to find him looking down at them, arms crossed against his chest. Garreth flanked his left side, expression at odds with the relaxed posture of his body. Gravitating towards the mop of red curls, MC discreetly shuffled towards him, close enough to see the condensation forming on his robes. The cool air clashing with the natural heat of his body.

Similarly to the Slytherin Beater, Weasley had undergone an enticing transformation over the summer. Even whilst slouched against the wooden beam behind him, he towered over her. The second-hand uniform that used to hang loosely on his frame, now strained against the broadness of his shoulder, pulling taut at the muscles of his biceps. When she lifted her gaze to his, he offered a genuine smile, green eyes twinkling. Her brow smoothed, eyes lightening as she smiled back at him. 

“You may be an awful strategist, Prewett, but I know better than to give the enemy important intelligence. Why would I share my secret weapon with you?” 

“I hope you’re not referring to the little witch cowering behind Sallow. If so, you’ve lost already. After all, magic is banned from Quidditch and without her extra magic, she’s not very skilled.” 

Garreth clenched his fist, knowing his friend was only trying to intimidate the group of Snakes. Punching his teammate before the Game began wasn’t the best way to win the Quidditch Cup. 

“She is going to kick your arse for talking about her like she’s not here.” MC glared up at Leander. “I didn’t realise you were so eager to relive the humiliation I dealt you at Crossed Wands, which I did without extra magic.” 

Garreth sniggered, covering it with a cough before his Captain could scold him. Opening his mouth to retort, Madam Kogawa interrupted, yelling out that there was two minutes left until the start of the Game. Prewett dashed inside the tent, remembering he still needed to strap on his knee pads. Sebastian followed closely behind, muttering about how badly he needed to piss before climbing onto his broom. 

Shifting awkwardly on his feet, Garreth hated how his large frame made his discomfort more apparent. Both women turned to look at him as he moved, unable to move subtly anymore. Having noted the trepidation on his Potions partner’s face, he wanted to offer words of encouragement. Except her Captain was looking at him as though she were plotting all the ways to throw him from his broom. The trees swayed as the wind picked up. Not the best weather for a first match. 

“Don’t get blown away out there.” Garreth internally cursed himself.

Why did his mouth insist on saying the stupidest things his brain conjured up? Instead of telling her how he wished she had a good match. How some part of him wanted her to win so that he could revel in her joy. 

An alluring spark flickered in her eyes as the competitive side of her was ignited. “Have a good game, asshole.”

“You too, Princess,” he called out after her retreating figure. The scent of her shampoo filled his nose as she brushed past him. He watched her go with a dopey grin on his face, unable to wipe it off before Imelda walked past him. She didn’t look at the redhead but he watched the Slytherin Captain shake her head in disgust, knowing it was aimed his way. 

“Forget everything I said about keeping an eye on the Quaffle.”

“Excuse me?” MC questioned, turning to face her friend as they entered the Slytherin section of the changing rooms. “Doesn’t the defeat the purpose of my position?” 

“Your new job is to tail Weasley.” Imelda had a wicked smirk on her face. One that usually accompanied words of insanity. “Weasley has been infatuated with you since you stole the Fwooper feather for him. And, as much as the babbling buffoon bothers me, once he’s in the air, he’s exceptionally talented. I need you to put a stop to that. Whenever you’re around, you’re the sole focus of his attention. I’m not even sure he’s aware of it.”

The flaps to the tent rolled back, allowing in bright bursts of sunlight. Emerald and maroon robes filed out onto the grassy pitch. 

“You’re so full of shit.” MC muttered, pushing aside the way Imelda’s words made her feel.

The only response she received was a knowing smile before Imelda slowly sailed out of the tent, and into the roaring crowd. When the whistle blew, MC was further convinced of her friend’s dishonesty. Dashing after the Quaffle, she was elated when her hands were the first to wrap around the ball. Darting across the sky, she was unable to dodge the mass of red barrelling towards her left side. The two collided. She released the Quaffle, dropping it into Natsai’s awaiting hands below. Tightly grasping the handle of her broom, it took all her strength to avoid tumbling off it.

Oblivious to the Quaffle sailing past his head, Garreth’s attention remained on MC until he was confident she wasn’t plummeting to the ground. Furious eyes snapped up in his direction but he simply winked at her, flying back into the fray. He attributed the red tinge of his cheeks to the biting wind. Not the fact that his skin heated from where it had made contact with the beautiful Snake. 

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#2. Natsai Onai

Sunshine illuminated the two Seventh Years lounging in the Transfiguration Courtyard. Bags and outer robes discarded by the bench, the pair of them curled up on the neatly-trimmed grass. Taking a much-needed break from studying, the pair of them soaked up the warm rays. Even though it was only two months into the school year, NEWTS were bogging them down. So, instead of discussing the terrifyingly long Potions essay they’d been set, the pair were gossiping about their fellow classmates.

Entering the Courtyard, Garreth was alerted to his friend’s presence when her familiar giggle reached his ears. His head whipped round, searching for her.

“Is it true that Sebastian has a basilisk inked onto his back?” Natsai asked, when MC’s laughter upon hearing about Leander’s disastrous date subsided. Her hands weaved a small pile of flowers together. 

MC lifted her head up from the cushion she had transfigured her cloak into, squinting at her friend. “Pardon?” 

“Some of the Ravenclaw girls were discussing it in the Library. I may have overhead, and decided you would be the best person to ask.” 

“And you thought to ask me, and not Ominis? Why do you think I am the most knowledgeable about Sebastian without a shirt?”

A dark shadow fell over her, stealing away the warmth that had likely burnt the skin of her nose. 

“Who’s seen Sebastian without his shirt on?” Garreth dumped his bag beside MC’s before collapsing onto the grass beside her. His hand picked up a strand of her hair, twirling it between his fingers absentmindedly. “Can you believe the length of Sharp’s essay?” 

MC smiled up at him, amused by his actions. 

“I was just asking whether MC could confirm the rumours regarding Sebastian’s tattoo,” smiled Natsai, watching her housemate’s reaction closely. 

“The one on his back?” Garreth’s jaw ticked, fingers dropping the hair. “Why have you seen him shirtless?!”

Without letting MC reiterate that she hadn’t seen Sebastian without a shirt, Garreth spoke again. His teeth clenched tightly together as though the words pained him. “Although, I suppose the pair of you as a couple makes perfect sense. You would compliment each other nicely.” 

MC pulled herself into a sitting position, eyebrows knitting together. “What is that supposed-?”

“Oh, Garreth! We need another player for Gobstones.” Poppy shouted across the Courtyard, waving eagerly at him. 

Wanting to escape the bubbling feeling in his chest, Garreth excused himself, clambering to his feet before his mouth blurted out anything else he might regret. Watching the redhead make his way towards Poppy, MC felt a nauseous feeling arise in the pit of her stomach. 

“What was all of that about? Sebastian and I? Together? Merlin, it would be like dating a brother. A really annoying brother.” MC rambled. “And, could he have escaped us any faster? You would think he hadn’t seen Poppy in months instead of a couple of hours.” 

Guilt coursed through her at the ugly thoughts she was possessing, not enjoying how the idea of her friends together was making her feel. Poppy was a delightful witch, and if Garreth were to date anyone, MC couldn't think of someone who could be nicer. 

Natty snickered at the words tumbling from her friend’s mouth, watching her suck in a deep breath. “They were playing Chess in the Library earlier, but you had your head buried in your Herbology book.”

“Oh…” A dejected look overtook her face, watching the dark-haired witch laugh loudly at something Garreth said. “I wasn’t aware he felt that way about her. Although, I suppose it’s impossible not to like Poppy. She’s the sweetest. Now that I think about it, he is always patient with her, and they do spend a fair bit of time together. I think everyone should love Poppy. Oh, no… I’ve been trying to convince Ominis to tell her how he feels about her, but clearly that would be counterproductive if she and Garreth are courting. I wouldn’t want to interfere with that. Not when he looks so happy and-”

“My friend,” interrupted Natty. “Breathe.” 

Natsai looked at the witch across from her, wondering how somebody who had duelled Rookwood and survived, could be so oblivious to someone she looked at every day. 

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?” 

“What is going on with you and Garreth?”

“Nothing. We’re just friends.”

The fact that she didn’t ask for a further explanation told Natsai everything she needed to know. She shook her head in disbelief. “I have watched that boy almost snap his neck because he heard you laugh and wanted to see what was causing it. Even worse, I watched him smear mashed potato over his face because you walked into the Great Hall, and he was too busy watching you instead of where his fork was going.”

“I remember that,” mumbled MC to herself, before turning back to her friend. “It is sweet of you to try and boost my ego but Garreth and I don’t feel that way about each other. Poppy was next to me that day in the Great Hall. He was clearly looking at her.”

Natty enjoyed the discomfort on her friend’s face. MC clearly didn’t understand why the idea of Garreth and Poppy was so unsettling to her but Natsai certainly did. She just hoped the pair of them would figure it out soon. She had done her best to prompt her friend but it was not her place to declare the redhead’s love. That was something he needed to do himself. Ignoring the knowing smile on Natsai’s face, MC’s eyes zeroed in on the flowers in her hand. Changing the topic of conversation, she commented on the beauty of the flower crown. The Lion leaned over, placing it atop the Snake’s head. 

“I feel like a faerie princess.”

“I believe you are as frightful as one sometimes.”

“Oi! I haven’t duelled anyone in two whole days.”

“A new record.” Natty deadpanned. 

MC laughed, loud and clear. Fumbling his gobstones, Garreth’s head snapped up. His lips quirked into a smile at the joy on her face and the flowers in her hair. He paid no attention to the foul-smelling liquid spraying his robes. 

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#3. Sebastian Sallow

Legs aching, MC wished she was curled up on the couch in the Undercroft, reading to Ominis. That was how she was supposed to be spending her frosty Sunday. Instead, she was trudging along the icy pathway to Hogsmeade, eager to get to J. Pippin’s Potions. She’d overheard Garreth complaining that he was out of Bicorn horn and his latest experiment required some. Unfortunately, he had managed to land himself in detention for the first weekend of December. Professor Sharp hadn’t been overly impressed to find his hair transfigured into snakes, having been on the receiving end of the redhead’s latest concoction. The redhead had spent all of dinner last night complaining about his plans for the day had been ruined. 

Wanting to surprise him, MC decided to brave the harsh December weather to go for him. Because that was what good friends did. Nose pink and goosebumps dotting her arms, she snuggled further into her scarf and cursed when she slipped on black ice. 

Large hands wrapped around her arm, pulling her upright. “Remind me how you managed to save Hogwarts when you can barely stand on your own two feet?” 

“Are you stalking me, Sallow?”

“Absolutely. I bet you’re glad for it now.” Sebastian grinned, falling into step beside her. 

“Only because you saved me from cold and bruised buttcheeks. I shall sorely miss the peace and quiet though.” 

Sebastian pressed a hand to his chest in faux offence. “You mortally wound me. Even more so upon discovering you failed to invite me on your little outing. I thought we agreed you would stop fighting Ashwinders and Poachers alone,” he scolded. His expression turned questioning when she continued past the Forbidden Forest, instead of venturing into it as he had expected. 

“Fret not. I’m simply running errands today.”

“Even better. Any adventure with you is thrilling but the best ones involve Butterbeer and free samples from Honeydukes. Are we looking for anything in particular?”

“I need to stop by Pippin’s,” mumbled MC. 

Whilst she enjoyed Sebastian’s company, and was pleased that he preferred outings to Hogsmeade than skulking around Catacombs these days, she’d slipped away quietly that morning in the hopes of being alone. Only because she hadn’t wanted to explain what she was doing. 

“I thought you stocked up on potion supplies last week? Don’t tell me you’re out already.” Sebastian chuckled, eyes honing in on the blush staining her cheeks.

Damn him and his perception, she cursed. 

Clearing her throat, her spine straightened. “I’m not actually going for myself. Garreth mentioned he was low on some supplies.” 

“Where is your boyfriend? Why isn’t he accompanying you?”

Pace picking up as they neared the Wizarding village, she prayed that the sight of Honeydukes would be enough of a distraction to keep Sebastian from prying too deeply into the meaning behind MC’s deed. She, herself, wasn’t willing to look past the fact that she wanted to help out her friend. “He’s not my boyfriend,” she protested

To her dismay, Sebastian persisted, following her down the cobbled streets. “Have you told him that?” A gleeful grin lit up his face. 

“What are you blabbering on about?” 

“I happen to have it on good authority that he spent the entirety of Potions convincing Andrew Larson not to ask you to Hogsmeade today. That’s why he messed up his potion. For once, he wasn’t brewing his own recipe.” 

MC stopped in the middle of the path. Sebastian smacked into her back with a soft ‘oomph’, unable to slow down in time. “That’s why he’s in detention? Why would he do that? I’m not complaining because at least I didn’t have to find a polite way to deter Andrew but…”

“Why would you decline Andrew’s offer? Perhaps your answer is the same reason why Garreth convinced him not to ask in the first place.” 

“Or maybe you’re listening to gossip again, and they got it wrong. Who is this so-called good authority?”

Sebastian’s smirk deepened. “Ominis.”

“Oh.”

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#4. Ominis Gaunt 

Splattered with mud, strands of hair slipped from her low bun, sticking to the sheen of sweat coating her face. Her entire body groaned in protest as she and Poppy sullenly made their way up the stairs before the Great Hall. Neither were feeling particularly victorious despite having saved all animals caged up in the Poacher camp. When Poppy had suggested Flooing to Irondale to dismantle a Poacher camp, the two witches had thought they would return before dinner, pleased with themselves and the good they had done. Instead, dinner was in full-swing and all the witches wanted was to reach the Hospital Wing without detection.

The three Wiggenwelds they had taken with them were long gone, and yet numerous injuries remained. Poppy had taken a nasty hex to the chest, and MC hadn’t hesitated to shove all three of the healing potions into her mouth. Unfortunately, that meant there had been none left over for when she was thrown from a platform, body slamming into the hard ground. Despite her twisted ankle and Poppy’s bleeding forehead, they had managed to get back to the Floo flame but were deposited all the way down at the Boathouse. 

“Is that blood?” A horrified voice exclaimed.

Footsteps hurried over to them. Warm hands reached for her cheek, pulling her face into the light so that green eyes could inspect the cut marring her face. Beside her, Ominis was reaching for Poppy, wand waving to assess the damage. 

“Don’t worry. It’s not ours. Well.. not most of it.” 

“Is that supposed to reassure me?!” Garreth shrieked, looping his arm around MC’s wait to help take some of the weight off her swollen ankle.

The two men accompanied their wounded witches to the Hospital Wing. Easing MC onto the stiff white sheets of an unoccupied bed, Garreth dashed into Nurse Blainey’s office, dismayed to find it empty. Tugging at his curls in frustration, he paced back and forth, fretting about his friends. 

“Gar, it’s dinnertime.” MC reminded him, voice soft and comforting. “She’s likely in the Great Hall. We can wait, we’ll be fine.” 

“No, you can’t,” he said firmly. “You’re injured.” Pain shone in his bright green eyes. 

Demanding that Ominis keep a close eye on them, (to which the Gaunt boy promised he’d do his best, prompting MC to giggle), Garreth announced he would go hunt down their healer. Before MC could ask him to stay with her, he was dashing out of the infirmary, robes flapping behind him. She didn’t care about the pain. She had just wanted him to stay. 

“I do believe he genuinely forgot how to breathe when he caught sight of you hobbling into the castle. I almost thought I was going to have to carry all three of you into here.” Ominis spoke up, hand twitching as he fought against the urge to reach for his favourite Hufflepuff. 

“He did go rather pale when he looked at us,” snickered Poppy.

MC shifted, easing her body into a more comfortable position. “Yes, well, you seem to have that effect on him.” She winced, attributing it to the heat lancing down her spine. Nothing to do with the words she spoke crushing something deep in her chest. 

“I don’t think it’s Poppy that makes him forget oxygen is vital to living. Regardless of how adorable she is.” Ominis drawled, taking joy in the pink flush blossoming across Poppy’s cheeks. 

“I told you she was oblivious.” squeaked the Hufflepuff. 

MC scowled, discontented with the running narrative that she was unobservant. Her perception had saved Poppy’s life earlier, and her body was bruised enough to prove it. It was as if her friends had teamed up to insult her consistently this year. 

Fed up with everyone tip-toeing around the fact, Ominis decided he was no longer waiting for her to figure it out. “Please tell me that you are aware Garreth is in love with you, and has been for the past year.” 

“If not more.” Poppy chimed in, supporting Ominis’ decision. The rest of the gang decided to let Garreth tell her himself but Poppy knew he would never do it. 

“No, he’s not.” 

Ominis snorted. “He’s so infatuated with you. Even a blind man could see it.” 

“You are blind.” 

“Exactly. And I can see it.”

“You can’t see anything,” shot back MC.

She shot her tongue out at him immaturely and whilst he couldn't see it, he had the sense to lean over and punch her in the shoulder. He shrunk back in terror when MC winced and a furious voice reverberated off the flagstones; amplified for his sensitive hearing. 

“Why the fuck would you do that. She’s already injured, Ominis. I asked you to look after her whilst I was gone.” Garreth thundered, storming in.

Poor Nurse Blainey was rushing to catch up with him. A slice of carrot cake was cupped in her hand, having been grabbed just as dessert was served. 

“Mr Weasley, you made it sound as if the poor thing was on death’s door.” Blainey scolded, saving the blind wizard from Garreth’s wrath.

The healer took MC’s ankle in hand, examining the swollen ligament and apologising as the Hero of Hogwarts gasped in pain. Poppy wrapped a hand around Garreth’s wrist to prevent him from trying to push the healer away.

──────── . ☆ * ☽ * ☆ﾟ. ────────

#5. Garreth Weasley

Mended and amused by the tension in the room, Poppy thanked Nurse Blainey for healing her before taking her leave from the Hospital Wing. MC had insisted that Poppy be seen to first, despite the Hufflepuff being mainly mended by the earlier Wiggenwelds. MC watched her and Ominis leave, hand in hand. A pitiful sigh escaped MC’s mouth as she watched them. That’s what she wanted. Someone who loved her enough to hold her hand in public, propriety be damned. The only issue was that she would only be satisfied if it was with the man beside her. The man who was also watching the new couple go, an unreadable expression on his face. Most likely agonised over watching the woman he liked walk away with another man. Ominis had finally worked up the courage to ask Poppy to accompany him to The Three Broomsticks. 

“Best drink it all in one go, dear.” Nurse Blainey advised. She had mixed numerous healing positions into one foul-smelling tonic, handing it over in a wooden goblet. “You’ll have to stay here for the night whilst your fracture mends but Mr Weasley is welcome to stay with you until curfew. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m hoping I can catch the end of the Feast. I’ve been looking forward to the choir all week.” 

Thanking the healer, MC immediately mentally cursed her when she swallowed the contents of her cup. The vile taste of the potion had her gagging, coughing loudly. Instantly, Garreth was there, a glass of orange juice in hand to chase the taste away. He had listened to MC recount the events of her fight - and the extent of her injuries - to Nurse Blainey in complete silence. Even now, he said nothing as the door shut behind the healer. The loud click echoed in her ears, reminding her that the pair of them were entirely alone. 

“You don’t have to stay with me. I’m sure you have better things to be doing.”

Garreth nodded but made no effort to move. An uncomfortable silence settled over them for the first time since their friendship developed. Their time together was usually filled with babbling antics and loud laughter. Now, the pair struggled to string a sentence together. MC’s hands moved towards each other, Garreth’s eyes tracked her movements. Fingers cracking her knuckles, she was desperate for something to focus on. Something aside from the hollow look in Garreth’s eyes. His hand shot out to still hers, and stayed there. His fingers enveloped hers, curling around her. As if he were grounding himself, reminding him that she was still here. Her heart stuttered in her chest. The tissues in her ankle slowly started realigning, pulling a pained gasp from her mouth. The sound dragged an anguished noise from Garreth’s chest. 

“Garreth, are you okay?” She whispered, concerned by his unnerving silence.  

A bitter laugh escaped his mouth. “Me? You’re the one who had to drag herself back to the castle, injured.” 

“I’m fine.” She grabbed his other hand when he turned his head away in disbelief. Garreth’s eyes instantly shot to hers. “Look, I’m alive. Unharmed.”

“But you weren’t!” He snapped. “You went out, alone. In the dark with only Poppy as your backup, and the pair of you came very close to not coming back.”

Her eyes stung at the harsh tone directed towards her. She chalked it up to being overtired and emotionally drained. Not because she felt as if she were being reprimanded. 

Garreth charged forward, oblivious to the look on her face. “I spent all evening looking for you, worried out of my mind because nobody knew where the pair of you were.”

“I told Sebastian-”

“Who was hidden away all day in some secret underground only you and Ominis know about!�� 

Infuriated that tears were still pooling in her eyes, MC snapped back. “I don’t have to tell you where I am every minute of every day. You’re not my keeper! If you’re concerned that I’m dragging Poppy into danger then you should take that up with her! Besides, she’s the one who suggested we go. She made it quite clear it didn’t matter if I came or not so I went for her safety.”

“I don’t care about Poppy!” Garreth exploded, not meaning it in the way it sounded aloud. “Why must you bring her up in every conversation we have? Godric, you make it so hard to care about you sometimes.” 

MC sniffed before icily responding. “Then don’t bother. Walk away, Garreth, I’m not your problem.”

Garreth stood, and she thought he was going to listen to her, and leave. She didn’t truly want that but if she were such a burden- The pot at the end of her bed sailed across the room, smacking into the floor with a loud thud. When he turned to face her, there was no anger on his face. Only anguish. He wasn’t mad at her. He was furious with himself, for not being honest. For not being able to say the words desperately hanging to the tip of his tongue. If he had told her the truth last year, perhaps he would’ve been with her at the Poacher camp. Maybe he could have saved her from the bruises welting her back. 

“You don’t understand. I want you to be my problem. I want to worry about you, and I want to drag you to the Hospital Wing when you’re injured. Although I would really prefer you remain unharmed. But because I want to hold you in my arms afterwards, knowing you’re safe. I want to comfort you when defeating Poachers doesn’t go the way you expected. I want to take you to Hogsmeade, and hold your hands around the shops. I want to see you laugh, and know why you did so. And, I want to kiss you before a Quidditch match and when you win, even if that means I’ve lost. You are the cause of all my distractions, and the only regret I have is that you fail to understand how deeply I care for you.” 

“But, you and Poppy and seem so close?”

Was that really all she could say, MC chided herself. 

“Because she’s been trying to convince me to tell you how I feel.”

“Oh.”

“I love you. I am so deeply in love with you that every potion I’ve invented for the past year smells like you.”

And, as his thumb brushed her cheek and he leaned in closer, MC truly believed Garreth Weasley loved her. 

[haveyoureadthisfanfic]

Summary: It’s supposed to be a one night stand. Pick up some guy at a bar, barely remember his name and never learn anything real about him, send him packing in the morning with a thanks for the ride and a cup of coffee to-go. That’s how it’s supposed to go. But then it’s the best sex Sokka has ever had, and he thinks he’ll hate himself if he never gets to have it again. or: My Cat Likes My Fuckbuddy And I'm Falling In Love With Him Over It

Author: @goldrushzukka

[theyoungeragrippina]

🫶🏻 15 gentlebeard/blackbonnet fic recs

(17 if you squint)

hey legends, in this bittersweet period where a lot of a us are feeling gutted but simultaneously, rebelliously hopeful, i've emerged from my reading den to showcase to you all some of the brilliant talent we have in this fandom! these fics are some of the best of the best, and i hope you love them just as much as i do! <3

they are all complete, do not feature any ongoing steddyhands/edizzy/stizzy, and are above 20k words.

peruse part 1, part 2, and part 3 at your leisure if you want to compare our tastes/devour more fine literature, or check out my masterlist as an ao3 collection.

adrift between the dreaming seas by @dandy-pirate-time

49k, mature, locked

stede lives a cursed life on a moving island, until the monotony of his days is suddenly interrupted by the fearsome kraken.

this was such a fascinating & incredible idea! i love how it manipulates aspects of the original story and transforms them into parts of the cursed island <3 sweet & unique & magical. i want to hug poor stede.

Five Birthdays and a Funeral by @bizarrelittlemew

58k, explicit

"When Ed and Stede's friend groups merge, they meet at a birthday party, and Stede's life is turned upside-down. As they collide again and again, he not only has to figure out what Ed means to him, but what he means to himself."

stede gets to be oblivious and a bit of a silly goose as a treat. also: treasure hunts, lucius is the best, ed has a cat whom i would die for, such a sweet & heartfelt fic. you will be so unbelievably fond of this version of every character.

The Ghost of Frigate Point Lighthouse by @piratecaptainscaptainpirates

53k, explicit

"When history professor Stede Bonnet goes to investigate rumors of a ghost haunting the local lighthouse, he's thrust into a mystery centered around the ghost of one of the most famous pirates of all time."

was SO eager to read this and it did not disappoint!! it has everything - fun, magic, mystery, tired TA lucius, and a lil bit of seduction. good enough that i am worried the author may actually just be a sea witch recollecting events he personally witnessed.

Haunted by @thepirateroo

60k, explicit

"The Kraken is a famous spiritualist, working the music halls of 1920s London to help families communicate with their dead. But Stede Bonnet knows that underneath the fame and illustrious title, Edward Teach works as a ghost hunter, debunking the spirits he makes his living off."

this is, genuinely, in the top 5 fanfics i have read for any fandom EVER. i wouldn't bat an eyelid if i read this exact work as a published novel in a bookstore. the mystery is so good and had me guessing and re-theorising constantly, the characterisation is brilliant, and the emotions are perfect. i cried, i laughed, i felt sick with worry for the characters, and i couldn't stop reading until i was done.

haunt me, then by @hyruling

28k, explicit

"He releases the ropes slowly, barely registering the burn as they slip through his fingers. Then, fallible as Orpheus, turns to meet his ghost."

post s1 fixit fics ily. everyone needs some therapy. really VERY well written and a joy to read.

Homeward Bound by mari_who

51k, explicit

"In the long-ago year 2000, bouncy blonde boy-band member Stede Bonnet is 17-year-old Edward Teach's gay awakening. Decades later, Ed hears a voice he could never forget."

i said 'ohhh no poor ed/stede' so many times while reading this. a lovely exploration of emotion and human connection, and finding yourself when everyone else has always defined who you are on your behalf.

I just need some air by @cuddlytogas

26k, teen

"Stede Bonnet's been having panic attacks for almost as long as he can remember, suffocated by pressure and expectation... When [he] finally takes his life back — divorces Mary, moves to Melbourne, starts his own event management business — things get better, but he's still no good at parties. He still needs some air, even at the very events he's brought to fruition. Meanwhile, Edward Teach, renowned chef and owner of Blackbeard's Catering, is wondering why the newest bigwig in events still hasn't hired him."

zoomed through this faster than lightning mcqueen. such a lovely writing of stede, ed and the whole crew - it feels like there's depth in every character, even background ocs.

also fantastic australia rep (i was jumpscared by mention of the cotton on group) AND i've been to the bar the final scene takes place at!!!! most exciting reading experience of my life.

i'll be your treasure by @monksofthescrew

48k, mature

"Wasn't the Dread Pirate Blackbeard rumored to have a hoard hidden somewhere near Essex? It's a metal detecting AU. They're detectorists. They fall in love."

i LOVE this fic so much it is just,,,, so sweet. stede does self-discovery and is seduced. ed is a bit of a goose and i'm obsessed with him. doug and mary are lovely. alma is so cool and i love her.

+ the sequel! drift o'er the rolling hills, swim through the briny sea (made me cry. btw. doug keeps being the best.)

The Kraken's Sacrifice by @trinityofone

22k, explicit

"Every year, a person is chosen—supposedly at random—to be sacrificed to the Kraken, to quell the sea's worst storms and to stop the taking of ships... Stede discovers that there is much more to the creature than he was led to believe—and that they have a deeper connection than he could have ever dreamed."

i LOVED this okay. it was funny and sweet and gave an interesting spin to the ed-is-the-kraken genre. get both of these boys some self-esteem asap. also comes with art by @avatoh!!!!!

lovers in a dangerous time by @veeagainsttheday

52k, explicit

pacific rim au - "Edward Teach becomes a jaeger pilot, first with Izzy Hands and later with Stede Bonnet. It’s not easy trying to save the world and falling in love with your drift partner…"

made me feel every emotion under the sun, including foaming at the mouth jealous that i don't have a drift partner. absolutely, masterfully written. i've popped this link first since its the fic that focuses on stede & ed, but it was written as a prequel for:

+ catagory five: a shatterdome romance by @owlinaminor (27k, mature), which focuses predominantly on jim & oluwande, and which i also massively recommend reading (first). it's told through lucius' words and made up of journalistic notes and transcriptions, and its really terribly clever. i knew nothing about pacific rim before this, and now i'm really very invested. if i wrote something this fantastic (& creative & wildly unique) i would never shut up about it.

More of the Gravy Basket than of the Grave by @veeagainsttheday

36k, explicit

"Ed and Stede’s ‘unorthodox friendship’ ended four months ago when Stede left Ed without a word after Ed asked him to run away to a parallel universe with him. They’re thrown back together when they’re summoned to perform a supernatural exorcism at the Hillside Hotel during a blizzard."

this has got to be one of the coolest and most creative fics i have ever had the pleasure of reading. genuinely kept me guessing and so so intrigued, PLUS the most sweet stede & ed dynamic!!!

Nothing Missing in My Life by @semisweetshadow

63k, explicit, locked

"Hollywood action star Ed Teach is bored with his celebrity life. Everything changes when he meets Stede, a sweet extra working on the set of his latest film shoot. Stede doesn't know who Ed really is and treats him like a real person and Ed can't help wanting to keep him."

ed plays an action hero called jeff the accountant, and if that's not immediately the greatest synopsis ever idk how else to win you over. hilarious, clever, & so heartfelt. i gasped and said 'oh no' with a hand over my heart nearly as many times as i laughed out loud.

not pickles by smallestchurch

84k, explicit

"Ed's minding his business when the new neighbor's kid comes around holding a human puppet. It's creepy as hell, but as soon as the kid's father rounds the corner, Ed doesn't mind."

i actually feel a bit ill when i think about this fic because i love it so overwhelmingly. there's family, and healing, and good food and friends, and ed teach and louis bonnet become the dynamic duo they always had the potential to be.

Our Fangs Mean Death by @flawedamythyst

87k, teen, locked

"Master Vampire Blackbeard's afterlife is enlivened by the arrival of a new coven in town, lead by the self-styled Gentleman Vampire. Now here's a Master who doesn't mind shaking things up by wearing clothes 300 years out of date, buying a massive gothic mansion for a lair, and leading the most eclectic coven Blackbeard has ever seen."

ridiculously fun. this is the vampire novel/fic i didn't know i needed and i loved every silly second. stede really gets to fulfil his dad-ness. i'm furious i can't join the gentleman vampires coven irl, will just need to embrace the gothic vampire aesthetic in my own life.

Wayfaring by @justkeeptrekkin

35k, explicit

"The downside to being stuck on a desert island is that Stede's not awfully good at adapting. The upside is that he and Ed can finally have some peace and quiet– that is, if Ed ever wakes up from the gunshot wound in his stomach."

the sweetest desert island fic, feat. the cutest piglet in the world, a little bit of pining, a helpful skeleton named dusty, and some of the best & most accurately written stede and ed content ever (imo).

[dominos-palast]

Lessons on flirting

Fandom: XMen

Pairing:   Kurt Wagner x fem!reader

Characters mentioned: Scott Summers, Jean Grey, Peter Maximoff

Used Pronouns: (she/her)

Warnings: none

Request: yes

Part: 1/3

A/N: I made an exception and did a fem!reader one since it was requested like that. I will eventually upload a gn!reader version

P.S.: I decided to split the request into 3 because I wanted to post something since it’s taking longer than promised :’)

Summary: Kurt has a crush on one of the best fighters in the institute, but doesn’t know how to approach the situation. Thank goodness that Peter and his friends are there to support him.

Word Count: 1k

“I did not get my ass whooped.” Scott walked between Jean and Kurt, trying to defend himself from Jean’s accusations.

“Of course not. How could you ever? We all know how strong the great Scott Summers is.” Scott would have felt flattered by such a response if it weren’t for the sarcasm behind her words.

“Yeah, yeah. Keep making fun of me. As if you had done it better,” he said eyeing the ice pack Jean pressed to her shoulder, only gaining a slight strong nudge on his bruised arm.

Kurt couldn’t help but snicker at their bickering. They had been on it since their last class. The topic had been self-defence. The catch: The use of powers was strictly prohibited. This type of class had become more frequent since the rumours of a new power suppressant circulating in the black market started. The professor wanted all students to be able to defend themselves, with and without powers.

“You sure can laugh,” Scott glanced at Kurt. “We aren’t allowed to use our powers, but you still can use your tail to fight.”

Kurt smiled proudly and swung his tail from side to side, mocking him even further.

“These classes are stupid. I have literal lasers for eyes. I can fry anyone even miles away from me. Why should I train in close combat if no one can get close to me anyway?” Scott let himself fall on the couch, resting his feet on the table in front of him. Jean already knew it was his frustration talking. They all had been lectured enough to understand why such classes were necessary.

Jean followed Scott’s lead and made herself comfortable beside him. Kurt leaned against the armrest of the couch.

“He indeed has an advantage, but I wasn’t expecting him to be that good.” She directed her eyes toward Kurt “You put up a pretty good fight against her, considering she is top of the class,” said Jean approvingly.

Kurt’s eyes suddenly lit up, and he turned toward them.

It was clear to him who she was talking about.

You hadn’t been in the institute for long but you managed to make a name for yourself right away. You hadn’t lost a spar in the self-defence class until now, making you one of the strongest fighters in the class.

“But how come she’s so strong? Does she have enhanced strength or something?” asked Scott raising an eyebrow.

“No. Her power is to transform drawings into solid objects,” Kurt responded.

Jean nodded and added, “I saw one of the spars she had with an older student. She pulled out a literal sword from the tattoo on her arm and beat his ass right in front of everyone. But do you know why she really is so strong?” Scott looked up at Jean’s questions with expectancy. “It’s because she is not a couch potato. Unlike you, Scott”

Scott threw a pillow at her, which she quickly stopped with her telekinetic powers.

The conversation went on with more complaints and remarks about the self-defence classes.

Kurt's mind drifted away, thinking of today’s class. More specifically the spar you had with him.

The first time he met you was in the self-defence class where he has been witness to your many wins. He has seen how graciously you can move and how powerful every single punch of yours is.

His admiration for you grew further and further from that day on. Not only because of your abilities but also because you remained humble and kind instead of letting your accomplishments get to your head. You were someone Kurt looked up to because you didn’t simply knock your opponent down. You gave hints and advice on what the correct stance is, how to throw a proper punch and so on. After every spar, you helped your opponent up and cheered them up like a football team’s coach would do. And you did exactly the same thing with Kurt after sparring with him.

He had lasted longer than the majority of the students you had gone against, but you still managed to make him eat dust. He lay on the ground as you approached to lend a hand. Kurt noticed your hand and was about to accept your help, but then hesitated. He was sure you would feel uncomfortable, considering Kurt’s unusual handshape. But to his surprise, you grabbed his hand and pulled him onto his feet. He felt his cheek burn when he noticed the short distance you had between each other, but you kept your grip on his hand. The words you said stuck to Kurt like glue: “That was amazing. Just as expected. We have to repeat this sometime soon”. That along with your beautiful, bright smile made his heart beat unusually fast.

“Earth to lover boy, are you listening?”

Kurt turned his head toward Scott and Jean. Both were staring at him with sneaky smiles on their faces.

“Entschuldigung?”, asked Kurt clearly confused.

Jean and Scott exchanged glances in amusement.

“You’ve been smiling like an idiot since we mentioned her”, Jean said raising her eyebrows.

Kurt felt his cheeks grow hotter. “Oh, I was thinking of- you know, class- I mean-”

“Dude, it’s so clear you have a crush on her. You drool every time she is near,” Scott said rolling his eyes.

“It’s not like-”

“You have a crush on her” Kurt yelped at the sudden presence behind him, teleporting onto the spot between Jean and Scott on the couch on reflex. “Like, totally obvious” Quicksilver took a long sip from his apple juice, only to look disgusted at it. “What’s the expiration date on this?”

“I didn’t- I didn’t realise.” Kurt looked worryingly at Peter. “Do you think she noticed? Oh no, what if I weirded her out?”

“Well, only one way to find out.”

Everyone stared at Peter expectantly as he sipped his juice with risen eyebrows.

------- Part 1/3 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[dragon-chica]

Enid Sinclair - Heat (NSF W)

Fandom: Wednesday

You asked, and now I deliver.

Enid will tell you, by far the worst thing about being a werewolf is having to deal with heats. Even before she was able to transform she still had to suffer through them.

When she was younger and they first started it was bad enough, a 3 week period of bleeding and hormones and feeling like absolute shit. That was supposed to change when she got older, and it did. It got worse.

Now she goes from bleeding, and hormones, and feeling like absolute shit to all of that plus a burning fever, a deep and primal yearning for a mate, and the endless urge to hump something until it breaks. And break it again.

When you got together, Enid fell in love with you fast and hard. In no time she was writing 'Y/n my Mate' in hearts instead of just 'Y/n + Enid' in hearts and daydreaming about your life down the road together.

When she first thought to herself that maybe you'd even spend her heat with her, she popped that bubble quick and shook it out of her head. no. that would be dangerous and bad.

She could hurt you, she could scare you off, she's broken her bed frame on her own before and could definitely break you by accident. That would so not be a good way to convince you she'd be a great mate.

Her plan was great. Her plan was safe. She was going to ignore you for her entire heat so she couldn't be mean to you (when it's just starting she can say some hurtful things, bad enough for her brothers to shut up and could make Wednesday proud), and no way of her hurting you.

It was great.

Until you showed up at her dorm and she wanted to cry because her mate was here and wanted to take care of her and she did start crying and you held her in your arms because you're the best mate ever and then she thought maybe it would be okay for you to stay for a few days. Until she gets worse.

She swore she would make you leave once her heat really started coming into effect. For now you could comfort her and hold her and it'd be no problem, that alone honestly did bring her a lot of relief, you being by her side and caring for her.

Her plan was sound. And you're so doting and wonderful and the perfect mate that a little part of her purposely ignored the signs and she snuggled into your embrace and breathed in your scent

When she woke up it was already too late.

The heat in her room was unbearable, her silky pajamas felt like sandpaper but the only thing that really mattered was getting release.

She had started growling in her sleep awhile before, teeth longer and having gone from nuzzling into your neck to scraping her fangs long it and saliva drooling down against you.

The shift in her had been quick, cuddling against you had turned to her still sleeping form purposely pining you to the bed beneath her, and by the time Enid woke up your leg was soaked from her humping your thigh.

She adjusts herself for a better angle to drag along your leg, pressing closer for more friction and groans.

She swore she would kick you out, but now the thought of you trying to leave has her seeing red without you even having moved.

"Mine" she growls into your ear and picks up her pace, claws coming out and pressing against you, pricking into her mattress as she chases her high enough to have the bed shaking.

She cums with a low drawl out groan that makes your throat go dry. Aftershocks leave her twitching while bent over you, her hair is a sweaty mess and hot breaths panting in your face and for a moment you think she feels better, that she got some relief.

"Fuck me." She looks up at you with blown pupils and crazed eyes, her voice gravely and deep like you have never heard before and the moment to admire her is too long because she adds "Fuck me, or I'll make you fuck me myself."

You've never seen Enid so frenzied and you're not sure you'll be allowed to make it out of this alive, and when she yanks you into sitting up, sharp claws shredding through your shirt and nicking your flesh while she tries to tear your pants, you're not sure if you care about that either.

When she really goes into heat, she wants it rough. She will use you and bruise you without noticing, the burn between her legs and need for more clouds out everything else.

Her werewolf strength is out without meaning to be, she doesn't even notice.

She wants to scent you, she wants to be drowned in your scent, she wants you to bite her.

It doesn't matter that you're not a werewolf, you're her mate and that's all that matters. Sink your teeth into her and her moan will almost become a howl of ecstasy.

She craves all of you, kisses and plain closeness too, but that's just as harsh with her teeth knocking against yours and a bruising kiss after another.

Usually Enid's moans and whines are extremely cute, high pitched and sweet, in her heat she sounds like a rabid animal with her voice in a worked up growl.

Almost forgets your name and couldn't care less about hers, calls you her Mate, chanting the word as she rides you, staring into your eyes.

Anything you say is lost to the blood rushing in her ears.

She wants you to fuck her as hard as you can, soft and sweetness can be for every other time, in her heat you will either give her what she needs or she will get it by herself.

She craves closeness, needing you pressed against her, wants you to pin her down, press you both into the mattress and be as close as possible. She needs you.

Normally she loves when you eat her out but there's not time for that, fuck her or fist her but your arm hurt so much.

Her claws are out the entire time, your back is shredded and stings no matter how you move, her mattress needs replaced and there's gashes in the wall.

She can go for a few hours straight before she calms down enough to rest, and even then she's in a heart eyed bliss and doesn't want you to leave her side.

If she even thinks you're going to leave her she will be up in an instant and ask "Where do you think you're going?" "You're not trying to leave me are you? ARE YOU?" extremely possessive but if you don't get some water she might actually be the death of you.

When she finally calms down you're too sore to move and she seems blissfully content, laying with her head over your heart and sounding like she's purring, a sweet smile on her face and long fluttering lashes as she's falling asleep.

Luckily for your lifeline, her heat is significantly shorter when riding it out with someone and getting what she craves instead of by herself.

The morning after she's finally come to her senses, the heat wearing off to a bearable pulse and back in her right mind, Enid is horrified.

Her room smells horrible, her bed looks like carnage of a wild animal's attack, and you, oh god.

She panics not knowing what she did and wakes you up and you expect she's ready for another round, when you actually did collapse a few hours prior, but instead she's looking over you panicked, seeing her claw marks, bruises littering your skin, her fluids all over you...

In that stressed out observation she also feels quite a bit of pride before being horrified with herself again and running out to get a first aid kit and some water.

In the bathroom she catches her reflection in the mirror and her face, which had finally calmed with her fever gone, turns bright cherry and she can't help but stare at herself a moment, hands clutching the small first aid box tight enough for the plastic to crack.

There's numerous bite marks along her shoulders and neck, some dark bruises and some healing punctures and she remembers demanding you bite her harder. Harder. Heat crawls up her neck just thinking around it.

Her own hips have fading bruises, her lips and positively swollen and she looks mussed as if she'd been in a fight. There's hickeys down her chest and really everywhere else, scratches down her back from your nails and she realizes that she's completely nude.

And despite the fact she's been that since her true heat started, she lets out a cute "eep!" you hear from the other room and chuckle because she's back.

When she returns she's thrown on an oversized shirt and you almost want to laugh at her sudden modesty.

She can't stop apologizing while patching you up, but you're just relieved it's over and barely staying awake trying to tell her it's okay.

You feel like you just went through a speedrun of the opposite of No Nut November and are glad werewolves only go into heat once a year.

Enid notes that she feels better than she ever has before after a heat, not just that the aching need is receding, but was actually taken care of, satisfied. The ache between her thighs is burning, her clit and pussy are definitely swollen, but she feels wonderful.

"is there like, some kind of steroid or potion I can get so I can try and keep up with you next time?" you weakly ask, half joking and half pleading that there is.

"Next time" is ringing in her head, you already plan on spending her next heat with her, her heart feels like bursting and if you weren't looking like you were on death's doorstep she'd jump your bones again right now.

You are sore. Full body muscle aches sore and exhausted, for at least two weeks afterwards while Enid's bounced back to normal within a day of it ending.

She's very apologetic and tries to do everything she can to help you out so you don't strain yourself further.

You definitely get teased for the most obvious, worn out, 'morning week after' but you can't really bring yourself to care.

You may want to thank your lucky stars that it'll still be a few years until she fully transforms during her heat.

[thatdesklamp]

The Gojo Household, Winter, 2010

more satoru pov from intrinsic warmth canon because I require only happiness from this fandom rn

Satoru wishes he’d thought of something different when he first saw you.

He knows, now, that gossip in Jujutsu society is trivial and meaningless. Nothing means anything, and anything that’s said is either inflated out of proportion, or so shallow it’s basically pointless, or just untrue.

Satoru is older now—in fact, it is his twenty-first birthday next week—and as he’s been the focus of that same gossip for all of his life, he’s learnt not to believe it. He doesn’t even listen, nowadays. Few people have the gall to talk to him so casually, which, for once, Satoru can spin as a positive.

But he was young when he met you. He was six, as much as you try to convince him he was seven. When he was young, he was convinced that all the rumours were true: after all, the ones about him were.

Satoru was the strongest, the best, the prodigy that would change the world; he was Satoru Gojo, born for everything, with everything, and so of course everything about you would be correct, because everything about him was, too!

He had heard rumours, spoken candidly by his parents, before they died, and then in hushed voices by the servants when they didn’t think he could hear. He had heard about everyone; the downfall of the Inumaki clan, the pathetic outcasts of the Zenins, even the tiny little Hebi family, whose heir was not only born a girl, but with a disgraceful mutation of the family technique.

It’s what he thought, when he first saw you.

He noticed you looking at him, in the corner of his eye. You were one of the only children at the clan meeting, and your hands were tied tight behind your back.

You looked at him with hollow eyes, and Satoru had preened under the attention. He had thought you were looking at him because he was Satoru Gojo, and he hadn’t realised that you hadn’t known who he was.

Before you, everyone he’d ever met had known him. Everyone, until you. But you don’t remember meeting him, so Satoru can’t ask you why you were looking at him.

Satoru wishes he’d thought more of you, that first time. He knows, of course, that there was no reason for him to; it wasn’t like he’d fallen in love with you because of your name, or your family, and it wasn’t as if he should have felt the spark between the two of you just from hearing your family story. That would make it fate, if it was like that, and Satoru had always hated fate. He doesn’t want to love you because he has to, or because it was destined for him.

He looks at you, now. You put the kids to sleep an hour ago, and had spent the evening as you usually do: together, on the couch of his childhood home, just being with each other.

But now you’re half-asleep, leaning against him—his Infinity—with your eyes closed. Your breathing is slow and soft, and he feels your chest expand with every inhale. You trust him with this, that he will not deactivate his technique when you’re sleeping. Satoru has never been more grateful for you, or more undeserving of your trust. He would never touch you, never: he isn’t fifteen any more, and he knows better than he did then. But he wants to. More than anything, Satoru wants to touch you.

That night, on the rooftop. He could feel the pressure of your hands on him, exploring him, the hesitance transforming into curiosity and then careful confidence in your touch. Satoru had been wanting your hands on him for… he doesn’t even know, not really. But now he has felt you, even if it is through Infinity.

And he wants you. He cannot look at you without wanting his hands on you, his lips on you: he feels it viscerally, every time you smile, every moment you allow him to see beyond your facade of severity.

You say that he pretends, but you don’t seem to realise that you do the same: you hold yourself back from him, always leave him wanting, craving, and Satoru, who has always been selfish, will never be satisfied with all that you allow him. He will always be wanting more.

You stir. “Hmn?” you mumble.

Satoru shushes you. “Go back to sleep.”

“Shouldn’t. Need to go home.” You break off, yawn so wide he can see the pink of your tongue. Satoru has to look away.

“I’ll wake you later. I promise.”

“Promise.” You pat your lips together and curl further into him, your head on his chest—Infinity, he has to keep reminding himself, because he wants to pretend he is holding you without it.

One gloved hand rests on your opposite arm, and you clench it in your sleep as pain bursts through the muscle. You had hurt your shoulder again yesterday; whenever it sparks up again, Satoru feels a fresh wave of pure hatred for your family, for those bastards that kept your hands bound for all those years. He had hated them when he was younger, and he hates them even more now; he hates that their hold on you has only tightened, keeping you from touching people, keeping you in pain.

The first time, he hadn’t thought of them as restraints. They were evidence that you were the strange Hebi heir, the one who was born with the weird touching technique. Satoru hadn’t understood why your hands were bound; yes, he’d heard of it, but he didn’t understand why the gloves weren’t enough. He was just a kid, but Satoru wishes he had thought better of you. At least he had liked you; he really had, right from the first time he had spoken to you.

He had noticed you leave. Your father and grandmother had left you alone, and you had stood there for a moment, watching them go. Then you had looked around, and walked through a half-open doorway, pushing it ajar with your shoulder. Satoru remembers that you had walked through the crowd: your aversion to touch was still enforced by your family, not your own mind, and you hadn’t yet developed your panic around the large groups of people that you have now.

Satoru, six and curious and arrogant, followed you. He was interested in the way you walked; it was so decisive, after a moment of hesitation, latching onto the open door and walking through swiftly. Satoru didn’t think about Yahaba, or whether she would be worried if he went missing, since, back then, he hadn’t learnt how to think about anyone other than himself.

He was good at walking quietly, though, especially through old houses like his own. Satoru knew what floorboards looked like when they would creak, from all his time hiding from servants. Satoru followed you through room after room, his excitement growing. It was like a game to him, trying to guess when you would stop, and then try to figure out why.

It took you a while to decide where to stay, and when you finally do, Satoru didn’t understand why: it wasn’t one of the cooler rooms you’ve passed, like the ones with loads of bows or the ones with the cool murals and paintings.

The room was the most boring room. It was dead silent, and pretty blank and bland, and you just closed your eyes and sit down on the floor with your back against the door.

Satoru followed you in: you’d left the door open. He wondered for a second if this counted as creepy, if following you was a bit weird, but then he shrugged and reckoned that you’d be grateful to see him anyway. After all, you were just the kid from the Hebi clan! He was Satoru Gojo. Anyone would be honoured to meet him.

Actually—no that he was thinking about it, your journey was really weird. You even walked past loads of rooms with blades and swords, and Satoru didn’t understand why you wouldn’t just take off those ropes that you’ve got behind your back. They couldn’t be comfortable: they influence the way you walk, he thinks, and you keep tensing your arms up like you’re trying to pull away from them. Why wouldn’t you just take them off? Satoru resolved to ask you.

“Why are you sitting like that?” he asked, stepping into your view and mimicking your hand restraints.

It was just an introductory question—he was getting himself ready for your surprise, and then the absolute flattery and praise that always came when people saw him. They were filled, as they often said, with an overwhelming mixture of fear and awe, which he thought was pretty damn cool.

Satoru had been told he could be intimidating when he was trying to be, but he didn’t really want to scare you right now. But that didn’t mean you weren’t going to be scared: he was Satoru Gojo, after all.

But Satoru was very good at being modest, and so he was asking you a question on your level, so you wouldn’t be so worried about engaging him in conversation. Here! He was telling you. I’m just a normal person! Even if he wasn’t, it was good of him to pretend. But Satoru was good with modesty, obviously, especially when people starting crying when they saw him, which had happened exactly five times in his lifetime.

Satoru smiled graciously, ready for you to start shaking and maybe prostrating yourself in front of him.

You looked up. “Oh. I can’t take them off.”

For a split-second, Satoru blanched. Where was the fear? Where was the awe? You were just looking up at him with that same solemn expression you were wearing before.

And then, Satoru brushed it off. Maybe that solemn face was just your ‘whoa, I’m super impressed that I’m in the presence of Satoru Gojo, and so I’ve got to pretend to be okay so I don’t look stupid in front of him’-face. He wouldn’t be offended: everyone else had their strategies to cope with meeting him for the first time.

So, Satoru continued your conversation: “Why not? That rope, or something? Doesn’t look that strong.” He stepped closer to you, pretending to size it up, like he didn’t know the exact answer you’d give him. “I could cut it off for you if you want.”

And there he was—being so generous, even though he didn’t have to, and even though he knew you’d refuse.

You shook your head, and Satoru felt a spark of triumph. “No, thanks,” you said.

“Didn’t think so.” Satoru grinned, very pleased with himself. Then, because he had to explain how clever he was, he added: “You walked through loads of rooms with weapons on your way here, but you didn’t even look at them. I saw you.”

“I’m not allowed,” you said, simply. You shuffled a bit on the floor, clearly still uncomfortable from the ropes, and probably trying to hide your nerves at being in such close-quarters with him, Satoru Gojo.

Satoru didn’t understand the concept. He didn’t like the idea of not being allowed to do something: he was allowed to do whatever he wanted, at home.

“Says who?” he asked. He sat right down next to you, copying your posture right down to the way your hands were stuck behind your back. He was right, before: it was really uncomfortable.

“My father.”

Satoru crinkled up his nose. “And you listen to him?”

“Yes.”

Okay, that was pretty weird of you. His opinion of you soured, a little. Satoru had been intrigued by how you’d left your family back in the other room; it had seemed like something rebellious, something interesting. But at the same time, you were the type of person who’d listen to people who didn’t care about you. Satoru looked away from you, feeling a little disappointed.

And then, like you were registering exactly what he was thinking, you said: “Well. Sometimes I do.”

Satoru perked up. “Sometimes? When don’t you?”

There it is! It’s obvious, now: you were holding back, but as soon as you picked up on his reticence, you switched up, and tried your absolute best to keep his attention on you. Of course. That makes sense!

“Now, I guess,” you said. You seem a bit shy, maybe, or a bit sullen. Satoru couldn’t tell: a flicker of something weird went up in him, an emotion he couldn’t recognise. He didn’t understand what you were feeling. Satoru didn’t like that—Satoru always knew everything, always. “He probably didn’t want me to leave the main room, but I did. He’s going to be angry.”

Satoru felt a strange tug in his belly. For some reason, he actually wanted to know the answer to his question. “Don’t you care about that?”

If you kept those weird ropes around your wrists because of your family, then surely you’d care about what they think about you.

“What?”

“If  your dad’s going to be angry.” Satoru looked at you intently, trying to peer into your mind. You weren’t reacting the way he was expecting you to, and he didn’t know what to make of it, really. “You don’t look like you care.”

After a moment, you said: “He’s angry a lot. You kind of get used to it.”

Satoru’s lips pursed. He didn’t like the sound of that. If he was living with someone who was mean like that, he wouldn’t get used to it: Satoru would do something about it.

You looked at him in the eyes, and he was taken aback, for a second, at how strong your gaze was. You kept flipping in his view of you: at one time, you were nothing at all, and then you were interesting and rebellious, and then you were subdued and fearful, and, now, you were something in-between.

You cringed, a little, at your words. You cast your gaze down, and Satoru found himself seeking it: he wanted your attention back. He wasn’t used to losing it.

“I mean…” you trailed off. “Not really. You don’t get used to it, but, I mean, I just have to guess when it’s going to be a good choice or not. Overall.” You just stared at the floor, and Satoru found himself leaning closer to you. He didn’t think you noticed. “I think he’s going to be really mad, yeah, but I didn’t want to be in the room anymore, so I’m just going to deal with it later. A lot of the time, though,” you said, with an air of finality, “it’s overall a bad choice not to do what he says.”

You nod, a little.

Satoru had never known so little about a person before. Everything he had thought about you was being twisted and changed, and he didn’t know at all what to make of it. He had expected you to be surprised and honoured to see him: you weren’t, not visibly. He had expected you to be pitiful and boring, as the weird heir of the Hebi family: you weren’t, not really, but instead were something different altogether.

Maybe it was just because Satoru didn’t know how to deal with being wrong—although, no, he wasn’t wrong, because he was never wrong—or maybe it was because there was something genuinely interesting about you. He wasn’t sure.

But, perhaps for the first time in his life, Satoru wanted to know more about a person. That was definitely something to pay attention to. That was something.

“What’s your name?” he asked. He didn’t actually know your first name: none of the servants had ever called you it. You were just the sad heir of the Hebi family, the one who’d gone wrong.

“Hebi,” you said. “Hello.”

Satoru grimaced. That wasn’t what he was asking, and you knew it. “That’s not your name,” he said, clearly urging you to answer his question properly.

“It is,” you said, petulantly. “My name is Hebi.”

“Hebi,” he repeated. “Right. But,” he said, slowly, to make sure you understood, “that’s your family name.”

You blinked at him. “Yes, exactly.”

Satoru held back a groan—he held it back, because he was trying to make a good impression here. Him! Trying to make a good impression! This was a day of new experiences. Satoru never had to try to do anything. He just did it, and people loved him for it. He didn’t know why, but there was something he liked about you, and this, about how you were making him try.

“So,” he said, because he knew you weren’t getting it, “tell me your first name then.”

You hesitated, and then your eyebrows bunched together, and your lips pursed into a frown. “No,” you said.

Satoru’s eyes widened. “No?” he echoed, in disbelief.

“No.”

Satoru stared at you. No? But he was making a good first impression! He was Satoru Gojo—people didn’t say no to him, even strange interesting people like you. Satoru was actually trying, and it wasn’t enough for you to tell him your name.

He struggled to speak for a few seconds. Satoru genuinely didn’t know how to proceed—he felt out of step in a way that was completely foreign to him. Satoru was used to being in charge of every conversation; he would enter a room and it would fall silent, just because he was there; he would walk through a crowd, and people would part for him, like he was activating his Infinity, the way he was learning how to do at home. Satoru was good at conversations like that, where everyone else was on the defensive, not him.

And yet, here he was. You had just said no. He wanted to know your name, and you didn’t give it to him.

He looked back at you, bewildered. And, Satoru remembers now, that was the moment he had known you were special for him: because, even as his head spun with trying to understand how someone could deny him something, he watched as your lips twitched into the tiniest half-smile.

Satoru’s heart had filled, back then, with such an overwhelming rush of joy and pleasure and pride, pride he had never felt before, because he had never struggled for anything before, and so he had never yet succeeded.

And even though you were trying to hide your smile, it was still there: he had made you laugh, even if he didn’t know how he had done it, even if it was just because you had found his mystified expression somewhat funny. He had still made you smile, and he had been so proud of himself for it.

That was the first time he had felt that, and, now, remembering it, Satoru realises he has been chasing that feeling ever since.

Satoru had not known you back then. Satoru knows you now. He knows how you walk, how you smile, all your different smiles; he knows what you look like when you find him ridiculous, and when you are trying to pretend that he isn’t funny; he knows what you look like when you are afraid, and when you are afraid of him, and he knows that he never wants to hurt you again.

Satoru knows you. He loves you: he knows this, too, now. It had taken him some time to realise it, and even longer to accept it. But he knows. And he does.

Maybe it’s something wrong with him, he thinks, with some tired wry amusement. The way he enjoys you denying him things, or the way he has to work so hard for such small things, like your smile, or your compliments, or even your attention, these days. He likes how focused he has to be, how much effort he has to devote to you, because he knows he will always be rewarded, eventually.

You’re magnificent. It was what you had said to him, that night on the rooftop, when you had let him get so close to you, and when you had looked so beautiful. Satoru still remembers the way the moonlight had made your eyes shine, as if liquid, and he remembers how staggering his love for you had felt, how all-consuming and unbearable.

He remembers your words, all of them. You’re just magnificent, Satoru. His name: you had called him by his name. The lilt of your voice, the curve of the vowels. You say his name, and he wants to kiss you. He feels it like a need, as strong as his beating heart.

You’re smart, and you make me laugh, even when I try to hide it. He wishes you wouldn’t: he loves that you do, because he is the only one who can make you laugh like you do with him. Satoru is the only one: to you, he is special. You make me feel… everything. It’s like my world is sharper and better whenever you’re in it.

Satoru wishes he had said more. Satoru wishes, sometimes, he had said the truth: that he could have repeated those same words back to you, and it would have still been just as truthful. Satoru’s world is nothing when you are not in it: he works, and he lives, and he is fine, but with you, everything is so much more. You know him. You know him, and you stay with him regardless.

You think he is good. You’re a good person, you had said. You are such a good person.

Satoru knows he is not. He has always been insensitive, needy, and he scares himself, sometimes, with the things he can do easily, that he knows are supposed to haunt him.

Satoru is selfish. He wants too much, and does not like it when he is denied that which he wants.

He wants you. He hates it when you hold yourself from him.

And he had asked you to marry him.

Satoru had been asking for a while. Not marriage: but for you to stay with him, for you to let him keep you close, to keep you with him always. Move in with me, he had been saying, for so long. Since you had finished with your fourth year at school, he had been asking. You’d visited his new house before he’d properly moved in, some random luxury penthouse suite that he didn’t care too much for, and you’d been impressed, in your restrained, amused way.

He had asked you, then, in the empty shell of a living room. Move in with me, he had said. It could be ours, he had not said.

You said no.

Satoru asked again. Later, when you were helping him move in. You said no.

Satoru asked again. You were watching the kids explore their new rooms. You said no.

Satoru asked again.

Satoru asked, and asked, and asked. You said no.

He didn’t understand why you didn’t want to. You gave him reasons, but he knew well enough that they weren’t real; he asked you again and again, and you refused to be honest with him. Satoru felt, for the first time since he had hurt you, back when he was fifteen, that divide between the two of you, something he could not cross, despite his desperate and fervent attempts.

Satoru asked again. You said no.

Satoru asked you to marry him. He didn’t understand it all, then, but he knew he wanted you to marry him. Satoru had always hated tradition, and had never thought about marriage, not seriously, but he thought of you, and your soft smiles and shining eyes and wry comments, and he had wanted it. You.

He had tried, so hard. He wanted you to want it—he wanted you to want him. I would, Satoru had told you. You knew that he didn’t enjoy traditions, that he didn’t subscribe to such antiquated ways of living, and you knew that being married would be compromising so much of what he believed in: but he told you that, despite all of that, despite everything, he would.

I would marry you, he had told you. Despite so much, he would.

It was his quietest confession. You knew him. You would understand.

You said no.

Satoru feels you stir, in your sleep. You mumble something to yourself, and then your eyes squeeze together and you yawn, widely. You open your eyes, groggy, and turn your face up to look at him. Satoru could kiss you, your lips are so close to his.

“Did I fall asleep?” you say, with a slight slur to your words. It’s cute, Satoru realises. Fuck, not only is he in love with you, but you’re cute, too.

“Just a little,” he says, and smiles as you scowl, as your nose scrunches.

“You should’ve woken me. I’m not going to—get to sleep at home, now.” You yawn again, and then push yourself off him—his Infinity—with a throaty heave. Satoru feels the loss instantly. Come back, he wants to say. He doesn’t.

“Ah,” Satoru says, leaning back to give you some more space, “that’s only if you still want to go. You don’t have to.”

You give him an unimpressed look. “Gojo.”

Satoru, he pleads, in his mind.

“What?” he says instead, laughing.

“I need to go home. I’ve got—” and your face, so untroubled and tranquil and sleep-drunk, falls. Your eyes go hollow, just for a second. “I’ve got work tomorrow,” you say, and then run your gloved hands over your eyes. “God, I’m tired.”

“I’ll take you to your work,” Satoru says. He knows he sounds impulsive, or pushy, or even desperate, but he is—nowadays, he has to treasure every hour with you, even when you’re asleep. “It’s no big deal, Hebi-Hebi. You can use your old room here—Yahaba will get someone to sort it out now, if I ask her.”

Satoru stands, decisive, and prays you won’t ask him to stop. “I’ll ask her now, yeah?”

You’re hesitating. “I can’t stay.”

“Sure you can!” Satoru grins down at you, and he recognises the flash of uncertainty. He purses his lips, and then crouches in front of you, hands braced on his knees. “C’mon. It’ll be like old times! Remember when you’d stay at mine, nearly every night?”

Your lips quiver, and Satoru knows he is close to coaxing a smile from you. He chases it, and chases it.

“Yeah,” you say, quietly.

“Then we’ll just do that again! You can have your old room.” Satoru would like you to stay the way you were before; your head on his chest—Infinity—with your body tucked into him. He wishes he had worked harder to remember it, or remember what it had felt like, to be so close to touching you.

“I shouldn’t…”

“Says who?” Satoru raises his eyebrows at you, putting on a childish face, and finally you smile. It is small, and barely there, but it’s a smile, for him, just for him, and he loves you so much he cannot do anything else.  

You bite at the inside of your lip. “I don’t have pyjamas.”

“I’ve got them in your size,” Satoru says, waving his hand in the air, as if to dismiss the thought entirely. He does: he always have, ever since you started staying the night at his as children. He has made sure that, whatever age you are, you will always have a place in his home.

“I need to take my makeup off,” you say, but he can tell your heart isn’t in it. Your smile has widened, and you are playful now. Satoru feels joyful, lighter than hair.

“You think I don’t have remover? You wound me with the accusation, Hebi-Hebi!”

“I’d need to put up with you for another few hours.”

Satoru laughs, full and loud, and you grin. “You adore spending time with me,” Satoru says, with a pretence of arrogance he hopes disguises the ever-present, thrumming desire for your reassurance, praise, love.

You hum, non-committal. “Maybe.”

Satoru clicks his tongue and pretends to be offended. “Agh. If you’re not going to admit it, maybe you can’t stay after all.”

“I said maybe, didn’t I?”

“Maybe isn’t good enough. I’m hurt, now. You’ve hurt me.”

“Poor baby.”

Satoru sticks out his tongue, which he knows doesn’t disprove the accusations of childishness, but he hopes will make you smile again. It does, to his pure delight.

You brace your hands on your thighs and push yourself up, combing stray hairs from your face. You laugh, quiet and to yourself, at something amusing he hadn’t realised he was doing.

“You’re so stupid,” you say, with a voice rich with affection. Satoru grins, and ducks his head down to your level. You blink at him, and then roll your eyes a half-second later.

“Tell me you want to stay,” Satoru says. He must be straightforward, or you might not say it at all. “Or you’re not allowed,” he adds, to make the request less obvious.

Your lips purse. “Gojo.”

“I’m waiting.”

“I—Gojo.”

“Do you want me to say please?” Satoru tilts towards you, another push, another quiet confession, one of hundreds. “I will if it’s you.”

Your eyes widen, just a fraction. Your lips part. Yes, Satoru thinks. You understand.

Then you look down, away from him, and it is broken. Satoru is selfish, and he wants too much.

“I’ll stay,” you say, turning from him and moving to plump up the cushions he had been sitting on. You do not look at him. “That’s all you’re getting.”

“So mean to me,” Satoru says, automatic.

“You deserve it.”

“And so cruel!”

“As I’ve heard.”

Satoru brushes it off. He’s getting used to that. He instead bounds over to you, finishes your work with the cushions, and then sits back down.

You stare at him. “What are you doing?”

“Hoping to spend a little more time with my Hebi-Hebi before she goes to sleep,” Satoru says, promptly. “You’re not that tired, are you?”

“I’m very tired.”

“But you don’t have to go to sleep right now,” he says, “right?”

You scoff, but it’s clear to both of you that there is no bitterness or anger. It is amused, and endeared, and Satoru loves that you think about him that way.

“Just a short while,” you say, collapsing back down on your half of the sofa. Satoru grins, so broad and happy, and he sees his smile mirrored on your lips.

“Just for a little bit,” Satoru echoes. “Until you want to leave. I promise.”

[illusioninfnty]

day 28 ; dubcon

↠ jacob custos x reader

fandom: the quarry word count: 2.4k warnings: nsfw 18+, heavy emphasis on dubcon, unprotected sex, outdoor sex, creampie, light gore elements (wolf transformation)

kinktober m.list || read on ao3

“It’s okay. You’re okay.” Your voice is hushed as you try to remain as calm as possible.

But Jacob was definitely not okay.

You should have known this whole night was going to go to shit once you and your fellow counselors decided to throw a last minute party before you would all go your separate ways.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. The teenagers always die that way!

You didn’t have time to dwell on your stupidity now, though. Jacob had been bitten–yes, bitten–by one of those werewolves just like the one that was trapped with you two in the red room.

You don’t think you would’ve believed anyone who told you that werewolves existed. Especially the bony, hairless, freaks of nature that you had witnessed attack the two of you before your very eyes.

When Ryan showed up with Laura, one of the counselors who didn’t make it for the summer, and freed you two while revealing their plans to kill Chris Hackett, you probably would’ve thought that they were insane if it wasn’t for the hideous creature that was locked into the cell right next to yours.

Now, you and Jacob were lost in the middle of the woods, you with an injured foot and him being bitten in the shoulder by one of the creatures when he pushed you out of the way of its attack. The open wound was bleeding profusely and the skin surrounding the area was starting to darken. You wince at the sight as you inspect it.

“Oh my god, Jake. I think it’s infected,” you mutter. 

His eyes widen as his head swivels towards you. “What the fuck! Don’t tell me that!”

“Sorry!” You rip off a piece of your already torn pants in a feeble attempt to stop the bleeding. The fabric soaks up all the blood within seconds and you curse as you throw the useless scrap aside. “There’s a lot of blood here. I don’t know what to do.”

“Fuck–just, I don’t know, just think of something!” His words are sharp, in a tone you rarely ever heard from him, and you could hear the impatience and struggle in his voice.

“No need to get pissy with me; you’re not the only one injured here.” You gesture to your foot that was caught in a bear trap just moments prior. Trying to make your way back to the lodge had been proven a failure when another one of those goddamn werewolves appeared out of nowhere. It caught you off guard but was spooked off by a gunshot in the distance, which had led to your current situation.

“Sorry. It just really fucking hurts,” Jacob says, gripping his shoulder as he hunches over in pain. Exhausted, you plop down on the ground next to him and lean back against the tree.

You try to remain calm and wrap your head around what the actual fuck was happening tonight, since no one was around to explain to you what was going on now was.

 “Okay, so I’m pretty sure that with all this shit—” you throw your hands in the air to motion to everywhere around you, “—there’s probably not a single person coming to look for us. I think our best bet is to just…wait this out. Whatever this is.” You put your head in your hands and sigh. “It’s also no use trying to move, with my leg and your arm all fucked up. Hopefully the thing that just attacked us won’t come back for seconds.” 

Jacob awkwardly pats your shoulder. “Hey, hey, don’t worry about that now. At least we…” His eyes seem to glaze over as he stops talking in the middle of his sentence.

You pause at his sudden shift in behavior. Jacob was usually never this quiet, and you assume that would extend to when he was in pain. Even though this night turned out to be absolutely batshit insane, you weren’t expecting Jacob to act so unpredictable. You were worried he was hurt more than you initially thought. “Jacob…you all good?”

He blinks rapidly, as if that’ll give him the answer. “I…I don’t know, it’s like…” he rubs his chest with a closed fist, his other hand swiping across his forehead to wipe off some sweat before running it through his unkempt hair. “I feel so…hot.”

You let out a sigh of relief. That was a lot better than him saying he was in more pain. There had to be some water source close by that wouldn’t be too far for you to walk to on your own with your incapacitated foot. You could work with hot.

“Okay. Okay, that’s good.” You go to stand up from your place next to him. “Stay here. I’ll try my best to find some water to cool you down.”

“No!” Jacob grabs your arm with so much force that it knocks your head against the tree as he pulls you down to him again.

“What the fuck, man!” You rub your forehead where you made contact, wincing as you got to your knees once more. “That fucking hurt. Watch it.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry.” He calls out your name, more gentler than his abrasive tone. He still hadn’t let go of your arm. “I-I guess I don’t know my own strength anymore.”

You give him a once-over. Jacob was definitely much paler than minutes before, save for the blackness that sprang from the bite wound, and his skin was glistening with a layer of sweat that was extremely concerning given the practically freezing temperature of the night.

“Look, if you don’t want me to leave, that’s cool. But I don't think it’s a good idea for you to stay like this. You need something, anything. You’re not doing too well.” Jacob appears as though he registers your words, as his grip loosens enough for you to wriggle free from it.

“Thanks,” you breathe out. You begin to leave before being interrupted again.

“Wait!” Jacob calls. You turn around, now completely fed up. You were trying to help him, but he was making it so goddamn difficult. “I—I wanted to apologize.” Jacob audibly gulps. He’s clearly starting to become delirious, slurring his words and panting profusely. But you let him finish. “I didn’t think all of this would happen. It was only meant to be one more night.”

The implication behind his words makes your heart drop. “Jake,” you start hesitantly, “what are you talking about?”

Jacob continues to ramble. His eyes are glazed over, and you’re not even sure he heard your question. “I didn’t picture any of this to happen. I wouldn’t have done it if I knew of the—the werewolves and shit. I wanted us to have one more night together. I didn’t want you to leave.” He coughs, giving you time to register his words. “Needed another night to build up the courage, you know?”

You inhale shakily, reeling in your anger. “Are you saying that…that you purposely ruined the van so we’d get stuck here?” “Just for the night!” His voice rises defensively, and he grabs onto your arm. “Don’t be mad! I didn’t know it would end up like this!”

You try to wriggle free from his grip, but it’s iron tight. “Let go of me!”

“No! Let me explain!” He pulls you down to the ground and crawls on top of you, trapping you with his body.

From your position, you’re able to get a better look at Jacob. The blackened area that was around his bite wound was clearly spreading across his body. The veins in his neck were black and bulging, and the color was starting to move up his face. He was sweating profusely, his skin slick with moisture and his face turning a deep shade of red.

Your eyes widen in concern, the anger rushing out of your body. “Oh my god, Jake, you look bad. I need to get you help. Like, right now.”

He lets out a growl, so inhuman it has you pausing in your struggle to be let free.

“Not when you're angry at me.” Jacob’s breathing gets more noticeable as the black in his veins spreads more rapidly to his face, and at this point you’re too afraid to say anything. His eyes go bloodshot as he looks down at you, panting heavily. It’s then that you feel the hardness against your stomach.

“Jake…” your voice shakes with fear, unsure of what he was going to do.

It seems as though he’s trying his hardest to restrain himself. His body trembles and his jaw clenches. “I’m sorry,” he chokes out. He begins to grind himself on you, and you can feel his leaking cock through his boxers.

“I don’t know what’s going on,” Jacob pleads. “It feels like I’m going to die.” He continues to push his length against you, whining. “I need to—to—”

“O-okay, just,” you gulp hard. You didn’t want to hear him say it. “Just be gentle.” You shut your eyes tight, and try to hold in your tears. If this would help Jacob from whatever that werewolf bite did to him, you would accept it, and hope that it’ll be over quickly.

With your approval, Jacob wastes no time in ripping your clothes off. The shreds lay limply on the dirt next to you, and that’s when you notice that his fingernails had grown sharp, too. He pulls off his own boxers, and you turn away after getting a glimpse of his throbbing cock, leaking with precum.

Jacob forces you to turn over, positioning you onto your hands and knees. Without any warning he rams his whole length into you with so much force it knocks you over, unable to balance on your forearms. You collapse into the ground beneath you, feeling your body get caked in the loose dirt as you’re shoved back and forth. You barely register the pain you feel where Jacob just entered you.

“J-Jacob wait!”

He ignores your protests and continues with the ruthless pace. You cry out—in what was pain or terror you aren’t sure. You can feel warm liquid running out of your pussy, what was most likely blood from the intrusion.

His balls slap against your ass as he thrusts in and out of you. His tip reaches the furthest parts of you, having you moan involuntarily. Your nails dig into the dirt beneath you as you get pummeled into it, trying to find a way, any way, to stabilize yourself.

You don’t think Jacob is coherent anymore. All you can hear from behind you is low grunts and growls, and his saliva dripping onto your bare back. He takes his hand and smashes your cheek into the ground, giving himself more momentum for his thrusts. Your body gets dragged across the ground as he moves you every which way.

“Jake…” You don’t even have the strength anymore to push back. His cock feels so big, so full inside of you, and you feel as though you’re about to break from the force of his hips against your own. The pain has subsided for the most part, and some pleasure takes its place. All you can do is allow yourself to enjoy it as best you can.

You reach your hand down towards your clit, wanting some relief. If Jacob’s going to get something good out of this, you may as well, too. Your hands are caked in dirt, but at this point nothing about what is going on could be sanitary.

You rub your hand fast against yourself, trying to match the pace of Jacob but failing. He moves faster than what you ever thought was possible, and you shakily give up after mere minutes.

Jacob’s now sharp fingernails dig into your sides as his cock pulses inside you. Your walls squeeze him tight and he lets out a loud groan from above you. Your own arousal wets his cock even more, and the pap, pap, pap of his thrusts are louder than ever.

Feral is the only word you could use to describe him now. His strength seems to have increased by a tenfold and he has you completely still by the force of a single hand. His other one grips your hip, drawing blood, which only seems to egg him on. He forces his cock deep inside you over and over to the point where your vision goes completely black.

His cock throbs furiously, and you can tell he’s about to cum. Another wave of fear washes over you. You didn’t think Jacob had any plans to pull out, not with the state he’s in. “Not inside!” You try to struggle against his hold, but it’s no use.

Jacob doesn’t listen—rather, doesn’t hear you—and his hot semen floods your pussy. You let a choked sob escape you as you feel the warm liquid drip out of your thighs.

You can’t focus too much on that now when Jacob is making strange sounds above you. He grunts, and his voice changes from his normal tone to one much more deeper and animalistic. You hear him let out a low curse behind you, and with him distracted you’re able to remove yourself from his still-hard cock.

As you cover your head with your arms all you hear from behind you is a loud burst, and the sensation of hot liquid coating your back and making you flinch. You turn to look and choke out a scream and frantically scamper away in the ground as the weight of Jacob’s body leaves you.

In your friend’s place is a werewolf, almost identical to the one in the basement with gray skin and gangly limbs with a mouth full of sharp teeth. You stare in terror, covered in Jacob’s blood, just waiting to be gored to death by the terrifying beast.

But instead the creature stares back, and for just a second, you think you see recognition in its eyes. Then it scampers away, snarling as it passes between the trees and out of your sight.

As Jacob (should you even call that thing by his name?) flees, you fall apart, choking on the sobs you tried your best to hold back before.

You pray to whatever god is out there listening that the sun would rise soon to save all your friends, and to pretend that this entire night never even happened.

[whatevvvs]

One thing that gets on my nerves in the Star Wars fandom is when people criticize or even vilinize Owen lars for being kind of a little harsh on luke. Like what the fuck did you guys expect??? They live on a barren desert planet that has slavery and a bunch of other bullshit that’s constantly trying to kill you.

For all we know this is what responsible parenting looks like on Tatooine. Like damn sorry owen put a fucking curfew for luke so he doesn’t get snatched by some fucking slaver in the middle of the night.

I also don’t love when people imply that Owen and beru never made an lasting impact on Luke’s life or that anakin is the de facto the most important/valid parental figure luke has, like did we forget that he permanently disables his son and killed his friends and family???

In the Star Wars radio show when biggs tries to talk luke about leaving the moisture farm, Luke angrily replies that he would never leave his aunt and uncle. He says that to his BEST FRIEND. Luke skywalker, the guy who’s biggest wish is to get out of Tatooine tells his best and only friend to fuck off at the implication that he would be better off just ditching his adoptive parents.

When we watch the scene of luke looking at the burnt wreck of the moisture farm, you can literally see shock and dismay plain on his face. Yes, he doesn’t tear up or sob or anything like that, but then again neither does leia when Alderaan gets blown up, and we would never accuse her of not loving her parents or her planet.

And also what could Owen being abusive possibly add to Star Wars?? Does it explain any of Luke’s actions or characteristics?? Does it add a layer of depth on themes of fatherhood in the story ?? The only thing people ever seem to come up with is that owens “abuse” is what makes luke yearn for a connection with Anakin. There a number of explanations for this, one it could be a force thing, (I mean luke doesn’t seem as curious about his mother, could be that he can sense his father is alive), and two luke could just be curious because he has a sense of wanderlust and the stories about his dad who won his way out of slavery might be cooler than farming moisture.

I for one, believe that Owen and berus loss is one of the most devastating things from a new hope. It’s Luke’s first introduction to one of Star Wars most important themes, the act of letting go. It’s Luke’s grief for them and Ben that immediately makes him connect with Leia and her loss, it’s the gauntlet that transforms the young naive farm boy we see at the beginning of the film to the determined rebel we see at the end.

I’m not saying Owen was perfect or that he didn’t have a few issues when it came to parenting luke, but like at least acknowledge that all that tough love went into making luke one of the most resilient most capable rebels in the alliance.