#every tag on that post gave me 1 more year of life it makes me so happy i swear

[itty-bitty-sunshine]

Although there's a very specific reason for them to be working at the Pizzaplex, that doesn't stop them from infodumping every once in a while!

Knowing a bunch of random info turns out to be pretty useful when working with curious kids and a 8 foot tall robot who's always more than happy to listen to anything. Besides it makes for great stories to tell

[candycandy00]

The Offering - A Sukuna x Reader Fic Part 2

Once upon a time, Sukuna was a human man, albeit a monstrously cruel and powerful one. Villages across the land worshipped him as a living deity. One such village holds a festival for seven nights in his honor every year, and on each night they make generous offerings to him, including women who are never seen again. On the fifth night, you are selected to be the offering. 

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Any feedback whatsoever is greatly loved! If you’d like to be tagged when I post another part, comment to let me know. You must have your age in your bio or pinned post and be 18+ to be tagged.  

Smut. 18+. Sukuna is a human (my theory is that he got his four-armed body by modifying himself with jujutsu fuckery later in life). Dubcon. Mentions of rape that happened “off screen”. Very rough sex. Blood. Sukuna just generally being a sadistic monster. F!Reader. This part is dark and quite intense!

You didn’t know how much time had passed when one of the shrine maidens woke you up by gently shaking your shoulder. You found yourself in Sukuna’s bed, a sheet draped over you. When you tried to sit up, your entire body was wracked with pain. You gave yourself a moment to adjust, then slowly sat up again with the shrine maiden’s help. 

“Lord Sukuna has demanded your presence,” she said. “I know you must be sore but you mustn’t keep him waiting.”

Looking down, you saw countless purple bruises covering your skin, especially on your thighs and breasts. Pulling the sheet away from your nude body, you saw a frighteningly large bloodstain beneath you. It seemed to have dried overnight, so you assumed the bleeding had stopped.

With the older woman’s help, you stood on trembling legs and pulled the sheer robe back on. There was a deep, throbbing ache between your thighs, but you’d honestly expected it to be worse. 

The two of you made your way back toward the front area of the shrine, where the dais had been, but before reaching it the woman led you to a different room toward the left side of the building. In it, you found another bath filled with steaming water and cherry blossoms. The other two shrine maidens were waiting inside, and they gently removed the robe from your body. 

“Lord Sukuna has already bathed here this morning. He instructed us to bathe you here as well.”

You looked at the water and felt a familiar heat in your body that had nothing to do with the steam. This was the same water Lord Sukuna had just been bathing in? And now you were going to use it? There was something strangely intimate about this situation. You tried to keep yourself calm as you stepped into the water, wincing as it touched your sore and injured parts. As you sank down into the water’s warmth, you felt your body relaxing slightly. 

When the bath was finished, the shrine maidens helped you climb out and dry off, then they dressed you in a fresh but equally sheer white robe. 

You looked at the woman who had spoken to you the day before and asked, “When will he kill me?”

You’d thought it would be last night, but were surprised to wake up this morning. Did he usually kill the offerings the next day?

The woman hesitated, then said very quietly, “You are the first offering to survive the night you were brought in.” She looked at the other two as if to see if they approved of her speaking to you. When neither of them attempted to silence her, she added, “Lord Sukuna has told us not to bring a new woman tonight. You are the offering again.”

Two feelings hit you simultaneously: horror at the thought of being there for another day and night, at all the ways he could hurt you in that time, and relief that your death had likely been delayed until at least the end of the night. 

The women offered no more information, silently leading you through the shrine again, this time to the front, where the dais was. When you neared it, you noticed the shrine maidens lowering their heads, so you did the same, careful not to look up as you moved around the dais to stand in front of it. In unison, the shrine maidens bowed low to the ground, and you quickly dropped down as well, ignoring the pain shooting through your body as you did so. 

You heard Sukuna’s silky voice say, “Leave us.”

The three women got to their feet and left through the shrine’s front doors. Suddenly you were alone with him again, and your heart began pounding rapidly. 

“You can stop bowing,” he said with a casual tone. 

You looked up to see him sitting on a pillow on the dais. There was a low table in front of him with several plates and bowls, and in the center, the large basket of fruits you had personally arranged the day before. 

He motioned for you to come to him, and as you carefully stood up and approached, he spoke again. 

“The shrine maidens brought this offering this morning. I don’t usually accept them during the day, but they told me something interesting. Apparently this was offered by your family.”

You looked at the basket when you reached the edge of the dais, and you felt tears beginning to well up in your eyes. Your parents must have been told that you were still alive, and this was probably their way of trying to send you a message of comfort or encouragement. 

Sukuna watched your emotional reaction with absolutely no visible emotion of his own. “You recognize it?”

You nodded, wiping your eyes. “I arranged the fruits myself,” you told him. 

He reached over and pulled a pomegranate from the basket. “Shall we try them?”

You blinked in surprise. His tone was so much softer today. “Can I?” you asked, wanting to be sure to have his permission. 

“Come, sit,” he said, patting his lap with his free hand. 

You paused for a moment, staring at his spread open thighs, his ankles crossed under each other. Again, that heat in your core began to spread and intensify. He patted his lap again, and you stepped onto the dais beside him, then eased yourself down onto one of his legs. You instantly felt the warmth of his firm body against yours, and you knew your face must have been getting red again. 

He held the pomegranate in his hand and squeezed, his unnatural strength crushing the outer layer and allowing the juicy seeds to pop free. He reached around you, using his free hand to scoop up a few seeds and put them in his mouth. You watched with parted lips and pounding heart as he licked his fingers clean before scooping up more seeds. You thought he would put them in your mouth this time, but again he put them in his own. 

A trail of juice dripped down his lips, and he used his thumb to catch it, then licked his hand again. You were in his lap, getting a close up view of his every action, and you thought you might simply burst. You could feel dampness growing between your legs, and you hoped he couldn’t feel it through both your robes. You squirmed slightly and his eyes sharply shifted to your face. Then he grinned. 

“You must be so thirsty. With all the screaming and crying you did last night, your throat must be positively raw.”

It was raw, and dry. You hadn’t been given anything to eat or drink since coming to the shrine. You stared longingly at the shiny, dripping pomegranate seeds scooped into his long fingers. He brought them up, but bypassed your mouth and pressed them into his again, making a show of licking his fingers, allowing a string of his saliva to dangle from them. 

Then, suddenly, he pressed two of those fingers into your mouth. You were surprised, but your tongue automatically licked the fingers, swirling around the digits, tasting his saliva and the faint hint of pomegranate juice. Without realizing it, you had leaned slightly forward as he pushed the fingers in and out of your open mouth, grazing your lips and playing with your needy tongue. 

His other hand snaked around your body and slipped under the front of your robe, groping your still bruised breast. He watched you desperately sucking his fingers and said, “Did you really think a pitiful girl like you deserved to partake of my offerings?”

You tried to shake your head no, but his wet fingers slid out of your mouth and held your face still while he pinched your nipple beneath your robe, causing you to whimper. “You can partake, but only in one way,” he said, then lightly pushed you off his lap. You ended up sitting on the dais in front of him, the table pushed a couple of feet away now. 

Sukuna pulled one knee up, causing his robe to spread open and reveal his already hard cock. You stared at it, shocked by its size now that you could see it in the brighter lighting of this room. Had that thing really been inside you last night? No wonder it hurt. 

While you watched, somewhat dazed, Sukuna reached over and pulled a peach from the table. He held it in front of him and squeezed, letting the plentiful juices drizzle over his cock. He grinned at you and said, “Now, you can partake.”

Your breaths became quicker as you looked at the glistening peach juice, at the huge erection practically in your face. But you didn’t hesitate for long. You crawled closer and bent your head toward him, extending your tongue and lapping up the peach juice dripping from his tip. It was delicious. 

You ran your tongue all over it, then took it into your mouth to suck any remnants of juice off his flesh. 

Sukuna stared down at you without emotion, then suddenly smirked. He grabbed an apple and bit into it, his too-sharp teeth crunching the fruit with ease. “If you can’t make me cum by the time I finish eating this apple, I’ll punish you.”

With that, he took another bite. 

You glanced up at him in disbelief. You’d never pleasured a man before in your life, and now you had to do it within a time limit? He swallowed the bite of apple in his mouth and took another. “Better hurry,” he said with a malicious smile. 

With a spike of alarm, you quickly wrapped your lips around him again, licking and sucking and trying to figure out what felt good for him. None of your movements seemed to get any sort of reaction, and every couple minutes you heard him take another bite, loudly, as if to make you aware of the countdown. 

Finally you decided to just give up trying to find some perfect maneuver that would please him and focus on what you wanted to do. You wanted him in your mouth. You wanted to touch him, taste him, and so you slowed down, running your tongue over his length with reverence. You took as much of him as you could fit into your mouth, licking every inch and savoring the taste of him. Your eyes slid closed as you buried your moist tongue into his tip, digging out the fluids that were beginning to leak out. 

After a while, you realized you hadn’t heard him take another bite, so you looked up. You found him watching you, the half eaten apple sitting in his hand as if he’d forgotten he was supposed to be tormenting you. Then his eyes met yours, he smirked, and took an especially large bite. 

You didn’t let that distract you from your task. You continued treating his cock like it was your favorite meal and you were starving for it, like you were blessed just to have it in your mouth. You squeezed your thighs together, but you could still feel your own arousal dripping down your legs. You let yourself get lost in your own desire, your own pleasure, as you lovingly sucked him off. 

You don’t know how many minutes, or bites, passed before you felt him stiffen in your mouth. You knew he was close, but in the next moment, you saw him sit the now bare apple core on the floor beside you. 

“Too slow,” he said in that voice that drove you mad. 

You suddenly felt a stab of panic, and started to pull away from him, but his hand was immediately in your hair, gripping it painfully as he shoved himself all the way to the back of your throat and a burst of cum filled your mouth. 

“Don’t swallow yet,” he told you, looking down at you with a cold expression, “and don’t dare let any spill.”

You tried to do as he commanded even as more cum shot into your mouth, coating every inch. There was so much that it felt like your cheeks were stretching. You breathed through your nose, struggling to keep the cum from sliding down your throat or spilling out. 

When he’d finished, he slowly pulled his cock from your full mouth and said, “Show me.”

You tilted your head up toward him and carefully opened your trembling lips, slightly extending your tongue so that he could see all the cum pooled there. 

He smiled and said, “Ahh, a woman always looks best when her mouth is full of my cum.”

If you were dripping wet before, now you were positively soaked. 

“You can swallow now,” he told you, and watched as you did so. For a few moments after, you panted to regain your breath. Then you felt him lay his hand gently on your head in a surprisingly affectionate gesture as he said, “Good girl.”

His voice was so sweet, his words so arousing, you thought you might cum without even being touched. You could feel a pool of your own fluids gathering beneath you on the dais. When you moved, he would definitely see it. You reddened at the thought, but you couldn’t stop a weak smile from spreading across your lips as his fingers softly rubbed themselves into your hair. 

“Unfortunately,” he said as he continued to stroke your head, “you didn’t make me cum before I finished the apple.”

All at once his hand was gripping your arm and jerking you to your feet as if you were a doll. You cried out, your body still extremely sore from the night before, but he ignored you. With one savage motion he ripped the thin robe off you and tossed it on the floor. Then he turned you to face the low table full of plates and fruits, and threw you face down across it. You screamed when you felt the plates cracking under your chest and stomach, jagged edges beginning to poke into your bruised and tender skin. 

Behind you, Sukuna was on his knees, lifting your hips up and pulling your legs apart. 

“W-wait, please! Lord Sukuna! I’m still-“

You were going to say you were still wounded from last night, but the sentence died in your throat when you felt his cock shove inside your sensitive, not yet healed pussy. It hurt so bad it nearly took your breath away, despite being so wet, despite wanting him to fuck you again, but only after you had completely healed. But the worst was yet to come. 

When he began his brutal thrusts, your body scraped across the broken plates, slicing your flesh. You stifled a scream by biting your own hand, and went limp in his grasp, his strong hands gripping your waist to hold you steady. Tears sprung from your eyes, and you quietly whimpered as your body was thoroughly used. 

You felt him lean over you, the silk of his robe and the firmness of his torso pressing against your back, and then his mouth was at your ear, his maddeningly smooth voice whispering to you, “Don’t hold back your screams. I already told you, I’ll allow it. Make noise for me.”

You moved your hand from your mouth and let the sobs and cries rise freely into the room. Then you were crying out words: “Lord Sukuna, it hurts! It hurts it hurts it hurts!”

Your face was pressed to the table, so you couldn’t see his expression, but you were certain he was grinning. You could hear the pleasure in his voice when he asked, “What hurts?”

“Th-the plates are… cutting me!” You gasped out the words between whimpers. 

“Oh? Anything else? Don’t hold back.” His amused tone made your tears fall harder. 

“You! You’re… hurting me!”

“Which part of me is hurting you? Be specific.”

You sobbed again, trying to form words but struggling to focus on anything besides the rough cock pounding into you. With great effort, you managed to cry out, “Your… cock.. is hurting me!”

He leaned over you again and said in a low and sultry voice, “Tell me how it feels. Tell me how it hurts.”

You were struck again by how needlessly cruel he was, how much he was enjoying your agony. You knew you had to answer him, so you forced the words out of your mouth. “Feels like… you’re ripping me open!”

He was still leaned over, his toned chest grazing your bare back as he kept thrusting. Then another whisper in your ear: “And which is hurting you most? The broken plates, or my cock?”

Your mind was turning to mush. The pain, the feeling of wetness under you as your blood mixed with sticky fruit juices and your own arousal, Sukuna’s sensuous voice in your ear, it was all too much. “You… you hurt me the most,” you said weakly, losing all strength. 

If Sukuna replied, you didn’t hear it. Instead he gave one more incredibly deep thrust, burying himself inside you, and came. After he pulled out, he rolled you onto your back and looked down at you, his eyes raking over your cut up skin and then settling on your face. 

*******

Sukuna looked over the broken offering sprawled on his table and wondered, not for the first time, why other people had to be so weak. She’d been reduced to a bloody, crying mess by a good fucking and a few broken plates. Pathetic. 

The cuts on the front of her body were shallow, barely deep enough to draw blood. They wouldn’t even leave scars. They probably did hurt though. 

He stood over her, and she looked up at him with those glazed eyes, wet from crying, her prone, naked body quivering. “What? Not satisfied?” he asked. “After I gave you so much of my cum?”

That’s when he remembered that she hadn’t yet had an orgasm today. No matter, he didn’t care about pleasuring women. Only his own pleasure mattered. 

He started to walk away, but a memory from the night before blossomed in his mind: those desperate little moans, which had a strange musical quality, that she’d made when he was stimulating her. He wanted to hear them again. 

He got back down on his knees next to the table, and the girl shuddered and tried to scoot away, but she was too hurt or too weak to move far. He reached one hand down and touched her stomach, running his fingers along a cut there. She whimpered, and though her pitiful cries were indeed arousing to him, he wanted to hear her moans of pleasure now. 

Sukuna lowered his head and ran his tongue along the bloody cuts. The girl stiffened and went completely still. Her blood was delicious, so much that he was tempted to devour her raw in that moment, but he had more self control than that. He reached one hand down between her sticky thighs and used two fingers to rub her clit, enjoying the way she gasped and arched her back. 

“Ah… ahhh… Lord Sukuna…”

There they were, those little sounds that had haunted his ears since last night. He continued licking her wounds, running his tongue over one supple breast and taking the nipple into his mouth. With a gentleness that shocked even himself, his fingers massaged her clit. He could feel his cum and her blood oozing out around his hand. 

He looked down at her face and saw that her eyes were closed. Her face was tinted pink, and those lilting moans were escaping her lips. 

“Open your eyes,” he whispered. “Look at me.” He was well aware of the effect his voice could have on people if he wanted it to, and he’d certainly noticed the effect it had on her specifically. 

She opened her eyes and met his gaze, and he stared at her while listening to her shuddering, blissful voice. “Why are you always dripping wet whenever you’re near me?” he asked in a soft tone. “You can’t be the village whore. You were a virgin last night.”

The girl shook her head. “I-I don’t know. I just.. ahhh… feel like I’m…. ah… being pulled to you… ahhhhh!”

He applied slightly more pressure with his fingers while licking her other nipple, savoring the delectable taste of her blood tinged with sweet fruit juices. 

Her body suddenly went taut, her hips rising off the table and her weak little hands gripping his arm. “Ahhh! Ahhhhhh!”

She climaxed, clutching him like she’d done before. Sukuna had killed many a woman for merely touching him without his explicit permission, but for reasons he couldn’t explain, he didn’t mind these soft, tender arms around him. 

Once it was over, she passed out again. He chuckled to himself. “Such a pitiful little thing.”

He watched her bruised chest rise and fall with her breaths for a moment before standing and removing his own robe. He wrapped it around her unconscious form and carried her to his bed, where he laid her on top of the covers. 

He summoned a shrine maiden, who had no reaction to finding him standing in his room completely nude. With her eyes downcast, maybe she didn’t even notice. 

“Bandage her wounds,” he said. “They’re not serious but I don’t want her to bleed when I’m not around to watch. When she wakes, give her whatever she wants to eat or drink. She’ll need to build her strength up for tonight.”

With his orders given, he went to find another robe and relax until nightfall, thinking to himself that he couldn’t wait to hear his offering scream again.  

Tag List:

@yourmumsthings @boogeysmoth

[silviakundera]

Kinnporsche Fanfic Recs

In celebration of the 2 year anniversary, here is an avalanche of Kinn/Porsche fics that I've enjoyed. Painfully incomplete & posted in no particular order. My shipping interests are 100% focused on the K/P couple and that will be reflected in my list, sorry 😘.

Deep Like a Coastal Shelf by Lilla_Torg

(79,000 words) Green Arrow inspired AU. "After five years abroad, Kinn Theerapanyakul returns to find his city under siege by a vigilante known as the Phoenix."

Stain of Sun by Lilla_Torg

(78,000 words) Omega brothers Porsche (hacker) and Chay (grifter) team up to take down the Theerapanyakul crime family. Things do not go as planned. // This marries A/B/O with mutant powers. As long as you're not wholly opposed to Omegaverse, give it a chance. Every one of this author's long KPtS fics is a banger.

Pouring Down Crimson Fire by Lilla_Torg

(119,000 words) Sort of a mutant AU but honestly that underplays how fucking cool this fic is. “I think you know something about keeping secrets,” said Kinn. He flashed Porsche a pocket-ace smirk. “You’re mine. Say it.”

The boy he’d been fourteen years ago would have told him where to shove it. But Porsche had been around long enough to know that the mafia always won. Still, he looked around, searching for a way out, before giving up and turning back to Kinn, those black eyes awaiting his surrender.

“I’m yours,” he said.

a perpetual unscattering by concernedlily

(31,000 words) Canon-divergence AU. “Pissing in bottles behind a cocktail bar,” Kinn said. “But Pa gave him to me, so I’m stuck with him.” To a visibly furious Porsche he said, “You don’t know the minor family? Never come across any of them before?”

“How would I know the fucking minor family?” Porsche snapped.

what a tangled web we weave by fortunehasgivenup

(80,000 words) 1000 Nights inspired alternate universe, fantasy-historical Thailand. // After the betrayal of his first husband, King Anakinn Theerapanyakul vows to never love again. Once a week, he takes a new husband, a young man who will not live to see another dawn.

When a nobleman comes to find a young man to adopt and marry off to the king in place of his own son, Thee chooses Chay.

Faced with an outcome that he refuses to contemplate, Porsche steps in and takes Chay's place. He only has one request for the king - to be allowed to tell his brother one last bedtime story.

Burn Your Name Into My Skin by Everyforkedroad

(72,000 words) In which Kinn visits a high-end sex club and he & Porsche meet under the guise of anonymity for what should be a 1 night encounter. Except not only are they intensely drawn together... things are not what they seem.

Salt by ronandhermy

(49,000 words) Sweat stings because the salt is purifying. Porsche may be in high school but he is still a National Champion in Taekwondo and he catches the eye of the national team's newest sponsor: The Theerapanyakun Family. Alternate first meeting. Leans into the darkness of canon, read the tags and proceed w caution.

how do you like it, daddy by Baby_Droll

(28,000 words) "and ain't shit 'bout me cheap and ain't shit 'bout me free" - our lord and savior, florence millicent. kinn & porsche, and all the other pieces on their fucked up chess board. a sugar baby/daddy au with an omegaverse twist. // This is a dark reimagining alternate universe. Iconic toxic K/P fic.

two shots by Martynax

(81,000 words) AU, different first meeting. Porsche joined the armed forces & became a hired gun. // “So I’m supposed to end a mafia dispute?”

“Something like that,” he mutters, wondering if he’s making a mistake, revealing it to Porsche so soon. Nothing is set in stone, after all. But he has a gut feeling that the man appreciates honesty and simplicity much more than intrigue and schemes.

be the best you ever tasted by Martynax

(90,000 words) an AU where Porsche's life is shit so he shakes his perky little bum for strangers at a strip club and Kinn books him for a private show. Porsche doesn't fuck customers and shouldn't get associated with whatever grey business his boss is trying to run out of the club. But... you know how this is gonna go.

between the sheets by DasWarSchonKaputt

(70,000 words) “And who’s that?”

“Oh. That’s Porsche. He’s Khun Kinn’s live-in boytoy. He’s harmless, mostly. Just a pretty face.”

A boyfriend can go so many places a bodyguard can’t. As the threat of a potential leak in their security forces looms large, Khun Korn hatches a plot to place an added layer of protection around his heir presumptive. Enter Porsche, former bartender, current bodyguard, and reluctant fake boyfriend of Kinn Theerapanyakul.

Stumbling to the Edge by FireRisingOverTheHills

(51,000 words) Of the genre of KP fics where Kinn and Porsche meet-cute in a random bar encounter, instead of a meet-ugly, this one is my fav. I just really enjoy the Kinn PoV with his what?! is?! happening??? vibes as he finds himself irresistibly drawn to someone who doesn't fit neatly into defined roles.

"He makes this all seem like it’s perfectly normal and Kinn is helpless to do anything but go along with it."

Whatever Else that Touches You by technicallyverycowboy

(9,330 words) Tender established relationship and bisexual self discovery, post canon. // "No, it's fine." Porsche shifts to be a little less plastered against Kinn's side, straightens his shoulders and smooths out his jacket with great dignity. "The answer to your question is yes, I have really never been with any other men."  Porsche answers questions, asks some of his own, tries new things, and fills in the knowledge gaps of his own sexuality.

An Elegant Mechanism by Laughsalot3412

(87,000 words) A/B/O AU, Kim centric with some background K/P and dysfunctional brothers & cousin bonding. The only fic on this list that isn't K/P primary. //  "Kim was only an omega when he was luring people closer to his gun. No one had to give Kim a weapon. He was one.  (Kim's mission is to get close to Porchay Kittisawat. Chay is not a typical alpha. Kim is not a typical omega. Kim isn't having feelings and Chay is going to be so normal about all of this.)"

Love and Violence by thewayside

(9,500 words) Beautifully written, post ep 14. // "Love and violence have always been bedfellows for Kinn. Down to how his first proper relationship ended in a pool of blood. Porsche’s beauty might have drawn him in, but he knows in his gut that he met someone in kind that first night, blood coursing through their veins as the fight ended and Porsche led him onto a bike to a road he barely knew."

Burnished night, blood-soaked stars by The_Old_Astronomer

(13,000 words) Missing scene set between the end of episode 6 and the side story (pre-ep 7). Porsche fights to keep Kinn alive after the attack, and gradually realises how much the other man means to him.

Night Call by vesna (mrsronweasley)

(34,500 words) "On Kinn's birthday, Kinn is dragged by Tae and Time to a strip club, where he gets a private dance from a man who calls himself Jom. Kinn is smitten. Things spin out from there." Canon AU, where Porsche became a stripper because bartending wasn't paying enough.

NFWMB by vesna (mrsronweasley)

(18,700 words) There's a rushing in Kinn's ears, a noise he can't shake. It almost makes him miss the next thing Arm tells him. "He was supposed to check in, as per protocol, but—"  "But what," Kinn snaps. A headache is building behind one of his eyes.  Arm's eyes are wide right before he lowers them and says, "He hasn't been heard from in two and a half hours."  Or, post-canon Porsche is kidnapped. Kinn goes through it.

Caught Off Guard by Altered_Ego

(23,000 words) The one where Porsche is one of his escort's bodyguard. Alternate first meeting; Porsche took another path to support his brother.

the less i know the better by mslunita

(45,000 words) Bored Kinn joins Tinder in hopes of getting his rocks off with a different kind of guy, instead of the standard escorts. Porsche challenges him in just the right way. // Alternate first meeting. Basically their canon selves, but this is after Porsche has already had his bi awakening.

XXX curious STRAIGHT boy BEGS for COCK for the FIRST TIME XXX by mirrorofprinces

(35,000 words ) Porn industry AU. “Porsche is extremely close to signing. In fact, he has a final meeting with the execs on Monday morning. The only condition is that he wants to request his first partner, and it’s you.”  Kinn takes a long drink of his whiskey, sets the glass down, and runs his tongue over his teeth. “So you had to meet with me, urgently, to tell me that a beautiful boy wants me to fuck him, thinking I’d say no.” He drums his fingers on the bartop. “Which means there’s a catch.”

paint my kiss across your chest (your touch is like a happy pill) by darkknight

(16,000 words) Episode 8 era. "Porsche discovers different new ways of how good sex can feel, ways that would never even have crossed his mind before meeting Kinn."

quis custodiet ipsos custode by concernedlily

(8,600 words) Porsche being on dangerous missions and Kinn discovering he has Feelings About That. Missing scenes and Post Ep 14.

Wing of a Butterfly by Kalere

(320,000 words) Some years before the canon storyline, two young men have a random encounter at a bar. Their friendship changes everything. // The epic Porsche & Vegas friendship fic.

[onmywaytofanfic]

Thanks a lot for the tag Kaz @akamikazae let's see if I can do all of them!! :3333

Name: Boro :3

Pronouns: She - Her/ They - Them

Where do you call home: I heard once that home is that place where you can go to the toilet without any problem. I would also add that is that place where you can get yourself a glass of water without asking for one.

Favorite animal: People assumed that I am a cat person, they are wrong I love every animal...also cats, felines in general.

╱|、

(˚ˎ 。7

|、˜〵

じしˍ,)ノ

 

Cereal of choice: I have a problem with cereals I love them!!! My favourits are honey puff like cereals and those that are squares filled with chocolate or milk. Those are ddelicious GIVE ME CEREALS!!

Are you a visual, audio, or kinesthetic learner: I remember that we have to do this test at the Uni and I was like a mix. Most of the time I doodle while taking notes and when revising stuff I need to move around my room. Also, when I am thinking in general I need music or a podcast while pacing around and a small notebook where I can write down any idea that crosses my mind or doubt while revising something. I tent to do more than one thing at once so, pacing while listening helps me so... Audio-kinasthetic-reading learner

First pet: There is a festivity here Los tres Reyes Magos, Three Wise Men, that we celebrate durign the Xmas time. That night my neighbours dog gave birth to who would be my first truthful friend. I woke up and the neighbour told us that the mother couldn't pass the night. In a small basket they got both pups, one seemed so full of energy the other one was curled up and shaking. I got the curld one without a second though and hugged them. He would be my friend for more than 10 years. I miss him a lot. He got the name of my favourite journalist ever but I keep it for myself ;) Friends know his name.

Favorite scent: Baked cookies, cinammon, but mostly flowery scents like lavender and also, please do not laugh, there is this deodorant chocolate scented ...wow.

Do you believe in astrology: I prefer to keep my thoughts to myself on this one, yet I find astrology interesting but I would not let it choose my life or stuff like that. It is very interestign to have a look at it.

How many playlists do you have on Spotify/apple music: 10

Sharpies or highlighters: Highlighters! I actually enjoy the layers that you can do with them and they got this Cyberpunk effect when done right that I love.

A song that makes you cry: ‘Fucking Perfect' by P!nk or 'The crow and the butterfly' Shinedown.

A song that makes you happy: ‘Lady Domina' Haloo Helsinki! or 'Master of the House' Les Miserables the musical... I have a problem with musicals in general.

And finally do you draw/write/create? I write and draw, a different thing is that I have the guts to call what I do something creative or even worthy. But I just do it, hoping to get better eventually... hope is the key word there. So I do both and technically create since both are creations *badum tsch* I also do tons of memes so...that's creations too, isn't it? One day I may post here those abominations that I call memes.

Hmmmm I tag @succikko-nebulae , @shinoposting , @yamanaka-shin and @spellcasterlight <3<3<3<3<3

Thanks again Kaz!!1 This was fun, I did not know that I had so many playlist on Spotify...and I use one in a loop most of the time xD.

[anjuschiffer]

Do We Dare to Dream?

*looks at WIPs and notices this old work* *posts it so that it could actually see the light of day*

-

Tags: @toodaloo-kangaroo @elijahcrevan @vixen-uchiha

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MASTERLIST | AO3

Chapter 1:

“I’ve already taught her everything she needs to know about the Miraculi.” Jason snapped his attention from his books to Ra’s guest’s voice. When did they get here? “But combat…I could only think of you to train her…Brother.“ This was where Jason finally raised his head to look at the guests for the first time since he heard they had arrived. 

Or at least, one of them. 

The shorter of the two men had to be his mentor’s guest, if judging by the blue monk-like attire he had on under his red shawl.

Ever since Ra’s announced some important guests coming to visit a week ago, the entire place was made to make the place presentable and more…comfortable. 

More fauna was added around the place, more shrubbery and small nooks of rest scattered the place. Although Jason wasn’t fond of the new flowers added to the barracks, he found out he quite enjoyed the little spot he found near his room. 

A nice zen place with just a few shrubs and a boulder whose view was that of the ocean. 

As for the odd choice of decor, Jason found himself hating the choice of reds and gold accenting the League’s monochrome scheme.  Not to mention the motif of the zodiac constantly present at the banquet hall and every hall he walked.  

Aside from that, much didn’t change in Jason’s routine, though he didn’t fail to notice the way Ra’s began to act. 

He was stricter with the League members, gave Talia more work to do, nitpicked at every little thing - it was starting to get on Jason’s nerves. 

Maybe it was because Ra’s was constantly reminding him to be practically invisible once the guests came. Or rather, to never talk to their guests unless asked. 

That everything had to be perfect.

So when the guests appeared at the library while Jason was there during his free time, he knew better than to greet Ra’s or to even go near him and his guests. 

He had decided to retreat further into the library, deciding to go to the upper level and read a bit more of the Art of War. 

But he didn’t expect to hear that of all things. 

“If that was all you wanted from me, you could’ve easily-“

“I don’t have much time left.” The shorter man interjected. “You, of all people, should know that the Miraculi only extends your lifespan by a few hundreds of years, not grant immortality…” The shorter man looked at Ra’s with a somber look on his face. “Brother…I only have a few years to live and I can’t just leave my successor on her own.” 

“Fu. You know, you can easily-“ Fu shook his head. 

“I know better than to mess with your creations, even as ambitious and beneficial you claim them to be. After all, nothing good could ever come out of something born out of raw chaos. There’s a reason why the elders never chose you to-“

“There’s a reason they are now dead, Brother.” Ra’s seethed. “They never wanted to use the Miraculi to their full extent. To their true potential. I simply-“

“It’s bad to talk ill about the dead.” Fu interjected. “Especially in front of a child.” Ra’s huffed, knowing that his brother was referring to their earlier conversation in front of his successor. 

“Child? Your successor is about the same age as my latest student. And he’s already seen more death than life in his 15 years of living. 

In other words, they’re both old enough to comprehend the reality of life. Of changing to survive and if not, die in the process of protecting old and useless ideologies.” Ra’s argued, causing Fu to sigh. “Or tell me, am I wrong, brother of mine? Or is wanting me to teach your successor not your true motive for this announced visit?”

Despite the various centuries that have passed, it seemed like his brother never changed. 

“You are correct as always, Ra’s. Change is the only way we can survive these chaotic times.” Fu responded. 

“Glad to see we are on the same page.” Jason watched as Ra’s let out a huff. “I know you’re there, Jason. Come now. It’s rude to keep a guest waiting.”

Without another word, Jason jumped off the ledge, landing next to Ra’s with a soft thud. “Fu, this is the student I was talking about. Jason, met our guest, Wang Fu.”

While Jason wanted to ask whether or not they truly were siblings, he simply bowed, watching as Fu frowned upon seeing him. 

“He oozes of the Lazarus’ water.” Fu furrowed his brows and looked at Ra’s with narrowed eyes. “What have you done to the boy?”

“Saved him.” Ra’s simply answered, deciding to walk ahead. “Now, let’s go see how your protege is doing, shall we?”

—

Jason didn’t quite remember what exactly happened, as in, how the conversation went from talking about education to Jason having to spar with Fu’s student, but it happened. So here he was, starting to get out of breath as he looked at his opponent beneath him.

“Seems like I got my hopes up too high.” Jason found himself saying as he knocked down the girl in front of him for the umpteenth time as she attempted to get back up. “Is this really the best you’ve got?” 

After hearing Fu’s praises about his student being a quick learner and already mastering some Guardian martial arts, Ra’s found it appropriate to put said teachings to the test.

“That is enough!” Fu’s voice roared within the training hall’s walls, Jason smirking as he left the bruised girl on the floor, her lip busted from their sparring, dried blood caking her lip. The bruises on her cheekbone and jaw were finally starting to bloom. “How was this a friendly-“

“Friendly doesn’t necessarily mean soft, dear brother. Or did you forget the torture they used to put us through as children?” Ra’s reminded.

Jason didn’t know what Ra’s meant by that, reveling in the praise he gave him, a small pat on his back. 

“Is this-“ Fu took a deep breath, “-is this the type of training you’re going to place-“

“Of course.” Ra’s said, Jason standing by his side, a smile replacing his grin. “If you’re saying your protege is as intelligent as you say she is, then that means she should be able to catch up with the rest of my students. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Fu remained silent, rushing to his student’s side, inspecting her bruises. “Furthermore, she can’t continue to be coddled if you want her to grow as a Guardian. You should already know the consequences of-”

“You think I don’t know that already? Don’t you think that’s the very reason why I came here in the first place? To prevent her from suffering the same fate we did when we were younger?”

The two men stared at each other, the tension thick and starting to become suffocating.

“Master…Fu.” The girl managed to slur out.

“Save your energy Marinette,” Master Fu hushed, looking at Ra’s. “Where is your nearest medical bay?”

-

“I see you’re finally awake.” Marinette blinked a few times before realizing where she was.

Oh right. She wasn’t in their little shop in China. They were at her mentor’s supposed brother’s…establishment? Organization? Clan?

She could remember the tour of the place and then separating from Master Fu to have some lunch before having to fight Ra’s latest pupil…who she lost to…

“How long was I out?” She asked, fighting off the aching throbbing around her body, not failing to notice the remains of magic lingering behind. 

Was she injured so badly that Fu had to heal them using the Ladybug? 

“Only a couple of hours.” Fu managed to answer, Marinette humming in response. “Marinette.” She turned to look at him. “I’m leaving you here, to stay with my brother.” Master Fu calmly said.

“Wh-what?” Marinette quietly asked, processing the words that just came out of her master’s mouth. Maybe it was because she had recently woken up, or perhaps her body was starting to finally feel the consequences of the spar from earlier despite the magical assistance. “Like, just for today?”

“As in you will be staying here by yourself until-”

“Why?” Marinette cut off, wincing as a pang of pain shot up her arm as she used it to sit up.

“I know, it’s a bit to process, but here, here you will get the opportunity to grow. To widen your view of combat and defense from people who have years of experience in the field.”

“But why should I stay just for that? If anything, we can always come here together during the week. The walk here isn’t bad- it’s just a few hours from-”

“Marinette. Travel isn’t the problem. Nor is the place. It is time.”

“But Master Fu, if it's time, then we can simply use the Horse to get here-”

“Marinette. I can no longer be with you as you continue to-”

“No.”

“Marinette. I can’t be a hurdle in your-”

“No.”

“Marinette,” Fu softly said, Marinette feeling her eyes begin to sting. “I have to go. It’s for your own good and the good of-”

“Master Fu, please! Please don’t leave me here!” Marinette begged, grabbing hold of her teacher’s shawl, tears brimming her eyes.

“Marinette,” Jason heard Fu softly say, the guilt in his chest becoming heavier.

He shouldn’t have come, but…he had. 

Ever since Ra’s told him to go back to his room, Jason was left with nothing but the mixed emotions of his spar with Marinette.

While a part of him was soaring over being complimented by his mentor, guilt began to gnaw at him upon seeing how Fu worried over his student. 

How it reminded him of someone he once knew. How that person reacted the same way whenever he got hurt. Someone who he couldn’t quite remember how he looked nor how he sounded, but Jason just knew was a kind person. 

A person who he was taken away from…

With no other option left, but to check on the girl, Jason had made his way to try and apologize to the girl, but found himself walking into…whatever this was…

He knew better than to actually go inside the medical bay, so he stood by the entrance.

“Please Master Fu, you can’t leave me here! You can’t! There’s still things you have to teach me!”

“Marinette,” Jason heard him take a deep breath. “There’s nothing left for me to teach you.”

“No,” she quietly said, “no, there has to be- there has to be something left. Something, anything!”

“Marinette, you’ve already learned everything there is to the grimoire, about the Miraculi themselves, about the Guardian language, martial arts…I have nothing left-”

“No!” Marinette yelled, feeling her throat starting to close up. “No!”

“I’m sorry.” Fu said, attempting to get up from his seat beside her cot.

“Don’t say that Master Fu!” She pleaded, gripping onto him for dear life. “Please, dont-”

“Sisylarap.” Marinette felt as her body went numb, her hand slipping from Fu’s shawl as he stepped away from her, watching as he glanced at her with unclouded eyes, his already small back turning smaller and the lump in her throat growing larger. “Take care, qiān jīn (thousand gold, darling daughter).”

That was what finally set her loose.

“Yé yé (Grandfather)!” She screamed. “Yé yé! Don’t go! Yé yé!”

Jason bit down hard on his tongue to try and stop the tears threatening to fall, to prevent himself from letting out the scream whirling in his chest as he continued to hear Marinette scream after her teacher, after the person whom she saw as a grandfather, hell, maybe even a father.

“Jason.” Wang Fu spoke up, causing Jason to jump, Fu giving him a small smile upon seeing the unshed tears in his eyes. “Please, take care of Marinette.”

Jason couldn’t say a word in response as Fu placed a carefully wrapped red box in his hands, looking at Jason with tears trailing down his face. “Promise me you will look after her, okay?”

“How do you I would-”

“While I know you grew up in this place, there’s still something in your heart that still makes you more human than them.” Fu told him as he pointed a finger at Jason’s chest, more specifically his heart. “Make sure they never take that away from you.”

With that, Jason watched as the old man bowed and left, never to be seen again.

He looked down at the box, a box no bigger than the palm of his hand with a tag that read 

For my beloved pupil, congratulations on finishing your training.

I’ll always cherish the time we spent together, qiān jīn.

NEXT

[sortofanobsession]

To Cry for the Moon Part 7 (Moon Knight x Female Eternal!Reader)

Author's Note: The next couple chapters will be mainly the Eternals with mentions to Moon Knight. So if you are here for the guys, please hang in there, they will be back. I am not a mythology expert, and things get changed for these stories obviously. I'm trying my best. Also I'll try to update every day or two. I can't guarantee they will be everyday. So if you want to be tagged let me know, replies are the easiest but any way works. Minor DNI

The story idea by @jupitersmoon167 (the original post I saw is here!) Also realized I should probably add content warnings, so I did and tagged them. If you think I missed a warning please send me an ask. I try to tw tag even the tiniest thing so no one has to suffer if I can help it.

Y/N = Your Name. Y/N/N = Your Nickname. Reader pronouns She/Her. Story is 3rd person POV. Italics are the reflected alter talking.

Tag Requests are Open just message me.

Tagged: @rosaren2498, @yuugenmomo, @faefanatic, @urlocallsimp, @assassinsasha23, @queenariesofnarnia, @rmoonstoner, @crypticruler

Primary Pairing: Steven Grant x Eternal!Reader, Marc Spector x Eternal!Reader, Khonshu x Ma'at!Reader (It’ll make sense eventually)

Content Warning: Death, fear, depression

Word Count: 1k+

WIP Series Masterlist

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10

Part 7: The World Keeps Turning

Y/N didn't really listen or help Sersi explain to Dane that they have powers because they are Eternals from the planet Olympia and have been on Earth for over 7,000 years, fighting Deviants. Until 5 centuries ago. He learned more about Sersi and Ikaris but the main thing was that Dane accepted her explanation and reasoning far better than Marc had. Y/N didn't miss the sad look they both gave her. 

"He'll come around, probably just the shock of it all," Dane tells her.

"You handled it alright, and you don't have a centuries-old Egyptian god in your brain. Moon Knight does. They even know about some of my powers. I told them when they told me about their personalities, though they conveniently left out Khonshu. It was Truth for Truth. The full story wasn't my story to tell. Doing so might have raised questions about Sersi and Sprite. That wouldn't be fair to them or you, but I guess that doesn't matter." She sighs. "I'm glad you don't hate us. I hate to do this but can I ask you a favor? Can you watch Noob and maybe feed Bas until we get back? I would ask Steven, but even if he would talk to me, I don't think Marc would let him."

"Of course," he nods.

"Thanks, Dane, I owe you one."

"You guys saved my life and a lot of other people, the least I can do is pet sit."

"Least you can do is nothing, but I appreciate it. I know you'll be kind to them. Sorry, I can't make you a giraffe either, but I can say if you ever need anything." She takes the feather keychain off her keys and holds it in her hands, imbuing it with a tiny fraction of her powers before handing it to him. "If something really bad happens. Hold it to your heart and I will hear it. We may not have cell signal, but as long as I’m on this planet it’ll work. It works for Osiris and he’s in the underworld, it should work for you."

"Osiris? Like the Egyptian god of the Dead? He has a direct line to you? Does your family?" 

"Osiris does, my family doesn't. Sadly, I cannot feel the Eternals like I can humans. I think Arishem thinks that would be a distraction. But humans, like you, I can hear. And you, you have a good heart Dane, that's why we know we can trust you with all of this. I don't even need my scales to know your heart balances. Sersi wouldn't be with you if it didn't. Take care of yourself." 

She moves to join Sprite while Sersi says her own goodbye.

Y/N was physically sore and absolutely exhausted on the flight to the States. The only thing giving her comfort was being surrounded by so many human hearts. She reached out just a bit with her powers to feel them. She focuses on one of a child, a young girl, that seems to be enjoying a show on a tablet. An innocent and pure heart full of joy. It reminds her that humans were worth fighting for. That little girl had so much life ahead of her. As upset and sad as Y/N might be, knowing innocence and good still existed even after so many years without the Eternals' assistance was comforting. It was a constant that she could always rely on.

"You okay?" Sersi asks, drawing her attention back. 

Y/N nods. "I'm fine."

"You should try and sleep," Sersi tells her. "You fought harder than most of us and took most of the hits."

"I'm not that fragile," Y/N assures her.

"No, but we have no idea when we might get the chance to again. Might as well embrace it while we can."

"Point taken," Y/N admits and as she usually does, she takes Sersi's advice.

As they left the airport and headed to their rental car, she pulled out her phone and calls Steven. He doesn't answer. She leaves a voicemail.

“Hey, just landed in the States. We’re headed to Ajak’s place, I’ll call you when we get to her house.”

When Ajak fails to greet them, something instantly feels off. Y/N reaches out but feels nothing. No humans for miles and no apparent threats. What they do find shakes them all. Ajak is dead. Her body was cold, drained of power. Y/N couldn't breathe for a moment. It is too much. They've never lost anyone before. Ajak always healed them. She kept them alive even through the most brutal of battles. Ajak was gone. Their leader was gone. They were on their own. Y/N could feel her hands start to shake. The ache in her knee returned. They were on their own against Deviants stronger than ever and they lost their healer. Ajak had kept them alive and safe for millennia. Now, what were they supposed to do?

Ikaris admits to being the last one to see her. To say that Ajak sent him to London to check on them. But the Deviant must have gotten her before he actually made it to London because as Sprite points out the Deviant healed like Ajak. They now had an enemy that could take their powers. None of them were safe in a fight if that was true. They are all shocked when Sersi tells them the sphere Ajak used to speak with Arishem went to her. That she spoke to Arishem. Ajak chose Sersi to replace her. Not Ikaris, which was surprising. He had always been more of a leader than most of them. He was devoted to the mission Arishem gave them.

Y/N put a hand on Ajak's cold chest. 

"May we meet again in the next life," Y/N says, hoping that no matter what afterlife awaited Eternals they would hopefully be together someday. 

They agreed to gather the rest of the team starting with Kingo.

Ancient Egypt, the beginning of the age of gods.

Y/N places a set of scales before the Ennead in the Chamber of the Gods. 

"Phastos says these scales will allow you to better judge a person's heart, even when I am not here. We formed them using my powers." She takes the large feather that the people had given her long ago because of her wings that she often included in her outfit out of appreciation and holds it tight between her hands, calling on the majority of her power and channeling it into the feather. It made her lightheaded as her hands and the feather began to glow. She wills a fraction of her own heart and powers into it. When she pulls her powers back the feather continues to have a sort of ethereal glow. "This feather," she holds it out to the small cluster of gods before her. "The feather of truth," she deems it. "I've put everything I know, everything I use to aid in judgment, into this feather. Weigh a person's heart against this feather and you will know their true nature, their heart. If it balances, they have a good heart, they deserve to see paradise."

"And they shall see the field of reeds," Osiris assures her.

"And if they don't balance?" Horus asks.

"If the feather rises, and the heart stays weighted down, they have failed. Their heart has shown their true nature, that their heart is filled with malice and should be justly condemned. If the scales move back and forth that means there is conflict in the person's heart. They are not inherently good or bad. They should be given a chance to process this, to look deep within themselves and if they can balance then they have made peace with their conflict. If they can't, they shall face proper justice."

"Justice shall be swift," Osiris adds. 

"You can judge both living and the dead to ensure justice and truth remain standard as time goes on and the kingdom grows. As long as I live, the feather of truth will hold the standards I have deemed fair and just. It is part of me. You have my judgment as long as the smallest spark of my power remains. We are bound, we are one." 

Modern Egyptian Underworld

"They've never done this before." Anubis, Taweret, and Osiris watch the scales shift without anything being weighed against the feather. 

"Keep watch," Osiris commands them. "We will see what Ma'at has to say."

South Dakota, USA

Y/N tries again to call Steven and Marc. 

“Hey, um, so we got to Ajak’s. She…got attacked by a deviant and is…Anyway, we’re flying back out again, probably going to find Kingo. Let me know if you get this, we’re in the middle of nowhere in South Dakota, so I wouldn’t be surprised if I’m not getting any service.”

As she puts her phone away. She is shocked to see the path to the temple open before her. 

"Sprite!" She calls the younger Eternal.

"Is that what I think it is?" Sprite says as she eyes the long open tunnel. "Tell Sersi I will meet you in Mumbai." Sprite nods.

Modern Egypt: Temple of the Gods

"Osiris," Y/N greets the glowing eyes of the avatar before her. 

"Ma'at," he greets her. "I am sure you are curious why I summoned you."

She sighs, "I have an idea about that and I will share what I know, you only ever have to ask."

"Your scales shifted while not in use. The others are concerned."

"I…I have concerning news for you, Osiris. The deviants have returned, they are stronger, faster and I'm afraid I can no longer guarantee that we, that I, will survive."

"What do you mean?" He asks. "How have you come to this conclusion?"

"One attacked us in London. Ikaris, Sersi, Sprite, and I were unable to kill it. Ikaris and I could only drive it back. The concerning thing is that it healed itself, Osiris. We went to consult Ajak and she was dead. The monster had stolen her powers and in doing so became stronger and harder to fight. In 7,000 years no Eternal has died. I'm afraid the shock may have momentarily shifted and shaken my beliefs. But the scales should be steady now. We are going to gather the rest of the Eternals and return to our mission, losing our healer will not deter us. We shall do our best to remove this threat to humanity. My only request is that should anything happen and my feather fade. Please tell Khonshu that I have failed. He will know why."

"That can be done. We will be observing," Osiris tells her. "Call upon us if you have a need. Isis would be devastated if we lost you, little feather. Your heart beats here. It shall remain protected." 

Mumbai, India

Y/N steps out into the busy streets of the city. She reaches out to feel the hearts around her. Now she had to wait for the rest of the team to get there. She takes out her phone and calls Steven.

"Osiris called me to the temple, my powers wavered after finding Ajak. I filled him in on what was happening. With Ajak gone we…Osiris will let Khonshu know if anything truly bad happens, he told me he would. I'm in India now. I got here before the others because of the temple path. I'll let you know more soon. I really do miss you both."

Before putting her phone away she sent a text to Sersi letting her know that she was in India.

[grumpygreenwitch]

Fanfiction 1-2-3

I wrote some more.

I have a guilty pleasure read (one of so, so many). In this case it's Nalini Singh's Guild Hunter books. I recommend them if you like urban fantasy heteroromance with a touch of smut. They are fun, they are quick, and within the constraints of working for one of the big publishers, she tells a fantastic story. They've got the usual problems of heteroromance, but I don't read them expecting to solve the problems of the world. They pass a night well enough, and that's all I ask.

This is fanfiction for that world because there's always been one glaring problem with the world she created, and it's always jarred me, violently, every time it comes up in the books. There's a little under 30 chapters, it's already finished, and it will be going up here, on Pillowfort, Ko-fi and Ao3. Ao3 might actually get it faster than everyone else. Pillowfort will get it slower, simply because they don't have a queue and me remembering to post things is always dicey. Updates should come once a week.

Well, here we go, I guess. Please remember that reblogs give me life. The main tag is #Alyss and Jean.

Buy me a Ko-fi?

1-2-3 + 4-5 + 6-7-8-9-10 + 11-12 + 13-14 + 15-16 + 17-18-19 + 20-21 + 22-23 + 24-25 + 26-27

1

Alyss had never meant to be anyone important.

Angels, he understood, were the top creatures of the world. They were born to that privilege, they lived in that privilege. It never left their lives. No matter how low an angel might fall, and some did fall very low, they were still apex predators, apex lifeforms. A very, very old vampire might best a very young angel, but why would they risk the terrible destruction that would fall upon them if they did?

But there was wiggle room in that definition, in what was expected of an angel. And for most of his relatively short life Alyss had been of a very firm mind: he was going to be an accountant. This was not the sort of thing he told anyone. Humans were accountants. Vampires were accountants. Angels had other people do their accounting for them. And in truth, he'd learned many other skills throughout his few centuries: he was an excellent illuminator, a passable translator of multiple languages. If it had to do with books, he was good at it. If it had to do with numbers he was even better. But he didn't want to be an illuminator. He didn't want to be an archivist, or a librarian, or a historian.

He wanted. to be. an accountant.

On his second century, after the last of his teachers had given up on him in some specific fields, he'd left the Refuge and finally been allowed to openly do what he'd wanted to do all along. He'd found work in many angelic households and businesses; none that wanted him there permanently, but that was fun in its own way. He got to see so many new places, mingle with so many different people, meet so many of his kind, see how they lived, how they ruled.

Within a few years he was horrified.

Alyss understood, in theory, the process by which vampires were Made and trained. He'd never personally met any; in the Refuge they were distant satellites orbiting around the angels, or Archangels, they served. Until he'd left the Refuge the reality of vampires had been little but writing on a book: the meticulous scheduling needed to remove the build-up of toxins in an angel's body, the complex rules and regulations by which those humans who wished to undergo the vampiric awakening were measured. Hundreds of thousands applied every year. Most were turned away, found wanting or incompatible, though they were never told of the later. In exchange for the many gifts that came with becoming a vampire, they agreed to a hundred years of service to the angel whose choice gave them the chance to be Made. That century was meant to turn a feral creature into a self-willed predator, ruthlessly in control of their new instincts. It was a time for their angel to teach them what they were, who they'd become. To guide them and yes, if need be, to make them fear the ultimate authority of those who had created them, and could destroy them if they did not learn.

Alyss had seen no such teaching. He'd seen torture, lots of that. He'd seen cruelty beyond anything he'd ever imagined, for no reason other than an angel's entertainment. He'd seen the most stalwart hearts shattered, the strongest wills broken. He'd seen new vampires refused the kindness of going through their initial awakening in a medically induced coma, simply because their angel wanted to see them writhe. In Isabel's court he'd seen the angel wake a vampire from such a coma just because she wanted to hear them wail in incomprehending terror while she entertained some close friends for dinner. And that was just for starters; one hundred years was a long time to find out what harm you could do to a person to while the hours away.

It wasn't entirely unfounded, Alyss understood that. After the Cascade, when both the number of angels and archangels had beeen catastrophically low, the vampiric population had risen on a tide of mindless bloodlust. The Guild existed to hunt vampires who ran away from their contract for a good reason: too many vampires, well, ran away from their contract. And in theory the VPA was supposed to advocate for vampires, particularly those most vulnerable.

But after what he'd witnessed Alyss had begun to wonder if some of those vampires didn't run away for a good reason. He saw so much of the bad over the next century that the good seemed distant, faint, and eventually unlikely. It became shocking to him whenever he found an angelic home where the trainees were treated well.

In one of those houses he met Jean. And things kind of spiraled from there.

2

Alyss flew through the early morning light, deeply enjoying the chilly breeze coming from the sea, the sight of New England beneath him a vast landscape cloaked in every color of autumn imaginable. If he'd not been en route to a meet-n-greet he would have gone down just for the guilty pleasure of walking among the trees and kicking up clouds of gold, red and orange leaves.

But he was due at Kliman's house within the hour, and while the breeze was lovely it was also a headwind. He put his head down and pressed himself to further speed. Better to arrive on time and a little breathless than late.

The aerial picture he'd been sent of the estate didn't do it justice. Kliman oversaw New England from Maine but she was a reclusive, elderly angel; her agents did most of the legwork while she remained hidden away in a hundred acres of marsh and woodlands. The house was beautiful, a jewel nestled among wild-seeming gardens. There was a pond shaped like a crescent moon on one side of the manor, gleaming in the sunlight like silver. The autumn-touched woods went on forever, and a vast marshland glittered off to one side.

There was a helipad tucked away on the far side of the property, and a man waiting for him on it. Alyss landed as gracefully as he could while carrying his office in his frontpack, breathing hard. He’d tried traveling backpacks like those of most angels, but his wings were positioned in such a way that most laptop bags just weren’t comfortable.

"Morning wind caught you, did it," the man drawled, his Maine accent dulled not a bit by the many years he'd lived and served his angel.

"Height usually helps," Alyss admitted, wheezing. "Didn't this time."

The man laughed. He was of a height with the angel, which made him short; Alyss didn't quite reach the halfway mark to his sixth foot, though his oversized wings gave him the illusion of height. Kliman's Second was powerfully built, dark brown hair freely peppered with silver; he’d been made late in life. He was wearing comfortable, elegant clothing and two short knives on matching sheaths at his hips, the handles old and worn. His hand, when he offered it, was warm and heavily calloused. "Glad you could make it. I'm Gevaun, the lady's Second."

"Oh." Alyss faltered, as ever he did when he found a vampire that seemed content with their lot in life. Gevaun didn't just look well-adjusted but outright happy, and for a moment the angel didn't know what to do with that. Belatedly he scrabbled to take off a glove and meet the hand with his own. "Sorry. I'm still waiting for the day I won't feel the cold. A pleasure to meet you, Gevaun."

"I'll let the staff know to keep the place warm for you." Amazed, Alyss realized the vampire was teasing him. "Bring all the extra blankets out."

"What a sight I'll make, bundled up with only my eyes peeking out," he replied automatically, and felt an unexpected surge of gladness when Gevaun chuckled in response. The vampire gestured them on and they meandered towards the manor home by way of a winding stone path. "May I ask you why I'm here or should I wait until I'm speaking to Kliman?"

The vampire seemed to think on that far longer than the simple question merited. "You know she's old," he said at last.

"Very. But with the Cascade, it's said there's just no one to replace her if she goes into Sleep."

"Oh, there's plenty. There's none she trusts is the thing," Gevaun replied. "She's done a good thing here. Raphael's never had a reason to worry about New England because she knows the difference between a velvet glove and an iron fist. The others..." The vampire grimaced.

"That's not something an accountant can fix," Alyss pointed out primly.

Gevaun grinned at him. "No. But a good accountant can sniff out which of them's already cheating. She wants to clean house before she even considers looking for a replacement."

"Do you think they're cheating her?"

"Oh, absolutely. Well, barring Evie. But, you know, I'm her Second. I'm expected to be suspicious of everyone, even if I'm the only one."

"You've not met many accountants, have you."

Gevaun was still laughing at that when they reached the house. Alyss was surprised to be led to a bedroom, spacious and colorful, where a vast balcony had been seamlessly added to the wood and stone of the house's architecture; this was a room meant for an angel. He opened a door to an exceptionally modern bathroom, equally set up to accommodate someone with wings. Another door led to a walk-in closet empty except for boxes labeled "Books", "Kitchen", "Clothes" and the like. The last door led to an empty office where he dropped off his bag.

A maid, human, came to get him, peeking in not-so-discreet awe at him. That, at least, was behavior familiar to Alyss; he wasn't much of an angel to his own people, but to humans he was still one of those apex creatures. He was even passingly nice to look at, he often thought, though he knew most of it was his wings: they were amber-colored, some unknown quality of the feathers making them gleam in the right light, the rich hazel going to darkest honey at the tips.

Otherwise Alyss had always thought himself unremarkable. Short. Skinny. Rather than his mother's auburn hair he'd ended up with his father's fine brown curls, and rather than his striking green eyes he'd got his mother's brown gaze. At least he'd not inherited Maura's abundance of freckles. Or Elian's nose.

Compared to himself Kliman was exquisite, and he found himself tongue-tied the moment he saw her. The angel of New England was a porcelain figurine with flawless, pale skin and a long, rich golden braid at her back, between wings where every feather was tipped in various shades of violet and indigo, her eyes of matching hues. She wore clothing as comfortable as her Second's, dark gray slacks and a knit sweater fitted to her wings.

"Ah, the accountant." She beamed at Alyss and offered her hands, and when he would have instinctively bowed over them she instead pulled him into an unexpectedly strong hug. "None of that! Kissing knuckles, really now. This isn't the Dark Ages again, and thank goodness for that." She pulled away and stared at him. "Goodness, you're so young." She sounded a little crestfallen.

Alyss couldn't blame her. Time swam and lingered in the other angel's gaze, and for a moment he felt crushed under the burden she carried. "I assure you, ma'am, I got all my wild-oating out on my second century," he managed, breathless under what little he'd glimpsed of her age.

She burst out laughing in surprise. "Did you?"

"Terrible, I was. There's books still shelved in the wrong place at the Refuge's library. Truly I don't know a worse criminal."

Kliman laughed even more.

They sat and had hot cocoa and warm croissants, and Kliman told him much the same thing Gevaun had said. "I'm old, Alyss. I'm tired. This Cascade has left me hollow. So many dead, such terrible scars on the world. The healing will take decades, centuries. I’ve done my duty by my Archangel, but I’m tired. I don't have the strength for it anymore, I just don't." Gevaun, standing behind her, put a hand on her shoulder and she covered it with one of hers, smiling a little at her Second before facing Alyss again. "I want to Sleep. But after everything that was lost, after everything we fought for, I will not leave my people, my land, my charges, to someone less than worthy. I will see them cared for as I would care for them."

"I'm not the sort to ferret out plots or villains, ma'am," Alyss pointed out nervously. That simple gesture, that moment of unthinking, trusting intimacy between angel and vampire had got him so distracted he'd nearly forgotten what he was there for or what the older angel had just said.

"I know. But you are the sort to hunt down numbers to the last decimal. You can tell me if they're already taking advantage of their position. You can tell me how badly they're abusing the power I've given them. That's all I ask." Her smile turned so sharp that it made Alyss slick his wings back instinctively. "I'll take it from there."

3

Alyss began with Rhode Island. It was small, it was uncomplicated, and Gevaun already had a list of Andrew's pecadillos. "He's a vampire, he was never in the running, and he knew it from the beginning," Kliman's Second told Alyss. "We put him there because it was safe, in every way that matters. If you find anything beyond what we have I'll just go down there, put the fear of God back into him and see that he cuts it down to more reasonable levels." Alyss frowned and Gevaun grinned. "What were you expecting, Alyss?"

"That you'd kill him," the young angel admitted readily.

"Jesus! He's not bad, he's just lazy. Rhode Island's just about what he can handle."

"Yes, but he's cheating you. He's cheating Kliman. You already know this." At a loss for words, Alyss shrugged. "It's what anyone else would do. A few angels would make it linger but the end result's the same."

Gevaun stared at him a long time. "You've been to... a lot of angel homes, haven't you?"

"I've been to enough," the accountant admitted tightly as he set up his laptop. "Enough to know this place is the exception, not the rule."

"Raphael is not unfair. Ruthless, stern, but not unfair. He doesn't like his angels to be unfair either."

"That doesn't seem to stop them."

"Vampires are dangerous, Alyss. I'm one and I can tell you that. I don't trust half my breed half the time, and the other half I'd split fifty-fifty still. We're predators, and blood sings a helluva song. Bloodlust is a very real threat."

"Vampires are predators, yes. I know that. I've seen a great deal of them, I've met a great deal of them, in passing." Alyss put down his tablet a little more forcefully than he'd intended and turned to look at Gevaun. "But humans learned to gentle horses to saddle rather than break them. They learned not to uses whips or fire or hooks on animals for entertainment. You'd think we angels could do better than them with a sentient creature. Except we don't." He drew and let out a deep breath, and realized he was an inch away from blowing up at his employer's Second. He went so profoundly red he felt it like radiant heat, and flailed with his equipment. "Rhode Island first then, got it. On it. Right away."

Gevaun's brows, unseen, went up minutely. So, there was steel to the little goldfinch. Interesting. "Leave you to it," he drawled and walked away, closing the door to the little office soundlessly.

Alyss waited until he was sure he was alone to collapse on his keyboard with a pathetic sound. Ah, yes, just the sort of first impression that got him recommended to others. Well, nothing to it now, he'd just have to let his work impress instead.

If not because Kliman insisted that he take dinner with the household, Alyss would have lost all track of time buried in his work. Ever since he’d been little, when he’d first realized that what went on in his head did not have a spoken form, he’d realized he would have to be his own translator for the rest of his life. Numbers ruled his mind, his dreams, shaped and defined his world. When he was at work numbers danced in his mind's eye, falling into serried, organized rows and columns, order that he brought about. It was a very small sliver of the world, but one he controlled, one he knew, one that did exactly what he told it to do. It was hard to peel himself away and accept that he belonged to a very different reality, but for the angel of New England he did, every night, even as he spend his days working.

The first thing he noticed was that Gevaun was keeping a very good watch on Andrew.

The second was that Kliman's own accounts were not what they should be.

After confirming a fourth time, he threw himself out of the office and onto the balcony, gliding down to one of the paths likely to take him into the woods. He needed air, he needed space, he needed his thoughts to stop harassing him. He hadn't been brought in to audit his boss, for the love of prime numbers! Well, technically he had been, but!

The woods welcomed him with whispering breezes and unexpected torrents of leaves, and Alyss' mood changed almost immediately. He spread his wings and shook them, laughing a little when he realized he couldn't fully dislodge the leaves caught in his feathers. He dragged his shoes through piles of gold and brown, red and orange, gleeful as a child. He found a few wild rose-hips and left a tiny offering of blood on the rose thorns when he picked them and ate them, sweet and tart like little pieces of sunlight made solid.

The thwack of the ax splitting wood nearly made him jump out of his skin. He froze, eyes wide, sucking on his bloody fingertips. When the sound came again he flinched, but it was also reassuring proof that he wasn't hearing things. The third time he straightened up and began to earnestly follow the sound deeper into the woods.

The sound was coming from a clearing where a falling tree had dragged two more of its brethren down with it. It had happened long enough ago that all three trees were dry and dead, prime pickings for firewood. Kliman's manor ran on solar power, but it did have a number of fireplaces that were probably very cozy when they were going. The trees had been cleared of branches, which had been cut into kindling and neatly bundled up on the bed of a small wagon attached to a muddy ATV. The logs had been split into sections at some point, the chips from the chainsaw's work littering the ground beneath them.

There was a man splitting those sections with an ax, and Alyss immediately felt as if he were intruding into someone's privacy.

The man was nothing but muscle. He'd stripped off his jacket and shirt, which were hung on the side slates of the wagon. He was tall, swarthy, what Alyss' mother would have called 'sun-kissed' with an appreciative purr. The thought only served to make Alyss flush, flustered. His hair was short and wavy and very, very dark, and his shoulders were exactly the sort one would expect of someone splitting wood as if it were butter under a hot knife.

Alyss suddenly choked; what he'd thought to be dappled light falling on the man's skin wasn't. It was moving when he moved. It was scar tissue. The lumberjack's back and arms were covered in it, thin lines spread out with sickening regularity and creating a very precise grid all over him.

The man whipped around at the tiny sound, the ax held up like a weapon. Alyss scrabbled back and away, arms coming up to appease. Before he could say anything one of his wings slammed into the tree behind it, and the other ran right into a mass of brambles. "Wait, no, I don't mean -" The rest of whatever excuse he'd been about to offer went out of him in a startled cry of pain.

"Don't move!" The stranger barked, tossing aside the ax and putting his gloved hands out as if to calm a frightened animal. "Don't move, don't move your wings."

Alyss was finding some small measure of reassurance in the ax not being brandished at him, but it was about the only part of the current situation that wasn't worth some panic. "Oh, it hurts!"

"You're caught in a greenbrier. Don't move." The man repeated, his tone low and slow. He had an accent Alyss couldn't place. His face was carved stone, his features stark, lean and austere; there were very dark shadows under his bright green eyes, and he looked starved but calm. He put his hands up. "I'll get you loose but I need my knife."

The silence grew between them. "Alright?" Alyss said uncertainly, not sure why he'd have to be informed of such an obvious thing.

The stranger gave him an unreadable look. He stepped back to the wagon, chucking off one of his heavy gloves, and grabbed a plain leather sheath from one of the jacket's pockets. Slowly, carefully, he approached Alyss and then moved around him, to the tangled-up wing. "You can fold the other one," he said.

His voice was low, the accent giving it a pleasant sort of music that under better circumstances Alyss would have appreciated as much as the man’s looks. "I'm afraid they get on the buddy system when I'm stressed," he admitted. From up close the scars were even more obvious in their methodical, almost mechanical pattern. The man was sweat-sheened, he smelled of his work, of wood and forest... and of the faint, alluring scent of a particular predator.

A vampire.

"Fair."

Alyss saw him gingerly grab something, felt the tug of it against his feathers, and stiffened in anticipation of pain. It didn't come. "What is it? What did you call it?"

"Greenbrier. Tangly sort of vine." The pressure eased in part of Alyss' wing, and the vampire showed him the culprit, a thin green vine covered in spines nothing really ought to need for anything but a nefarious purpose.

"I don't think I needed to see that," Alyss admitted breathlessly, his whole body tightening up again. "But it's good to know what to avoid in the future, I guess."

"If you're in the habit of not staying to the path, that might be wise," the vampire said mildly as he carefully, so carefully, cut the greenbrier off in bits and pieces. Of all the things he'd expected, to find an angel in the middle of the woods hadn't been part of the schedule. He'd planned to spend the day alone, working on the firewood. The silence and the solitude were balm he sorely needed. Instead he was cutting greenbriers off of one of the most delicate-looking angels he'd ever seen, and that included Kliman. The thorns of the greenbrier had ruffled some of the amber-colored feathers, had twisted a few, and the sight wounded him. It had to hurt, but the angel was doing as he'd been told, holding perfectly still, even if by angelic standards the vampire was practically groping him. "You're the accountant."

"Yes. I'm Alyss."

"Hn." The vampire threw aside a massive loop of the spiny vine. "Jean."

"John?"

"Jean," he corrected, grunting when the greenbrier, unsurprisingly, punched right through his glove. He got a better grip and cut another section off the wing.

"Oh, Jean." The angel huffed shakily. "Well, I'm glad to meet you."

"Are you," Jean paused to stare dubiously at him.

"Yes. Very glad actually. Otherwise I'd be stuck here with no one to help me."

"If I wasn't here you wouldn't have had a reason to come looking. Why'd you come, anyway?"

"I heard the ax, I couldn't tell what was going on."

"You've never heard someone chopping wood?"

"Not for a century or so."

"Fair," the vampire admitted after a moment. "Alright, move. Slow. I can't tell if I got it all from this angle."

"So... get behind me?" Alyss suggested blankly.

Jean had to pause and digest that suggestion, so innocently, so trustingly put out there for him. "Would, but there's a tree in the way. It's gonna win whatever fight I start." Alyss made a nervous sound and the vampire leaned back. "Hey. Look at me." When those sweet brown eyes met his gaze he spoke as calmly as he could. "You're alright. Just move slow. If something tightens up, stop."

Alyss closed his eyes, drew in a deep breath, and let it out very, very slowly. He tried to fold his wings -

"Stop." Next to him, Jean dropped to his knees and slipped beneath the wings. Some more greenbrier began to fly off in pieces.

"Thank you for being careful,” Alyss murmured, even though a flush of embarrassment was slowly but surely creeping over his face. “I am not a libertine, I'd like to point out," the accountant said primly, wrapping his arms around himself.

The comment was so outlandish, so out of nowhere, and such a complete betrayal of the angel's current state of mind as well as his efforts to ease it, that Jean barked out a laugh before he realized what he'd done. He had to stop and pull away, leaning back on his knees to look up at that fine-boned face. He could feel the ghost of a grin trying to break free. "Too much action for you?" Jean watched crimson spread over the fair skin, and the angel could only offer a high-pitched, wordless sound in response, covering his face with one hand. "I won't tell, I promise."

"I'm not a virgin, either!" Alyss declared staunchly from behind his hand. Somehow it seemed very important that he declare that, and yet as soon as the words were out he couldn't believe he'd said them.

"Duly noted," was all the vampire said in response. "Alright, try now. Slow." When Alyss managed to pull both wings tight to his back, Jean further instructed, "Lift your wings up. Alright, now step forward, three steps. Ought to put you clear of the greenbriers." When the angel obeyed and was finally both safe and free, Jean rolled smoothly to his feet and moved to the wagon to clean his knife.

"Oh, it itches, it itches, it all itches. Thank you, Jean, but it itches. Please, excuse me."

"Excuse wh-" Before he could finish, Alyss had sprung up. The vampire jerked away and crouched down instinctively; such a take-off was usually a maneuver only seasoned angelic warriors learned or mastered. But Alyss, Jean realized, had an unexpected advantage: his wings were big for his size, larger than those of most angels the vampire had ever seen. He leapt and cupped them and they caught the breeze, effectively parachuting him up and away. Just like that, the accountant was gone. "Anytime," Jean told the empty clearing, and went back to chopping wood.

[one-way-dream]

A Lack of Essence (One-Shot)

Rating: General

Words: 3100+

Media: Danganronpa, Danganronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc

Pairing: Aoi Asahina/Sakura Ogami, Minor Hajime Hinata/Nagito Komaeda (Mentioned)

Tags: Post-canon, Hurt/Comfort, Depression, Pining, Feelings Realization

Warnings: Descriptions of an anxiety attack.

Chapter: 1/1

Link to the original work

AO3 Summary/Excerpt:

Undoubtedly, it’s one of the best, no— maybe the best she’s ever had in her life. It’s a perfect technique, it’s a perfect balance, it’s… it’s…

…But it’s not the same.

--

Aoi tries to make donuts like the ones she made in the past, but she feels like there's something missing.

Author's Notes:

i love sakuraoi and i've never written them before so here's a little brain dump before i forget that i ever wrote it and it rots in my computer forever fdjshfksdfsdf asahina aoi my oomfie ❤ as always, this is not beta-read

thank you for reading and i hope you enjoy!

Aoi doesn’t like the taste of the doughnuts being made nowadays.

Sure, the ingredients were much fresher, – at least compared to whatever Junko had arranged for them during their days trapped in the school – but something about the taste was… inadequate.

Whatever it was, it frustrated Aoi to no end.

With every passing year it felt like something was slipping away. That ‘something’ twisted deep in her chest, gnawing away and taking parts and pieces of her until she gave in to tears. Until she felt hollowed out from breaking down time and time again, however far and in between it may happen.

Despite the kind words Makoto shed time and time again, she never really considered herself a strong person. Sometimes Aoi wondered what she would think of her moments of weakness, years after their escape, years after her sacrifice.

A heaviness weighed on her shoulders, bringing her back to the present, where she absentmindedly leaned over a shallow pot of oil gone lukewarm – which subsequently meant that the test batch of doughnuts she’d set to the side had definitely gone cold while she was lost in thought. She blinks, clicking her tongue in irritation as she stares down the pastries, wondering how she was careless enough to even forget setting a timer on her phone.

Well… better off a little cold than burned to a lump of coal.

Aoi takes the plate off the edge of her kitchenette counter and sets it on the breakfast bar. She pulls the curtains apart to let the evening light fill the shadows of her small but tidy studio apartment. A sleepy marmalade sun has yet to rest behind the silhouette of the rebuilt city. Somehow the light begins to fill the shadows in her mind too; not completely, but just enough to pinch her cheeks and huff out a determined breath.

“This is it,” she whispers to herself, furrowing her eyebrows in concentration. “This has to be the one.”

Nimble band-aid covered fingers dart across her phone screen before she even considers taking a bite, sending a text message to Makoto, hoping that he wouldn’t mind Aoi sending her seventh consecutive message of the day.

>[7:08 PM] Heyhey, Naegi! I’m about to try out the new recipe you got from Hanamura-san! Wish me luck. :)

A quick tap on the paperclip icon and then a few more before the image is delivered to him. She smiles down at her phone a little at the picturesque scene of her evening snack neatly plated on her favourite porcelain, the paper towel beneath it splotched with oil and stray bits of cinnamon sugar shimmering in the sunlight. Everything looked perfect.

The arrangement feels awfully nostalgic; memories overtake her of large but gentle hands working side by side with her, the other insisting that ‘food tasted better when presented with care’. It’s nostalgic to the point where familiar feelings begin to rouse in her heart at the memory – but she pushes it down. The grip on her phone gets tighter until her hand starts to tremble. 

Not yet.

Not now.

Aoi quickly sets the phone down and swallows thickly, though she finds her mouth drier than usual despite what was supposedly a perfect rendition of her favourite food lying before her. Even during the killing game, her appetite had never dwindled at the sight of doughnuts. She smiled brightly for herself as encouragement, as if practising in front of a mirror like the many times she’d done on her worst days before stepping out for work.

Why… did she feel this nervous? And why did she feel so afraid of disappointment?

Finally, she reaches out and picks up a doughnut by the edges, where the caramel-esque sugar just barely grazed her fingertips. Surprisingly it’s still a little warm, and truthfully, it's unbelievable that it’s this soft even after cooling down. 

The numb buzzing still clings to Aoi’s mind, and while it usually wouldn’t be an appetite killer, today nothing really feels right. But as soon as the sweet and spicy aroma reaches her nose, her mouth waters instinctively, eager to partake in old indulgences. With a bit of optimism, she leans forward and takes a small and hesitant bite, careful not to let her thoughts sour the experience.

Even though her mind wasn’t quite swayed by the thought of doughnuts, her tastebuds immediately gave into the familiarity. The first thing that she notices is that it’s just as soft and light as it feels, almost unbelievably so, as it melts in her mouth in an array of flavour ranging from a delicate mellow sweetness to a hint of mild spice. The taste coats her tongue without being overwhelming somehow – without a doubt, the recipe is a decadent masterpiece. Simply pure art.  

Aoi reigns herself in and manages to wolf down the last quarter of it without inhaling any topping sugar by accident. Eventually, as she chews, she comes down from the high and her mind wanders again. If she were her younger self, the one before the killing game, she could have died peacefully knowing that this was the best that she’d ever get.

Undoubtedly, it’s one of the best, no— maybe the best she’s ever had in her life. It’s a perfect technique, it’s a perfect balance, it’s… it’s…

…But it’s not the same.

Aoi’s own voice echoes the words she didn’t want to admit in the back of her head, so strongly that it makes her flinch.

It pulls her out of the delight by drowning it in the frustration she’d feared time and time again. It’s disappointment that finally settles in her mind despite everything; as sticky, heavy, and gross as the bitter kuromitsu her mother was so fond of. As she swallows down the last bit of the pastry clean from the side of her cheek, she finds that there is a flaw to it after all: there’s a stale aftertaste.

For something so seemingly perfect, even this had its flaws. It lacked something. Or maybe there was too much of something? 

But… just what was it? Aoi’s brows scrunched together as she mulled it over, wiping the grease and crumbs off her fingertips onto the clean parts of the paper towel. No distinct taste from a lack of ingredients? No, probably not, given that it called for cinnamon and the barest hint of clove and spices she’d never even heard of. Maybe there wasn’t enough sugar? Oh, but the cinnamon sugar dusting should’ve covered that base as well.

It just… wasn’t enough.

It wasn’t enough. It’d never be enough.

She just had to accept the facts – nothing she will ever make from here on out could ever be the same as the ones she and Sakura made together.

But the question was: could she live with that?

Aoi sighs deep and forlorn, leaning back against the barstool as her gaze veers out the window overlooking the growing shadow of the cityscape, eventually trailing back to the remaining three doughnuts.

Old feelings come back with a vengeance at the sight, thrashing in her chest like a small bird trapped in a cage. She clenches her knuckles white and then relents, at long last – she doesn’t want to fight the feeling anymore today. At least for today, even if she knows the cost is that it won’t end well.

She takes a deep breath and smiles, genuinely this time, wondering how Sakura would look like bathed in the light of sundown like she is now, sharing a meal together like they used to every day. She never saw her in the sunlight before - and even if she did during their school years, she wouldn't know anymore. She would never get to know.

And that’s all it takes for the seams of her composure to be suddenly torn to shreds; for that weird mixture between swelling affection that made her heart soar only to be shot down by unbearable, crushing grief. It held her at a deadlock, stasis, as sobs wracked her body. It was so unlike her, ‘sooo unlike’ the world-renowned star athlete and Ultimate Swimmer Aoi Asahina, as she’d chastise herself after a thorough cry.

Aoi had always considered herself lucky that her good days and neutral days far outweighed the bad compared to the others, but it was never like she was ever immune to despair in the first place, not even after all that her friends had done for her. Especially not after all that her friends had done for her. The guilt is a snaking hairline fracture in her favourite and otherwise perfect ceramic mug - the one that reminds her of home and of family and loved ones. 

The guilt is something she finds hard to douse; it’s a constant reminder against calloused palms and one might even say that, despite her go-getter personality, the fissure is reminiscent of her own being. It’s seemingly harmless, and it won’t shatter to pieces, but it’s there. 

Thinking hard on things was never her forte, and neither was sweating the small stuff. Even so, bitterness claws at her throat, constricts her breathing to nothing more than a desperate rhythm.

It was really unlike her.

The muted sound of a ticking wall clock is all that resounds in the living room, in between shaky breaths, in between the unsteady pulses of her heartbeat. Vaguely, she's aware of the pace of it, of how the ticking tries to punctuate all the other sounds, except–

Everything is off. Her heartrate speeds up and it's thrown off even more. it's all lost to a moment's hesitation, and suddenly she's wrenched back into the depths of a swimming pool. Her coach spits out demands; that she needs to pick up the pace. It's off rhythm. It's grating. That she's off rhythm. She's grating. It's all wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong. 

Until she catches the single beat where all three align at once. They blend together into a single startling click, folding into one like flour and sugar and yeast. Her head feels heavy, but clear for a moment; just enough to stop thinking. 

A pillow stays close to her chest as she calms down, as she buries her face just enough to muffle the sound. Just enough so that she couldn’t hear her own voice – her own weakness that she so despised. How could she not when the person she cared for was the very definition of the strength she always strove for?

The thing is, Sakura Ogami was never just physically strong.

Sure enough, the others had seen both her physical strength and her strength of character back in those days but… Aoi had seen it all. Sakura is Eden; she’s all the nurturing resilience of sanctum and all the grace of it too, right down to dew-soaked grass blades and tree roots buried in rich soil. 

Aoi had seen it with her own eyes; what it means to be in paradise. It was when she lay side by side with her, peeking a single eye open every now and then to see if the other was awake – if she was okay. She’d be met with a small smile, but her gaze always wavered, as if it was the smallest tell that she, too, might’ve been a little afraid. But instead of a confession, what she’d get in return was a promise that the first person she would turn to if she was ever in trouble would be Aoi – no one else but her. It made her heart soar, so much that she was afraid she’d never be able to sleep again from the way her pulse hammered against her chest. 

But still, she’d force her eyes shut, hoping, praying for it to be one of the nights where her run-of-the-mill luck favoured her. But eventually she realized that she never had to wish so hard to begin with, because each passing night it got easier; Sakura would stroke a gentle, warm hand down the side of her head whenever she figured Aoi was asleep anyway. She’d hum a gentle melody to her anyway, and each time, she fell a little more. Each time, she woke up a little braver and stronger, just like Sakura – like she was lending Aoi her strength. 

She wonders if Sakura ever figured her out. 

She wonders if she ever had herself figured out back then. 

But she doubts it, she’s never been the perceptive type. If she was then she would’ve known to help Sakura sooner. If she’d known then she could’ve saved her from her fate. Aoi knew well enough that ‘what-ifs’ and dwelling on the past never helped matters, but sometimes it felt easier to let it catch up, let it trip you by the ankles – even if only for a reality check. It’s her only companion within the lonely confines of her house, no matter how well she decorated, no matter how homely she made it; nothing would fill the space quite the same. 

The sound of a notification jolts her out of her thoughts, quickly picking up her phone to catch Makoto’s name in the preview. She unlocks the phone, holding her breath as she looks over the three messages.

>[7:39 PM] It looks great, Asahina-san! :) I’ll let Hanamura-kun know the next time I see him. I know you're busy but, if you get the time, maybe we could make some together for everyone?

>[7:40 PM] Sorry, I can’t talk a lot because I’m still working, but Hinata-kun came by and wanted me to pass along that he’d like all of us over for dinner this Saturday.

>[7:40 PM] Is that alright with you?

Her breath escapes through her teeth as she starts to chew on the skin of her bottom lip, clicking the phone off once more. She’d turned off ‘read’ notifications a few months ago when the pressure to respond immediately got too much; stewing in her own thoughts might not have been healthy, but neither were donuts – she could afford to cut loose a little sometimes. 

Now the trouble was those last two messages. 

Aoi loved her friends, she really did. She was always the first to celebrate them, and always the first to push them forward in the right direction if Makoto didn’t beat her to it first. But unfortunately, she was still every bit as human as she was an airheaded cheerleader.

She still distinctly remembers how she would always smile, shove down the sharp and ugly jealousy she felt when Hajime’s gold engagement band glistened under fluorescent lights before the guilt smothered her in its place.

Aoi once nodded along enthusiastically when Hajime fondly spoke of how he loved the fact that Nagito’s ring matched the silver of his eyes – and she wondered faintly, with her chin resting on her hand, whether he knew that she could relate wholeheartedly.

Nothing in the world could compare to the thought of Sakura wearing a wedding ring as silver and bright as her eyes, except maybe seeing her in a kimono that would undoubtedly look elegant on her. The feeling rocked unsteadily inside her chest, making her fond and unbearably lonely all at once.

The plate of doughnuts lay in front of her on the coffee table by the vase of fresh flowers Komaru and Touko had dropped off in the morning. And with the sun dipping into the horizon, she knew that her food would only get colder, and the room would only grow darker.

Frowning, Aoi reached into the drawer of the table, pulling out a box of matches and striking one against the strip as it flared to life. Her cherry blossom scented candles would do; they would keep her company, keep her surroundings bright, keep her warm despite how little wax was left. Something about that last part made her feel sour.

She leaned forward, tearing off a piece of a doughnut and ignoring the stickiness and grease that clings to her skin in favour of living in the moment. Maybe a little indulgence would be just fine, even if it wasn’t the same. 

So maybe Aoi wasn’t the only one to see Sakura in her moments of vulnerability.

And it's a selfish feeling, the hope she felt when Aoi caught a flash of guilt in Sakura’s eyes when she spoke of her boyfriend on the outside, when she caught her staring at her more and more with each passing morning. She wanted it to mean something.

She wanted the gradual transition from ‘my dear Asahina’ to ‘my dearest’ to mean something.

The silence in the room was heavy, but strangely enough, not in an oppressive way. 

What was stopping her from remembering her words? What was stopping her from letting Sakura’s life, her sacrifice, mean more than a push forward towards hope? 

After all, from the casual touches while they made donuts for the first time to her final heartfelt words, wasn’t it all an act of love from start to finish? 

Aoi blinks the mistiness in her eyes away, swallows thickly and leans back on the old couch, tracing the threadbare edges of it with her left hand; a well-loved part of her home that cradles her aching heart after a tiresome day. The remote rests easily in her hand, TV flickering to life with a single button, as the face of her high school swimming idol grins brightly at the camera. It's like she can feel the droplets running down her face, remembering how free she felt doing what she loved. She finally picks up her phone with a small smile, bordering on bittersweet, wondering if there was ever a missing ingredient to begin with. 

> [8:34 PM] Tell him that we're on for that group dinner date. 

Her fingers pause, hovering over the next few keys. With a sharp exhale, she settles on her words. 

> [8:35 PM] And yeah, let's finally make those doughnuts together for everyone. It'll be fun! <3 

Aoi lets out another determined huff, trying not to let her wobbly yet courageous smile fade. She’d just have to find a way to make her own secret ingredient. 

-x-

That night, Aoi dreamed.

She dreamed of doughnuts and picnics under a cherry blossom tree in full bloom and a world made for two people.

She dreamed of her beloved wearing the summer dresses Aoi always thought she’d look like a goddess in, even though she was always more than enough in her ripped sailor outfit.

She dreamed of a fond smile and husky voice humming, their bodies close enough that she could feel the rumble of her voice in her chest; large, protective, and warm hands enveloping her own, and the steady rhythm of silver bands clicking against each other as they walked hand in hand.

For once, Aoi dreams and ignores the dull ache in her chest in place of something far stronger, far more wonderful.

Love, and love alone, until the end of her days.

[theemarsrover]

I’ve been wanting to make this post for awhile but have been back and forth on it in fear that I’ll come across as a bitchy youtube comment or one of those people who are just “waiting for the death of RT/AH”.

I am neither of those.

I’ve been a part of this community, consistently, for the last 11 years. I’ve watched series, cast members, entire production teams, and offices come and go. I was here during the kickoff of the Project Freelancer arc in RvB. I started watching the same year Michael Jones was hired full time.

I know there’s a lot of opinions going around about the new editing style of YDYD and the whole ‘catering to the algorithm’ debacle. I’m not here to tell anybody what I think the right answer to this is because

1) I am not behind the scenes and I don’t have an extensive knowledge on how the algorithm works

And 2) I don’t think there is a right answer because of how often the algorithm changes

However, if Achievement Hunter is interested in feedback then I have some.

Way back in the day we had journals and forums on the Rooster Teeth website. I know a few of you remember them but for those who don’t: these journals were a way for RT to update the community about big things that were happening. Gavin and Barbara got their start in RT from being active on these forums in the company’s early days. And I stay active in this community, on this platform specifically, because it’s the closest thing to the camaraderie I felt in the old forums.

Once journals were becoming more obsolete, I transitioned into watching AHWU (and the RT Recap) weekly and got updates about what was happening in Achievement Hunter since that was the content I watched the most. AHWU gave us live action shenanigans, a tease of what videos we could expect, and other special announcements like Extra Life, live shows, new merch, livestreams, etc. etc. Then we had P.O. box openings and it really felt like those videos were a place the entire community could come together and everyone got something out of it. And, with a handful of exceptions, they were short form videos!

When life got busy for me, I knew that AHWU was the best starting off point because they told me about anything I missed, any videos that were already out, and I felt like I was still part of what was happening in the community as things were happening rather than weeks later, especially with time-sensitive announcements. AHWU was a tool I could use instead of relying on youtube’s algorithm to show me a video or having a twitter account to see announcements for a livestream.

Now with that being said, AHWU had a lot of valid reasons for ending. None of which I’m going to get into here because I don’t think bringing back AHWU as it was is the answer. What I’m highlighting here is that since the end of the series there has been a disconnect between the content/announcements that are coming out and the community not knowing they’re there or where to find them in the first place.

I listen to the Off Topic podcast where a lot of these things are announced. Sometimes it’s at the beginning of an episode, sometimes it’s not until we’re 45 minutes in. Something can be said about the fact that people aren’t watching this specifically to get AH news, people who don’t watch it probably don’t know things even get announced there, and also I don’t watch every single episode so I miss things. But I digress. This is not the only place announcements are being made. There’s announcements that happen in random twitter threads, reddit threads, instagram stories, and while that’s all well and good it’s too much to keep track of. I’ll make a post on here about a new series or a returning one and half the comments and tags are people saying they didn’t even know that series existed much less there being multiple episodes out already. Gifmakers will make a post from a video and their comments are a lot of the same.

I consider myself a fairly active member of the community, but it feels like now, if I get busy for even a week, there is so much I miss and I don’t know where to look for it because it could be anywhere or nowhere.

Like… We literally made a website to combat this issue.

I don’t know if I’m feeling this way because I’ve been a fan for so long. Am I standing on my digital lawn shaking my fist in the air at change? Maybe. But I don’t feel like I am.

Achievement Hunter is so important to me and has been for over a decade. I’m genuinely so proud of all of the things that they do, even the things they try that don’t work out. I want more people to engage in their content and be excited about what’s coming next! Unfortunately, that’s hard to do when we don’t know where to get the information in the first place.

I do not have all the answers. I only have what I can do, what I can say, and a community here that’s willing to keep the spirit alive as the seasons change.

[shesthespinstersimmer]

Tagged by the illustrious @cinamun (thanks friend!)

🎼Getting to know yooooooouu 🎶

1. What’s your favorite sims death?

I can tell this is gonna be a tough list already. Lol. I don’t have a favorite sim death as I have a very hard time with letting go of my sims.  I guess the only time I’m less affected is in THE DEEP DOWN, where victims were collateral damage. Still, I had control over that. Random Sim deaths? Traumatized.

2. Alpha CC or Maxis Match?

Absolutely both. Maxis mix all the way.

3. Do you cheat when your sims gain weight? 

This is an interesting question. Usually, no. But if the character tends to be fit by nature, and I come back and they’ve gained weight, I’ll cheat for story continuity. However, in gameplay mode, I’ll just have them work out.  If they are not into fitness, I just let it go and see where it leads. 

4. Do you use move objects?

Without a doubt

5. Favorite mod?

 Tossup between Basemental and Wicked. Because, reasons.

6. First expansion/game/stuff pack you got?

Whatever the first one was. I just got the first one when it came out. 

7. Do you pronounce “live mode” like aLIVE or LIVing?

Alive.

8.  Who’s your favorite sim that you’ve made? 

Jude Mann from WEIRD & WONDERFUL. (Secretly in love with Drucilla Bathory from THE DEEP DOWN, but I realize she’s toxic ☠️)

9. Have you made a simself?

No - I think I’d take it too personally.

10. What traits do you give yourself?

Loner, adhd, bookworm, creative, music lover

11. Which is your favorite EA hair color?

Before I started using cc, it was always the teal or the light gray swatches (the black swatch was never dark or consistent enough)

12. Favorite EA hair?

The snowy escape buzzcut - I give it to sooo many men & townies lol

13. Favorite life stage?

Young adult

14. Are you a builder or are you in it for the gameplay? 

I secretly wish I was a builder, but the process stresses me out too much.  I like to decorate when I don’t have the mental bandwidth for writing (I find it calming).  Gameplay is fine, but the curveballs, get to me sometimes. 

15. Are you a CC creator?

As I am currently struggling to recolor something right now (and gave up), I’m going to go with no. #sendhelp

16. Do you have any Simblr friends/ a sim squad?

My mutuals, NSFT discord, and the readers that keep me going 🖤

17. What’s your favorite game?

The Sims 4 is the only thing I play right now; I have the Sims 3, but only half of it on digital. So even though I loved it, I haven’t bothered  to fix it.

18. Do you have any sims merch?

No, but I wouldn’t be opposed.

19. Do you have a YouTube for sims?

No, but I kick the idea round from time to time.

20. How has your “sim style” changed throughout your years of playing?

I’ve always loved playing with fashion and fantastical looks / characters, but as my storytelling has grown, I am enjoying making more “everyday” sims. My latest obsession is middle aged and elder sims.

I started off very alpha, but the sound of my laptop weeping softly in the distance made me reevaluate.

21. What’s your Origin ID

Pleading the 5th on that one (it’s a mess)

22. Who’s your favorite CC creator?

Also pleading the 5th (Not sure who’s problematic and who’s not right now 😬)

23. How long have you had a Simblr?

At least five years, probably longer. I had another Simblr a while back and then started over when I got serious about posting my story. I had one for years and didn’t even post anything; I just read stories and looked at cc (I didn’t even use it then).

24. How do you edit your pictures? 

Gshade, Studio and Procreate

25. What expansion/game/stuff pack is your favorite so far? 

That’s a tough one. I’ve always loved city living, but if I’m being honest, I do love the world of Tartosa, even though we all know the gameplay is tragic. I’m loving growing together though.

26. What expansion/games/staff pack do you want next? 

I try not to think about it; sad that every new pack elicits such anxiety. New packs = week of playing my vanilla save, then another week of rebuilding my main save, then finally seeing if the pack is even worth it. Okay, rant over.

Whew! I feel laid bare.

Anyone else wanna share? Tag, you’re it!

[obsessedwithdavrick]

5 4 3 2 1

Thanks to @lizzie-bennetdarcy @smallumbrella369 and @tyfinn for the tag. This is a difficult one!

Rules: post the top 5 works you’re most proud of that you released in 2022 (not necessarily your most popular).

4 current WIPs that you’re excited to release in the new year.

3 biggest improvements in your writing over the past year.

2 resolutions (ways you wish to improve your writing/blog) for the new year, and your number 

1 favorite line you’ve written this year!

TOP 5 Works I am most proud of:

Death of a Socialite- This took a lot of planning to make sure it worked as a mystery, took the death seriously enough, but also gave space for their relationship to grow. I thought it worked out really well.

Reservations - the idea of making the reviews reflect what was happening in the chapter was my favourite idea that I've come up with all year. I don't think everybody that read it got it- but enough did that made me happy. I personally loved it and loved making up the food reviews.

Patrick Brewer's Day Off- Writing this achieved a couple of personal goals. One- writing in omniscient narrator. And Two- writing an AU based on another story. I was pleased with myself for coming up with parallels between the stories but also for keeping them distinct to their own thing.

Engagement Wine- I don't write slice of life or canon adjacent usually. But I love this for it's simplicity and I love Janet and Mae (The OC's in this story)

Paint on the Colours - I brought my favourite boys to my home town! What's not to love? The beach, the clubs, the drag queens! And a Sebastien heavy story (I love writing him, he's such a douche bag)

4 Current WIPs I'm excited about:

I'm trying to write an original story... so fingers crossed.

The catholic Patrick with internalised homophobia will be my fun fic (?) to write in between.

I'm writing more adventures of Mo.

And I really want to add to my cum play series. There isn't enough E happening right now.

3 Biggest improvements in my writing:

Tense. Getting it right is my proudest achievement.

Learning to write and not edit at the same time.

Pushing myself through writers block

2 Resolutions to improve my writing:

A deadline of words every day

Don't reread (unless it's for context)

1 Favorite line I've written

Oh, this is difficult. There are quite a few in The Way to go Home.

"Being brave required ongoing honesty, it seemed."

Phew- too much thinking for holiday times. But it was fun!

[aeori-o]

Happy New Year! 2/3 (Tumblr Why)

So apparently tumblr won't let me do a lot of images in one post and instead of reducing the amount of images I'll be using like a sane person I am making multiple posts. Cheers!

Part 1 || Part 3

Back to video games!

I love the steam recaps, both mine and looking at all my friends’ but I’ll just post mine here.

I don’t even remember playing Dishonored this year. I still have the weird desire to 100% it even though I only have the challenge-mode stuff left and of those I only have four left. I’m so freaking close. But I also haven’t touched the game in close to a year. Argh.

That spider-graph underestimates my ability to turn any game into a stealth game. I’m not sure what the game from this year was that’s counting as 3% I think Plate Up! was released last year and I’m doubting Destiny 2 counts even if it is an ongoing game so I assume that must be for the Touchstarved Demo. I do kind of wonder if I’ll ever have a high percentage for new releases just because it takes me forever to get to anything. Releases from the last 1-7 years was 11%, and releases from longer ago was 86% but that will be because I played a lot of short games from the 90’s and 00’s.

Just like my reading my gaming dropped off during the summer. It’s so hard to make time for things how do people do it. I find a physical hobby to do and it just consumes all of my time and energy and brain power.

There’s all the games. I didn’t count anything I spent a very small amount of time on in my personal count. Things like the HE activity packs or mini-games where I played for 5, maybe 10, minutes and stopped. Shockingly mini-games meant to entertain six year olds in the 90’s are not very compelling to a 30 year old in 2023 (though some were very graphically/artistically impressive which was more fascinating and engaging than the mini-games themselves). The actual point-and-click games all hold up surprisingly well. There’s some things that are a little aggravating like Freddi fish’s friend, Luther, makes just the worst jokes. I think so far I’ve been liking Pajama Sam and Putt-Putt the best. We’re done Spy Fox now and I think we still have a few Putt-Putt games left and one or two Freddi Fish games and Pajama Sam games.

I had the farm Buzzy game growing up (which is so strange seeing as I lived on a farm, why did my parents get me that) but not any others and the airport one is wild, genuinely very educational and it’s impressive how much stuff they crammed in there. We haven’t played any recently, though. Also all of Steam’s tags are liars, I did not first play these games in 2023, I first played all these HE games in like, 1998 or something, on an old machine I can still picture in my mind but have no way to look up. I don’t even remember what make it was.

(I asked my dad, because he used to take pictures of everything growing up, but shockingly he appears to have primarily taken photos of me and my sister doing things and not just pictures of random objects around the house. Strange. He did say it was probably a custom computer that had been built for his company so we even went through old company photos but, again, no photos of just people at their desks or their desk set-ups. Through this process I realized the computer I’m currently using is my third desktop, ever. Maybe that’s not that wild but for a device I use almost every day of my life it feels weird for it to “only” be the third one. In my lifetime there’s, so far, been 5 generations of playstations so I feel like I’m doing pretty good on the turnover rate for desktop computers. Here’s a doodle of what I think my first desktop computer looked like:

I can remember the overall shape of it but the details are foggy now. Its name was PC 11, though, because that’s what it was called at his workplace. The real kicker is I probably used to have a photo of it, but I lost all my old photos when my back-up drive gave out on me and I, foolishly, only had my photos on my back-up drive because my computer didn’t have room for them. I’m going to see if my sister, who is younger than me, somehow, magically, has any photos of this thing. Anyway back to video games.)

Donut County was an absolute delight. I think that’s the only other game on there I haven’t talked about at all and it was just a really good time. Cute story and very satisfying gameplay, I had a great time playing it.

We also revisited a series Steph and I played in or just after Highschool which was really fun to revisit with friends.

The Chzo series stands up surprisingly well. I don’t think I’d recommend them for a newcomer but for something I played forever ago (I don’t think I ever beat the series but I know I played the first two) I’m surprised at how well it held up and it was fun to re-experience with friends. There’s some very questionable plot elements and some unfortunate word choices which is why I won’t recommend them but it’s super impressive that one guy just… made these. It’s genuinely very cool and impressive.

Sony is apparently also doing a year in review or “wrap up” this year for the first time ever, I was kind of hoping it would include PS3 data somehow. It didn’t. So this is all I get:

I do really like the graphics they have on everything, too bad my poor PS4 was basically neglected so those graphics are wasted on my dismal play-stats.

They just look really nice. I do think it’s interesting that Sony’s approach to this outright feels a little more cynical and like it rolled out of the marketing department than other wrap-ups. They throw in a little “look at all these cool games you could be playing with playstation plus” and then of course…

Did you know?? You can buy a PS5?? Did you know?? Come buy one. :)

Anyway.

That’s about all I played this year, so I can move on.

To my other hobbies, of which I have about seventeen billion. As I mentioned last year: I was really into reshelling stuff until I ran out of stuff to reshell. So I did reshell one controller this year. One of my Switch procontrollers I wasn’t super happy with, so I changed it to look like the joycons I did for my step-brother and I’m much happier with it:

I also got a bunch of cute thumbgrips for all my modern Nintendo controllers. I’ve never liked add-on thumb grips much but for whatever reason I don’t find the current generation of Nintendo controllers to have comfortable analogue sticks so having cute pads is elevating my Nintendo experience both aesthetically and physically.

And then I realized people sell shells for Gameboys so decided to do the GBAs from my childhood (I don’t know how I wound up with two, and one was my sister’s):

The hinges were so hard to get back in right, different guides said to do different things and they were all wrong. Luckily I had six hinges to get there on so by the time I got to the one with the nicest screen I had it figured out but the Pikachu one has squishy unsatisfying hinges now (and the hinges are so hard to get back out I’m not going to bother fixing it). And some of the batteries were getting puffy so I replaced them (which was maybe silly since these aren’t going to be played often but oh well).

I really love the aesthetics of a clear-case on a GBA. There is just SO much crammed in there it really tickles my brain. Any motherboard looks pretty dense but these are particularly dense in a way that looks visually distinct than even something like the 3DS (picture further down) because there’s so little real estate for them to get everything in there. I know people really like clear cases in general (and I am also a fan) but it hits extra good on something like this where there is just so much to see.

I have continued repairing people’s Nintendo Switches from fans to joycon drift. I still like fixing things whenever I can (I just fixed a kettle a few days ago which I fully did not expect to be able to fix) and one of the major things that needed fixing this year was CurseBreaker, the computer I built at the end of 2020.

My poor computer. Toward the end of 2022 I wanted to try a liquid cooler (which they call an AIO) instead of the stock fan, there was literally no reason to do this except for the thrill of it (AMD’s stock coolers are very good, or at least mine was) and CPUs were on major sale at the time so I figured if I’m messing around I might as well update my CPU, too. About a month later my computer started crashing randomly. Completely randomly, and it wouldn’t fully crash it would kind of “hang” in a really strange way. I could sometimes open programs but task manager would boot but not operate properly, internet connectivity vanished, random programs would freeze, trying to shut down or restart the computer would just have it pinwheel on the shutdown screen forever. Usually I could save whatever I was working on before restarting and sometimes whatever I saved would corrupt. (It also refused to load the windows colour profile on boot, but it still won’t do that, so that is unrelated but I thought it was something at the time.)

I eventually got to the point where I could usually make it crash by watching twitch (specifically twitch did it) while using photoshop. But it wouldn’t trigger right away, and sometimes it wouldn’t trigger at all, but it did it much more often with the twitch and photoshop combo than with anything else. I started writing every time it messed up on a notepad and everything I tried to do to troubleshoot. I was in Reliability History every day (a feature of Windows I did not previously know existed), I was in Event Viewer (a very stressful place to go looking in, Windows can and will consider everything an ‘error’: it considers firefox being my default browser an error and I am not kidding). My computer could Not tell me what the heck was up. The crashing started earlier but by the time I realized it was an ongoing problem and not a few weird crashes it was mid-January so I used Reliability History to see the previous two weeks and started writing my notes, I made a timeline, I even tracked the time between crashes in case it was some bizarre clock thing or ticking time bomb (it wasn’t).

My headphone ear pads broke during this and I had to sew them back together because my headphones are weird and suck and don’t have replacements available to buy. Obviously that wasn’t directly related to my computer’s problems but it didn’t help me feel any less cursed since I use those headphones exclusively with my computer. I also expanded my storage during this time which maybe wasn’t the best idea but someone wanted me to try Destiny 2 and I didn’t have space to spare (the storage installed fine, but almost immediately after I had a bunch of crashes/hangs). And then one of my computer case’s USB ports broke???

How??? How!! I am SO careful. I do not understand how or why this happened and I have been around computers my entire life—this is the only time I have EVER seen a USB port break like this. None of the computers in my highschool had broken USB ports! And people jammed USBs in and out of those! This USB port is still broken, I just have a dust plug in it but I might put a sticker over it. It’s technically usable if you bend that pin back out but it gets crammed back in very easily.

Finally, after four months of this, after partially re-installing Windows, and then fully re-installing Windows, after downloading and updating every driver I could find, after trying to unplug various devices to see if a USB device was causing issues, after fighting with Task Scheduler to get the Windows Color System to work, after uninstalling and reinstalling everything I could or straight up uninstalling things I didn’t need that Windows quietly downloads when you’re not looking (Skype just will not leave my machine Windows keeps dragging it back)… I decided to update the BIOS/UEFI on my machine. My CPU was supposed to be compatible with the BIOS version my motherboard was running but I guess it wasn’t actually.

The thing with updating your BIOS is that if your computer has been running for a while it’s generally recommended you don’t update it. Every page you go to, even the page with the motherboard update versions, will tell you to turn back, to not frivolously update your motherboard, you should only update it if you absolutely have to!

They are not clear on what “absolutely having to” means, though. I was having major computer issues, my CPU was supposed to be compatible, but that was the only other thing I could think of that would be causing the issue. I had tried everything else because all the BIOS stuff warns you away from it and there is no list of “if your computer is doing this it might be the motherboard” or at least I couldn’t find one that isn’t vague. So.

On April 24th I updated my BIOS. It was really easy. I have not had a problem since. There is probably a lesson to be learned here about doing the hard, risky-seeming thing earlier in the process—except that they really warn you off of updating the BIOS. I had four months of very stressful and insanity-making troubleshooting, five-and-a-bit months of a computer that would just randomly give up. It sucked. And all because my motherboard company lied, my CPU was definitely not as compatible as they said it was. Despite how much this process sucked I am very pleased that I fixed it. CurseBreaker got CurseBroken. I still put a sticker on her that says she’s cursed, though.

Anyway.

I also learned how to bind books this year! I haven’t done the big-book bindings where you need to sew pages together (and I would like to learn how to do that and how to make hard covers) but I’ve done this simple kind and I really like it. I have ideas for other things I’d like to make into little personal books. I guess I’ll see where it takes me but I made the little yellow book there as a companion piece to a book my sister had me read and it looked so official that when she opened the present she didn’t understand what she was looking at. Graphic design is my passion. Surprisingly easy to do and very fun! I need a better paper slicer, though. I borrowed one for this and it did more ripping than cutting. Most of the hobbies I take on are very satisfying in a tangible way but this is extra satisfying and I’d like to do more of it.

Through the power of friendship I made two booknooks this year (Vin and Steph helped me). The one on the right was more like a puzzle or ikea furniture where it was all clearly labelled and told you where to put what and when. It took the better part of an afternoon but got done in one day. The one on the left was more like building a diorama with little to no real instruction, just a lot of material.

It took several days to assemble and required busting out the hot glue gun. Somehow the makers of this kit expected you to be able to glue plastic pieces and mirrors with white glue. (It definitely worked better than expected on some things but was a mess and meant having to sit there holding pieces together while they cured because if you let go it’d fall apart. The hot glue was necessary to not go insane.) It even makes you put together the wiring yourself, and then has the audacity to not make it clear anywhere what kind of batteries it takes. Overall super happy with how this one came together, I think it looks super cute, but I was not prepared for how hard it would be after the first one.

But now I have two cute little booknooks! I’ve wanted one for years and now I have two and because we built them I also have good memories directly associated with them.

I also finally have a paper koi lantern! I’ve been following the artist, yuumei, since I was a kid—like I followed her when I still used deviantart which was forever ago. I signed up for the mailing list for these who-knows-when and at some point I assumed this project would never reach completion despite how cool it is. People get busy, it is how it is. But then she launched a kickstarter! I backed! And then a kit showed up in the mail!

There’s a really great tutorial video to go with it for assembly. It was really hard at first but once you kind of figure it out it gets a lot easier. The paper is the most gorgeous paper I’ve seen in my life and she looks beautiful when she’s all lit up.

This one feels so weird to finally have. I think I was following the project for at least a decade so it feels surreal for it to be a real thing now. This thing I wanted as a kid/teen that didn’t exist and now does and I still wanted it. It’s also really nice to see that this fully came together for the artist, as well. If you’re interested she has pricing and product photos on her website here (click): Yuumei Art: Koi Lanterns.

And Tumblr is cross with me with the amount of images I want to put in these so I will be making part 3 presently. I'll set up links when I'm done.

<< Previous || Next >>

[casualavocados]

alright, here comes the long ass super personal and sentimental post absolutely nobody asked for (you’re welcome)

i watched episode 1 of bad buddy the day it aired (1 year ago today!) out of sheer luck. i dont even remember how i discovered it, but my initial thought was: “im bored. it’s 11pm and i dont want to go to sleep. this trailer looked fun. oh it came out today? sure what the fuck.” and i watched it in bed, on my phone. completely fucking unaware of what was about to happen to me and my life - and this honestly amuses me so much when i think about it because let me tell you...

i am NOT one to watch romance for romance’s sake. i really couldnt care less for it tbh. i’m not what i’d call a shipper at all (though i used to be, and if you remember my blog back then i owe you financial compensation bc tbh that whole spectacle exhausted me ANYWAY-). 

romance is just something ive always preferred as a side dish to plot, bc i only tend to like it when it’s super well done, and ive never found any of it very realistic. this was actually pretty unfortunate for past me bc fun fact, i am a little bit of a hopeless romantic, and romcoms are my guilty pleasure. the problem is i also dont like any of them enough to care about them after ive satisfied my initial “i want to watch something cheesy and cute” urge. i’d seen a few other bl’s over the years but only bc i was bored or wanted to watch something gay, and none of them had ever stuck in my mind after i finished them. i actively avoided those fandom spaces so i definitely wasn’t keeping up with what was new. 

(now listen, i have very specific thoughts on bl itself, but im not gonna get into that here (and actually miscellar said yesterday that the bl difference between 2020 and 2022 is unrecognizable and that basically sums it up so i dont have to lmao <3)).

- and ep1 of bad buddy is pretty typical bl! i adore this about it tbh because i was completely unprepared for everything the show was about to pull. my initial reaction was that it was something fun to look forward to every week.

so then-

I dont!! i dont even know how to explain it! ive tried too many times!

but it really is That Bitch, and truly feels like something i’d been waiting my whole life to see. a romantic comedy that was incredibly realistic in the sense of being overwhelmingly human, and also overwhelmingly queer. it’s so effortlessly fucking funny, while simultaneously a very (very very very) layered and emotional story. i will sing its praises to the end of time. it is quite literally the most well crafted show i’ve ever seen, and every time i rewatch it, or go back and reread old meta, im reminded that im not insane believing that. it just literally is that good. it’s such a simple story done so. extremely. well. it’s so ordinary, and that makes it extraordinary, and that was the intention from the start.

but i also have to say, one of the best things about having this show, is getting to be apart of the amazing community i found here loving it alongside me. bc i avoid fandoms. i stick to the places and the people/mutuals i know. i drift through edit tags more than i follow individual blogs. i block people like lightning. i have always had anons and replies off and i enjoy my privacy!!!

and i have talked to more people and made more friends and have had more fun this past year than i ever have before on this site. 

it took me until after bb finished airing to start following people back, but by then i knew which blogs posted what and what i’d want to see more of on my dash - and there are still many many people im not following, or who arent following me, that i talk to! i love each of you so very much, and i want to do a couple special shoutouts, if thats okay. ♥️

SO, in no particular orderrrrrr:

@mrdumpling nuria you were the very first bl-centric blog to follow me, and as such gave me a little bit of a heart attack that day, because i knew you were a popular blog and i Was Not Ready For Attention lol. but im so glad you did! ik we don’t talk often, but i love lurking on your blog and following what you’re interested in, and most especially, sharing this show with you. to say your edits are beautiful is an understatement! i always love to see what you make!! 🧡

@actually-yikes SORA I MISS YOUUUUUU!!! 🌹 i love talking to you, i love bonding over warrior pran with you, i love the edits you make. i think you’re very funny and delightful. seriously. ...im kind of at a loss for words here bc you’re one of the blogs i went to the most while bb was airing, and the first person i followed after it ended. i really just think you’re wonderful, and idk how else to say it! ily!!!💕💕

@miscellar you have some of the best takes ive ever read, and you somehow seem to read my mind and write (in much better words than i ever could!) exactly what im feeling on so many different topics. i love reading your analysis, your criticism, and just in general whatever you have to say. you impress me very much tbh and im always a bit amazed whenever you talk to me. i love sharing meta with you! 💚

@pranparakul KATIIIEEE when you’re not on my dash i miss you. even if you’ve got posts in your queue ill be like 🥺 where’s katie? is she having a good day today? literally it doesnt matter what you post abt, bc your enthusiasm for whatever it is always makes me so happy. keep doing you <3♥️🌸💗💕💜🌸❣💗💜♥️💕

@snimeat GEI. okay we dont talk OFTEN but when we do we talk a LOT. your excitement is sooooooooooooo contagious and it always matches mine and i feel SO SEEN. i think your edits have such a mystical vibe to them...they always make me feel very wistful (in a very good way). luv u 💛

@pranpats Kit!!! your gifs are GORGEOUS. and you are one of the sweetest people on this site. you always say such lovely things in the tags, and i love occasionally coming to talk to you about gifmaking things. you are such a warm presence on my dash! 💜

and of COURSE @grapejuicegay - kk i think we speedran our friendship in the last 6 weeks. idk how we never really talked before, now that i know we were BOTH lurking on each other’s blogs this whole year. i don’t even know what to say that i haven’t already said in our dms. i fucking love talking to you. there are some people you just click with and im so glad you’re one of them. 💙💌💗💖💜💙💕💛♥️🌹💌💖💙💕

there are so many more of you i want to mention here!! and if you read this far please know im probably also thinking of you, and i want you all to know that i have loved every minute watching and sharing this show with you.

im constantly blown away by everyone’s kindness and how welcoming all of you are. this is truly my favorite place to be online. thank you for all the tags on my gifs and meta. thank you for being so warm.

im so happy this little show means as much to all of you as it does to me. happy one year everybody. 🎆🥂💚❤

[shewritesinblackink]

The missing hunter - a supernatural fanfic

reposting this because i originally posted it on my main "private" blog but since i started writing more and posting more i thought why not make a blog just for that :) this fanfic takes place in the early years of the show since i’m only on season 10. I really like the vibe of the three/four first seasons. That’s also why Sam can’t crack the security camera– they haven't learned that yet :)

here's the AO3 link because i like posting there too, and i get more feedback thanks to the tags there!

part 2

words count: 2k

tw: blood, swearing, mention of a gun

part 1 - the missing member

“I don’t know what to say, Bobby,” Dean declared to the man at the other end of the phone.

The brothers were in a motel room in the middle of nowhere. Bobby had sent them there to find someone dear to him that disappeared a few days ago. But so far, they had no lead.

“Her stuff is still in the room, uh?”

Dean turned around from the parking lot to take another look at the small place. “Yeah, still here.”

There was silence and then Bobby’s voice broke through the phone’s speaker.

“That’s not like her. She might be in some kind of trouble.”

A frown appeared on Dean’s face. He'd never heard Bobby sound so helpless. That person, that woman whoever she was, must be someone precious to him.

“What do you want us to do?”

Sam was seated on the single large bed in the room, his laptop on his knees, fidgeting with the keyboard.

“I’ll give you her number. Maybe she’ll answer if it’s not me.” The pain in those last words made Dean sad. Who was she for Bobby to care so much and act like this?

Dean hung up, closed the door and walked toward Sam.

“What’d he say?”

“To try to call her.”

The look on Dean and Sam’s face said it all. They were aware the worst could have happened. Dean dialed the number and waited a few seconds before a ringtone was heard in the room. The two of them released a small sigh, stood up and searched for the device. The eldest found it under the bed, the battery almost dead and the screen cracked in half. He held it up for Sammy to see, and they both exchanged a look. Something bad definitely happened here.

They decided to go back to town and retrace every last step of the missing person. It led them to a bar on the avenue. A row of motorcycles were parked in front of the establishment, and the facade was all dark wood which added to the pouring rain and gloomy atmosphere. Everything in this town is dark and creepy, Dean thought.

They entered and were welcomed by suspicious glares from guys all around the place. Some were seated at tables drinking beer , others were playing billiards but stopped the moment the brothers appeared. The bartender shot them a look of annoyance. Clearly the people here didn't like strangers.

Nonetheless, Sam cleared his throat and asked, "Um, hi. We're looking for a young woman.”

"So am I." said a voice somewhere and the other men laughed.

Dean felt exasperated by their behavior and wanted only one thing at the moment: to get the hell out of there. So he talked, a bit too abruptly maybe. "Young, brown hair, pale skin, and approximately this size," he measured by holding up a hand. Truly he didn't know the woman, but Bobby gave them a description since he had no recent pictures of her.

The bartender snorted noisily and kept swiping off drops of water on the beer mugs in his hands.

"Depends what I get for helping you?"

There was no cooperation, and the Winchesters started to lose patience.

"Listen, buddy, it's a life or death situation here. She might be in danger, we need to find her." Dean's voice was low and raw, he could barely control himself not to punch the man in the face.

He slightly opened his brown leather jacket with the hand holding a shiny silver gun. The barman repressed an insult and took a quick look around.

“Look, if i were you, i wouldn’t show this to anyone here.” “Question of life and death.” he added pointedly to mock the brothers.

His sarcastic tone did not escape Dean, whose gaze became sharper, harder. Finally the man behind the bar started saying something interesting.

“There aren’t a lot of women comin’ in here, so yeah i remember some chick comin’ in. She sat at the bar and drank a scotch.”

Sam leaned forward, “Anything else?”. The  man grunted but continued. “There was something weird about her, like she was on edge. She was constantly looking behind her shoulder.” He put the glass behind the bar and leaned on the counter, then added “I mean maybe she didn’t feel safe here since she was the only woman.”

“Did something happen? Did she leave with someone?” Dean pressed, raising his eyebrows.

The barman seemed to think for a moment. “Yup, I think I remember her leaving with some guys.”

“Anything weird or unusual about the guy?”

“He was grabbing her by the arm. Not in a gentle way, you know. It seemed she wasn't willing to go with them.”

“And you didn’t call the police or stop them?” asked Sam almost with a shocked tone.

“Why would I?”

Dean's patience was more than thin now. If he stayed one more minute he would definitely shoot the man right here, right now. “Alright, enough. let’s go Sammy.”

“Wait,” Sam said, “which direction did they take?” The barman didn’t even bother speaking, and just pointed the way with his head.

And so they strode out of the bar toward the Impala, in the light rain that hadn’t stopped since their arrival. “Oh I swear this rain is making me crazy. Everything about this town is weird, man.” Dean muttered, his hands on the wheel, driving the car out of the parking back on the road. Since there was nothing for miles in the direction the man had indicated, they decided to go back to the motel room and wait in the car in case she showed up.

Sammy also tried to take a look at the security camera, but his skills with a laptop weren’t that sophisticated.  He couldn’t break into the town website to access the cameras. So they waited. Dean eventually went out to fetch dinner, and they waited for hours.

Finally, when they were both struggling to keep their eyes open, a silhouette appeared. In the dark night it was impossible to guess who it was, but the stranger stopped at the door of the room they were watching, and after a moment struggling with the key, the shadowy silhouette disappeared inside the room. The Winchesters didn’t waste a second and got out of the car toward the room’s door as if they weren’t about to fall asleep a second ago.

It wasn’t locked from the inside, so they pushed it slowly, trying to make as little noise as possible because who knows who was- or what was, that silhouette.

The boys entered the small room slowly, guns in hands. The lights were on but the place was empty. A noise came out from the bathroom followed by a grunt. At the very moment the brothers appeared at the bathroom’s door, the silhouette turned around and held a gun at them.

“Drop the gun! Now!”

“Who are you?”

“You, who are you?”

The three of them pointing guns at each other and yelling in confusion would’ve been a funny image if the tension was not that palpable and if the stranger was in a less miserable state.

“You’re two against one, that’s not really fair.” The voice was calm and steady but felt a bit out of breath. Indeed, the silhouette was soaked in blood, her clothes dirty with mud and rain. Her hair was a mess, clearly she hadn’t had access to any commodities for a few days.

“Wait,” said Sam, “are you y/n?”

Suspicious, the woman kept the boys at gunpoint, clutching her weapon like a lifeline. “How would you know?” she asked, her brows furrowed and her chest heavy with short breaths.

“Dean, I think it’s her.” And with that assumption they both lowered their guns. “Bobby sent us looking for you.”

“Looking for me?” she asked, as if she hadn’t understood Sam’s sentence in the first place and needed confirmation of what she heard. But all of a sudden the world started to spin and she wasn’t steady on her feet anymore. She stumbled back against the sink and let her arm fall down by her side, the gun pointed toward the ground. She placed the back of a bloodied hand against her forehead and closed her eyes tight, trying to make the room stop spinning and the white stars popping in her visions disappear.

“Hey, you alright?” Dean knew it was a stupid question considering how dirty and tired she seemed, so he added, “you hurt?”

And all y/n was capable of doing at this very moment was to stare at the two boys in front of her, her memory working like a DVD on fast forward. She couldn’t stop. Maybe didn’t want to, because her brain brought back memories she thought were long forgotten. She doubted they even remembered her at all, and at that thought her heart skipped a beat.

“Hello? Anyone in here?” Dean pressed sarcastically, like he was talking to some stupid teenager.

Getting back her senses, y/n cleared her throat and articulated a week “yeah” that sounded more like an exhausted plea. The brothers didn’t seem to buy it either, judging by the concerned look they both shot at her.

“Seriously, I'm fine. Just.. tired.”

“Where the hell were you to make Bobby worry-sick?”

What? Dawn almost choked on her own saliva. Bobby being so worried he’d send John’s boys after her? Why would he do such a thing when she’s already proved numerous times she was perfectly capable of taking care of herself? And suddenly emotions flooded in her. Not good emotions. “Why are you here? I’m a grown up, I can watch out for myself. I’ve been hunting my whole life y’know.” The words came out more harshly than she’s intended to. She stormed out of the bathroom, bumping into the boys, barely suppressing a wince because of her bruises.

In her backpack was a first aid kit. She took it and sat on the bed while taking off her dirty sweatshirt. But by the time she was opening the kit to fetch out something useful, Dean snatched it off her hands. “Hey! We’re talking to you here! We drove hours to come here because Bobby asked us to! Because he was worried you’d get yourself into trouble, and that’s how you’re thanking us?”

Dean was pissed. Sam though didn’t say a thing but gave his brother’s arm a slight hit. “Dude, c’mon. Look at her.” That’s what Dean did, he took in the messy states she was in. Blood on her left temple, trailing down her chin and neck, the right cheek looking slightly bruised. Cuts all over her arms and dirt on her hands and under her nails, even on her face. She seemed like someone who had just spent hours in filthy air ducts. Or in the forest running after something– or running for her life maybe.

No one said a word for what seemed to be an eternity, then y/n stood up slowly and walked back to the bathroom to try to wash out her hands, arms and face. She winced every time she touched a cut or a bruise but did not let it show. She was facing John’s boys, and she knew by experience that there were nothing that could make them flinch. So she did what she always forced herself to do since she met them when they were only kids. She clenched her jaw, and kept her composure as neutral as she could– but she was so tired, the dark circles under her eyes said it all.

[melodylnoelle]

Change of Arrangements

Hello! This one is from brightsun-and-darkmidnight’s cards from this week. I will post the one from last week later tonight, and then we will be all caught up from our Christmas hiatus!

The Cards Have Spoken - Week 7 (@brightsun-and-darkmidnight ’s cards)

Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe Characters: Dealer’s Choice - Loki x reader Category: Fluff - Proposal Relationship: Friends with Benefits AU: Mafia Warnings/Notes: Mentions of violence // This one is in the same universe as the Mafia AU one from Week 1. // For these, we are setting it to a minimum of 500 words. You can use these same cards for your own story if you like, but please tag me and @brightsun-and-darkmidnight so that we can see what you do! This was a different one for me, for sure. Please enjoy Words: 2639 Summary: Loki takes a leap of faith to turn his friends with benefits relationship into something more Masterlist

           Loki woke up with a plan that morning. He hadn’t stopped thinking about it the entire day while he was getting some things done for Thor, anticipation coloring his every thought and move. He made quick work of everything, rushing through things while still being precise, so he could move on to the most important thing on the agenda that day.

           He had to see you.

           At the end of his work, he got himself cleaned up, changing into one of his many copies of his all-black suit. He double checked his pockets, making sure he had the most important item for the day’s plan, before heading out of the warehouse and onto the dark New York City streets, signaling for his driver to follow. The driver opened the backseat door of the sleek, blacked-out Lexus, and they were off.

           It was a short car ride to get to your house, and the driver hadn’t needed to ask where Loki was headed – after all, it was Tuesday. It was the one night of the week that Thor didn’t bother Loki unless it was an emergency, as it was reserved for you.

           His anticipation started shifting into nervous anxiety over the short ride, and as the driver opened the door for Loki to get out. He could feel it spreading from his chest all the way to his limbs, but he refused to let his hands start shaking. No one ever say his nerves.

           You had greeted Loki at the door before he could even knock. “Hey there, gorgeous.”

           “Hello darling. You look ravishing as usual.” He took in the sight of you, and while his words were suggestive, his heart gave a little nervous flutter. It had been doing that the last several months of this arrangement, with his thoughts going from nothing but lust and need to a different kind of longing and desire. The arrangement had been going on much longer than that – well over a year now – but he had only let himself acknowledge relatively recently that he had broken one particular part of it – no feelings. He had thought emotions were dangerous for the world he lived in at the time. After all, he did work for Thor and, even with his ability to conceal himself when he needed to, there were plenty of people who knew who he was since he was so often with his brother. If it ever got around that there was a lover in his life, they would be at risk.

           That was how this whole arrangement had started. He had a need that he couldn’t ignore, and he had found someone who didn’t mind that it would never become a relationship. It was the perfect compromise, and you both got something good out of it.

           But then he got to know you. That had never been a part of the arrangement, either, really – getting to know each other. But you had wanted it, and he had found himself unwilling or unable to refuse you that. So the once-a-week sexual meeting became friends with the benefit of being able to have relations, but still with no actual strings attached. He started to see the strength of character in you. You saw him bruised and cut, sometimes bloody if he missed some cleaning up after a job, but you never batted an eye. On occasion, you asked questions, and unlike Thor with Jane, he found himself able to tell you the answers you sought. He left out details sometimes to spare you, but he always told you the truth of things. Even then, you hadn’t run, you just moved along as if it was the most normal conversation two people could have.

           It was after those questions kept coming that he thought maybe you could handle everything that being in a relationship with him could be. Sure, he never wanted anything to happen to you – would never let anything happen to you – but he thought that maybe you could handle yourself to navigate his world. And it was something that he never thought he could find.

           The question that had caught him most off-guard from you, though, had been about a week ago. It was one that led him to think that maybe, just maybe, you had broken a part of the arrangement to. That maybe this was more than friends, as much as both of you had denied it.

           “Have you ever thought about getting married?”

               He had scoffed at the question, maybe a little too forcibly. It was just so out of the blue, as you laid in the lawn together looking at the stars. “Of course not. That seems irresponsible.”

               “Maybe,” you had conceited with a shrug. “Unless you found the right person.”

               “Are you trying to get out of this arrangement, then? You need only ask, you know.”

               “No, I’m not objecting to it. That’s not what I meant.” She chuckled a little. “I was only curious.”

               He couldn’t deny then that a little relief flooded through him. Of course, if she ever asked, he would go without a word of objection. But that would have stung, and he didn’t want to let her go.

               His next question was a tease, that slipped out of his lips before he could think better of it. “Were you trying to suggest it so that I would think about it with you?” His heart had hammered in his chest so loud he thought you might hear it.

               “Absolutely not.” You voice had been firm, and it pulled his heart down. Had he really been hoping that you would say yes to that?

               But he watched as a blush crept up on your cheeks, and as you turned your face mostly away, looking at something far off. Maybe there was something to what she said.

               Before he could ask about it, you had gotten up and walked back into the house. You had come back with drinks for the both of you, and there was no more time for conversation.

           He had never brought it up again, but he started watching your behavior a little more. The way that you spoke to him softly. The way that you liked to hold him before he left instead of letting him just leave as soon as you were done. The thoughtful way that you surprised him by having his favorite snacks or drinks around the house all the time. And then the implication had seemed so obvious, he wondered how he had thought that it was anything but you gauging his interest in that at all.

           All these thoughts flew through his mind in the time that it took for you to step aside from the door to let him in. He realized he was staring and shook himself of it. Even sure that he was that this was something you had at least thought about, nerves fluttered through his stomach like butterflies. He had fallen for you completely, and wasn’t sure what he would do if you said no.

           He thought about the way that Jane left Thor a couple months ago. She still hadn’t been back this time, just like she had promised. Thor had become a wreck, and Loki was sure that he would be the same way.

           He forced himself to focus on the moment as you turned to close the door. You leaned your back against it, looking at him. “So,” you asked as you leaned your head back. “What first?”

           Loki caught his hands fiddling with the hem of the jacket and clasped them together behind his back to still them. “I was actually thinking that maybe we could do something different today? Maybe have some dinner or something?”            

           Your eyebrows rose in surprise. “Well, that is certainly different, yes. But sure, why not? I haven’t eaten yet.” You kicked off from the door, walking past him to the living room to take your phone from the coffee table. “What are you thinking?”

           “I can order it,” he countered, taking his own phone from his pocket. “It was my idea.”

           “But it’s my house, you’re a guest.”

           “A guest with a good amount of money to use.”

           You thought about that for a moment. “Yea, you have a point there. Ok, surprise me.” You set the phone down, plopped on the couch, and waited.

           He joined you after a moment. He suggested that you watch a movie to pass the time, since it was something you could just continue doing when the food arrived. He insisted that you pick the movie since he picked the food. You picked Just Go With It, and he held in a chuckle at that. He couldn’t have picked a better movie for this evening if he had thought it through himself.

           You talked, laughed, and commented all through the movie. His nerves made this feel like a first date – wondering if she liked him enough for all this, mind racing about where the night would end. But being with you also made it feel like the hundredth date – comfortable, like two people who know each other well, who share secret nights from the rest of the world.

           When the movie ended, he found himself holding you, with his arm around you as you laid your head on his shoulder. You were huddled under a blanket, with just a bit of it hovering over him, too. He found himself unwilling to move. It was blissful to just be with you, like this. It made him all the more sure that this was what he wanted.

           But would it be what you wanted?

           “You know, that’s not usually my type of movie, but I like that one a lot. I think it’s sweet,” you said as you watched the credits roll, still not having moved from his shoulder.

           “I would have to agree, it is rather adorable.”

           You slid your arm across his abdomen, pulling him a little closer into your embrace. Your head nuzzled in against his neck before setting again. Your eyes closed, and you sighed in a way that sounded content. It made his heart skip a beat. He wanted so many more nights like this, with you touching him like that.

           That was until your hand moved across the pocket of his suit jacket, and he knew you felt the small box that was inside it. Heat shot to his face and through his veins as your brows knitted in confusion and you frowned, reaching in for the box and pulling it in front of you to examine it.

           “What’s this?” You ran your fingers along the green velvet of the outside but didn’t open it.

           Loki’s heart was hammering in his chest. Hem hadn’t exactly decided yet how to ask you. He had wanted the moment to feel right, wanted it to feel… romantic, he supposed. This was not exactly what he had in mind.  He could bring himself to find the words to answer you.

           When he didn’t answer, you sat up, turning to face him. You looked between him, and the box, a question on your face.

           Beads of sweat started to pool on his forehead. This is it, he thought. I am going to be wrong and she is not going to want to see me, or this will be the happiest moment of my life. He opened his mouth to answer but couldn’t get around the lump in his throat. He closed his mouth again.

           You started fidgeting with the box, turning to open it. Your eyes widened at the ring inside – a gold band with an emerald in the center of a circle of smaller black diamonds. Your mouth parted as if you were about to say something, and it broke him out of his trance, not wanting to hear a rejection without at least getting to explain himself.

           “I am sorry, but I have broken our arrangement.” He started. The words were tumbling out of his mouth, too quick for him to tailor them into something more flattering. “I never wanted someone to be close to me. I thought that my world was too dangerous for anyone to be a part of. But then I met you, and I couldn’t help but fall for you. You’re amazing and beautiful and strong. I didn’t think that you could feel that way for me until you asked me about marriage the other day, and well… I thought maybe…” He trailed off. You waited as he took a deep breath, exhaled it, and started again. “Maybe this is too much. Maybe this is too sudden, but I thought that maybe… Maybe you wanted to marry me, too.”

           His heart was so loud in his ears that he thought it might burst. He licked his lips, not sure if he should keep talking or if he should just shut up, leave, and write this off as a failure and not come back. You sat there quietly for a long time, looking between him and the ring.

           But you took it from the box, sliding it on your finger. It fit perfectly – as he knew it would. As you admired it, he could see tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. Just as he was about to apologize, you smiled widely, and swung yourself around to straddle him.

           “When I asked that, you seemed so against it, I thought you were going to end this… arrangement if I said more.” You snaked your arms around his neck and leaned forward to press his forehead to his. “I realized I didn’t want to lose you. I thought if I never brought it up again, you would stay, so I never said anything….” You trailed off a moment, swallowing. “But I love you. I have for a while now.”

           Loki didn’t think his heart could take any more without bursting. He closed the space between you, pressing his lips against yours. The kiss was slow, with more emotion and passion than any you had ever shared before. Hearing those words from your lips were the balm to his anxiety that he hadn’t seen coming.

           “I love you, too.” He allowed himself to say between kisses. He peppered them all over your face, your neck, and then returned a quick kiss to your lips before pulling away, a smirk on his face. “So can I take it that that’s a yes?”

           You laughed, throwing your head back. God, he loved that sound. “Well, you never actually asked me, so I didn’t think I needed to answer out loud.”

           He chuckled. “I suppose that’s true.” He took a deep breath. “Will you marry me, Y/N?”

           You pressed your forehead against his again. He could see the tears building in the corners of your eyes again, but your smile was dazzling. You whispered your answer, your lips ghosting across his. “Yes, Loki. Yes, I will.”

           He pulled your face to his, weaving his fingers through your hair and allowing himself to let go of all the nerves he had earlier in the day.

           You pulled away again all too soon, placing your hands on either side of his face. “I am going to go get us some wine to celebrate. You wait right here, love.”

           Love. You’d never called him any pet names before, and it sent a shiver down his spine. He didn’t know he could like a simple word so much.

           “Of course, darling.”

           As you rose and strode to the kitchen, he reached for his phone. He sent his driver a text, telling him he could be picked up in the morning, before silencing it and tossing it onto the table. He wasn’t going home, not on this perfect night that he finally could actually call you his.

[skepticalarrie]

I posted 19,391 times in 2022

That's 7,013 more posts than 2021!

5,934 posts created (31%)

13,457 posts reblogged (69%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@hldailyupdate

@lovingstheantidote

@twopoppies

@dailytomlinson

@daisiesonafield-blog

I tagged 17,204 of my posts in 2022

Only 11% of my posts had no tags

#0 - 1,053 posts

#ask - 5,431 posts

#lt tour - 2,094 posts

#love on tour - 848 posts

#you are home - 228 posts

#coachella - 202 posts

#fitf promo - 199 posts

#lol - 184 posts

#faith in the future - 169 posts

#harry’s house - 149 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#is that he’s going to cause an absolute hysteria and i’m not sure if he’s going to be able to ignore that afterwards and go back to his pas

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

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911 notes - Posted May 5, 2022

#4

Harry saying his house right now is just piles of things he's trying to sort through and clear the space. So the woman has the heart to ask him why and if he's a messy person and he just goes ☺️ No I don't think I am ☺️

I wonder who is messy and made Harry's life a living hell before going on tour for the most part of the year

x

950 notes - Posted April 1, 2022

#3

"I've been really open about my sexuality to my friends" said no straight person ever.

1,039 notes - Posted April 26, 2022

#2

Pleaaaaseee Harry’s face at the end 😭😭

LOL what I love about Liam is that he knows exactly how to get under Louis' skin, and that's using Harry to tease him. It works every single time ahahah I wonder if this still happens between them so many years later!

If I wasn't a larrie already I feel like these kinds of videos would be the ones that would make me really consider the entire thing, the way Louis reacts when Liam uses Harry to tease him is so obviously about jealousy, and there are SO MANY videos just like this one. You literally can't brush off his reaction as something else. But I suppose some people are just blind and refuse to see what is literally right in front of their eyes.

1,401 notes - Posted May 13, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

I originally didn’t pay that much attention to Satellite because int didn’t seem as lyrically complex as other songs, but after listening to it a few times, I keep thinking about the lines in Habit, “Took some time cause I ran out of energy/playing someone I heard I’m supposed to be” and “You gave me the time and the space/I was out of control and I'm sorry, I let you down.” I hear Satellite talking about someone who seems to have taken some space to figure themself out until they’re ready to talk things through, and Harry reassuring them that he’s always right there waiting for them to pull him back, that he’s never far and will be there to catch them. They shouldn’t worry, he’s stuck in their orbit (the habit that he can’t break?) and he’s not going anywhere. *cries in an uncool way*

oh my fUCKING GOD

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1,489 notes - Posted April 21, 2022

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