#i hate when i have the time and the motivation and then completely drained from a headache or migraine

[adrianfridge]

I don't think enough people talk about the physical and mental energy it takes to cook when you weren't raised to cook.

It's not as simple as here are the ingredients and here are the steps. Cooking involves multi-tasking, timing, proportions, prepping, improvising, and more. The more complex the dish, the more juggling it requires.

Oh, and I haven't even mentioned obtaining the ingredients and the cleaning afterwards.

All these "healthy" and "save money" and "live better" motivational speeches to get people to cook more, and I'm over here like Cooking is Fucking Stressful and Incredibly Draining Actually.

I was raised a girl, but I'm entirely self-taught because my mom hated cooking and never bothered to teach me. She was convinced I'll just naturally learn on my own after I got married and was forced to cook for my husband and family 🙃

Anyway, I went through a HelloFresh phase several years ago to try to kick-start myself into a groove, but it never really latched on. I think the only thing I learned is the importance of prepping ingredients in advance so that once I'm bouncing around, things are just ready for me to grab.

This isn't to say I don't cook AT ALL EVER. I can make eggs on a skillet just fine. But it's a one-and-done kind of thing. Much like putting together a cold cut sandwich. But that's not Cooking™.

Turns out this past month I randomly got a hyperfixation to Cook™, so here I am facing the bone-tired aftermath of making meals that'll last more than one day.

After three weekends of going through it, here's how I autistically started handling the stress:

Find a recipe I will follow

Envision myself going through the steps and allocate a certain amount of energy to the task

Compile ingredients I need to obtain (or get my partner to obtain)

(If I have to go shopping myself, do it on a separate day from when I have to cook)

Open a Google Doc and copy/paste the recipe into it

Rewrite the recipe steps based on how I imagine I'll be going through them once I'm in motion

Mentally practice the steps

When it's time to cook, go through steps as I've mentally practiced them, with improvisation when real life takes a different turn

(If a lot of prep work is required, such as peeling and cutting potatoes, sit down to do it with a podcast before starting on anything else)

After cooking is complete, throw out any lingering garbage

My partner does the dishes :)

I'm sure it'll get easier the longer I do it, but this is exactly why I'm 34yo and always hated Cooking™ to the point that I budget for delivery and take-out on nearly a daily basis.

Cooking is hard actually.

[babypinkhearts]

spare me this - anakin skywalker

pairing: anakin skywalker + fem!reader

summary: the council assigns you on a deathly solo mission, forbidding anakin to join you.

warnings: angst (i don’t know what is wrong with me!! i am addicted to writing it now), mentions of injury and death, anakin is so sweet and sosososo in love it’s almost pitiful, fluff

a/n: i feel like i put a part of my soul in this. i feel so drained but finishing this feels SO rewarding. another day for firsts! this is my first time writing for anakin, or anything star wars related :) this has been sitting in my drafts for MONTHS. i figured, while i still feel motivated to write, let me finish this!!! hope you all enjoy <3 i loved writing it

“three days.” you repeated faintly.

you disliked how quiet anakin was at times. it often left you more troubled than relaxed.

you frowned when he didn’t look at you from his stubborn stare at the ceiling. sighing softly, you mimicked his eyes and looked upwards, your neck rested against the headboard of the bed.

“we will come back victorious, and we will be right here. together again.”

the night before your mission’s departure, you slept in anakin’s room. it would have been much easier to ignore him, act like he didn’t exist for a while. the two of you were far too dependent on one another. the love sometimes felt overwhelming.

however, anakin’s fear was far too evident. it was strong - too strong to the point where you genuinely believed someone else could detect it. you decided that if you could soothe his worries, he’d be relieved of his thoughts.

but anakin didn’t speak. he refused, and his body simply forbid him from trying. not a touch or word was directed at you. it had almost been an hour of pure silence.

unbeknownst to you, there was a helpless feeling of uncertainty that anakin could clearly sense from you. that was what was driving him crazy.

bloodshed was a promise, you already knew it. your master had spoken grimly about the mission, and it was anakin who realized - much quicker than you - that this battle would not end seamlessly.

there was a large, if not, inevitable chance of you coming back alarmingly injured.

you were calculated, strong, and reliable. it was you who the council had chosen to lead the mission.

they were selfish, anakin believed.

“obi-wan knows this will kill me.”

anakin bleakly spoke, his voice muffled by the blanket he had brought up to his face. you decided against expressing your surprise to the sound of his voice.

while obi-wan had no idea about the true nature of your relationship with anakin, he was aware that you served as each other’s weaknesses. jedi code called for the banishment of any attachments, though obi-wan knew he himself had begun to break them when he started to form a brotherly bond with his once-padawan. he held no room for judgement.

while you hadn’t spent nearly as much time with him as anakin had, you felt very fond of him. there was a certain soothing atmosphere that only seemed to arrive in his presence.

secretly, obi-wan had pulled you aside mere hours after your mission was announced. his voice was low as he spoke, and he had gently held your arm the entire time.

“you come back within your scheduled arrival, and everything will be fine. i cannot promise you we will be at ease if you take longer.”

and, of course, through unknowing ears this was a simple comment - a statement of encouragement, really. but it was a completely different story when you could see the true intentions in his words.

anakin would not be at ease, is what he had wanted to say.

and obi-wan was right. from the moment you explained your mission to anakin, he had gone silent. you had been in your room, slowly walking in circles as you counted the tasks you were required to fulfill on your journey.

you hadn’t noticed how awfully pale your jedi had become.

now in present, you realized he had never left his stage of shock.

anakin hated this. he hated how guilty he felt for the resentment he had towards your capabilities. you had impressed the council too much, and it had put you in a dangerous position. he hated how careless you tried to sound, and he hated how you only gave the reply of “yes, master” when being told the instructions of your suicide mission. most importantly, he hated how he was forbidden to join you.

“how do i live? how do i function when you could be dead at any moment?”

you froze, eyes widening.

anakin’s words were cold, and you fought the urge to feed into his frighteningly grim thoughts.

pursing your lips briefly, you forced a smile, brushing back his hair from his forehead. anakin was laying on his back, eyes still narrow and focused upwards. you tried to keep the mood light, attempting to add a little amusement to calm the tense atmosphere his question had made.

“we’re both aware i’m capable enough to handle myself. i used to beat you during training, and i saved you from-“

your playful smile faded, and you gave up talking once you realized he had started to look up at you.

anakin knew you were strong. he didn’t need to hear your reassurance, especially when he knew even you were undoubtedly terrified.

for a while, he just stared at you. it wasn’t intimidating - he could never direct an emotion like that at you - but you felt exposed, almost as if you should shield your face.

anakin felt troubled, trying to piece together all his discomforting emotions clearly. to have you so close seemed to be a punishment. you shouldn’t be here. he shouldn’t be seeing the worry in your eyes, or watching the slight furrow of your brows. although, there was something so beautiful about your concern. he wasn’t made to feel these kinds of emotions, especially ones that one mere person could provide.

for a moment, he wished he didn’t know you. selfishly, he knew that would relieve him of the pain.

“anakin,”

his name that only ever sounded right when you said it.

“what’s the matter, ani?”

there were no protests made when you moved closer to him. the security and serenity he felt with your arms around him made it feel impossible to refuse.

anakin trusted you with his life. he’d give you his life in a heartbeat. he’d do anything for you. and yet - why couldn’t you help him believe you would be okay on this mission? it was cruel, picking on his one and only weakness. his heart, which you held so effortlessly. his mind consisted of you, you, you.

with a shaky sigh, he spoke.

“you’re scaring me.” he quietly admitted.

his eyes were glossy, nearing a depressive red. his stare was piercing. you weren’t sure you wanted his attention anymore.

confused, though mostly alarmed, you continued to look back at him. scaring him?

“you think you’re going to die, don’t you?”

your eyes widened, and suddenly you felt very vulnerable being in front of him.

“anakin - what?” you stumbled out, shaking your head in surprise. he couldn’t be serious. you attempted to talk, reassure him that you would be fine, but his gaze was unfocused. he didn’t want to listen to your futile words. anakin knew you better than anyone else.

“please, do not lie to me.” he whispered, and in that particular moment, you had never seen him so small. “spare me that.”

anakin skywalker, the reckless jedi who consistently charmed his way through trouble. someone who was so spontaneous, yet brilliant.

love kept him going. it wasn’t unrequited. he knew that more than anything. love got him up in the morning. love was adrenaline. love was everything and so much more.

he couldn’t bare losing it.

“i-“ you shook your head again, pausing briefly to lay beside him. a hand was placed on his cheek, and you caressed his face gently.

anakin’s eyes closed, and once more he felt a wave of anger pass through him. he hated the council, he hated the jedi. he hated everything to do with this. they were trying to take you from him. your sweet touches, your soft voice, your caring nature. he felt so bitter it hurt.

you pursed your lips, letting a sigh escape you.

“i will tell you this.“ you whispered, cupping a hand around his soft face. “i am scared. i act like i am not because that is what i must do.”

for the past couple of hours, anakin had assumed that hearing you admit your fear out loud would put his mind at ease. maybe, if you admitted you weren’t invincible, he could convince you to take extra care of yourself.

but your words had the opposite effect on him.

you were scared. and he wouldn’t be there to help.

“i cannot promise you i’ll be unscathed, anakin, but i can promise that i will come back to you.”

it took everything in you to not break in front of him.

you forbid him from continuing the conversation further after that.

when the morning you had dreaded arrived, you silently awaited for a signal on your commlink to commence your departure.

you had left anakin, quietly pleading for him to stay optimistic during your absence. he had helped you get dressed. his touch was like a feather, gently escorting you to a hell you could only hope would be generous to you.

weapons were hidden under your robes, as usual. two lightsabers, because you had learned from anakin years ago that an extra could never hurt.

you couldn’t help but wonder if he felt possibly felt guilty.

anakin had trained you, hoping that an increase in your skill would payoff on the battlefield to solely keep you safer when he wasn’t around.

but you had surpassed his expectations. and now, you were in this position.

it had been an honor to be praised so highly. though, you quickly found that, in reality, it was not something to completely look forward to. anakin’s worry being the main reason.

when your commlink finally sounds off, you waste no time in leaving.

three days, you had claimed to anakin.

when you finally return, a week had gone by.

and just like you had repeated to anakin so many times before - you were victorious.

though, not unscathed.

“medical-“ you breathed heavily, your hand glued to your side as you stepped out of your starfighter, your heart pounding in upmost fear as you realized your vision had begun to blur.

you couldn’t tell who grabbed you first. it wasn’t anakin, you knew that by muffled noise of calm reassurance. if anakin were here, he would have the entire building burned to the ground in seconds. if it weren’t for the excruciating pain you felt everywhere, you could have chuckled at the thought.

“requesting medical attention - yes, this is urgent.”

blinking as quickly as you could, which looked evidently labored, you watched as obi-wan spoke through his commlink.

yours had broken days ago, leaving you stranded with no communication. retreating was never an option in your mind, and you stupidly had fought until your mission had succeeded.

the consequences of your actions truly haunted you as you were lifted on to a table, the strong scent of medication telling you that, yes, your wound was as bad as it felt, if not worse.

and finally, the mask put over your mouth lulled you to a more painless state of sleep.

upon the first few seconds of opening your eyes, you tried to immediately close them again.

of course, anakin was right next to you.

you heard him jolt in his seat, repeatedly calling your name as if you would die if he stopped. his voice sounded hoarse. gently, you reached your arms out, silently begging for him to touch you. you needed his embrace. you can not have gone through all this effort for nothing. he was why you had tried so hard to survive. without a word, anakin complied to your silent request. his hands cupped your face, while yours did the same to him.

his chest was shaking with uneven breaths.

“i made it back - just like i said, right?” you spoke quietly, smiling through a wince. joking was never the way to handle serious situations with anakin, but fuck, you really couldn’t handle how broken he looked.

he didn’t smile. he hadn’t taken your eyes off of you, almost as if you would disappear the second he looked away.

“don’t ever do this to me again.”

you quickly stopped speaking at his tone. unstable and hurt. you can’t promise that to anakin. it would be selfish. you help people - your mission had hopefully saved thousands. what is one life to lose if it can save so many more? you’re skilled, why not use your potential for something extraordinary?

“leave the order with me.”

your eyes widen, bigger than you mean them to.

“i-i can’t do that.” you reply immediately, shaking your head in his gentle grasp. leaving the order was nearly unspoken of - all of these years training, dedicating your life - what would it have been for? you can’t leave. people need you - the galaxy needs you.

you would have anakin, but could you live with yourself? all these years, you’ve been taught to be selfless, so why is anakin proposing such an idea?

you’re sure he can see the conflict on your face.

“you almost died.”

his bluntness forces to you remember the stinging pain on your side. you shake your head.

“that’s a part of the job.” you speak firmly. “i would be injured a hundred times over if it meant someone won’t be.”

anakin immediately lets go of your face.

“listen to me,”

it’s nearly a full-body sob, and you watch as he stands straighter, attempting to compose himself.

you feel your heart drop to your stomach.

“you’re hurting me - i don’t care if i’m being selfish! i love you. i love you more than anything, and i know i cannot live without you.”

anakin skywalker’s love for you was almost pitiful. he himself nearly couldn’t stand it. how can one person cause so much heartache? why is it possible to care for someone as much as he does for you? his outburst was childish, and he’s aware. but he needs you to see him, so raw, so authentically. maybe if you could see the pain he was in, you would spare him more easily.

“anakin…” you whispered, so quietly you almost doubted he heard you.

the reality was, you tended to push anakin away. you were hesitant to love him. you felt greedy whenever you allowed yourself to love him so deeply. you were meant to serve others, not have feelings of your own. anakin was your weakness, and that scared you more than anything. if you were going to be powerful enough to save millions, it would be foolish to have a flaw.

but, clearly, anakin didn’t care about weaknesses. he had you, and loved you with open arms, and despite this, he preformed better than you in nearly everything. how does he manage?

“i love you too much.” his voice was defeated, and the anger he had previously held dissipated. “obi-wan saw me sulk after the three days. he stopped me from seeing you when you arrived.”

you nodded slowly. it made sense, you couldn’t imagine the scene that would have occurred if it had been anakin carrying your half-conscious body. anakin skywalker reacted according to his feelings. he was spontaneous.

you sighed quietly.

“i would never leave the order, anakin. i wouldn’t be able to live with myself.” you spoke, and winced as you visibly saw him tense.

you had to be honest with him.

reaching a hand out, you grabbed his, gently interlocking your fingers.

“but, i can promise you that i will never take a mission like that. it was reckless, i know. i’m so sorry.”

he didn’t speak, taking a seat on your bed.

he was unsatisfied, you knew that.

but you couldn’t change the entire trajectory of your life for him just because he worries you’ll get hurt. it would be wrong, and you know, though he won’t say it out loud, anakin agrees with you.

he allows himself to give into desires. it’s not because he feels he’s “deserving” of them, but because it’s something that comes so natural to him. so why must it be wrong to love you?

anakin is confident with your abilities. he knows how strong you are. but it’s second-nature for him to worry. you’re something so precious to him in this world of despair.

so he’ll stay silent and let you do whatever you please. he cannot hold you back, and he’s now painfully aware of it. but, he can help you.

more trainings, better advice, and more time.

you have each other, and he is satisfied with that forever.

[bakugoushotwife]

kinktober day thirteen: somnophilia kink

>>> y'all i worked breeding into the plot again officer take me away!! i just love soft and domestic sho, and it also totally feels like something he'd love!!

>>> starring: shouto todoroki x curvy!fem!reader >>> cw: fingering, oral (fem receiving) somno, breeding, reader hates working lmfao, creampie obviously, mating press. >>> wc: 2.6k >>> event masterlist

 shouto loves relaxing. he was sure this was something everyone enjoyed, until he met you. you seemed to stay occupied at all times, delving into hobby after hobby to keep yourself busy. being professional heroes was draining enough, he thought, so why were you indulging in running clubs and extra gym sessions? why did you spend more time learning new recipes and anxiously cleaning the house these days than lounging in bed with him watching tv like you used to? of course, his first assumption is that he has done something to push you away or upset you, as he’s prone to doing. he’s naturally aloof and a bit distant, all things he tries to push past to connect to you, the only person who makes him feel warmth were his coldness usually lies. you know how he is, how he can come off a bit frigid and almost mean without thinking about it, or how he struggles to read your body language and cues—always missing the hints you throw him. you’re used to it by now, far more accommodating than a grown man like him deserves, so he figures this time he needs to get to the bottom of this and make it up to you and prove he can be in tune with your emotions too. 

you had grown restless, but it wasn’t all your husband’s fault. you felt so out of place these days, feeling awkward in your own role in life. you enjoy being a hero some days, other days you can hardly motivate yourself to get out of bed. work had become monotonous and meaningless, the streets of japan were safer than they had been in years past, so most of your days were spent patrolling and training if they weren’t consumed in paper work. you felt stagnant, and things were only complicated further by your conflicting emotions. all your friends from school were retired to spend time with their families or in the process of retiring to go home and take care of their parents or kids—and then there was you. a family would be…perfect, but it was a touchy subject with shouto and you didn’t want to press the matter just because you needed a change in life. so yes, you started tinkering around with hobbies to try and get your mind off of things, knowing you had accepted the possibility of not having children when you agreed to be his misses todoroki. he hadn’t taken the possibility completely off  the table, but you knew he wanted to broach the subject whenever he was ready. so you started using the home gym a little more, picking up books your girlfriends recommended, even working on your cooking skills all in an effort to feel something other than bored.

you didn’t associate your issues with shouto, still acting as normal as possible in other regards other than your drifting away. you really didn’t think he’d notice given the lack of emotional fluency he had, hoping if you could replace the void growing within you that everything would go back to normal and you could be as happy as you were five or ten years ago. but he had noticed, of course. he missed his wife alongside him, but it wasn’t his fault that he had trauma associated with family and was unsure of himself as a father. it certainly wasn’t his fault that when you got married right out of high school you hadn’t cared—knowing that you love him either way. this is still true, of course, but back then you hadn’t imagined  you’d feel this way, this tired of the life you worked so hard for. so ready for the next chapter, especially as ochako welcomes baby midoriya number two and you’re left in charge of the elder brother at the hospital. 

the little boy was only about four or so, absolutely adorable and the image of his father. he was a giggly kid, clinging to his “auntie” with excitement to meet his baby brother or sister. ochako called as soon as she was sure she was in labor, and you dropped everything to go support your closest friend, not that you needed an excuse to leave work early anyway. shouto was still working, of course, as a top five hero he was often kept busy. but that left you to wrangle the toddler on your own. it was way easier than you expected, even with the energetic little boy bouncing all over the waiting room waiting for his dad to come get him. he still conversed with you and ate his lunch like a good boy—though that’s because his parents were so good at raising him, but what would you expect from them? 

all the day proved to you was that you weren’t just making up solutions to your problems, having a family really is what you want. but still, you love your husband more than this want, so you’ll double down on your hobbies until you find something that sticks. 

he reads your texts over and over, waiting on you to get back from the hospital. he had set up a date, truly romantic when he tries to be, and when bakugou answers his calls. following his advice, he had your favorite dinner made and the dining room table was intimately set. ochako had her second baby, and that threw a minor wrench in his plans even lthough he was overjoyed for them, and for you for being their dependable friend in that moment. he sits at the table, all the food keeping warm in the oven as the wax of the candles starts to wane. he had flowers, wine, all the things he knew to try and connect with you and get to the center of your sleepless nights. 

when you walk in, he stands, smiling sheepishly. you smile back, though it doesn’t reach the entirety of your eyes. then you notice he’s guarding the table, and you creep closer. “hey, honey.” 

“welcome home, sweetheart.” he nods, stepping aside to show you the lovely dinner scene just for you. your heart melts a little at his effort, knowing it was always a great show of his love to do something like this, much preferring cuddle sessions and shared showers over grand displays of affection. 

“aw, shou.” you pout, giving him a big hug, “this is so pretty, to what do i owe the pleasure?” you giggle like everything is normal. he hums in thought, slender arms holding your waist as he stews over what to say. 

“you’ve been distant as of late.” he says without a trace of malice or disappointment. his words catch you by surprise–he did notice. he lets you go, pulling out your chair and tilting his head for you to sit. “why?” 

you clear your throat and sit, any charade you wanted to drum up crumbling in your brain. you can’t lie to him, but how could you approach this without feeling like you’re betraying his trust and wishes. you sigh. “i… i’ve just been trying to find new hobbies.” 

“you’re hardly sleeping, and i feel like i never see you anymore.” he frowns, making his way to the oven to retrieve the dinner the chef made. “what is it really, sweetheart? do you feel as if you cannot talk to me? is it something i’ve done?”  

you chew the inside of your lip as he assembles food on your plate. “i don’t enjoy hero life anymore. i’m ready for the next chapter, to feel important for other reasons.” you reply, not wanting to make him at fault for your whirlwind feelings as of late. 

he takes in what you say, smart enough to connect some dots. the picture you sent him of you holding baby midoriya in your arms and big brother proudly sitting on your lap was the happiest you’ve looked in some time. “the next chapter…as in, motherhood?” 

you look up at him, studying his mismatched eyes for a hint of how he feels. you sigh, “i know, i know. i guess that’s why i’ve been a little withdrawn…i feel bad about it, i know what you want.” you chuckle sadly, sipping at the wine provided. “really, i’m trying to get over it, i guess. maybe we could get a dog?” 

now he was disappointed. not in your desires, but that you put his possible feelings above your actual ones without ever speaking to him about it. just like you, he had changed as well. he wasn’t the same unsure eighteen year old he was when you married him, and though he still held trauma from his childhood, he had long accepted the concept of being a father since you were by his side. he could do anything if he was with you. he cuts into the meal and gives you a sympathetic glance. 

“you should have told me. a family…i think i’m ready for that, if you’re saying you’re ready to stay home in that way.” he hums, knowing you wouldn’t put yourself in harm’s way after becoming a mother. you gape at him, replaying his words over in your head. 

“wh–i don’t want you to do it just for me.” you double down, blindsided by his revelation. had you really put yourself through all of this for nothing? 

“i would do anything for you.” he replies instantly, and he meant that with no restrictions. “but i had considered it again around the time izuku welcomed his first.” 

“meaning you were ready four years ago?!” you almost cry out just from the shock alone, and he chuckles softly. 

“not ready to have one then, but i knew i would want some eventually. now is a good time. we’re stable. you made me nervous.” he sips at his wine, eating his food nonchalantly. 

“i made you nervous? i–” you sputter, still grappling with the fact that shouto was more than willing to try for a baby. 

“i thought i messed up, you were drifting from me. i wish i had known all you wanted was a child.” he hums thoughtfully, a full plan coming together in his head to comfort both of you. “and you haven’t been getting enough sleep for weeks, so i’ll make sure you get both tonight.” 

you took that to mean that he’ll fuck you to sleep, another thing he’s prone to do at times. so you shower and meet him in bed, trying to repress your giddiness. you didn’t notice the devious smirk your husband gave you as you sink into his arms. he pulls the blankets over you both, leaning in to give you the routine kisses before bed, and then he turns over like he’s going to sleep. 

you look at the ceiling in the dark with confusion. did he forget or change his mind? 

“you have to go to sleep before i’ll give you that child, sweetheart.” he speaks into the night, making your heart pound with a mix of frustration and intrigue and warmth at how he cares for you, as worked up as you were for him now, you groan and turn over. your brain is quiet as it’s your heart that races for once, and eventually you’re able to drift to sleep. 

he waits a few hours to make sure you’re good and asleep, his whole plan would be ruined if he woke you up. shouto loves you more than anything, and he hadn’t been exaggerating when he said he was worried. you had to be well rested, especially if you hoped to give him a baby after all. so only when he hears your quiet snores and deep breathing does he scoot closer, gently positioning you on your back. you dressed in a little nightgown in anticipation of him anyhow, so it was easy for him to locate your waiting bundle of nerves. he rubs you carefully, drawing small circles over your hood as you squirm the slightest bit beside him. he slides his fingers down to the familiar hole beneath, nodding at the feeling of slick appearing, your sweet body was responding to him. he crawls between your legs and carefully pushes your nightgown up over your chest, completely bewitched at the sight of your nipples perking up and goosebumps covering your perfect body. 

he thinks it’s almost ridiculous to think he wouldn’t want children with you. you’ve been in his life since his ua days and no one knew him like you did. you were someone so clearly meant to be a mother, it would be a crime not to give you the family you deserve. he easily parts your thighs, massaging and kneading the thickness he finds there as he lowers his face to your slick cunt. he’s always so gentle, but no time more than now as he hopes to remedy all your problems in one fell swoop like a good husband should. he laps at your center, angular nose bumping against the sensitive clit nestled above until he can hear your breathing change. he didn’t think he’d like it this much, but knowing that your body responds to him even subconsciously has his dick growing in his pants. you taste just as good as usual, growing wetter against his face with every passing second. he slides his fingers in, needing to know when you came. you spasm around the digits as his mouth focuses your swollen clit, and he knows you won’t take much longer. he may need his time understanding emotions and the like, but he knew your body like he knew his own. a few more flicks of his tongue over your nub and pumps of his fingers tickling your insides has you unraveling, and even in your sleep you look majestic cumming on his face. 

he shoves himself out of his boxers, admiring the way you still jerk when he presses his his fingers to your sensitivity. he draws your thighs around his slender hips, angling his pretty cock to your folds. he nuzzles the length along your folds to coat himself despite the pre oozing from his pink tip, taking a second to enjoy that sight in and of itself. then he sheaths himself, careful not to hiss too loud. you feel amazing, clenching him so tight even in the r.e.m stages of sleep, it’s almost too much for him to process. this was the first attempt at a baby, a family he never imagined himself having until he married and matured with you. it’s intoxicating, really, the way he rocks his way into your waiting pussy, silky walls guiding him in and out without any resistance. he has to bite down on his lip not to grunt and moan at how you feel, promising himself that he’d stay quiet and fill you to the brim. he pushes your legs to your chest, watching your face for any signs of discomfort. you only pant softly as he draws in and out of you, figuring this deep angle would be the best for his seed. 

all you did was follow his orders, getting the rest he demanded in exchange for his cum, even though he really won in the end. getting you to sleep, getting to see your body recognize and beg for him, getting to shove his cock deep and impress himself on your womb was more than a fair trade. a soft grunt slips past his lips as his hips stutter. his balls feel unimaginably heavy and then they don’t, his heavy load being fucked even deeper by the determined man you married. even when his warmth pools around his own dick as it goes soft inside you, he doesn’t quit, rolling his hips until he’s too sensitive to continue. 

he’s the one that doesn’t get any sleep that night, watching you sleep with his seed tucked in you only inspired him to take breaks and keep pumping you full, resigning himself to rest hours later  when he can’t possibly cum anymore.

[twdgkidsdeservebetter]

Everything Wrong With Umbrella Academy Season 4 (Characters)

The way it felt like someone who had never seen the show wrote this season????

The characters were AWFUL and were almost entirely new characters with all their previous character development forgotten.

Allison - Honestly, I don't like Allison (after watching THAT scene w Luther), so I really didn't care what happened with her this season. I think it does suck that she wasn't able to be happy with Ray, they were nice together. Also, no rumours? Her power was one of the most interesting out of the family.

Luther - People were commenting about how childish and positive he was being this season and how it was out of character from him being so serious. Honestly? I love silly Luther, he's such a breath of fresh air. I also like to believe that because Luther was assigned the leader of the family (being number 1 and all), he's able to enjoy himself without that pressure. Also, I also love to believe that Luther is using being positive and silly as a coping mechanism as to not be overwhelmed by the sadness of losing Sloane and also his current living situation. Giving him his gorilla body back was so unnecessary and makes no sense cause it wasn't the marigold that gave him the body.

Ben - He sucked. I hate that Sparrow Ben was the one that was dragged with them because it meant that we had to deal with him sulking and being angsty the whole time. Also, the character development we witnessed 1-2 just disappeared instantly cause of Sparrow Ben. Also, his friendship with Klaus was the best thing in the show and I hate that we never get to see that in season 3.

Klaus - I was actually so happy for him being sober, even if he wasn't living the best life because of his paranoia with death and germs. So it really sucked when that immediately went down the drain the second his body got the marigold.

Diego - He deserved better. Yeah, his constant complaining about his "belly" (which wasn't even that big of a difference??) and wanting to go back to his old super spy life did affect his and Lila's marriage, but when he realised that he immediately accepted that he was at fault and was willing to improve their marriage to make Lila happy.

Lila - I liked Lila before season 4. I don't know what they were thinking honestly by changing her entire character. Yes, she and Five were stuck for 7 years together, but seriously? That plot added NOTHING to the story because in the end, Lila chose Diego and then they all DIED like 10 minutes later!!

Viktor - Honestly? Viktor didn't really stand out this season for me. Sure, he got kidnapped by Ian Hawk. I thought the idea of him trying to remove the marigold from Ben was a really cool idea but then it just didn't happen. I thought his interactions with Reginald were decent, since it's interesting to see how this Reginald thinks about Viktor compared to the original timeline Reginald.

Five - It's honestly kind of impressive how the writers were able to make the best character in the show the worst character by the end of it. They completely changed his whole character. First, his personality is duller than a door nail. He's so emotionless and so boring. Where's the excessive facial expressions and movements? Second, changing his motivations. For the past 3 seasons we have watched him with one goal in his mind; "Save the world and his siblings". So why would Five ever possibly consider both giving that up for Lila of all people. Third, giving Five a love interest was so useless and lazy. Why would he choose a girl over his siblings? Especially one literally MARRIED to his BROTHER. Fourth, him being all pouty and jealous over Lila choosing Diego (her husband and father of her kids - no shit she was gonna pick him over Five, literally have no idea why Five even thought he had a chance) to the point where he plans to just ditch his family in the middle of a big fight. Five, him fighting Diego in the middle of said big fight. THEN, Five just gives up??? Yeah, that's probably all he could do but seriously, this is Five we're talking about, the guy who survived in 45 years in the apocalypse to try and get back to his family and save the world. Do you really believe that he would just give up?

BONUS:

Jennifer - They could introduce a new character/love interest for Ben but they didn't do the same for Five so they just gave him the only other woman who wasn't his sister???? LAZY. Also, the amount of plot holes with Jennifer's character makes me queasy.

[cheri-2047]

Helloooo do you write for aventurine from hsr?

If you do, would it be possible to request an aventurine x gn reader where he tries to comfort the reader who has religious trauma? If that's a little too complicated then something like aven trying to comfort the reader when they were suddenly reminded about their trauma from parents.

I'm really just desperately trying to make myself feel better 😭 anw the decision is still up to you <3 I hope you have a wonderful day and I hope that you stay safe and healthy, take care!! 💞💐

IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG 😭 I LOST MOTIVATION TO WRITE ANYTHING 😞😞 I’d love to write this for you but I’m not so sure on what religious trauma is so I focused on reader getting triggered by their parents instead, I hope that’s okay. Please don’t hesitate to comment if I mischaracterized him, this is based off what I see online since I don’t play hsr, thank you!

Aventurine comfort:

TAGS: slight mentions of self harm, hair pulling (out of stress) angst, fluff and comfort at the end

CHARACTERS: Aventurine

You were on your way home after meeting up with your parents. It’s been awhile since you last saw them so you thought you’d pay them a visit.

They welcomed you with open arms and were very glad that you came over, your mother excitedly sharing new stories of what’s happened while you moved away and your father just simply listening to you two.

Everything was smooth sailing, you had fun with them, sharing laughs and all until it all went down the drain.

“haha…” you chuckled it off. You hated hearing about the incident that had happened. Your parents brushed it off by now as a joke, but to you it was anything BUT that.

you continued to catch up to them, holding up a smile to get away the memories that ran through your brain.

stop stop stop

You clenched your hands tightly, continuing to laugh along with the “jokes” your parents made. You couldn’t stop thinking about it now, everything that happened, everything that you worked so hard to forget, all of it GONE just because of a few simple words.

“I might be home a bit late sweetheart, please don’t stay up waiting for me. Love you”

Your phone buzzed, a message from your boyfriend, Aventurine.

perfect.

You took this to your advantage, deciding it was a good excuse.

“Ah I need to go home, sorry mama, urgent things at work.”

You made a white lie. You knew it was a bad thing to lie, it would make you a sinner, but you would do anything right now to get away from that so called ‘home’

“I hope you visit again, we love you”

Your father kissed you on the forehead, before both waving off.

You quickly shuffled to your car, driving as fast as you can away from your parent’s home. You were thankful for your boyfriend’s text, not only can you have alone time but you also were able to lie with getting home.

You drove faster, the music louder, anything to try and get the flooding memories away. You clenched the wheel tightly, taking rough turns, completely ignoring your surroundings.

shut up shut up shut up shut up

please.

You reached your home, running to your bedroom, your safe place.

You opened the television, had your snacks around you and all but for some reason, nothing would work. The thoughts still lingered at the back of your mind, the unspoken memories, the things you’ve tried to hard to forget.

Little did you know, you ended up spiraling. Your eyes on the TV, your mind elsewhere. It all came back too quickly, too much for you, the way you were treated, the rules you were forced to have, the life you so desperately wanted to escape, and it felt like you were back. “…y/n… y/n? Hey hey-“

you got started by the sound, only to realize you had been pulling your hair a lot,

“ah- y-you’re back earl-“

He wrapped his arms around you tightly, Aventurine pulled your hands away from your hair,

“Shh, shh… there there”

he rubbed his hand on your back, you leaned into his touch, before looking down to see blood on your fingernails. “What happened?”

Aventurine pulled away, cupping your cheeks and rubbing your hand, careful not to touch the skin you picked.

You didn’t even notice it, but you were crying. You had tears run down your face as if your eyes were waterfalls.

“I visited my parents today”

“mh…did they do anything?”

“they just…mentioned something and I got triggered and started spiraling I guess…”

as you spoke, aventurine started to wrap some bandages around your fingers.

“What did they say?”

(cutting this part off here so you can like…. Explain to him ykyk. He doesn’t know much of your trauma so u explain that you went through that before)

“Oh sweetheart…”

he wiped your tears and kissed you on the cheek, before hugging you and hurrying your face into the crook of his neck.

“I’m sorry… I didn’t know that’s ever happened, why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want to remember…”

he frowned and pulled you closer,

“I’m sorry…. If you’re up to going to your parents again, I’ll be here to accompany you. If you don’t, then that’s alright, I understand.”

he kisses the top of your head multiple times, hoping to sooth you with his affection.

He intertwined his hand with yours as he continues to speak reassuring words. “I am always here for you, alright my dearest? If you feel triggered by anything ever again, please don’t hesitate to tell me. I’m never ‘too busy’ for you or any of that. I love you”

you smile as he tells you how he has your back and how he will never leave and swear to always protect you. As you stop crying, he starts to clean up the snacks you left and comes back with more of your favorite foods.

“I got some before I left work”

he chuckles, lying next to you on the bed as you two stayed in the comfort of each others arms.

“I love you, I always will and I will never stop.”

He presses a kiss to your lips, pulling away to see your smile, which makes him smile as well.

A/N: OKAY… so I tried to make it like him as much as I could, I think he’s the type to gen take things seriously in scenarios like this, and the part where he like… pushes(?) your head to his neck for comfort, that means a lot since I hc him to not like being touched there or anyone touching him there either, so yeah. Thanks for requesting and I hope this is ok!! Comments are appreciated (for tips, if I mischaracterized or just to say hi) I hope ure okay dude, if you want more of these feel free to request

[gumbootillustrations]

dame katelyn de feu my beloved 😭😭😭

more bits under the cut!!

katelyn first shows up to phoenix drop towards the end of season one under similar circumstances to canon mcd - jeffory's about to be executed for treason, and she's desperately trying to get his name cleared before he dies. however, when it becomes clearer and clearer to her that zane's using him as a scapegoat, she decides to turn on him and side with aphmau and the phoenix alliance ahead of the battle for phoenix drop.

in ashes, ashes, jurors were originally ordained through the bestowal of relics - however, after they went missing a couple of centuries after the first war of the magi, they pretty much became just. super politically powerful guards until about twenty years before the start of ashes, ashes, when the high priest of o'khasis at the time (zane's predecessor) figured out a way to bestow the powers of the juror relics to the jurors without using the relics themselves. anyway, its blood magick and it essentially brands the jurors with a seven-pointed star on their foreheads as a mark of the ritual being completed. katelyn hates what the ritual has turned her into - even though long hair is lowkey pretty impractical in a fight, she keeps hers long so that her mark is hidden (jeffory did the same, and garroth will also grow his hair out a little to cover his mark). when she transforms, a lot of the saturation in her skin in hair is drained out due to the magick not being suuuper holy (in fact, the first casting of the ritual upset the balance of the universe so much that it woke up the primordial gods n they sicked a plague on o'khasis that garte would later blame on tu'lan biological warfare). additionally, because the magick of the ritual sort of like. blends in? with any magicks or witchcraft already present in the juror their juror form will reflect this - katelyn has fire magicks, so when she transforms, her hair turns into this sort of sickly pale blue fire. her fire is hot enough that it burns blue anyway, but yeah.

katelyn burns her juror armour the minute she can once everyone gets out of the irene dimension. for a while, she just wears whatever she can scrounge up from around phoenix drop, but when cadenza finds out about this she gives katelyn this outfit! it's definitely done out of the kindness of her heart, there definitely aren't any ulterior motives don't worry. it's a lot more of a mercenary-ish look compared to her juror armour, but katelyn likes it just fine - especially since a certain flame-haired seamstress with a winning smile made it especially for her.

a little headcanon i have about katelyn - i feel like even though she isn't great at sewing, having grown up in a minor noble house in o'khasis, i feel like she would have some skills with textiles. specifically, i feel like she'd knit and/or crochet in her down time! before everyone heads out to gal'ruk, she knits everyone some mittens/scarves/socks/etc. not sweaters, though - she's loathe to admit it, but she's a firm believer in the sweater curse. otherwise, nothing much changes except that she throws on a coat and calls it a day - i like to think that, similar to laurance, she runs a little hotter than most people due to her fire magicks sort of acting as a bit of an internal furnace, so she doesn't need to bundle up quite as much as the others.

her day-to-day outfit is pretty much her standard guard outfit without the armour. she does wear an underbust corset/belt/thing with a small pouch attached, though - its very useful for carrying around knickknacks n stuff. otherwise, there's not much else to really comment on? idk. i probably shouldve added in some scars on her arms but its 11:30 pm at the time im writing this n ive spent way too long on this dang ref sheet already so yeah.

i decided to change up her conqueror form quite a bit - the form i drew in my original lineup of the second war's divine warriors wasn't really katelyn n looking back on it i shouldve spent more time trying to get it right. anyway, katelyn's mother was from southern tu'la, and was from a merchant family with some distant blood ties to the royal family - katelyn is technically related to the king of tu'la, but the relation is so distant that she doesn't really consider him (or any of the tu'lan nobles, really) to be blood relations. it's through this lineage, though, that she's able to resonate with menphia's relic, although it definitely helps that she's the second war's incarnation of the conqueror. mostly, the design notes from her first conqueror design remain the same - all i've really done is change the colour palette.

aaaand some headshots. i haven't exactly worked out how she got her facial scars - the big one was probably gotten on her first major assignment as a juror. however, it's nasty enough that when it healed it sort of fucked up her facial muscles - the scar tissue has permanently warped the right side of her mouth into a grimace, so anytime she makes a facial expression it's pretty lopsided (it's especially noticeable when she smiles). also, i changed the titling system for the jury to be more similar to the commonwealth knighthood system? like as much as i think "lady katelyn" is sick as fuck, the fact that it's the same title used for the female spouses of lords just sorta,,, didn't sit right? i guess? so yeah. dame katelyn.

anyway, feel free to ask questions if u want! :D

[ariadnelives]

Dokkaebi Fire - A Short Story

Author's Note: The bulk of this story takes place during the events of "Force Majeure," directly between chapters 8 and 9, during the crew's time in hiding in Xiagu. It is not intended to be read in sequence. If you'd like to catch up on the series so far, you can do so on ao3 or tumblr.

“Cookie?” Pilar called into the flat as she entered, not waiting to be let in. “It's me today. Ariadne's making final preparations for her surgery tomorrow, but she'll be by as soon as she's back on her feet.”

Aoibheann sat on the armchair in the living room, pointed at the television which appeared to be carrying a local news broadcast from one of Saturn's other moons. She had a blanket draped over her lap, and she watched the news broadcast idly, taking in none of it.

“Remember, starting tomorrow, Ariadne won't remember anything beyond the six-month point in our stay here, and we have to keep it that way, so, be careful what you say around her.” Pilar laughed without joy.

Aoibheann did not.

“You know,” Pilar tacked on, “I'm a complete liar. You could dime out the whole plan and I'm pretty sure me and Ari would absolutely leap for joy as long as it meant you were talking again.”

Aoibheann glanced over at Pilar wistfully, dark circles under her eyes, but said nothing. These little responses indicated their old friend could still hear them in there, that they could get through to her, even if she couldn't muster the strength to respond. She'd barely spoken since they lost the station. She was usually a tightly-wound powder keg, full of fire and passion, and she had to direct it towards her purpose or else she’d explode. Now, it was like all that fire inside her had gone out, and all that was left of her was an exhausted shell of a woman.

She seemed able to move around on her own, but rarely found the motivation to do so. She had grown somewhat thin and gaunt, as she only ate when fed, so every day, Pilar or Ariadne or one of her apprentices would stop by to see her and make sure she ate. Sasha had been spreading herself far too thin on Ariadne's project, but still found time to check in on her and monitor her physical health. Her apprentices had removed all sharp objects, belts, and shoelaces from the premises, but Pilar thought that was overkill. She had known Aoibheann long enough to know she would never physically harm herself. Still, it didn't make it easy to watch her torture herself like this.

Pilar sat next to her, and gently took her hand.

“I hate having to feed you this stuff, Cookie,” she said, opening up a small gray package she'd brought with her. “Replicated MREs. No wonder Baltimore and Beam went to a convenience store twice a week when they were in the army.”

Aoibheann looked with disdain at the lump of meat before her, served with a mush that could only be described as “prepared grain.” She hated eating it as much as Pilar hated serving it to her.

In their small hidden town of Xiagu, all of the food came out of the replicators. Xiagu had a surplus of energy, with its passive solar collection and years of nobody to use the stored power, so nobody was worried about the expenditure of creating food and water from reserves.

Back on the station, they had only managed to earmark power for replicator use two years previously. Like most spacecraft, all of the water fixtures were powered by replicators, generating as much water as needed from a stored bank of energy, which was in turn refilled by a device in the drains which converted waste-water into energy. The food replicator could make prepared meals, but crew members would only be allowed to use it if they could make up the energy cost. This happened pretty naturally, as everybody had to use the bathroom regularly and could credit this to their account, and had the handy benefit of encouraging people to clean up after themselves-- every time you emptied your trash into the energy-reclamation chute, you added replicator energy to your canteen account.

However, back home, most people didn't bother to use the replicators, because truly, Cookie's food was better fresh than anything they could produce, and she loved making it. Here in Xiagu, however, the replicators had nothing but military-grade “Meals Ready to Eat” and raw ingredients programmed into them. When the town was alive, there had been gardens to produce the vegetables, and people to tend them, harvest them, and cook them in the many small restaurants. Now, all that was left was replicators.

Cookie's star apprentice, Yellow, had been put in charge of the replicators while Cookie was indisposed, and had very few requests for anything other than the prepared MREs since they'd been there. Everyone on the crew was required to learn to cook, from Cookie, and nobody particularly felt up to trying to fill her shoes. Everyone had pretty much accepted meals of nondescript lumps of meat, vegetables, and starches on the firm belief that any day now, Cookie would be back on her feet, doing what she loved.

Yellow was the one in charge of food distribution, and had desperately been asking Ariadne to authorize them to reopen Cookie's kitchen, with her at the helm, until Cookie was well enough to resume her post. It's what Cookie would want, she insisted, but Ariadne was taking Cookie's condition unusually poorly, and had refused to allow the kitchen to operate without Cookie present. Yellow was frustrated, but understood. Nobody would feel right about having communal meals like before without Cookie.

Pilar carefully cut up the packaged meal and fed bites to Cookie, who halfheartedly complied with each bite. She offered her a cup of tea, which Cookie held for warmth but wouldn't drink without prompting.

“Look, Aoibheann...” Pilar said, “I know you're not well. I know this has been harder on you than anyone.”

Cookie met her gaze.

“But I don't...” Pilar began, and choked. “I don't think Ariadne will go through with this with you in this condition. She cares about you too much. You know what you mean to her. To me. She's not going to put herself at risk until she knows you're okay.”

Aoibheann looked downcast.

“She needs you,” Pilar whispered. “I need you. Please come back to us.”

****

Aoibheann's mind drifted back to when she’d met Ariadne and Pilar, thirteen years previously. She had been living on the streets for two years and had only passing contact with Pilar. She had been homeless since the Hanguk-Éire massacre, when Susan Weaver’s bombs had incinerated her family’s house and restaurant, left her and her mother destitute, and claimed her father’s life. Her mother had turned to drugs to cope with the loss, and ultimately found herself bleeding out in the gutter after an altercation with a pusher who she couldn’t pay for her latest fix.

She had distrusted the new girl at first. In her experience, another new person living under the overpass was another person who might get to the good scraps before her. She didn’t need any more competition. There was, however, a certain unspoken respect between her and the Aguilar girls. They were the only kids living on the streets of that particular block, and they had to look out for one another. They didn’t talk much, but they had struck up an arrangement. Pilar needed to go foraging to keep Sasha fed, and knowing that she would have to dig through trash bins and steal from loosely-guarded shops to make this happen, she felt it was too dangerous to bring her nine-year-old sister along with her.

So, she struck up an arrangement with Aoibheann: if she kept Sasha safe while she went out on runs, Pilar would try and steal a little extra food so Aoibheann could eat as well. Pilar and Sasha had been squatting in an abandoned house on a nearby side-street, and Aoibheann could crash there in exchange for keeping an eye on Sasha. It was shelter, and food, and it was a better deal than she was getting anywhere else. Under normal circumstances, Aoibheann would’ve developed a mighty crush on Pilar, but crushes were the sorts of things normal girls got to have. Aoibheann needed to focus on staying alive.

The new girl had been Racquel when they met. She had been raving about how the world was going to end, a secret conspiracy to reign atomic hellfire onto the bio-domes. It was the standard fare of the doomsaying lunatic, so nobody paid her much mind, but she’d named Ramos and Ramos specifically in her raving, and that caught Pilar’s attention. Nobody hated the Ramoses like Pilar, although Aoibheann didn’t yet know why.

So, Pilar and Racquel started going out on runs together. Suddenly, they were bringing back more than enough food, not only for the four of them, but they even got to share it with the others under the bridge. One day, they came home clean, wearing fresh clothes, and carrying a bundle of new clothes under their arm. They told her that Racquel’s name was Ariadne now, and that they would be needing her help a lot more often. They’d found some sort of mentor, who would “get them out of here,” but they’d need to spend hours, even days, with her at a time.

Aoibheann wasn’t a fool. She knew that if they succeeded in getting out of here, that she would be left behind. She couldn’t, however, risk being thrown out on the street. She’d watch Sasha and crash on the floor of this abandoned townhouse as long as they’d let her.

Sasha seemed like such a little kid then, although Aoibheann knew on a logical level that she was only three years older.

“If you could be anything in the world when you grow up,” Sasha had asked her one day, while the other girls had been away at their mysterious mentor’s for a few days, “what would you be?”

“I’m just trying to grow up,” Aoibheann said, “if I can make it that far, I’ll see what I can get.”

Sasha scrunched her nose. “You’re not playing the game right.”

“I’m being realistic,” Aoibheann said.

Sasha breezed past this. “I’m going to be a doctor when I grow up.”

Aoibheann considered pointing out that Sasha had a third-grade education and no money, but thought better of it, and instead just sighed. “Well, it’d be a crying shame if you starved to death before then,” she said. “Let’s see what your sister left us.”

Aoibheann looked at the handful of scraps Pilar had left on the table. Pilar had stolen them an entire rotisserie chicken, which Aoibheann had admonished her for-- the abandoned house did not have a working refrigerator, she pointed out, so she’d have to use the meats straightaway or they would quickly spoil and attract flies-- and several cans of diced white potatoes, which Pilar figured would keep Sasha’s stomach full, but Aoibheann pointed out had very little nutritional value. This was, of course, in addition to the six chocolate bars Pilar had, being thirteen years old, been sure to nab on her little excursion.

Aoibheann had nothing in the way of seasonings, except for a variety of salt and pepper packets she’d taken from a loosely-supervised outdoor seating area at a nearby restaurant, as well as, on one extremely lucky day, three sets of cheap silverware and a bottle of hot sauce.

She did, however, have access to a small metal trash can with a lid, water from a neighbor’s hose spigot-- Aoibheann felt bad about this, because water was so tightly regulated on Mars and the owner would surely be steeply charged for the waste, but this was a low priority compared to their survival-- and an old gas stove that the new girl had rigged up to illegally supply them with heat.

Aoibheann had cut the meat off the bones of the rotisserie chicken and plopped the bones into the cold water with all the fat and gristle, and opened up a few of the salt packets into the mixture. She put it on the stove and let it heat up to a boil, then turned down the gas and watched as the mixture turned a translucent yellow. She eventually fished out the bones with her knife, and dumped all the potatoes, and the meat from the chicken, into the broth.

After it had stewed for a while, Aoibheann took a taste. It was thin, watery, and somewhat bland, but it would do for the time being. Using the now-empty potato cans, she scooped out two servings of soup and handed one to Sasha.

“Now, we just have to keep it just hot enough,” Aoibheann said, “and it won’t go bad. We’ll be able to eat this until your sister gets back.”

Sasha took a taste. “It’s…” she had been taught, if she had nothing nice to say, to say nothing at all, so she didn’t finish her sentence. Aoibheann had spent enough time with her to know what she meant.

“It’s a tick bland like this,” Aoibheann shrugged, passing her the hot sauce. “Give it a dash of this, it’ll be a sight better.”

Sasha complied, tasted it, and her face made it clear that while it was in fact a sight better, it still wasn’t quite tasty.

“My mom used to make potatoes with a cheesy sauce,” Sasha said sadly. “They were really spicy. Pilar’s favorite food.”

“My dad was more of a cabbage man,” Aoibheann said. “My mom handled the meats, him the veggies. Hanguk-Éire cuisine is… all about things coming together in the pot.”

Sasha added a little more hot sauce to her soup.

“I wanted to be a cook,” Aoibheann said. “Like my folks, before, all this. My dad was a cook. His dad was a cook. His dad was a cook. And so on and so on, all the way back to our homelands.”

“You could still be a cook,” Sasha said, eyeing her soup. “...someday.”

“Well, we’ll have to get your sister to scrounge us up some quality ingredients, then, won’t we?” Aoibheann said.

The two of them finished their soup, and Aoibheann noted that it was getting late, and insisted that Sasha go to bed. Sasha refused without a story, and Aoibheann tossed back a “tough titties” which was met with an infuriatingly irresistible pout.

“FINE,” Aoibheann groaned, and improvised a story.

“Once upon a time, there was a kingdom,” Aoibheann began. This was how all her stories began, they all took place in this kingdom. “The kingdom, you see, had been through every horror you could put a kingdom through. It had been invaded. It had been burned. It had been taken over and torn in half and put back together again more times than you could count. Every evil overlord you could name had taken the place over, at one time or another. So the people in the kingdom, they were always sad, and they started to wonder, would they ever be free? And then, one day, they found out, there was another kingdom, just like them, halfway round the world, and they decided to join forces. But then, after a few decades of unity and prosperity, the entire world fell into darkness, and the people of the two kingdoms had to run. They ran far away, and found a new promised land in the desert, and built a home there.”

“Then, one day, in the new kingdom, there was a little girl who lived in a little house with her ma’ and her da’, and she loved her life. The dark creature from the old world, it caught up with them. It took her da’, and burned down her house, and she and her mother had to go out into the woods.”

Sasha looked scared. “The woods?”

“Aye,” Aoibheann said, “and her mother dear didn’t last long. There were these flares of Dokkaebi Fire, the goblin lights, and mother dear thought surely she could follow them to safety… Pretty soon, the little girl was all on her own.”

“I don’t like this story,” Sasha said, trying not to betray how frightened she was.

Aoibheann sighed. “Neither do I. But see, the story has a happy ending.”

“Happy?” Sasha asked.

“Happy enough,” Aoibheann replied, “for now. See, the little girl knew not to follow the goblin lights. She ran into the dark, and there she found… a brave, dashing adventurer. A gorgeous girl, noble and good, who’d been lost in the woods herself.”

Sasha’s eyes brightened at this. “Did she have a sword?”

“A little one, aye,” Aoibheann laughed. “And she was on a quest, to find a way out of the woods. But the problem was, she had to look after a sweet, wee little baby, and couldn’t leave it long enough to make any real progress. So the little girl, she’d faced all the darkness in the world. She could handle a wee little baby! She agreed to take care of the baby while the adventurer looked for a way to save herself and the little one.”

“Did she find a way out?”

“Someday she will,” Aoibheann said, “but all she found so far was… a sorceress.”

“This story has everything,” Sasha said.

“The sorceress was as beautiful as the adventurer, and sharp as a tack, but she was untrained. Powerful magic, but she didn’t know how to use it.” Aoibheann explained, “so, together, they managed to track down the Baba Yaga, a wise but crafty old witch, who could teach the sorceress and adventurer how to find the way.”

“And the little girl?” Sasha asked.

Aoibheann thought about this. “The little girl gets to spend time with the sorceress, and the adventurer, and that sweet wee little baby,” she said, “and she appreciates the time she has with them. Someday, they’ll find their way out, and she’ll still be in the woods, but she’ll always be glad to have met them. The end.”

Sasha crinkled her nose. “That’s a bad ending,” Sasha said bluntly. “The little girl should just leave the woods with them. Then find the creature that took her house, and kill it.”

“And how’s she gonna do that?” Aoibheann laughed.

“The adventurer and the sorceress will help her!” Sasha said. “Maybe the Baby Yaga can tell her some spells!”

“Baba Yaga,” Aoibheann corrected. “Okay, so say she does. Say she tells the adventurer and the sorceress everything that happened, and they go slay the evil creature. What happens next?”

Sasha thought about this. “Maybe they fight another creature,” she said. “An octopus?”

“Why are they fighting an octopus?” Aoibheann asked, still chuckling.

“It’s guarding a treasure,” Sasha said as though it were the most obvious thing in the universe. “You have heard a story before, right?”

“Fair enough,” Aoibheann said. “And then, say, they beat all the creatures. What then?”

“Happily ever after,” Sasha said triumphantly.

“Well, you’re a sight more deft at this than I am,” Aoibheann said. “Let’s get you to sleep, I’ll do better next time.”

Aoibheann swaddled Sasha in the dirty, tattered blanket that they’d found a few weeks earlier, sat out in the hallway, and began to cry.

In the present day, Aoibheann thought back to her sobbing in the hallway. At the time, she was convinced that Ariadne and Pilar would surely abandon her when they finished training with Blue. When they started building their first spacecraft in an alley under the bridge, she’d defended it from thieves and scrappers at knifepoint, even thinking that they would use it to leave her behind. When, against all odds, Ariadne had built a spaceworthy craft, she was stunned into silence when they invited her along.

“Don’t be dumb,” Pilar had said, extending a hand to her “of course we’re taking you with us. We started this crew to keep Sasha fed. How are we gonna do that without a cook?”

And so, Cookie had been born. As the goblin lights lit the way to ruin, Pilar’s hand pulled her onto the right path.

****

Now, Pilar’s hand was busy cutting up bites of nondescript meat and placing them into Aoibheann’s mouth.

“Do you remember… back in our street urchin days,” Pilar asked, “Me and Ariadne would come home from Blue’s, put Sasha to bed, and then you, me, and her would stay up late gossiping. We’d show you all the cool stuff Blue had taught us in our lessons, and you’d take the ingredients we’d stolen for you-- better ones, after you started giving me lists-- and you’d teach us how to cook like you.”

Aoibheann almost smiled, and Pilar saw it.

“Alright, you’re right,” Pilar said, cutting her another bite and placing it in her mouth. “Nobody can cook like you. Don’t let it go to your head. But you taught us to cook better than most people.”

Aoibheann accepted another bite wordlessly.

“You know, Ariadne used to use Blue’s tricks to fix up that abandoned house, Alan’s house, and I used to show you all the martial arts tricks, and you’d be rapt with attention,” Pilar said. “When me and Ari started dating, we had a friendly debate about it. See, I thought you had a crush on her, and she thought you had a crush on me. Joke’s on us, turns out you were more than capable of having both.”

Aoibheann came close to smiling again.

“Funny, that’s a fond memory now. Back then, it was the worst year of our life,” Pilar said. “Wonder what we’ll remember fondly from now, when we’re older.”

Aoibheann’s fractional smile faded away. She couldn’t imagine anything worth cherishing from this time. But then, she couldn’t back then, either.

“And we don’t have to talk about…” Pilar cut herself off. “I mean, the… what we’ve had together… The unspoken closeness between the three of us. Rare as it might be that we’ve acted on it, it’s still special to me. To us.The problem has never been that we don’t feel about you, the way you feel about us. If you wanted... what’s between the three of us... to be more, it’d be yours in a heartbeat.”

Aoibheann looked down at her lap.

“We’ve always loved you, Cookie,” she explained. “And don’t get twisted up on the definitions. Every sense of the word. Whatever you’re thinking I surely can’t mean… I mean it. I don’t know what’s going on in your head. I just hate to think that… I mean… we’re going into the most dangerous time we’ve ever faced. If something happens, to me or to Ari… I just want to know you know what you mean to us. To me.”

Pilar gave her another bite, and Aoibheann didn’t fight her on it.

“Do you remember our wedding?” Pilar asked, and laughed. “Of course you do. Hard to forget something like that. Do you remember how angry you were that we wouldn’t let you cook us a grand feast?”

There was a spark in her eyes that demonstrated that she had not, in fact, entirely let this go.

“We stole the supplies for hamburgers from a local grocery store, and made Beam cook them,” Pilar said. “We actually almost got caught, pulled over for speeding on the way home. Ariadne told the cop her name was Ariadne Baltimore. Small town, local cops, everybody knew their parents, they figured they’d just miscounted the sisters, and let her go. Idiots.”

Pilar sighed.

“You weren’t allowed to cook because Ariadne needed you by her side,” she explained. “You were her maid of honor for a reason, Cookie. Our crew, our marriage, our family… where would we be without you? Would we even be us?”

Pilar offered Aoibheann another bite, and she didn’t take it. Pilar looked concerned. She hadn’t eaten nearly enough to be satisfied yet.

“What is it?” Pilar asked.

Aoibheann opened her mouth, thought hard, her eyes darting back and forth as though she was trying to make sense of something she couldn’t put words to.

“Aoibheann, are you… are you alright?” Pilar asked. “Should I get Sasha?”

Aoibheann shook her head vigorously. She had been lost in her depression for months, wondering if she was really better off waking up in the morning, but suddenly, the floodgates had come open, and she couldn’t wait one more second to let out what had been eating at her and destroying her soul ever since they’d lost the station.

Her voice was dry and raspy. She had not spoken more than two consecutive words in weeks, and her body vehemently protested the sudden change in this policy.

“Was it my fault?” She asked, thinking back to a conversation she'd had with their tormentor years ago. “Did I do this to us?”

****

“Excellent work today, everyone,” Cookie’s voice boomed through the kitchen. “The festivities went off without a hitch. This is an anniversary our captain won’t soon forget.”

“Thank you, Chef,” her crew echoed back.

“Dismissed,” she said to the assembled kitchen staff, and then quietly approached one of the greener pirates who’d recently started the galley rotation that was mandatory for the whole crew. “Libby, a word?”

Cookie ushered Libby into a small room at the back, which she used for prep when she was working on more intimate, personal projects. This was the room where she prepared birthday meals for Spacebreather, Ariadne, and Sasha. This was the table on which she’d painstakingly crafted Ariadne and Pilar’s wedding cake. The small walk-in freezer was the one where she’d had a brief, clumsy tryst with Blue on a rare visit to the station, after Cookie had enraged her by challenging her to a contest to see who could make a better mole negro oaxaqueño sauce, and then winning it.

Libby had been invited into the inner sanctum, and the look on Cookie’s face made it absolutely clear that it was not an honor.She was in deep trouble. Worse still, there was a salt shaker on the table in front of her.

“Do you think this is funny, lass?” Cookie asked. “Is this a fun game to you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Chef,” Libby said, actually looking somewhat convincing.

“The cap of the salt shaker was unscrewed. One shake, and dinner would’ve been ruined.” Cookie said. “It was your responsibility to set the table in the captain’s quarters.”

Libby got immediately defensive. “Anybody could’ve done that,” she said, “I didn’t do it, it’s totally unfair that you--”

“Anybody could’ve,” Cookie said. “But I gave you a responsibility. You were responsible for the Captain’s table. You signed off on a table with an unscrewed salt shaker on it. That makes you responsible for the salt shaker, whether you placed it there or not.”

“How is that fair?” Libby replied indignantly.

“Lass, why do you think Ariadne requires all crew to complete a rotation in my kitchen before they’re cleared for field service?” Cookie asked.

“She needs someone to cook for her?” Libby asked derisively.

Cookie sneered. She did not care for Libby, and never had. The girl seemed to attract drama. How, she wondered, could someone with so few friends be so perpetually in the middle of a falling out with a group of them? “And why do you think my standards are so meticulous?” Cookie asked.

Libby declined to answer, because she knew her honest answer would get her in trouble, but her face betrayed what she wanted to say: “Because you’re a huge bitch?”

Cookie answered her own rhetorical questions. “The skills you need to be successful in here, will be invaluable to you out there. You didn’t go over your loadout with a fine-toothed comb. You didn’t take the responsibilities you were trusted with seriously. You allowed your crewmates to operate with faulty equipment, that, had I not intervened, would’ve caused the mission objective to fail.”

“To be clear,” Libby said, “the ‘mission’ was serving them dinner.”

“IN HERE IT’S DINNER,” Cookie bellowed, her eyes full of all the rage and fire that she kept tamped down in her heart every second of every day, and slammed her fists on the table, knocking down the salt shaker. The chrome lid clattered off, and salt spilled onto the teak countertop. Cookie wordlessly grabbed a pinch of it and tossed it over her left shoulder. “In here, you fail in your duties and it means dinner isn’t very good that night. Out there, you fail in your duties and your sisters in arms die. That’s why Ariadne makes you work with me before you’re allowed to work for her. You can’t be trusted to handle the stakes out there if your team, and your commanding officer, can’t even trust you to do your job correctly when the stakes are only whether tonight’s chicken will be a little dry. Is that crystal clear?”

Libby looked as though she was about to protest, or accuse Cookie of being melodramatic, but Cookie cut her off. “Think very carefully about what you say next,” she said, “and if you’re lost as to what answer I’m looking for...” She pointed at the band that she kept tied around her head, so that even if one of her brilliant red hairs slipped out of its tight bun, it would still not fall into her face. It was white, and said, in bold black text, “YES CHEF.”

Libby grumbled. “Yes, chef,” she said. “next time, I’ll check the table settings more carefully.”

“Glad to hear it,” Cookie said. “But I think it’s important that you know… I know you put the shaker on the table.”

“What?!” Libby snapped.

“If the Captain, or her first mate, were to be poisoned, I would need to be able to verify who’d done the deed.” Cookie said. “Every step of my meal preparation is accounted for. There is a record of every action taken in this kitchen, cupboard-to-table. If something goes wrong with a meal, within seconds I will be able to identify the point of failure and exactly who was responsible for preventing it. Of course, it helps to have a private video feed into the captain’s quarters.”

Cookie tossed her communications device onto the table, and hit play. It projected a small, but surprisingly clear, hologram of Libby setting the table, smirking as though struck with an idea, and unscrewing the cap of the salt shaker.

“You have… a security camera… in their quarters?!” Libby asked.

“I’m the only person in the system they trust with it,” Cookie said. “I trust them with my life, and they trust me with theirs. Now, I gave you a chance to confess to your little prank, and you decided to lie, to pass the buck onto someone else. I’m afraid I can’t let that slide. I’ll have to fail you for this rotation. Come back at the start of the next one and you can reapply.”

“What?!” Libby snapped again. “I’m two days away from finishing! I have to start my galley rotation over again just because you caught me playing a harmless prank on your little pervy peep-show?”

“Call it pervy if you like,” Cookie said dismissively. “The nature of my relationship with the captain and her first mate is enthusiastically sanctioned and is, frankly, none of your concern. The behavior you showed in here, would’ve only spoiled Captain Ariadne’s dinner. If you showed the same level of carelessness and irreverence out there, it might’ve gotten someone killed. ‘Harmless’ indeed. You’re not responsible enough for field work until you can prove you can handle kitchen duty.”

“This is bullshit,” Libby said, gathering up her things to storm out of the room. “Like it even matters whether that bitch’s little dinner is ruined.”

Cookie slammed her fists on the counter again.

“Captain Ariadne is the greatest woman who ever lived,” Cookie growled, “and if I hear you speak of her like that in my presence again, you’ll lose a hell of a lot more than your galley rotation.”

Libby moved to storm out, but Cookie rushed the door and held it shut.

“Now, you listen to me, you little twerp,” Cookie said, jabbing a finger into Libby’s chest, shaking with anger. “That woman pulled me out of the gutter-- pulled all of us out of the gutter. There is nothing more important than the work she does, and we are the beating heart that allows her to do it. So if you want to be a part of this crew, you’ll show her some goddamned respect and start taking your work fucking seriously.”

Libby looked furious.

“What do I want to hear?” Cookie asked pointedly.

Pilar was astonished. “You think… because you were hard on the Nameless in her galley rotation… that she went totally off the rails, tried to kill us, and drove us out of our home?”

“Yes, chef,” Libby grumbled after a beat, and Cookie allowed her to pass.

****

“She tried to say we were like a cult,” Cookie said weakly. “That we were just minions blindly following Ariadne’s orders. That we turned against anybody who didn’t fall in line.”

“Is any of that true?” Pilar asked rhetorically. “Does the crew actually act like that?”

Cookie let the tears come. “I do,” she said. “What if she… how do I know she isn’t holding my devotion, my zeal, against the entire crew?”

“You… blindly follow Ariadne’s orders?” Pilar asked, entirely rhetorically. “That’s a surprise, I thought you really believed in our mission.”

Cookie was taken aback. “I do!’

Pilar smiled. “There’s some of that fire,” she said. “I’ve missed it. Aoibheann… when is the last time Ariadne actually gave you an order?”

Cookie had to think about this, but came up short.

“Exactly,” Pilar said. “This is what’s been eating you, all this time?”

Aoibheann looked afraid to reply, so she just asked what she’d wanted to ask, ever since they were driven out of their home.

“Do you forgive me?” She asked. “Does she… does she forgive me?”

Pilar looked Aoibheann square in the eyes. “Cookie, you’ve never needed our forgiveness. An insane terrorist attacked our home. There’s nothing you could’ve done to prevent that.”

This was not what Aoibheann wanted to hear.

Pilar sighed. “Of course we forgive you, Aoibheann,” she said in a voice that sounded entirely earnest, but using words that betrayed how sarcastic she was being: “for not allowing someone who turned out to be a sexual predator and an actual serial killer tamper with our food and ruin our anniversary. We forgive you for being the most devoted friend we’ve ever had. Because someone else mistreated us, it must’ve been wrong that you treated us right. We will always forgive you for loving us, Aoibheann. You will never lose our forgiveness for that.”

Aoibheann was struck speechless again.

“Don’t go quiet on me,” Pilar said affectionately, “I just got you to talk again! I’ve missed your voice.”

“I appreciate your taking care of me,” Cookie admitted, “while I’ve been… not myself.”

Pilar gently put her hand on Aoibheann’s, and gave it a squeeze, and then told her the most reassuring truth she had.

“The Nameless is a user,” she said. “She wants a bunch of people who act like puppets and put her well-being first. Ariadne spends every second of every day encouraging her crew to think and act for themselves, and to put each other’s well-being above all else. That’s why she thinks Ariadne’s a tyrant. Not because you defended her honor after a sociopath tried to ruin her anniversary and then called her a bitch.”

Aoibheann felt as though she’d just received absolution for something that had been dragging her through the muck for months. How could she not believe Pilar, of all people? She began to cry openly.

“Hey, hey,” Pilar said, “it’s okay! I got you.”

“I’ve let the crew down,” she said, “had them eating this flavorless mush for however many months. I’ll be back at a stove first thing in the morning, don’t you worry--”

Pilar laughed. “Aoibheann… Cookie, I’m glad you’re back but… don’t push yourself too hard, okay? Let your apprentices handle it for a bit. Besides, you haven’t walked by yourself in a pretty long time. It’ll take a bit before you’re seaworthy again, let alone fit to run a kitchen.”

Aoibheann looked downcast. “Well, I’ve spent enough time sitting around like a lump being no good to anybody,” she said indignantly.

“You’re plenty good to us,” Pilar said flatly, “just by being here. We love you, Cookie. You don’t need to… justify your existence by being a devoted servant.”

Aoibheann was uncomfortable with this sentiment, and it showed on her face. This was, after all, how she showed her affection for Ariadne and Pilar. How could she show them her love and devotion without being able to cook for them?

“I don’t know how to…” Cookie began. “Please… Please, just… tell me what to do.”

Pilar sighed. She knew Cookie was far too devoted to her duties to go completely without orders. “She and I will be back in a few hours, for dinner. Let her hear your voice. Tell her you love her, and wish her luck on her procedure. If you have the strength, give her a hug. And, most importantly, just… please, be okay. Be kind to yourself and take all the time you need to get back on your feet. We’ve only got the one Cookie, so take care of her for us, okay?”

Cookie smiled, and squeezed Pilar’s hand back with what little strength she could muster.

Pilar picked up the now-empty tray that the MRE had been on. “Now that you’re back, do I have your permission to start up the kitchens? Let your apprentices do some real cooking?”

Cookie nodded her head.

“Then I guess this is truly an event worth of celebration: you’ve had your last Meal-Ready-To-Eat,” Pilar laughed. “I’ll see you tonight, Cookie. I want to put some meat back on your bones, so I’ll be cooking, and I expect you to be looking over my shoulder and barking orders at me the whole time.”

Cookie looked at her and smiled, and Pilar’s heart melted. It had been a long time since anyone had seen that.

****

Cookie’s apprentices stood in a straight line at the back of the Hotpot Spot, an abandoned restaurant that Sweettalk had identified as her childhood favorite. Cookie, wearing the chef’s coat she’d fled the station in, freshly laundered, and her trademark “YES CHEF” headband, limped into the restaurant, supported by a cane that Sweettalk had fished out of her childhood home, and said had belonged to her grandfather.

Cookie was still not back to full strength, but her apprentices could see the fire they’d come to fear and love had returned to her eyes.

“As you may have noticed,” Cookie announced, the natural loudness of her voice undiminished by her time indisposed, “I have been… unwell, of late. As such, I am unable to resume my duties at this time.”

Her staff turned to her chief apprentice, Yellow, for guidance. Yellow remained silent, so the rest of them did as well.

“It’s alright, kids,” she said, stamping the cane on the ground loudly. “You don’t have to pretend. I’m not my old self yet. It’s fine. I wouldn’t feel right resuming my post here anyhow. This isn’t my kitchen. I’ve called you all here because you are the apprentices most equipped to run a kitchen of your own.”

Yellow nodded in assent.

“As such, I have a new directive for each of you, until such time as we’ve retrieved my kitchen, and I’m back to my usual vim and vigor, each of you is to select one of the defunct restaurants in this town, take your pick of the remaining staff and any available volunteers, and you will run your kitchens to the standard I have taught you.”

Cookie sighed.

“I know what you all think,” she said. “I know what you’ve said to me, in the past. You think your best is only a pale imitation of my cooking. But I need you all to know that… isn’t true.”

“Chef?” Yellow asked.

“I was the fourth person on this crew, lass,” Cookie said. “The first person to join, after the founding members. At the beginning, we had one mission: Keep Sasha Fed. There is nothing I value more highly than that mission. I live for it, and if I’m blessed with the chance, I will happily die for it. We may have expanded the definition of ‘Sasha’ to include everyone we love, but this mission is and will always be my life’s labor. Food doesn’t just sustain us. It is love, in physical form. The Captain and the First Mate have been very gracious to me, in the time we’ve known each other, by allowing me to show them my love and devotion in the way I’m able to offer. Over the last nine months, they have shown me the devotion was not one-sided, and given me the love I was able to accept. So your mission is, as it always has been: get in the kitchen, and show your love to the crew. Fill their bowls with it, in the way only you can, with or without me. And when your cup is empty…”

Cookie choked up a bit, and did a halfway decent job masking it.

“...When your cup is empty, allow those who love you to fill it back up, until you’re ready to pour from it again.”

After a long, uncomfortable beat, her crew shouted back “Yes, Chef!”

“I have been derelict in my duties,” Cookie said. “I let you go this many months without loving one another properly, because you wouldn’t do it without me.”

“Chef, permission to speak freely?” One of her younger apprentices, a quiet young boy who specialized in pastries, piped up.

“Granted,” Cookie said.

“You never ordered us not to run the kitchens without you. In fact, before…” He paused carefully, then opted to leave it unsaid, “before, you always taught us how to take the lead for the rest of the crew, when you had to cook for the Captain’s table. We wouldn’t run the kitchens without your say-so because…”

“It’s okay, lad, no need to be scared of the likes of me,” she reassured him.

“We were ordered not to,” he told her. “The Captain was very clear: ‘There’s no crew without Cookie.’”

Cookie leaned on her cane and looked a bit sad.

“She couldn’t handle it, Chef,” Yellow explained. “Knowing somebody else was doing your work, while you were suffering the way you were.”

Now Cookie could feel her heart melt. “She said that, did she?”

The young baker boy winced. “She said that there’s nothing more important than the work you do, and that everything the crew does, is just so you can do it,” he said. “She said… well, she said she was derelict in her duty to you, and that she couldn’t replace you until she’d made it right. Until you’d forgiven her for letting you down.”

Cookie laughed. “We’ve known each other a long time, indeed,” she said. “The captain is a sentimental one, I’m afraid. She blames herself for all this. For my condition. Don’t tell her I said this, but she’s still more Catholic than she’d like to admit.”

Everyone’s eyes flared at this. Of course none of them would tell her she’d said that, as they all valued keeping their heads attached to their necks too much. Cookie was one of the only people in the system who could get away with saying something like that in front of Ariadne.

“She could never let me down if she tried,” Cookie said, “and even if she did, I will always forgive her. That you can repeat to her. Now, that’s enough prattling on from an old fool. You all have restaurants to open. To work!”

“Yes, Chef!” Her apprentices all shouted, and broke formation to claim their restaurants.

“And remember,” she shouted after them. “If you talk to the Captain, this was her idea!”

She had, in fact, passed her forgiveness along to Ariadne the previous day, before her surgery, and assured her that she didn’t need forgiveness, the same way Pilar had done to her. After her procedure, Ariadne wouldn’t remember Cookie giving her consent to reopen the kitchens, but she was delighted that when she came out of it, she seemingly remembered, on some level, that she had been absolved of all wrongdoing.

She was relieved when, during the fight Alicia staged with her, Ariadne had suggested they put her apprentices to work in the kitchens. Despite being set back several months, she was done punishing herself, and letting everyone else punish themselves with her. It was a do-over many were not fortunate enough to get, and after all she’d lost, Aoibheann was not one to turn her nose up at a second chance.

****

Months later, when all this was over and Sasha’s medicine and a lot of good eating had restored her muscles into mostly proper working order-- she still felt uneasy at times, and preferred to keep the cane on hand, just in case-- they were repatriated to their home, the Nameless had been defeated, and the station had erupted into a celebratory frenzy. Yellow and the kitchen staff had burned the candle at both ends to supply enough party snacks to keep anyone from drowning in all the wine. Two former crew members, Baltimore and Beam, had returned to the station to join in the celebrations. Sweettalk and Sasha had, believing themselves slick, pulled Ghostrunner and her new girlfriend Vigil back to their quarters. Alicia had brought Blue back to the station and, in the haze of wine, loudly announced her intention to start a relationship with her, before disappearing back to her own quarters. Cookie and Blue had, despite their past rivalry, a deep, abiding respect for one another, and Blue was one of the few people who was authorized to do as she pleased in the kitchen. Cookie knew firsthand that after Blue’s enthusiastic and athletic lovemaking, she would likely need something to eat, and a bit more wine, so she’d set a bottle of red and a bowl of fresh mozzarella in conspicuous locations in the hopes that she would find them. Cookie was, uncharacteristically, not in the kitchen that night.

If she had learned anything from the past year, it was that she had to sometimes set the weight of the world down, and allow the people she loved to take care of her as much as she took care of them. So, as had become tradition, once per month, she would retire to the Captain’s quarters instead of her own, and allow her friends to show them how much they loved her. Pilar spent the day marinating meats, just the way Cookie had taught her, and Ariadne had built a heating element into her personal dining table so that Pilar could cook them some of Cookie’s favorite foods.

They would then retire to the bedroom for a night of passion-- Ariadne always had some new device she’d built and wanted to show off. Being married to Spacebreather, she was in the unfortunate position of being a bit of a pillow princess, but not on pillow principle, and so never had anyone else to use it on, and Cookie was the only person other than Ariadne who Spacebreather was willing to touch. They would spend this time laughing, and experimenting, and making sure not an inch of her, or the captain, went unkissed, and then they would fall asleep in each other’s arms, all the while gossiping and reminiscing the way they had back on Mars.

Sometimes, on these nights, Cookie would think back to what Spacebreather said to her, during her episode, about how if she ever wanted something more between them, she could have it.

The thing was, she didn’t want something more. She treasured these nights they had together, but as far as she was concerned, nothing had changed about what they were to her. They were her best friends, and they were her calling in life. She would, to the best of her ability, serve their mission with almost religious zeal. Even unto her death, she would prioritize keeping her loved ones happy and healthy. She had already loved them, more, she believed, than she could ever love anyone else, even when they had started an exclusive relationship with one another, and she was just a heartbroken teenager pining after them both. How could she want something more, when she couldn’t even imagine something better than what she already had?

The first time the three of them had ever fallen into bed together, years after Ariadne and Pilar had made it clear they were soulmates, they had been a ball of teenage hormones, propelled by a raunchy party game that had gotten a bit out of hand. Aoibheann had awoken mortified and furious at herself for daring to succumb to her own desires like this. Her whole life, whenever she’d allowed herself to love something, it was taken away, and that only when she accepted that something was beyond her grasp, would she stand a chance of being lucky enough to attain it. She was sure that by admitting to her wants, and acting on them, she had ruined everything. Except, Ariadne and Pilar noticed her embarrassment and simply chose to behave as though nothing had changed. It had happened only occasionally in the past, and each time, Ariadne and Pilar would wait for Cookie to bring it up. Otherwise, it was completely unspoken.

The one crucial difference was, now, Aoibheann “Cookie” Gyeong, once the saddest girl on Mars, had finally accepted that it was okay to want, and to act on those wants, that this was not following the goblin lights to her death as her mother had. She, who loved her life so much that she shut down for the better part of a year when she feared it had changed irreparably, spent most of her time refusing to acknowledge what she loved about it. She did her job, showed her love, and asked for nothing in return except for the ability to keep doing it.

“You know,” Ariadne said, running her fingers through Aoibheann’s long, smooth, bright red hair, as a sleeping Pilar cradled them both in her arms, “we don’t do any of this for you. We do it because we like doing it. It’s fun for us.”

Cookie laughed. “Oh, I hadn’t noticed,” she quipped.

Ariadne smiled, and told her something she’d waited years to be sure Cookie would be ready to hear. “Thank you,” she said, “for being my friend. For loving me. For making what we do worth it.”

Aoibheann shot a smile right back. “I could say the same to you.”

[detectivestucks]

A Jealous Hokage VIII

18+ content, Minors do NOT interact

Summary: Your work week continues to be a struggle as Obito becomes too busy to keep you company. Kakashi stops keeping his distance, infuriating you.

Warnings: NSFW, Hate Sex, Unprotected Penetration, Slut Shaming

Word Count: 4.5k

Part 7

New Here? Check out Part 1

You watched Obito leave your office and with him he took all sense of comfort. You knew he was busy today so you’d be on your own with Shiho. The shame you felt, seeing your budding career fall to the ground and get stomped on was all consuming. You had a hard time motivating yourself to work on your project. Usually you were just driven. You didn’t have to think about working hard; it was second nature. 

Today was a different story. You thought about quitting. Rejoining the field but you need to finish this project first. The village and the Anbu were counting on the intelligence your team was providing. 

It was a little harder than usual to collect everyone’s assignments.  Some of the intelligence officers opted to not complete their parts of the project, trying to leave you to finish their work. 

“Surely the Hokage won’t mind if you let this one slip.”

You quickly retort that “It’s not about what the Hokage wants from us, it’s about what the village and our fellow shinobi need from us.” 

Some of them felt bad and took back their incomplete tasks, others just laughed in your face knowing you’d be up all night doing their work for them. You scowl at them and storm away.

I’ll be sure Obito pays these three a visit.

It still hurt though. Last week every member of your team would have done a backflip had you commanded them to. Now you were lucky to exit the room without someone making more moaning sounds.

As much as you wanted to hide out in your office again today, Obito wasn’t around to bring you lunch. He had given up enough of his time helping you. You would have to go to the lunch room and get it yourself. You asked Shiho to come with, but she had a meeting to go to. 

“Sorry, Y/N. Want to wait till I come back?”

“I can’t, I have a meeting of my own when you’re done.”

You had to suck it up. It’s not like you could hide forever. Maybe it will go better than it did on Monday. They got all their jokes out and Obito left a trail of bruises behind to discourage them from making more...hopefully. 

Shiho gives you a worried look before you leave the office. Upon entering the lunchroom you take a deep breath and without making eye contact with anyone, you step in the long line to wait to order your food.

You stand there looking at the ground. Determined not to lift your face and open yourself up to conversation when a man strides up to you and begins to play with your hair. 

“Ahh the Hokage’s golden girl graces us with her presence. Where’s your guard dog? Hmm? Did you give him the day off?” 

You glare at him while wishing your ninjutsu was invisibility. Some of the nearby conversations cease to eavesdrop on you and your uninvited comrade. From across the room Kakashi stopped his own conversation, looking around to see why the room’s volume dialed back. When he saw you standing with Aoto, he looked over intensely.

“It makes me wonder, what could be so remarkable about that pussy of yours that you can keep the entirety of Team Minato under your thumb?” 

You feel the heat rise in your face. You were both furious and extraordinarily embarrassed. You wanted to knock his teeth out of that smug mouth and after, turn into a puddle and wash down the floor drain beneath your feet.  

“Mind if I take a turn and find out?” he says, reaching for your cheek.

Kakashi moved so fast you blinked and suddenly he was behind Aoto. 

“Touch her again. I dare you.” he hisses, tightly gripping the wrist of the hand that was about to brush your cheek.

“My-my, if it isn’t our fearless leader here to claim his prize.” 

Kakashi twists Aoto’s wrist behind his back, causing his face to crinkle in pain. 

“Kashi, people are staring!” You whisper urgently.

“Yeah, listen to her Kashi” he says, mocking your pet name for him through gritted teeth.

Feeling guilty for further embarrassing you he lets go. 

“See you later” Aoto whispers to you with a wink, strutting away with his friends.

Kakashi inspects your face, “Angel are you okay?” 

“Kashi, he only touched my hair.” you say as he feels your cheeks and neck which are flush with embarrassment. 

You were painfully aware of how many eyes were on the two of you. Kakashi didn’t care. To him the room was empty. He hugged you right there in the middle of the cafeteria for everyone to see. You buried your face in his chest not wanting to see a single eye as they gawked at your relationship. He kissed the top of your head before letting go. Instead of returning to the conversation he abandoned, he slid his hand around your waist and finished waiting in line for your food with you. 

Upon receiving your meal Kakashi turns to escort you to your office when a former classmate of yours, and fellow intelligence officer, came running up to him.

“Lord Sixth!”

“Yes, Jozie, What is it?” he says, keeping a firm grip around your waist.

“I hear you’re looking for new candidates to fill the position for Head of the Intelligence Department.” she says with a snide look in your direction. 

You look at the ground, no longer feeling hungry. Kakashi’s face became stern.

“I hope you didn’t come to tell me you wanted to throw your hat in the ring.”

You were shocked at his reply. Kakashi was always so polite, even when addressing enemy shinobi. Your mouth fell open along with Jozie’s as both of you stared up at him.

“Our most recent candidate knew 27 languages, completed 16 S rank projects, 117 A rank projects and has been requested by name to assist on intel matters in both the Hidden Sand and Hidden Cloud. Last I read your file, you knew 6 languages and exclusively worked on B and C rank intel projects. It would be a severe step down if we were to take your application seriously.” 

His response had you gobsmacked. You never knew Kakashi to be so cruel with his words. You’d be lying if you said your nipples didn’t stiffen hearing him come to your defense. He was so cool and collected while viciously tearing into Jozie for her disrespect. 

Steering you by your waist, Kakashi walked you out of the lunch room and down the hallways to your office. Your body obediently following his lead as your mind reeled from what you just witnessed.

“I’m done keeping my distance Y/N. I’m not going to sit by and watch them disrespect you. I know it’s the last thing you want and I’m sorry but I can’t do it anymore.”

 Kakashi wasn’t sure where your relationship stood but it was irrelevant. He loved you and you could hear the sadness in his voice as he spoke. 

“I made this mess and I’m going to fix it. I don’t know how, but I will.”

When you reached your office he stopped at the door. You walked in and put down your food. He began to walk away when he heard you whisper, “Kashi?”

He turned around to see you in your office doorway. You looked sheepish, not sure how you felt about your relationship but certain you didn’t want him to leave. 

He rushed over to you and hugged you like his life depended on it. 

You could feel him pour all of his regret into the embrace. You could feel how he loved you. If you weren’t cried out from the past few days, you were sure you’d have wept a few tears but the most you could do was softly hug him back.

“Thank you for the soup.” you say in the most musical whisper Kakashi ever heard. “...and the flowers.”

He hugged you even harder. Willing himself to speak, to apologize, but he lost his voice. He didn’t know how to say to you how much he regretted what he did. He didn’t know what words to say or how to form them with his mouth. All he could do is keep hugging you till you let go.

You separate and look up into his eyes. It killed him to see how broken you were and similarly it hurt you to be reminded of how much he loves you. His face said everything his mouth didn’t. You wanted to forgive him. You wanted to make it work but the most you could do was give him a small hug and a squeeze of his hand before heading back into your office.

Sitting at your desk, you could barely put two thoughts together before your mind wandered back to Kakashi and the way he came to your aid in the lunchroom. You found yourself drooling at the memory of how he told off Jozie and how swiftly he appeared behind Aoto. The thoughts were distracting. Generating an ache between your thighs. You quickly realized you weren’t going to get any work done in this state. You had a big project to focus on. There was no time for these mental roadblocks. 

Screw it. It’s not like I didn’t already lose the promotion. 

You slam your fists down on your desk and head for Kakashi’s office. You had an itch he needed to scratch. Similar to an earworm you need to get out of your head by listening to the entire song. 

Standing in front of his office door you begin to breathe heavily through your nostrils bringing yourself to knock before you enter. You stride in, eyes scanning the room to make sure you were alone before locking the door behind you. Kakashi’s eyes widen, shock causing his body to go lame. You stride up to him and tear down his mask. 

“You.” You say with a disgusted look as you straddle him in his chair.

“You have some nerve. Bringing all this scrutiny down on me and then playing hero when you see everyone respond the way I warned you they would.”

Kakashi’s mouth fell agape. Deeply confused by your attitude whilst straddling him. You start to push yourself against him.

“Coming to save me from your own doing.” you snarl into his ear as you begin grinding on his thigh. 

“Holding me in public.” you nip at his ear lobe.

“Kissing the top of my head like I’m something precious to you.” you kiss his jaw.

“Telling off Jozie” You paw at his chest. Rutting against his leg viciously, needing friction.

“Disrespecting my need for space.” Your hands rake through his silver hair as you finally lunge for his mouth. It was at this moment that Kakashi’s paralysis finally wore off. 

His hands lept into action, ridding you of your shirt and bra while you tore off his uniform. 

He kissed down your neck and shoulders while unfastening your pants, stripping you naked in his office, in the middle of the work day. He laid you down on top of his desk kissing you with every ounce of passion he had. His back hunching over to meet you where you laid.

Your heart threatened to burst out of your chest. You were so mad at him but you craved him, ravenous for the way he mishandles you. Your legs needily wrap around his waist. His unclothed erection pushing onto your already wet folds. You feel him shudder at the impact. It satisfied you to know how desperate he felt for you. How badly he missed you. How excited he was to touch you again. 

He didn’t care if you hated him in this moment. He’d make you forget why you were mad. He’d make you remember how much you need him between your legs. How, even now, your body craves him. He’d make you remember. 

He had to. 

You arch your back off the desk, pushing your breasts up against his chest while your fingers grip at his back pulling him down. You didn’t care that you were at work. You didn’t care if anyone heard you. You didn’t care anymore. You need him to rid you of this awful ache between your legs. And you need him to do it now.

Locking your lips on his, you push your tongue into his mouth, not asking permission. He gladly lets you in, opening wider to give you all the access you crave. You moan as your tongues entwine while rutting against his exposed length. He involuntarily groans as he collapses on top of you. Everything he needs is right here beneath him. It’s you. Just you. He needs you.

You continue rubbing yourself against him till he finally angles himself so that he slips in. Your lips break free of his as you gasp at the intrusion. It was exactly what you had been craving. Nothing felt better than when he stretched you in the way only he knows how. 

“Ah, fuck!” you cry out as he begins stroking. One hand grabbing behind his neck, the other running through his hair. You begin to berate him.

“Selfish prick. You had to make sure the entire shinobi world knew I belonged to you, huh?” You feel how his swollen head deliciously pulls at your walls with each retreat. “I bet you loved seeing the looks on everyone’s faces.”

“I did,” he sneers. “Every last one of them was envious of what is mine.” Punctuating the last word with a particularly harsh thrust, you groan from his hips meeting yours.

“Taking away 5 years of my hard work just for your own fuckin greed.” you hiss at him before he bottoms out, “Ah!”

“Can you blame me?” he grunts, continuing to thrust into you at an unrelenting pace. “Looking like a damned dream in that black dress. Teasing me and everyone else with your cleavage out. Taunting me with that sexy slit. Whimpering from the vibrator. Wearing my cap! Marking up my back! I still have the scratches there to remind me of your sweet cunt!” 

He loses himself as he remembers the evening. His thrusts become violent as he recalls his favorite memory of you. Stifling your moans in the coat closet, strappy black heels by his face, rug burn on your back, the dress pulled down and bunched around your waist. He can picture it now.

“I can leave more scratches if you like it so damn much” you snarl as you dig your claws into him, causing him pain. But he didn’t care. He deserved the pain. He fed into it, needing to be punished by you. He felt desperate as he began stroking harder. Yearning to please you. He pulled his face back, seeing the fire in your lust-filled eyes. 

It was maddening to not touch you the way he wanted to these past few days. He hungered for you. He craved your touch and attention. Icing him out was the worst punishment you could have given him. 

He grunts with every snap of his hips, not realizing his own volume. His inner wolf bubbling to the surface. You loved when he caved to his animalistic traits. You fist his hair as you throw your head back. Eyes screwed shut from pleasure. A chorus escaping your mouth as his hips roll into yours. 

Sweat begins to bead up and roll down his gorgeous chest, collecting droplets as it rolls down to where your bodies join. The warmth of your insides doing heavenly things to him. He could feel his mind short circuit as he repeatedly buried himself inside of you. 

The two of you grew loud, so caught up in your lustful passions that you both completely forgot where you were. Obito was headed to Kakashi’s office for an update. As he turned down the hall he heard the unmistakable sounds of your lovemaking. His heart shattered at the sound. How could you make up with Kakashi the day after he cost you your career? He lost to Kakashi again. He wanted to be the one making you sing. The one bringing you pleasure. He stormed out of headquarters, feeling oxygen deprived and in desperate need of air. 

Too lost in Kakashi’s arms to care about how needy you seemed, you whine and paw at his chest. He began to growl, his dark eyes taking on a dangerous glint. As much as he wanted to keep looking upon your face he wanted to be deeper. He lifted you off the desk, holding one of your legs hostage in his arms while the other foot found the floor. He slid deeper into you, pushing against your diaphragm, knocking the wind out of you. Definitely reaching that itch you so desperately needed him to scratch. 

Your loud moans, broken up by his thrusts, fill his ears with music. His arms hold your torso against his, pinning you against his chest alongside your leg. Thanking the gods for your flexibility as your sweaty bodies push together. You begin biting down on his collarbone. Panting into his skin. About to spiral into an orgasm. His animalistic grunts became more frequent, resonating from his chest with each stroke.

“That’s it baby, fuck this pussy. Fuck me like the bad boy you’ve been.” 

Lost in passion, he can only grunt in response. Your juices soaking his base and balls, dripping down your legs.

He spins you around and pushes your chest down on the desk, taking you from behind. He rams into you so hard you feel the bruises form on the front of your thighs. He grabs you at the shoulders, making sure he bottoms out in you with every intrusion. Already on the precipice, this new angle had you toppling over the edge. Eyes rolling back, spasming under his grip, he was too far gone to notice how you came undone. 

Chasing his own high inside your walls. He was so close. He lifted your leg onto the desk. You screamed at how deep and how rough he bullied into you. Your mind turned to mush as all the blood left your brain and pooled in your cunny. The athletic stamina of his continuous pounding turned you to a babbling mess. Your anger subsides for a moment as the waves of pleasure wash over you again. Shaking and milking him. He exploded inside of you. The sounds of his orgasm filling the room. 

As soon as he was done emptying himself inside of you, he collected you in his arms, pulling you into his lap as he sat down on his desk chair. You nakedly curled up in a ball, feeling chilled from the sweat rolling down your arms and back. You used his body heat to keep you warm as you nestled your head under his chin. 

He squeezes you tight, inhaling your scent. Memorizing it so he can dream about you tonight. He felt his seed leak out of you and onto his thigh. A satisfied shiver ran down his spine. 

The two of you sat there for nearly twenty minutes. Just existing in each other's arms.  You sat there for so long that the sweat on your skin dried and turned into a salty residue. 

Realizing you have a meeting to get to soon, you take a deep breath and crawl out of his lap. He rummages through his desk and hands you a tissue to clean between your legs before you redress alongside him. 

“I’m still mad at you.” you say to the floor

“I know.”

“Just so we’re clear.”

He swallowed before replying, “crystal”

You quickly redo your ponytail, smoothing the sides as you tighten the elastic. You smooth out your top and wipe the corners of your eyes to make sure there was no runny mascara. 

Kakashi approaches you, hand pushing against the small of your back, pulling you into him, thumb brushing your lip, eyes boring into you. You feel your heart skip a beat.

“Stop that.”

His brows furrowed with a questioning look.

“Reminding me how much you love me. It just makes all this hurt more.”

You turn your face away from him, pushing your hands against his chest as you pull away. You slip on your shoes and stride over to the door, unlocking the knob. 

You pause before you open the door. Tempted to say something but you couldn’t bring the words to your lips. Instead you let out a deep breath and leave his office in silence. 

You reach your office and quickly gulp down your food. You snatch up your notebook before rushing off to your meeting as Shiho returns from hers. 

With shocking clarity, you hustle through your meeting. Finding your drive and your confidence once more. You commanded the room. Anyone who tried to snicker at you found themselves caught under a deadly glare. 

“Do you have something to share?” you would snap at them.

You would have never been ballsy enough to ask that question mere hours ago. With only two days left till your project was due, you finally felt back on track. 

However in the back of your mind, you were still wondering what you were going to do after the project was over. No longer seeing room for growth in intelligence, your mind wandered back to your idea of rejoining the field. Get out of the stuffy office, away from all the scrutinizing eyes of your comrades and away from Kakashi. You decide to talk it through with your cousin Ino at the end of the day. 

***********************************

“I don’t know, Y/N. Are you sure? You love what you do and you’re really good at it!”

“I used to love what I do.” You say ashamed, looking at the floor. “Now I can’t even get through a briefing without someone mentioning I’ve fucked the Hokage.”

Seeing the sadness in your face, your little cousin Ino reluctantly mulled it over. She would have never thought she’d see the day where you’d quit anything. You were the most driven and stubborn person she knew. You were always finding an answer to any problem, no matter how hard it was. You were the queen of solving puzzles and riddles and nothing could ever stand in your way. Yet here you stood before her, walking away from it all. 

“Okay, fine.” 

“Yes! Thank you! And can you please talk to Choji and Shikamaru too? I’d really like to hit the ground running.”

She looks at you with a skeptical raised brow.

“Please?”

“Fine.”

“You’re the best!” you praise with a hug.

Ino was glad to see a smile on your face for the first time this week.

She had noticed how melancholy you’d been since news of your relationship swept the nation. She heard from Shikamaru and Temari about the fight that broke out between Obito and Kakashi. It seemed like your heart had already been torn between the boys and the added stress of your public humiliation and the loss of your promotion was more than you could handle. She had never seen you on the brink of tears ever, yet she saw you cry every day this week. 

She also felt bad for Kakashi-Sensei. He had been alone for so long. She was happy that he was finally in love. The world should’ve been thrilled for him. He deserved a happy ending. Why would anyone want to get in the way of that? If anything, they should’ve respected you more for being chosen by him. 

Of course there were several shinobi who felt like her. Who couldn’t stand how their comrades were treating you. They see how tired Kakashi is; it is obvious he isn’t sleeping. How on edge he’s been these past few days. He was clearly struggling with how the world had reacted to their knowledge of your relationship. It wasn’t fair to him. Not after everything this cruel life has thrown in his path.

Not to mention how many girls Ino had overheard talking shit about you. Saying you weren’t even that pretty. How you were obviously a slut. How you were clearly using Kakashi to advance your career cause ‘all you cared about was work.’ Those jealous hags couldn’t even speak two languages yet you knew 27. 

Ino and some of the others kept finding themselves in fist fights defending you. She wondered if you knew what your friends were going through to defend you. She wondered if that was part of why you wanted to leave. 

She would be right.

“I finish my project on Friday. Can we begin Friday night?”

“Actually I’m in the flower shop Friday night. How about we get together on Saturday?”

“Saturday sounds perfect.”

You walk away back towards your office. If you were going to rejoin the field you were going to do it right. Just like the rest of your work, you had to be superb. It’s not that you were unskilled, but you were sure you were unfit for battle. These days you could only perform sensory ninjutsu in a quiet space. You’d be useless if you needed to use your abilities under duress. You’d essentially become a domesticated house pet with the amount of time you’d spent in an office over the last couple years.

You also needed to find Obito. Thinking back to that horrifying fight between him and Kakashi, you know his taijutsu skills are incredible. But where is he? 

Feeling better than you had since Saturday, you didn’t need him to take you home but you found yourself missing his company.

“Shiho, have you seen Obito today?”

“Not since this morning.”

You felt a bit disappointed. 

I guess it’s fine. He’ll swing by eventually. Maybe I should stay late tonight anyways. Make up for yesterday’s missed hours.

And that’s exactly what you do. You stay all night. Shiho joined you, wanting to help with the project. She stayed till 8:00pm before she left to spend the night at home with her husband. You however, worked till nearly 2:00am. A couple times Kakashi passed your door, spying on you while you did what you do best. He leaned against the doorway reminiscing about the beginning of your relationship. The late night walks, the secret lunches, the first time you tore down his mask and kissed him. His chest constricted as he thought about it all. He tore himself away and headed home, feeling his waterline tear up.

Still you remained in your office. Working away. Eventually drowsiness washed over you. You went to the back of your office where you kept a sleeping pad. After rolling it out, you grabbed the blanket you kept on hand for these very occasions. You’d continue your work once you woke. For now you just needed a little shut eye. After days of agony you finally felt clarity. The only thought plaguing your mind now was where did Obito go?

Part 9 Masterlist

[museofthepyre]

Did a fun Q&A thing on insta about my ocs, here are the highlights, lore and shit! For context I am writing this into a horror-ish book as we speak. Brewing my dastardly schemes (gay tragedy).

Q: Is Eden also a cannibal?

A: Eden isn't a cannibal in the way Harlow is. I mean he eats people but only because Harlow's cooking is too good to turn down /hj. Eden's thing is... kinda the opposite.

He's slowly being consumed by the rot that's festering within him, a manifestation of hatred and shame. To him love is consumption, and he is inedible. Insert vulture metaphor here w Harlow. For every rotting corpse there is a very greatful vulture who will look past the decay, and see your worth. Eden is ultimately finished off by something that loves him, a consumptive love, unconditional and indiscriminate.

Q: ABOUT THE ROT, HOW DOES IT WORK? HOW IS IT AFFECTING HIM??

A: This rot is really the only story element that isn't totally grounded in reality. It's an illness that's a manifestation of his self hatred/ repression/ internalized shame- not an actual condition.

It appears at first like it just affects his chest- but it’s been slowly burrowing deep into his body. Its spreading like roots/ mycillium through his flesh and will finish him off in one foul swoop once it's finished spreading.

In the meantime, it manifests like a chronic illness- his muscles are all atrophied and he feels constantly drained of life. It's taking small pieces of flesh to sustain itself while it spreads (the chest cavity is the result of that-though the REAL damage is invisible. It's the ticking time bomb roots beneath the seemingly unaffected surface). It functions like a slow acting Chronic Wasting Disease (aka zombie deer disease, humans can't get it in reality, but it was the inspiration)

Q: What happened when Harlow discovered Eden was a guy

A: Eden is trans, and closeted in his life. Harlow is the first person he ever discusses his truth with.

At first, Harlow was just kinda... confused? Transness is not a concept he was familiar with. At ALL. The idea alone was completely unheard of to him. Again this is the Bible Belt in the 8os, the area so rarely encountered visible transness- trans people existed of course, but so many stayed hidden to survive. The roaring tre of bigotry did not have much tuel in that regard... no trans people to propagandize against. It was not on the public's vitriolic radar. In that way, Harlow hadn't developed the knee-jerk reaction of hatred... he was more fascinated than anything, but it did challenge him to understand at first.

Unlike his journey with accepting homosexuality this was not so much a task of unlearning as it was just... learning.

Also Eden's whole rotting thing adds another layer to this Harlow is stupid and takes everything VERY literally- he thought Eden's condition must be divinely brought.

Harlow saw a gift from God, a rare flower planted in inhospitable soil, wilting before it ever got the chance to bloom. Like the angels sent to Sodom and Gamorrah in human disguises, to test the townspeople's virtue. To present them with something foreign yet beautiful, to judge their inherent goodness based on how they treat it. Like in the biblical story, the townspeople were so vile and inhospitable that it endangered the angels and forced them to leave, burning down the town behind them. Harlow saw this as prophecy. He was eager to get to the “burning down the town” part.

Part of my motivation for incorporating that specific biblical story is SPITE btw since so many people use it to justify homophobia. Reverse uno idiots. I'm putting you in my GAY BOOK as a metaphor for hateful queerphobic societies.HA!

Q: Describe the rot in Eden's chest in sensory detail (texture smell “cause" etc) I want rot details!!

A: I used CWD and necrotizing fasciitis as building blocks for this thing... starts in the brain, spreads like roots through the body, eating away at muscle and skin as it does. Once it's fully spread, it'd rapidly worsten and bring death within a matter of hours.

In the meantime it sustains itself off of non-fatal bits of flesh (his chest here, since it's a manifestation of self hatred and all, and dysphoria is a bitch). It is an open wound so it'd feel scabby and it is perpetually weeping... which is how Harlow finds out about it so quickly (seeps through white nightgown after being left unbandaged for a few nights). He would also have to take care to hide the smell of decay

It advances throughout the story and by the end there's barely any soft tissue left on his chest, nothing alive anyways. The final overtake begins, and his organs enter the early stages of consumption (which happens very rapidly in one foul swoop). That's when they decide it's time for boy dinner!

Q: How smart are they

A: GREAT QUESTION! HARLOW IS FUCKING STUPID. LIKE not only does he lack emotional intelligence entirely, but he's also very impulsive and reckless. The ONLY reason he's getting away with his murders is because the society around him has shot itself in the foot with its homophobia. Noooobody is suspicious of him for the string of missing attractive dudes. They're looking for a "vengeful woman" profile, or possibly a "debt collector with many social connections" or something. Not some solitary redneck who barely shows his face in town and is very polite and quiet when he does. He appears, in all respects, like a normal guy in public.

Once they have mutual blackmail (and also start caring about each other)... Eden realizes that if Harlow gets caught, he's fucked too. So partially for the sake of self-preservation, and... partially out of pity for this stupid stupid man... Eden starts to help him cover up.

Harlow is pretty disillusioned as to how society functions as a whole, since he grew up pretty far from it. Eden is the opposite, he was suffocated by it and learned how to be sneaky as a result. Eden is very good at getting people to trust him, he's good at lying, he's good at acting. Thing is, he's overly trusting to his own detriment. He's desperate for genuine connection and easily deceived himself. He's bad at reading people.

Q: What happened to Harlow's mom?

A: Harlow's mother died due to complications during childbirth. He never had a maternal figure in his life, he was raised as an only child by his father, who had become calloused and would never remarry. Harlow dropped out of high school and kept to himself at his house/ in nature after that very isolated from society. Considering all this... he not only lacked a maternal figure, but any female influence... at all. Which manifested as this warped and idolized understanding of women as a whole

He thought of women in a very high and almost mystified regard- like how a child would imagine a mythical creature. One massive blank filled in by a clueless imagination. He respected them greatly, he feared them like gods, and he felt a need to repent to them as such. He never properly processed the guilt he felt over his mothers death-largely thanks to his father's handling of it. This guilt left him feeling indebted, like he owed the world for what he “took", like if he ever so much as inconvenienced another woman it would be an irredeemable sin.

This all sounds like it comes from a good place, but it's really all just deluded naivety this is not a positive trait of Harlow's. It contributed a lot to his toxic masculinity, the pressure he put on himself to "be a man", etc.

He's not a white knight, he's a cowardly dog.

This is why he didn't just kill Eden on the spot after being caught, he needed to make sure...)

MORE TO COME IM SURE I LOVE GETTING QUESTIONS ABOUT THESE FREAKS IF ANYONE HERE HAS ANY

[swiftiebookwormlogastellus]

ATYD Characters As Stuff My Friends Have Said:

……..

Sirius: Is it Arthritis when your heart clenches?

James: I’m pretty sure that’s love

Remus: No, that’s a heart attack

………..

McGonagall, about the Marauders: I wanted to say no but they didn’t give me enough time

………..

Lily, during potions: BOILING WATER WILL NOT CATCH FIRE

…………

Remus, when asked about money: I have 1.90 plus a paper clip

…………

James: Keep my dog’s name out of your barking mouth. Woof.

………..

Peter: Is lactose intolerance ice cream phobic?

………..

Lily: Pregnancy is not a birth defect, Sirius.

……….

James, when asked about quidditch: Hustle. Slay. Repeat.

………

Grant, concerned: Remus is like thank u, next to my next life

……….

Regulus: History is one big meme and we’re all fools in it

……….

*texting*

Regulus: Who’s drowning Debbie?

Regulus: wait

Regulus: that says downer

Regulus: nvm

Voldemort: I mean if someone’s drowning it’s gonna be you

……….

Sirius: You’re gonna be proud of me.

Regulus: Doubtful, but go on.

………

*while doing a presentation*

Remus, just before a full moon: Lily, if you see anyone talking, throw your shoe at them.

Sirius, from the back: You sound like my mom

………

Sirius: *rapid French*

Peter: Si?

……….

Sirius: I will sue my bloodline

……….

Remus: I met 5 people today. I hated this experience. I’m an introvert.

………

Walpurga: What are you gonna sue me with?

Sirius: ….A lawyer.

……….

Snape: It’s not racially motivated if you hate everyone equally

………

Peter: I’m attracted to cheese

……….

Remus: I traded intellect for chocolate.

……..

Chris: 10/10. I’m recommending it to the person who recommended it to me.

……..

Grant, about Sirius: And that, my friends, is what we call materialistic.

……..

Sirius, during PoA: This is animal abuse at it’s finest! *kicks rat*

……..

Sirius to Professor McGonagall : Have you tried hop on?

……..

Remus, holding up a scrabble tile: Stop giving me D!

……..

About Fenrir: His favourite food is gay people.

……..

Sirius, when trying to become an animagus: I have a condition in my hair where my mouth won’t move.

……..

Lily, trying to explain muggle technology: Do you know what a gigabyte is?

James, completely lost: Gigachad?

……..

Mary and James about English cuisine: Isn’t it ironic how you colonized places and started wars over spices but still have the blandest food ever?

……..

Sirius: *kicks snow at James*

Remus, narrating: As you can see, the Cold War has begun

……..

Sirius, drunk: J’ai no stupid

……..

James: What does KFC stand for?

Sirius, to the tune of California Girls: KaliFornia Curls

……..

Remus: *starts beatboxing*

Peter: *starts dancing*

Sirius: *raps about peppa pig*

James: BUM BADA DA DA BADADADA DA DA

……..

Snape: Pigeons are fat and ugly.

Sirius: Look who’s talking

……..

Walpurga: You can punt kids without legal repercussions.

……..

Sirius: I’m gonna do what the Canadians did to the First Nations. *stabs someone with an exacto knife a wand*

……..

Sirius: Applying cell theory to my hair to dye it…

……..

Marlene, after meeting James' mom: GUYS I JUST MET A MILF

……..

Dorcas: Lucrative! That's a big word for...

Barty: Elmo?

……..

James: A PUNK ROCK DRUMMER AND HE'S SIX FOOT-

Sirius: *tackles James*

……..

Pandora, about Barty: Evan! Talk some sense into this British goblin!

……..

Sirius to Snape: I will drain your spinal fluid and shove it up your butt.

……..

[sloanerisette]

You Need A Promotion, I Want A Shake Up, So Let's Get Married! Chapter 3

Here's chapter 3! This is a big one, so I hope you're all ready! Did some pretty intensive edits on it (not as much as chapter 2) and I'm pretty happy with the end result! So I hope you all enjoy it!

Chapter Summary: It's the aftermath of the hospital fundraiser and Mimi's big birthday party, and things aren't going great for either of them. But, Jou still has a gift to give Mimi and doesn't want to let her down, so the two of them agree to meet up. After some catching up, Mimi hatches a plan and throws an incredibly unexpected question his way.

There will be a short blurb under the read more, but you can read the whole chapter on AO3 HERE!

Jou slowly opened his eyes.

The light shining through the blinds, right onto his face, caused him to squint as he pawed for his glasses on the nightstand. Somehow he managed to make it through last night with little more than a completely drained social battery and a headache from the glass and a half of champagne he nursed.

Well, there was also the overwhelming feeling of guilt he had from not making it to Mimi’s party…

He didn’t have it in him to sneak out of the fundraiser after the way his father tore into him. His father’s words lingered in Jou’s mind the entire night as he did his best to talk with their guests, and he felt like he did pretty well considering how he usually was.

Jou was set to go to Mimi’s party once it was all done, but talking with his father after the fact dashed his motivation in an instant.

***

“So… it seems like tonight went well…” Jou said with a shaking voice as he approached his father. The guests had already left and the two of them were standing out in front of the hospital. There was a bite to the late night air, and Jou held back a shiver.

“We might get another couple of investors soon, too,” Director Kido said, staring straight ahead, his hands in his pockets.

“Oh, really?” Jou asked. His father nodded.

“I have a meeting with a few business partners of Hideki-san’s soon.”

“That’s really wonderful!” Jou smiled. He had done his fair share talking to some of the hospital’s business partners, as exhausting as it was, but if it could’ve helped even a little bit, then it was well worth it.

“Mm. I’ll probably be taking Kitamura with me for it. I’m sure they’ll like him.”

Though his father said it so nonchalantly, at the same time it was so pointed that it was painful. Jou glanced away, his shoulders slumping as a frown tugged at his lips. As much as he would’ve hated dealing with a business lunch as opposed to actually working, it would’ve at least been nice to be considered for it.

He opened his mouth, but quickly closed it when his father looked his way. The man raised an eyebrow, and Jou clamped up, standing ramrod straight and looking straight ahead.

“Well, make sure you aren’t late tomorrow,” his father added.

With that, he walked to his car, leaving Jou standing at the curb alone.

[sillywillyrobotics]

william afton (+ relationship) headcanons

a/n: my headcanons for willy I had for like 8 years and never published it anywhere. GN reader. (reader is not a biological parent of William's kids).

william in a workaholic, so he often needs a reminders to do basic human stuff (eating, sleeping, etc).

as his work progressed, he started to have different vitamin deficiency so healthy food and pills/medicines could help from time to time.

takes care of himself very well, but often forgets to shave or keep his hair under control;

so if his partner can do some magic with scissors he would be grateful if you could cut his hair for him.

has a bad habit of falling asleep late, in the middle of the night, at his desk.

he had a rabbit and a turtle in his childhood.

doesn't want pets himself now, but if his kids would really want one he would agree for a dog or a rabbit.

he's demiromantic/demisexual.

smokes only outside; hates to smoke at home where his kids are.

Is really charismatic and confident but long social interactions completely drain him from energy.

likes pop music but won't admit it

probably was incredibly insecure about his springlock scars at first. He still is, but not as much as right after the accident.

his love language are mostly physical affection and acts of service.

won't admit it directly but is incredibly grateful if you help him to bond with Michael and help them improve their relationship

is also grateful if you help with kids;

also Mike is happy that he finally have another parent figure that help him calm down after arguments with Will and solve problems between them.

William need more vitamin D, please help him go get some sun.

he's a dog person

He meet Henry when he already had plans for Freddy's, but it was William who at the end motivated Henry to actually start business.

Will and Henry are(were) actually good friends and they often helped each other with domestic stuff (diner, taking care of each other kids).

Henry would play matchmaker with you and William when the tension would become unbearable between you two.

William has extremely cold feet but extra warm hands.

he has an aquarium with fish in his office at home and Elizabeth loves to count them when she's in there.

William loves to cook but rarely has time and energy. Although he always will find some for anniversaries or special occasion.

he really does tries but needs some help form time to time.

often leaves things in his pockets.

loves to kiss your hands.

forehead kisses are also comforting for him, both giving and receiving <3

[hypnofantasma]

"Where's the Ulterior Spectacle remake?"

I know i've gotten this a ton of times, and seeing how it's been a couple years since i said it'd exist, i decided i'd give all of my reasons why it's taking So Damn Long. hopefully, this'll reduce the amount of... hate? judgement?? i keep getting regarding this song.

1) The only reason I SHOULD be giving: the simple fact that I am working on an immense universe

I'm not working on JUST Stars Below, and even THEN, a remake has the lowest priority of all when it comes to new Stars Below songs, character development, design solidification, etc. I'd rather solidify the world and story FIRST before making a remake that might swiftly become outdated once again if I rush it. This is also why songs IN GENERAL have been slow; I'm refining the story. It's a HUGE WIP.

I'm not a company, I'm One Single Person with OCs on the internet. If I don't work on one singular aspect, I'm sorry? I guess? That leads into...

2) I'm so immensely stressed at the moment that I'm having physical health issues and can't reliably/consistently work on things

Like I still CAN draw, but completed PVs are so high-effort (and risk), low-reward for me right now that I have to make smaller things. That's why I'm focusing on Artfight for now. On top of that, I'm gonna try to get another term of college this year so I can accomplish something tangible in my life and get a degree. (College is ALSO why stuff's been slow)

If you want to know WHAT my health issues are, all you need to know is that I've got visible ribs yet my weight is constantly depleting.

3) People keep reuploading my stuff

People keep taking things from my Discord server and reuploading them on sites like Youtube. If I don't upload something, I do not want it uploaded, plain and simple. No, I am not free game just because I'm on the internet. I'm just an independent artist and not a company, and this is breaking several boundaries of mine.

If you claim it's "out of fan love" or "giving me free promotion", it doesn't change the fact it makes me (and even my community) exceedingly uncomfortable. The big one being reuploaded was Tundra Lens, and while I did make it public again, it was solely to appease the reuploaders. Please don't reupload my stuff.

It's killing my motivation and drive for the Ulterior Spectacle remake.

4) Multiple abusers in my life

I won't dive into this one but just know that, behind the scenes, I have been treated like a goddamn ragdoll. I have been treated like an object by both strangers and people extremely close to me, and I'm drained, man.

These events have been adding to my current status of being physically ill and chronically fatigued.

5) I am currently being stalked by a group who hates me and intentionally mocks me

A certain group of individuals (who will remain unnamed) are currently stalking me, gathering my creations, and making a complete mockery of a project that intends to break all of the universal rules I have crafted. I don't mind if you don't know everything about my universe; it's a lot, after all, and I'm more than happy to educate.

However, this group intends on making a complete mockery of not only my universe but also my art. It is out of malice and not parody. Due to this, I'm almost too scared to post anything, really. I don't want this to stop me, but damn it does it sting. I'll ride this out with god-rivaling perseverance if I have to.

Now....

While all of this is there, I'll also say the remake IS NOT cancelled. I'll be dead before it's cancelled. But I just wanted to give some perspective a little bit, and maybe- if you're someone mad about the lack of the remake so far- you'll understand why a little more.

Just please respect my boundaries for things, don't drum up drama with me, and leave me in peace. That's all I ask. One day this song'll be completed, and it'll be a day where I'm no longer treated as some soulless machine.

Thank you.

[shuttershocky]

Does the passage of time ever depress you?

You know what depressed me? Being in college with half my department branding me as an undesirable graduate because of my poor grades and trying to boot me out. I was in and out of the admin office managing an appeal every time they kicked me. I was being told things like to be on my guard because I was being watched for the smallest mistake and professors that helped me would get in trouble. It was bad enough that someone raised ethical concerns about how they were treating me.

So one day I thought I'd rather just kill myself than explain to my parents that 5 years of tuition fees went down the drain because I took a course I was warned in high school that I couldn't do. I walked from my department to the road where I knew trucks drove fast and kept nearly hitting me wherever I crossed.

I waited for a truck, stepped out on to the road, then jumped back on to the sidewalk when this seething hatred for my department and academia surged through my thoughts and I realized if I died here then they'd finally get rid of me, but if I walked back and miraculously passed the hell semester they designed, then I'd be in their faces for one more year.

The truck flew past me, so close and so fast that the wind slapped my face. It didn't even bother to slow down when it saw a student on the road.

So I went back, and with the sheer power of venomous, unending spite (and some luck), I passed all my classes while doing both my thesis (I owe my adviser my life for her being so understanding, and my thesis was a truly cool project that sent me all over the place) and my part time job for a nearby indie game dev.

During my graduation, the Dean of Engineering (who I also owe my life to) asked the crowd to raise hands if they were graduating in 4 years. Then she asked for 5. Then 6. Then 7+, with the last batch laughing nervously while raising their hands. Then the Dean said to raise those hands with pride, because even if it took awhile and even if the grades weren't perfect, graduation is graduation. You did it. You're getting that degree.

And thats when it really hit me, you know? At the end of the day, I won. A bit unfortunate that none of my professors attended my graduation, because I really was hoping they'd see me get my degree. I wanted them to see that I wouldn't be there if I didn't learn to despise my department the way it despised me.

Does the passage of time depress me? Sometimes I feel nostalgic. My elementary school is gone now, and my high school is nearly unrecognizable after renovations. I've had difficulties keeping in touch with some friends who I still feel much fondness for, and I wish I had been there during some milestones of their lives. But the passage of time itself? No.

What depressed me was being told that I was undesirable. What depressed me was being told that I was being watched for the smallest mistakes. What depressed me was seeing the years of fluking my way through scholarships and other things meant for genuinely gifted kids and not good test-takers (I was good at memorization) finally catch up to me when my ambitions exceeded my abilities.

Now I'm a working adult with a completely different job using skills I got from the various part time jobs and internships I took over my college years rather than anything I actually learned from my classes. Having a daily grind sucks, and so does things like needing to buy food and pay taxes and all other necessities that shrink your salary, but it doesn't depress me.

Every time I feel down or tired, I recall the time I fucking won and this wide, hateful, bitter smile splits my face in two. I'm still here to enjoy the years go by, seething in my trauma, but still here.

Let me just add that I don't like recommending spite as a motivation. Hatred is exhausting and soul-sucking in a way that nothing else is like, and I'm the sort of person that prefers to find even a little joy in whatever I'm currently doing. I feel like if you push yourself forward through spite, you hollow yourself out and become unable to fully enjoy the good that you find.

I can't however, say that spite isn't real damn effective.

It sure worked for me.

[ironaparrot]

i wanted to bring this up because i know i make memes and jokes about the shadowtale characters and such.

Shaster (Gaster) is a genuinely horrible person. he's manipulative, mentally, physically, and emotionally abusive and manipulative. he's an egotistical narcissist who views other living and non living things and creatures as objects to be toyed with and experimented on.

Shadow has never been in a great state of mind. he's been pessimistic and nihilistic, and has reached the point of truly believing nothing matter before. part of the reason he's doing good now is both because he has friends he know cares and because he was fucking tired of being so sad, and moping all the time. he hated feeling down and like nothing all the time. the numbness almost felt worse then when he was actually crying and it was much more overbearing. he got tired of it. he forced himself out there. and he's actually doing better because of it.

Ash (Papyrus) tries his best to make people happy as much as drains him. he just wants to keep hope alive and keep people smiling. Papyrus is arguably at one of his lowest points currently. He feels hatred for his brother, uncertainty for his father, and is drained beyond belief. The only person he feels like he can truly vent to and just collect himself about is Mettaton. He hates Shadow for abandoning everybody, he has existential dread due to the existance of the multiverse, and doesnt understand why Gaster is making him keep it a secret, as well as the augmentations related to the void.

Raspberry (Mettaton) Is trying his hardest along with Papyrus to keep moral high, and people happy. he knows how much people really rely on him and need him to be at tip top best. its draining, but he knows it has to be this way. Him and Papyrus are very close and he thinks Papyrus is his closest friend, and is concerned for his sudden change in appearence, attitude, and he can just tell theres something building up thats going to boil over at some point.

Flowey is constently afraid. he's afraid of the infected and uninfected alike. he doesnt know where chara is and he doesnt remember chara being the one who killed him initially. the only time he gains some semblance of comfort is when frisk falls, and when he eventaually finds chara again.

Chara lives with the guilt of being the one who killed Asriel. she hates herself for it but knows it had to be done or else she would have died. she tries over and over to convince herself it was okay but she cant help but hate herself for it. the fact she ran away weighs heavily on her mind because she knows that to the dreemurr family they lost two children in one night. chara was eventaully found and kidnapped by gaster for a while. she was experimented on, abused and treated like a labrat. now that gaster has her with the rest of the survivors she's being blackmailed to stay quiet about what gasters real motives are to the people or else flowey will find out how he really died.

Plasma (Grillby) has almost given up completely. his daughter is infected and is slowly turning, its hard to keep people fed. he knows things are slowly going down hill and he's just waiting for the snowball to speed up at this point. the only reason he still gets out of bed in the morning is that way he can keep people fed, do his part, and because the somehow still alive burgerpants is too mentally unstable to do it himself. He's also being blackmailed by muffet.

Muffet is a crime boss essentially. she blackmails, threatens and harasses. she knows she's important because she can grab whatever remaining supplies are left from places the actual people assigned as guards cant thanks to her many many spiders. she views people as a means to get rich, and thats it. she, if anything, enjoys the apocalypse because it causes people to be reliant on her.

The AU is really screwed. Especially with the characters. Some are trying their best and losing, others have given up. Some aren’t even good people and are just using the apocalypse to achieve what they want because they can. So, enjoy. It’s less telling new info, and more putting things into perspective!

[enchanted-reviews]

Haunting Adeline

The Manipulator and the Shadow. A deadly duet, a cat and mouse game.

Oh, where to begin. This is going to be messy.

❗️ SPOILERS AHEAD ❗️

18+ book, 18+ discussion. MDNI.

Addie

My copy of Haunting Adeline consisted of 605 pages, and I'd decided I didn't much care for Adeline herself by page 2. I went into this novel knowing the MC would be at least a little vapid—it’s a dark romance in which she tempts and teases her dangerous stalker right back after all, saying “come ON girl” is part of the territory—but Addie proved herself pretty insufferable right off the bat.

Our first real characterization of her is that she HATES her bitch mom, is insecure about her life choices? (as she uses the book’s very beginning to privately reaffirm how successful she is and why the path she’s chosen for herself is right), and that she really loves the old manor she’s just inherited from her nana.

When we get information on Addie’s dad much later in the novel, she states that he was around more or less, but ultimately faded into the background. It’s only Addie’s mom’s side of the family (specifically the women) with trauma that continues to affect Addie to this day. Look, I’m glad we didn’t go with the daddy issues trope, but it might have been cool to have a MC who’s into dark, kinky, fucked up shit just because she is. She loves horror movies as well, does that require a childhood examination? Why does trauma always have to be a connected factor to kink? This implication that it runs in the family is a little strange.

I actually don’t have TOO much beef with Addie. Sure, she’s annoying, and just self-aware enough to call out her own stupidity, but she falls as much a victim to bad writing as she is a victim to Zade’s “love.”

Oh—there is one line she gives on pg. 299, stating:

“He wouldn’t be a man without his cock.”

Which is just… pretty gross to find in a novel being heralded on 2024 BookTok.

Also, her DRINKING problem. Addie downs alcohol like a fish. Do we ever see her sip water? Whether she’s at home, a cafe, or out with friends, she’s throwing back shots and martinis every day, all the time. It’s a little concerning.

Zade

If a character deserves to have trauma, it’s Zade—at least to give him understandable motivation for targeting sex traffickers. There is no personal turning point spurring him down this dangerous road. He simply does it because he wants to.

His reasoning feels hollow. In his POV chapters throughout the novel, we get glimpses of his happy childhood, and later on he explains in depth to Addie how he grew up with loving parents. He states that the only traumatic experience he’s ever suffered was when his parents eventually died in a car crash; Zade obtains a degree in computer science and makes a decent living for himself as a self-taught hacker until he eventually forms Z, an organization designed to take down criminals of the government. He devotes his entire life to saving victims of human trafficking and frequently infiltrates dangerous hotspots, which is why he’s as physically strong and capable as he is mentally.

What’s the motivation for dedicating his entire life to something so dangerous, so emotionally draining? The idea that someone has to do it.

Nothing personal that pushes him onto this path.

Aside from this empty characterization, there are 2 things that prevent me from seeing Zade as the hero this book so desperately wants the reader to view him as.

1. He has the BIGGEST ego. He is, plain and simple, insufferable and deserves to get punched in the mouth—repeatedly— for some of the things he says.

2. His heroic actions as Z directly contradict his behavior towards Addie, a complete stranger who he decides to obsess over in a very scary way the moment he lays eyes on her in a bookstore. He stalks her, intimidates and makes threats when she acts in ways he doesn’t approve of (such as flirting and bringing boys home), and sexually assaults and harasses her on multiple occasions.

Now, again, I knew what I was getting into with this book. I fully expected noncon and dubcon elements, and that’s not at all what I’m frustrated with. My issue with these nonconsensual scenes is that, while Zade is a hypocritical rapist with a cocky hero complex, there is seemingly no meta awareness of this and the book treats him like a genuinely amazing, selfless, HOT man anyone would be lucky to catch the attention of. HE IS A DOUCHEBAG!!!

When he and his friend Jay are ribbing each other, here is Zade’s response to Jay joking that he likes his women willing:

“A wicked smile forms, though the heat in my eyes remain. ‘Sounds to me like you don’t understand a woman’s body well enough to know when it sings for you, even when her mouth tries to resist’” (549).

You see that? I’ve designated Zade with barf green.

Zade, who has dedicated his life to killing r4pists, proudly defending his own r4pes since Addie’s body was aroused. Yep, totally fine. This is the behavior I definitely expect from a “good guy” (as many reviewers have described Zade).

Zade’s POV throughout the book contains lines that are meant to build up his “dark feminist hero” persona (and come off as super obvious, cheap even), but they also contradict all that flimsy construction. For example:

Pg. 110, Zade waits for Arch to come find him:

“He hesitates on the doorstep, sensing the danger residing in the shadows. But after a few moments, he develops a vagina and charges out the door and down the porch steps.”

Siiiiigh. Such moments, it feels like Zade drops a cliche girlboss line about how women are actually tough, then turns and winks at the audience as if to say, “see? I’m on YOUR side.”

Compare this to a random thought he has later:

“Fucking women and their screeching” (458).

He’s not playing a role and saying this out loud to anyone, this is Zade himself in his own head, reacting to something inconsequential.

Although, let’s be real, everything feels inconsequential with Zade. He’s a superhero. He can apparently take “chunks of concrete” in his eyes while multiple guns shoot at him, and he only needs to grunt and rub his eyes for a second before taking down all his assailants without a problem (71). He’s apparently “the best” hacker (in the world?), otherworldly in combat, and can expertly fool and charm anyone he speaks to. It’s all just so… boring.

There’s lots of mentions of the dark web and red rooms, which apparently don’t exist the way they do in scary stories (according to people who actually use the dark web and articles on red rooms), and all the “Society” stuff (the p3do trafficking ring Zade goes undercover with) feels superficial, like the author didn’t do enough research to make this subplot—which is a GREAT DEAL of the book—feel properly weighed down and nuanced.

Zade continuously justifies his treatment towards Addie by stating that he knows what she wants better than she does, and it’s only a matter of time before she falls in love with him. Never once does he seem to actually wrestle with his hypocrisy, or how horrible he is being to this TOTAL STRANGER. How does he even know she’s into it? His obsession was at first glance. They’ve never spoken a single word. And what really frustrates me about all this (besides of course his being a total hypocrite and the fact that the trafficking subplot, along with his characterization, completely sinks as a result) is this:

Addie is a VERY successful novelist. She’s even called “The Manipulator” when switching to her POV, and her ability to play with people’s emotions is repeatedly teased. Do we actually see these incredible manipulation skills at work? No, not really. She’s a writer with social anxiety (which is said to be crippling but is shown to be normal nerves at the start of events that immediately go away) who’s able to fake smile in front of people when she needs to. She doesn’t earn the name of Manipulator at all. Moving on.

Does Zade read Addie’s books? No. I don’t remember it ever being mentioned even briefly. Does he get attached to her words, her talents, any part of her beyond how sexy she looks? No. If you wanted to sell me on someone stalking a beautiful girl because he fell in love with her writing, that’s a much more compelling plot than the entirety of Haunting Adeline. It would have been so easy to have him read some dark stories she’d penned and use that as reasoning for why he understands the way she ticks.

Addie’s status as a writer bears no weight at all, so it feels like she is just the author’s self-insert (further evidenced by descriptions of Addie’s breathtaking beauty and sexy pornstar voice that everyone comments on, big natural tits, big shapely ass, and teeny flat stomach. Any time Addie’s stomach is mentioned, we must be reminded it’s a flat one).

Returning to the trafficking subplot and its implications in making Zade an untouchable hero (I did say this review would be messy):

1) Truly adore (sarcasm) the “true crime fanatic” vibe we’ve got going on here with the idea that any decent looking woman is a breath away from being snatched off the streets at all times. It feels like watching those tiktoks where women rent a hotel room and then carry out a complicated 20-step process in safety-proofing the room with tools they brought from home, with further instructions on how/when to walk to the car, what to do around the car before getting in, more steps after getting in the car, etc. Anyways, Addie is randomly targeted by this trafficking ring because she’s pretty and so the plot comes full circle, thus validating Zade’s initial stalking of Addie and turning it into something romantic and heroic since only he can keep her safe from truly evil forces.

2. More nit-picky but I thought some of Zade’s thoughts towards young girls were weird considering his passion towards saving the girls from creeps/violent tendencies in torturing said creeps.

When Zade saves a girl “no older than 8” from being sacrificed, he keeps commenting on her pretty eyes.

Later, when he runs into the doll (SUCH a random fucking character, this entire scene greatly aggravated me), we’re not given an age; however, she’s caught the attention of the p3dos nearby and is described to appear young and innocent, as well as acting out in childlike ways: “She’s a small thing, but the girl can fight … she snarls and stomps her foot like the child she’s dressed up to be” (456-457). Zade bizarrely notes how her nipples are visible through her thin nightgown, a detail that adds nothing to the scene. He also notices her cheeks flushing as she tortures the men they’ve rounded up together, and thinks: “I swear to God, if she gets off right in front of me, I’m leaving” (461). There was no sexual connotation until he took it there, and it feels gross with all the childlike descriptions of this “strange girl.”

Finally, there’s a scene RIGHT AFTER meeting the doll when Zade and Addie go all the way for the first time, and Zade keeps calling Addie “little girl” (which is a first) from start to finish, even making her repeat it and affirm she is his “good little girl” as she climaxes. I don’t mind this out of context, but with everything this story has established, it feels entirely inappropriate and even appalling.

Update: I was wrong, he calls her “little girl” on page 356… when they’re infiltrating a p3do party. Does he only do this when they’re in close proximity to people who abuse children??? 😧

Dialogue

(Addie’s mom) “Do something more with your life than waste away in that house like your grandmother did. I don’t want you to become worthless like her.”

A snarl overtakes my face, fury tearing through my chest. “Hey Mom?”

“Yes?”

“Fuck off.” (6)

Cue that one scene from Camp Rock—“Mom? Don’t.”

Also, why do I feel like I’m watching a subbed anime? Who talks like this?

>>ALL of page 13.<<

“Addie, you need to get laid.”

In response, I wrap my lips around my straw and slurp my blueberry martini as deeply as my mouth will allow … I think I need a bigger mouth. More alcohol would fit in it. I don’t say this out loud because I can bet my left ass cheek that her follow-up response would be to use it for a bigger dick instead”

Daya gives me a droll look. “You’re a hot twenty-six year old woman with freckles, a great pair of tits, and an ass to die for. The men are out here waiting.”

This entire interaction doesn’t feel like two platonic soulmates hanging out, it’s just space to inform the reader how sexy the MC is before Zade can.

The Murder Plot

Oh my god, this was so boring. I’m not even convinced Addie really wanted to figure out who murdered her great-grandmother. Sure, she tells us how badly she wants to close the case, but it doesn’t feel it when all she does is read Gigi’s journal entries (and blab to Mark later on, in true “WTF is wrong with you” fashion).

I don’t know when I started to suspect Frank (around the 200s? 300s?), but I wish more detail and attention had been given to these diary entries. Gigi includes the names of only 3 men in all of her entries: her husband, her stalker who she’s in a passionate affair with, and Frank, her husband’s best friend. Throughout the ENTIRE novel, any mention of the potential murderer pingpongs between “was it (husband)? Was it (stalker)?” and no one spares a single brain cell to the mere possibility it was Frank, who is always involved and who becomes increasingly more suspicious. I’m not a mystery girlie, I hate gathering evidence, but this was insane. There was simply too much going on in this novel and so everything felt lackluster.

So how did Addie finally solve the murder? Well, through her best friend, Daya.

It’s Daya who reverse images a picture to identify Mark’s father, Frank.

It’s Daya who finds information on the stalker’s death, down to the detail of “a broken heart” (537).

It’s Daya who gets the blood on the watch tested.

It’s Daya who matches Frank’s handwriting.

So what does Addie do? She finally searches just a BIT more in the attic she’s afraid of (and thus has been avoiding) to retrieve the evidence Daya then actually does something with.

The attic is haunted and filled with negative energy, which is why Addie stays away, but come ON. She loves horror. She loves thrills and being scared, as we’re reminded constantly. She flirts with danger when she’s being stalked by a deadly stranger. She continues to provoke said stalker when he cuts off the hands of a man who had touched her and delivers it to her. She insists on staying in this creepy haunted manor in which she is being stalked because she’s stubborn and refuses to give it up… but she can’t spend just a bit more time searching in the attic when she’s apparently so committed to solving this case? Get real.

The Corniness

“My body is just a vessel that my soul inhabits, attached to a shell that it’ll one day leave” (577).

This is the start to one of Zade’s random angsty rambles, and like, dude, she was just asking about your tattoos.

Overall, I thought I was being pretty forgiving towards most of the cheesy lines in the book constantly invoking Heaven and Hell, comparing Zade to the Devil in … creative… ways, and things of that nature. There’s a clear corruption kink threading throughout the novel that I expected and that seemed natural to what these cardboard characters are craving, so the presence of tumblr 2015-esque edginess didn’t bother me too much. Every once in a while, though, the cheese factor was just too much.

“And then to have the audacity to leave me a flower like a fucking weirdo? They may have made that rose powerless by clipping its thorns, but I will gladly show them a rose is still fucking deadly when it’s shoved down their throat” (38).

“A gentle, but firm knock vibrates my front door. It’s almost becoming an instinct for my heart to skip a few beats whenever I hear any noise in the manor. Surely, that can’t be healthy. Maybe I’ll eat some Cheerios. They say those are good for the heart, right?” (59)

There’s so much more, but I didn’t mark a lot as I was reading because 1) such a big book to get through and I didn’t want to spend more time on it, and 2) I had no intentions of starting a book review blog until this novel pushed me over the edge (so thanks for that, I guess?)

The Spicy Scenes

And now we arrive at the only element of this book I actually liked: the sex.

Like we came here for anything else.

I expected this book to be a lot more depraved if I’m being honest, but since the author was intent on trying to make Zade a “good guy” with questionable courting skills, along with bogging the rest of the story down with subplots that didn’t pay off, these scenes were good. Not great, not fantastic, just good. That said, I thought the gun scene was super hot.

He chuckles. “Little mouse, that’s exactly what I’m doing.” He then pulls my thong to the side, baring my pussy to him, and the arousal glistening from within. He mutters a curse under his breath as his eyes devour every inch of me …

“Suck,” he orders, his tone deepening with finality. Closing my eyes against more tears, I open my mouth and let him guide the gun between my teeth ... (213-214).

This happens 1/3 of the way into the novel and I’m thinking, Oh, finally. Maybe it does get good. Unfortunately, this scene—where predator and prey truly collide for the first time—remains the hottest scene in the book …

although the part where she’s on her knees with a belt around her neck (331) isn’t too far behind.

I liked that there was an attempt to keep each scene fresh, so Addie and Zade become increasingly more intimate in various locations.

Towards the end of the novel, there’s a scene in which Zade chases her through the woods while it’s raining. The primal play could have been fun—it’s what their relationship has been hurtling towards all this time—if they hadn’t actively been having sex before in her bed, with Zade suddenly telling her to “run” and making her jump off his dick and take off. The transition felt more comical than ~ohhhhh so dark and thrilling~.

The two of them having a sudden intense (yet necessary) argument AFTER he catches and pins her down, though, felt jarring. Especially since Addie receives some horrifying news and a terrifying wakeup call in this moment, just to be pulled into rough sex on the cold ground. There’s a time and a place for everything, Zade, my guy.

Final Thoughts

I started reading Butcher & Blackbird in the same day after finishing Haunting Adeline, and I kid you not, I breathed a sigh of relief on page 12 and made a note on my phone: “the main characters already have more chemistry than Zade and Addie did over 600 pages.” So nice to remember what natural-sounding dialogue and organic sexual attraction actually reads like.

Nevertheless!

Haunting Adeline is such a long book and sets itself up for future works (I honestly don’t know if it’s just a sequel or more). Over 605 pages it tackles so many different ideas and plot points, it’s hard to gather all my thoughts and articulate them in a neat way. Harder still is the fact that this remains a dark romance book, with problematic kinks and actions.

I’m here for dark fiction. I don’t need every character I read about to be an upstanding person, or a secret vigilante taking down trafficking rings in a major city. Sometimes it’s healthy for us (adults!) to engage in fiction that is just intended to scandalize and tantalize, noncon and unhealthy attraction and all.

What I don’t appreciate is the hardcore attempts to paint the perpetrator of those actions as a “good guy.” Someone who only seems dangerous in the beginning until, surprise!, it turns out he’s protecting the MC from even more dangerous enemies. The lengthy, beat-you-over-the-head-till-you’re-sick-from-it justifications of why he’s actually sexy and desirable for assaulting her, for stalking her, for bringing blood and violence to her door—why we should actually root for these two to end up together as a couple in love.

Maybe it’s impossible to create a truly “dark” romance novel for a mainstream audience, in much the same way the kink community should be gatekept from people who don’t seek it out. The nuances of consent and navigating dark desires in a healthy, productive way will go straight over people’s heads if they’ve had no reason to deliberate over these concepts and practice them in their own life. As a result, a novel like Haunting Adeline that raises up a stalker-r4pist as a romantic hero will no doubt be misinterpreted by many. I’m not saying it’ll have a detrimental effect on their lives, and I will never advocate for book censorship—only that this book is a frustrating heap of disappointment to the people who are most likely to pick it up, and a scandalous treat for those who may not engage with its themes as meaningfully as one would hope.

Zade tells us a million times why he’s the sexiest man around while showing through his actions it’s all false, meanwhile 5-star reviews pile up saying “yesssss Zade, yes you ARE!”

I need to give my brain a good scrub after 7 hours reading this shit.

Rating

⭐️⭐️ 2 / 5 stars