#put some respect on his name that man is EARNING his check

[yeetlegay]

Oh you think you’re cool? You think you’ve got a good poker face? You think you can keep your cool under pressure?

Bible Wichapas Sumettikul has spent nigh on a year behaving like a normal functioning human being around Build after having two fistfuls of his ass at eye level and seeing him tied up nearly naked in various nefarious ways

[the-90s-music-colosseum]

Quarterfinals, Match 2

expand to see all propaganda received! (wall of text warning oh my god this is a severe cautionary message)

Lauryn Hill:

"she paved the way and was hot as fuck the whole time"

"Girl c'mon. Look at her. You're gonna try and tell me that isn't the most beautiful and attractive person alive? Okay. You're lying but okay."

"if u freaks don't give ms. lauryn hill the respect she deserves..."

"actually one of the prettiest women ever I'm such a lesbian for her. like irl I'm already a lesbian but she is helping"

Damon Albarn:

"Don’t think Damon should be here? Why don’t you get your head checked by a jumbo jet? Maybe you’ll feel heavy metal and calm down."

"If Damon is in the “some guy” category, he’s the heavenly and heartbreaking version. Damon is the sort of significant stranger I’d see on the train out of Colchester but could never speak to, just a face seen in passing yet too radiant to be real. I’d fall in love for an hour and carry the ache for a month."

"Damon sets the standard for me. I think he’s the most fascinating man alive. What I find attractive in Damon is not just his gorgeous bone structure and boyish charm, but how wholly he’s committed himself to music. Damon is an artist who walked the walk: in one of his roughest years with some of his rawest songwriting, he said he was no longer excited by anything except the creative process. He was disillusioned with the celebrity of it all, with his relationships suffering for it, and only wanted to make art: nothing more, nothing less. He would go on to compose film scores, write operas and stage musicals, produce other artists’ records, form collectives to fulfill his passion for world music, and create some of the most globally successful music of his career in a completely innovative format that placed him as the phantom behind the characters. Whenever one band takes a break, he makes a solo record or puts together a supergroup to stay busy. He’s uniquely collaborative and still writes personal letters inviting artists to record with him, and yet can function as a one-man show, acting as a multi-instrumentalist, a singer-songwriter and a producer. He’s been a constant voice of bringing British music to the world *and* bringing world music into Britain. Sure, he’s won Brit Awards and a Grammy among others, but he also has a Guinness World Record and was named an Officer of the British Empire for his services to music; his long work with Africa Express earned him respect even from peers who’d previously dismissed him, and his commitment to support his Malian collaborators in the face of violence earned him the title of Local King in Mali. There is so much talent in the world, but there is truly no one else with a career that looks like Damon Albarn’s. Damon is far more than just a prettyboy to look nice on a magazine cover, but looks are the ultimate point of this tournament, so make no mistake: he was terribly, terribly pretty. You watch him performing in the 90s, you sift through photoshoots and interviews and documentaries, and it feels *cruel* how beautiful he was. If his talent was god-given, so was his face. To put a bow on this thesis: I don’t know if Gorillaz and Damon’s musical universe would be the experimental, globe-trotting, boundary-pushing community affair it is if Blur hadn’t become such a central figure in Britpop and if Damon had not been made such a media spectacle, and I don’t know if Damon would have been that spectacle if he wasn’t so ungodly pretty. The domino effect is that Damon’s cherubic face launched a thousand multimedia art school projects for decades to come."

"I wish I was basically any bloke in the 90s so I could tongue Damon Albarn down. Damon will see a man and ask “is anyone gonna kiss that?” and not wait for a response."

"I have a pillow with his face on it. I sleep with it every night 😊"

"“I’m more homosexual than Brett Anderson, always have been. As far as bisexuality goes, I’ve had a taste of that particular fruit, or have been tasted you might say…” is just the rawest most Shakespearean statement ever"

"he is the ultimate Pretty Boy ™. his glorious golden locks, his electric blue eyes. he is if Princess Diana was a Britpop Dude. he is the Regina George of Britpop. he is if Aphrodite took male form. Zeus would come down to earth to fuck him if he knew. he is a caffeinated orange cat let loose. he is deranged. he is unhinged. you never know what will come out of his mouth. he had sexual tension with every single man who knew him. he pulled justine fucking frischmann. his aura knows no bounds. he is a siren. he is a weird guy. but being so gorgeous stunning ethereal didn't stop him from also being one of the most prolific songwriters of his generation"

"THE MAIN BLUR"

"literally where do i even begin. i could write entire essays on this man. a good place to start would be the beetlebum music video, i suppose. i'll never forget the first time i watched that music video. something in me changed, my brain chemistry was altered, my life was never the same, i view the world a lot differently now. and a lot of the viewing i'm doing is of pictures of damon albarn's face because of boy do i have a lot of those saved. every time i try to look for a photo of something on my phone i can't find it because there's so much damon. okay that's maybe an exaggeration but this man has the most unfathomable beauty ever. his eyes? HIS EYES. god dammit i love his eyes i want to stare at them until the end of time like nothing else exists. i'm so normal about this man (lying) and while i'm usually very shameless about my interests i'm actually incredibly glad this propaganda is anonymous because otherwise. yeah. but the world deserves to see damon albarn's beauty and also hear his fantastic voice because what the fuck. his voice is literally the most gorgeous sound ever produced like bro sounds like that and expects me not to fall in love? i want this man to sing his silly songs and talk absolute nonsense to me until the sun eventually blows out and the world ends. cmon damon girlies let's demolish this tournament i know there are a lot of you."

"He’s beautiful. He’s a little rat. He’s a sweetheart. He’s a dickhead. He’s a musical genius. He’s a dumb bitch. He’s a jock. He’s a weirdo. He’s real. He’s an illusion. He’s everything. He’s just Damon."

"DAMON DAMON DAMON where do I begin oh jeez I've hyperfixated on this man for a solid 4 years and still going strong. Damon makes me wish that British people are real. That says A LOT. This man created a whole ass ANIMATED BAND WITH A SHIT TON OF LORE as a SIDE HUSTLE??? Not to mention, what other man has collaborated with Stevie Nicks, MF DOOM, Del the Funky Homosapien, Snoop Dogg, AND Beck?! People, we're literally in the presence of a god. And he's STILL GOING. Anyways, TL;DR, damon is so so so neat and cool and he should definitely win this competition. Thank you."

"Okay 90s Damon is The Perfect Boy yes yes, but the people who parrot the Daily Mail and say "he's ugly now" will never understand. I would still suck every drop from him on his deathbed."

"Vote for whoever you want to. But Damon is so pretty."

"i did not spend hours admiring this beautiful man's face on pinterest just to see him lose."

"Damon Albarn just brings me joy. When I'm watching him perform, following along as the camera lingers on and adores his pretty face, I get butterflies like I'm 15 again. It's nice to still feel that totally unguarded giddiness sometimes."

"God let the intrusive thoughts win making Damon. What if he's a beautiful blond twink with eyes like saucers and dick to his knees, he reads Herman Hesse and plays footie and is insufferable about both, he'll be the most prolific musician of his generation and write operas and seminal albums in 5 different genres and also he's gonna be the dumbest bitch alive? He'll also be kinda bi, but only kinda. And send."

"when i found out about his existence, my life was changed forever. i wish i could use him like the hannah montana boot milk pillow and chuck him at the wall so he makes a loud thud"

"Think of the drama and anon fights it'll cause if Damon wins it all! And think of how quiet it'll get after Damon's out. You'll miss him when he's gone, like memories of a noisy house years after it's grown silent. Choose Damon, and keep the messy train chugging."

"Even the Gallagher brothers have the hots for him."

"Kiss kiss I love him also you can't vote for any of the Seattle men they're literally copy and paste it's not fair. We need Brit representation"

"I want to take care of him, I want to provide for him. I need to gauge his baby blue puppy dog orbs out to I can clean them with wood varnish, paint shades of Pantone 320 C in his eyes, spray eau de parfume by dior in them and sew it back into his eyes like that scene in Toy Story 2."

"Seeing as simply filling the page with ‘Damon’ written 10000000 times isn’t going to cut it 😅 may I admit/submit: I DO have him tattooed on my being (no descriptive, is this anon?); he’s inspired somewhat unhinged late night/early morning fandom conversations in which I’ve served as ‘parish’ priest hearing confessions from all manner of folk about what they’d like to do to him/receive from him; sadly I lost an essay where I detailed why the letters that make up his name suit him so well, and described him as the hot caramel sauce to Graham’s cool vanilla ice cream. He’s a faerie princess with a nose that makes people weep and a voice that feels like the warmest home and he gives amazing hugs. He loves trains and chickens and his tuxedo cat. He’s annoying and sweet and somewhat unhinged and his music saves people and all this is on top of that fantastic dick. He’s a dream yet very real and we’re fucking blessed to be on earth at the same time as him, amen"

"Damon Albarn was a beautiful, beautiful boy. The world saw that, regardless of if every individual reading this has the same taste in men; it felt like a truth of the universe at the time. They don't make celebrities that angelic in face and erratic in personality anymore."

"I need to touch his eyebrows, nose and prostate just one time JUST ONE TIME COME ON"

[bruhstories]

change

summary: you and eren have been friends since forever. you also loved eren since forever. but eren is always bored, until he finally finds something worth changing for pairing: eren jaeger x fem!reader, mentioned eren x mikasa w/c: 4.6k warnings & content: toxic!eren (for the most part. man's got a god complex, okay?), female bodied reader, weed smoking, fingering, oral sex (male receiving), unprotected p in v sex, angst, fluff

a/n: not me coming back from the dead with this rubbish but hey, beats not writing at all i suppose

"I'm bored." 

Eren laid on his back, one hand under his head, the other holding the meticulously rolled spliff.

"Do you wanna play a video game?" You suggested, watching him blow rings of smoke. "I can beat you at Mortal Kombat again."

He snorted at your audacity before passing you the joint. 

"I mean I'm bored of my life. Nothing exciting ever happens." Eren sighed. He was tired of the same routine of waking up, checking Tinder, going to work, hooking up with some random girl, going to bed — rinse and repeat.

You liked routine. You flourished when you had a routine. Not that you were bothered by the occasional spontaneity, but routine could very well be your middle name.

"Change something, then. Change your job. Or even better, get a girlfriend." Your tone wasn't pleasant. 

"Who's gonna split the rent with you, then?" He sat up, taking the spliff from your fingers.

"Hey, I wasn't done-"

"You snooze, you lose, babe." Eren took one long drag before exhaling the smoke into your face.

Babe. 

You hated when he used pet names on you. It gave you a sliver of hope that maybe, just maybe, he liked you back. But that was impossible. Eren didn't do relationships, he fucked. You knew that damn well when you could hear him through the walls of your flat almost every night. You felt bad for every single girl who thought they could change him. But you knew him better. You knew he would never change.

"I told you to not call me that." You leaned forward to take your spliff back, but Eren put his hand up. "Really, are you going to be a child now?" You pressed a hand on his knee to reach his fingers. 

"You didn't earn it." He shrugged, pushing you back.

"I rolled it, fuckface! Give it back!" You struggled, but Eren was bigger and stronger. 

"Fine." He smacked your hands out of his way and gripped your chin, fingers digging into your skin. "Open up." 

Even if you tried to keep your mouth closed, the force of his fingers parted your lips open. You could feel your cheeks heating up when Eren took a drag and blew the thick smoke into your mouth, his lips merely inches away from yours.

You hated him. No, you hated how he made you feel, how insignificant you were compared to him.

Despite always barking back at him, always getting into arguments, always beating him at Mortal Kombat, the reality was that you always gave in. If Eren told you to strip, you would. If Eren told you to suck his cock, you would. If Eren told you to jump off a cliff, you would. Not because he forced or manipulated you, but because you wanted to.

You were willing to give him everything, and he would take it all.

"Good girl." Eren sneered at your attempt to hide your face. It amused him.

"Fuck off, yeah?" 

"You know what would make my life less boring?" He clicked his tongue. 

"Enlighten me." You rolled your eyes.

"Fucking you."

Your lips parted but no sounds came out of your mouth. Those were words you wanted to hear since you were a teenager, since you first realised you liked him. Since you were 15. Ten years ago.

And the urge to surrender was growing stronger than your will to be dignified and respectable. Much stronger. 

"Eren, stop fucking about." You decided not to play his game. "Just because you're bored doesn't mean you have the right to, what, fuck me? Grow up, you're 25."

There, you told him off. Surely he would be mature enough to understand and respect your wishes. Only, you didn't give him a definitive no. And if Eren couldn't get what he wanted, he would take it.

His fingers ghosted over your shoulder, tugging at the strap of your tank top. You could've smacked his hand away, could've left the room. But you didn't, because you wanted him to convince you. You wanted to make him work for you, to earn you.

Eren didn't say anything, just toyed with the strap, lowering it down your arm. Bad time to not wear a bra, because from the way you were sat, he could perfectly watch the way your nipples protrude through the thin fabric of your top. 

You couldn't lie to yourself — you never wore a bra around Eren, unless you had just come from work. Desperation was written all over your face, every day, every minute of your miserable life, and living with him did not make things any better, it only made them worse. The only two reasons you agreed to be roommates were simple — you were poor and you were in love. You needed someone to split bills and rent with, and you hoped that living with Eren would make him have an epiphany about how much he loved you and wanted to be with you.

Boy, were you wrong.

Yet when he tugged at your strap harder, hooked his index finger and pulled it all down, you did not protest. You did, however, in one final attempt to maintain your dignity, cross your hands over your chest to cover your bare breasts.

He smiled — no, he sneered at how pathetic you were, because if there was one entertaining thing in Eren's boring life, it was how much you tried to fight your feelings for him. 

As if he didn't know. As if you thought he didn't know.

"Have you always been this cute?" His words disrupted your embarrassment, but you knew how foul he was, telling you what you wanted to hear. 

"Eren…" You trailed off, still covering your chest, still hiding your face. "Don't. Don't play with me. Don't say things you know will… hurt me."

"Hurt you?" He cocked a brow at you, almost convincing you that he was confused. "But, I'm giving you what you want, and you'll be giving me what I want."

The sudden realisation that Eren knew all this time how in love you were with him had you burst into tears. Not hysterical crying, heavy breathing or loud sobs, no. Just tear after tear after tear, rolling down your cheeks, down your lips, down your chin, as you cried with no noise. 

He felt bad. He really did.

It's not that he didn't care about you, God, no. Eren loved you — in his own way. He wasn't the type of man to hold your hand, kiss your forehead, cuddle you at night. But he showed his love in other ways — he took days off when you were sick, drove you anywhere and everywhere you wanted, ordered food almost every day. You always assumed he did that because you were friends, because you went way back. 

"I didn't mean to make you cry." His thumb grazed over your bottom lip. "Cross my heart and hope to die." Eren told you when he saw the condescending look on your face.

"For how long have you known?" You turned your head away and pulled your top back up.

He clicked his tongue. Eren wasn't in the mood to talk, he was in the mood to fuck. But you were not about to give yourself to him just yet.

"Long enough." He stubbed whatever was left of the spliff and pulled his legs under him in a lotus position. 

"Jesus Christ. And you enjoyed every bit of it, didn't you?" Venom dripped down your tongue. You watched him with narrowed eyes and furrowed brows. "You thrived on watching me be a fool. For fuck's sake, you moved in with me!"

"It's not like that." His voice was calm, but you could see him getting angry.

He'd changed. When he was a teenager he would show how angry he was. Everyone had to know Eren was fuming. But now? Now he was just calm, quietly imagining how he'd rip someone's heart out and eat it.

"It's not like that." You repeated, tone mocking him. "Pray tell, then, Eren, how it is. Because frankly I'm getting tired."

He rolled his eyes at you, and that only irked you more. You wanted to scream at him, to slap him, to make him understand just how much you wanted him.

"We both know why I didn't say anything, Y/N."

Oh.

Of course.

How could you be so stupid to think he ever reciprocated your feelings?

Silly you.

"Wow, I- no. This has to end." You punched the nearest wall, knuckles cracking at the impact. "Fuck!"

"Are you hurt-"

"Fuck you. I really thought I could get over it, you know? But it's been ten years! Ten years of my life wasted because I love you!" Your eyes widened and you brought a hand over your mouth.

Never have you imagined this was how you'd confess your feelings. 

You always thought it would be when Eren would be vulnerable, or perhaps when he would've realised he liked you. But not like this. Never like this.

"Oh, say it again." He closed his eyes and bit his lower lip. 

You couldn't tell if he was being serious or not, so when he opened his eyes, all he could see was you, angry, upset, confused.

Eren got up and closed the distance between the two of you. His lips touched your knuckles, his hand holding yours. 

"Say it again." He urged you, his emerald eyes burning holes into your own pupils.

"I… love you." Your voice was dying with each syllable, and you could feel your eyes getting wet with tears once more. 

"Again."

"Eren…"

"Please." He pulled you by the waist, burying his face in the crook of your neck, taking in your scent.

There were plenty of mixed signals coming from him, and he was a walking red flag. But you couldn't hold back, not anymore.

"I love you."

Eren wasn't bored of his life. Those three words made him realise that. He didn't need something exciting to happen, no. He needed someone who would dedicate their heart to him. He needed you.

"I don't think I could get tired of hearing this." His breath tickled your skin.

"Eren, please, I can't do this. Not when you don't even like me back." You tried to push him away, but he tightened his grip around your waist. 

"Oh, I like you. Just not how you expect me to." Eren pulled back enough to look into your eyes. "I'm not gonna take you on dates. I'm not gonna buy you flowers. I'm not gonna hold the door open for you." He admitted. 

"That's… alright." It wasn't. 

But if it meant you got to have a small piece of him, you were willing to ruin the rest of your life for him.

His hand slid under your top, but you were too far gone to protest. 

Once you confessed your feelings, you were his.

Your feet followed Eren as he dragged you to the bed. He sat you down, or better yet, he pushed you onto the mattress, and as you fell, so did your dignity and principles. Your embarrassment quickly turned into eagerness, because in that moment, you believed you'd never have another opportunity like this, even if it meant ruining your friendship, and potentially, the rest of your life.

Eren hovered over your body, and you tugged the waistband of his gray sweatpants, making him lean closer.

"Can I kiss you?" Your voice was timid and quiet.

"You can do more than that with that pretty mouth of yours." His confidence made your cheeks burn. He always made your body temperature rise, but this felt like a genuine fever dream. A good one. 

"Eren!" You squealed at his words, but before you knew it, his lips pressed onto yours, hot and needy. That was the uncontested truth — Eren needed you. Not some random girl who was eager to fuck him because of his undoubtedly good looks, but someone who would worship him like a king, a god. And you did that, in your own special way.

There was a time when Mikasa was like that, obsessed with Eren and eager to please him. But the difference was that, to him, Mikasa was mindless. Like a puppet on a string. She wouldn't contest his wishes, and gave up so easily. And Eren didn't want that. He wanted someone to be by his side because they saw eye to eye. Because you believed in his ideas and in him. Mikasa just wanted him. She didn't give two shits on what Eren thought, she would follow him anyway.

But you were like him. There was passion in your eyes and a fire in your heart, and Eren knew that. You preferred to not show that, giving your friends only optimism and kindness. He knew better. He knew the darkness in your soul. He knew you were the only one who could understand him. It only took him ten years to bring that to the surface. 

His mouth was on your neck, kissing, sucking and biting your skin, and your fingers were tangled in his disheveled hair, tugging at it with each wave of electricity running through your veins. Every time he touched you, it felt like you stuck your fingers in a socket.

"Need to feel you." Eren mumbled, one hand traveling down your chest, then your abdomen, sliding under your leggings and panties. "Fuck, you're so wet." He was dumbfounded at the effect he had on your body when his fingers pushed into your sloppy cunt.

For a brief moment, you regretted not being a virgin. You had hoped Eren would be your first, but back when you lost your virginity, you thought he would never want you, so you had a short relationship with some guy who fucked you pretty badly. Since then, you barely had any sex.

His thumb grazed over your swollen clit, and you instinctively arched your back, hitting your forehead against his. Clearly, you lacked experience. 

"Ren, I'm sorry-"

"It's alright." He took your hand and guided it to his cock. "You can make up for it."

You chewed on your lower lip and looked away, only for him to squeeze your wrist. 

"Look at me."

You nodded, palming his bulge through the fabric of his sweatpants. He relaxed, letting go of your wrist and untying the string of his waistband.

Adrenaline and fear fogged your brain. It all still felt so unreal, and part of you was scared you couldn't take him all. The other part wanted him to ruin you.

Eren pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it on the floor, leaving your cunt needy and alone.

"Go on." He urged you after seeing the lust and fear in your eyes. "I know you want it."

You sighed at the lack of gentleness, but you couldn't deny the obvious truth. 

Your manicured fingernails snatched the waistband and pulled it down, not caring about foreplay anymore. You've had enough foreplay in the past ten years. 

The sight of his cock made your mouth water, like some kind of rabid dog, but you didn't give a shit anymore. You didn't care if he saw you as a piece of meat, a toy or a puppet.

"I-" Words could not come out of your mouth. He was just stunning, with his toned body and his hair falling down his beautiful face. Shit, maybe he was a god.

"Well?" Eren snapped, impatient and irritated at the lack of reaction. You did react, just not like he expected you to.

Curious and confused, you reluctantly shifted your position, bringing your face closer to him. After pondering your next move, you parted your lips open and stuck your tongue out, dragging it up his shaft. 

"You can do better." He fisted your hair and pulled your head back. "You will do better, yeah?"

"Yes-" You stopped talking when he pushed his cock into your mouth, effectively forcing you to take as much of his length as possible.

The tears pooling at the corners of your eyes weren't from pain, nor the lack of air, but from pure ecstasy and joy. Finally, you were granted what you were longing for so long. 

You worked hard for Eren, hollowing your cheeks and sucking his cock. You didn't think your mouth could produce so much spit, but it did, and it dribbled down your chin, down his shaft, mixed with his delicious precum. Your lips were just so swollen you thought they went numb.

When Eren got tired of watching you struggle to breathe, he pulled your head back, allowing you to inhale as much air as possible. His fingers wrapped around your neck as he bent down to kiss you.

"Shit." He pulled back. "I taste good."

He was so full of himself, so vain and narcissistic that it made you want to hate him. But you couldn't lie to yourself — you loved every bit of him.

"Eren, please." You reminded him that you also needed attention by squeezing his hand.

He looked down on you, as if he were insulted by your audacity to speak.

"What? You want something?" He palmed his cock, slowly stroking it up and down.

You nodded.

"Show me, then."

Another sigh escaped past your lips. You should've known he'd make you work. He wouldn't just give you what you wanted so easily. 

Pulling your leggings down and letting them fall off the bed, you gently laid back on the mattress. Eren watched your every move, judging every single gesture, and so far, he seemed pleased. He seemed especially pleased when your hands reached your panties, tugging them and eventually pulling them down. You laid there, half naked and awkward. 

"I didn't tell you to stop, did I?" His voice was condescending. "Earn it, you filthy whore." Now he was impatient. 

Never had he called you a whore before. You didn't mind it, you just didn't expect it. And you didn't know what to do, either. After a few seconds of silence and deep thinking, you bit your lower lip and spread your legs. Unmoved by your attempt, Eren just kept on pumping his cock, seemingly enjoying himself more.

Fine, you'd try harder.

Your hand slowly traveled up your thigh until it reached your cunt, and your fingers gently rubbed circles against your clit. His eyes didn't leave your body. That was what he wanted, but it was still not enough. 

"Ren- oh, please-" Your breath hitched when arched your back. "Need you, please!"

"Need me to what? Say it, otherwise you won't be getting shit from me."

Did he have to humiliate you like that? Was it not enough that you just professed your love to him? Did he have to take everything from you?

The answer was yes, and you knew it all too well.

"Don't wanna say it…" You tried to fight your instincts.

"Is that so? Fuck yourself, then." He was dead serious. 

"No, wait!" You sat up, fingernails digging into his arms. "Please!"

Eren tucked your hair behind your ear and cupped your cheek with one hand. Despite how tender his gesture was, you knew his words would be cruel.

"Give yourself to me. All of you."

Something snapped inside your brain. He didn't have to tease you for you to want him. He didn't need to kiss you and make you melt. He knew exactly which buttons to push to break his toy.

"Take me, then!" You begged him. "Kiss me, fuck me, kill me if you want!"

Even Eren was shocked to see how much power he had over you. Power he would obviously abuse in the future. Sure, you could have said those things in the heat of the moment, said them to get what you wanted, but it wasn't just sheer lust — you were willing to let Eren ruin you.

You did ask nicely, and how could he not grant your wish?

His dark locks tickled your face when he leaned in to kiss you in what was, perhaps, the most animalistic kiss you've ever had. Oh, and you were putty in his hands, kissing him back, fisting his hair to pull him impossibly closer to you.

With your legs spread open for him, Eren pushed his cock into your needy cunt, and although he tried not to hurt you, he couldn't hide his eagerness to just fuck you already. Inch by inch, you rolled your eyes in both pleasure and pain — it's been a while since you got laid. Your fingernails raked up and down his back, leaving red marks all over his perfect skin, and you could tell he enjoyed it by his guttural growls and grunts.

"God, you're so tight." Eren bottomed out, allowing you to adjust to his size. 

Oh, and you adjusted, alright. He filled you up, both physically and emotionally, and no longer was there a void in your heart. He was your missing piece, but you weren't so sure if you were his.

Wrapping your legs around his waist and your arms around his back, you looked him in the eyes without a shred of shame.

"Please, Eren, please fuck me! I've waited so long-" You choked on your own words when his hips began to roll painstakingly slowly. But you loved every bit of it, so much so that you sunk your teeth into his shoulder to muffle your moans.

Eren wouldn't have that, of course. He had to hear you. He heard you every night, when you thought you were quietly fucking yourself, it was only natural he wanted to hear you when he was the one balls deep inside of you.

The sound of his name on your lips was divine, like a devout subject praying to her god. Because that was Eren to you — a god.

Your lips were swollen from all his devouring kisses, and you were sure he left a few bruises on your body after how hard he pinched and squeezed the plush of your hips, but you didn't care. You belonged to him, after all.

"Harder, fuck me harder!" You begged him. It's not that you wanted to finish, God no. You wanted this moment to last forever. But you needed to feel him more.

Eren pulled out, despite your request, only to flip you over and thrust back into your cunt. You've never tried that position before with other men. You believed that it was filthy and humiliating to get fucked from behind. And you were right, you felt like nothing but a piece of meat. But it also felt good.

"Hard enough, you little slut?" He whispered into your ear, the words sending chills down your spine. Who knew you would enjoy being called awful names?

"Yes! Fuck, yes!" You arched your back, the sound of the bedframe hitting the wall echoing in your room. Your poor neighbours. 

"Has anyone else fucked you like this before?" Eren fisted your hair, pulling your head back.

"N-no!" You cried out, feeling your thighs quiver. 

"Good." He let go of your hair, only to bring an arm around your neck, practically holding you in a headlock. "And no one's ever gonna fuck you like this, but me, yeah?"

"Y-you, only you!" 

"That's right." He let go of you, instead focusing his hands on your hips. "You're mine."

It was comforting to hear those words, because you knew that was how Eren expressed his feelings — violently. 

There was no romance with Eren, only chaos and violence, and you loved him just like that. 

Then you felt it — his frantic thrusts, the stuttering pace, his fingers almost ripping the skin off your hips — he was close, and so were you. 

"Eren! I'm gonna finish-"

"I know, love."

That was enough to send you over the edge, your walls tightening around his cock, and pleasure engulfing your entire body. Your limbs were numb by the time you reached your climax, and you were too tired to tell him not to finish inside of you. But Eren wasn't an idiot. Despite his violent urges, he didn't want to hurt you. Not emotionally, at least. He pulled out on time, you knew that when you felt something hot and thick on your lower back.

You could hear him walk out of the room and then back in, and in your daze, you tried to prop yourself on your elbows and look up.

"Don't move." Eren told you, and his voice had drastically changed — soft and soothing. "You don't want cum leaking on your bedsheets."

"Need to wash 'em anyway." You groaned, coming down from your high. 

"Tomorrow." He said, gently wiping your back with tissues. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." You nodded. "Still bored?" You teased him, but you knew things would go back to normal tomorrow. Eren would go back to Tinder and you would go back to your routine.

"A little." Eren shrugged, and although you should have expected this answer, it still shattered your heart into a million pieces. "You know what would help?"

"What?" 

"If you would let me take you out on a date."

You were confused, and understandably so.

"Me?"

"No, the Pope. Go on a nice little date in the Vatican. Yes, you." He chuckled at his own joke.

But you were still confused.

"I thought you didn't do dates." You watched him toss the tissues in the bin and sit back down on your bed.

"Well, it's time for a change." He didn't look at you, instead focusing on one dot on the wall.

"Okay, but why? I mean, why me?"

"Don't, Y/N. Don't make me say it." Eren hoped that if he still stared at that dot, you would leave him alone.

"You made me say a lot of shit tonight, Jaeger. Why me?" You could feel your cheeks heat up again with anger.

"Oh, for fuck's sake, you know why!" He crossed his arms like a child.

"No, I don't."

"Jesus, because I l-" Eren cleared his throat. "I luh-" he choked.

"Oh my God, just say it already!" 

"I love you, you crazy fucking bitch!" He threw his hands up in exasperation. "There, I said it, happy?"

You were stunned, absolutely dumbfounded. Love? Eren loved you? How? Since when? There were tons of questions you wanted to ask him, but not a single word came out of your mouth. 

The silence was deafening, and you could hear your heart beating in your eardrums. So instead of saying anything, you scooted closer to him, cupping his face and turning his face towards you. Finally, he looked into your eyes, and you beamed at him. There was so much warmth in your smile that it moved him, and for the first time in a very long time, Eren smiled, too.

He pulled you into a soft embrace, his arm around your shoulders, his chin resting on your head. 

"Can I sleep with you?" Eren asked.

"Didn't you already do that?" You mocked him with a grin on your lips.

"Alright, fuck you too, then.” He chuckled, planting a kiss on your forehead.

Perhaps you had been wrong all along. Perhaps all of Eren’s arrogance and chaos was just a mask, something to hide how he truly felt. You knew he would never show his vulnerable side, but the fact that tonight he at least tried to do that meant that he could change. And tonight, for the first time, Eren not only felt loved, but he felt the need to show love.

It would take time and patience, but he could change. For you.

[gunsatthaphan]

~ Monthly BL Breakdown: January 2024 ~ 

✨ Happy February!!! 🎭

Disclaimer: ALL shows can be streamed here or here, as well as on Youtube and other platforms. For more info on where to watch what, check out this post! 

New breakdowns are coming at the end of every month - feel free to add stuff! -> previous breakdowns

What came out this month? (green = seen/currently watching)

🌟 BL Drama no Shuen ni Narimashita: Crank In Hen - January 2nd (Japan) 

🌟 Ossan's Love Returns - January 5th (Japan) 

🌟 Refund Love - January 7th (Thailand) 

🌟 Time The Series - January 9th (Thailand) 

🌟 Intern in My Heart (BL side couple) - January 10th (Thailand) 

🌟 Sukiyanen Kedo Do Yaro ka (Although I Love You, and You) - January 11th (Japan) 

🌟 Beside You (mini series) - January 11th (Thailand) 

🌟 I Wish You Love - January 21st (Thailand) 

🌟 Happy Ending - January 23rd (South Korea)

🌟 Love for Love's Sake - January 24th (South Korea)

Monthly likes/dislikes

👎🏻 I've been catching up on some KBLs from last year this month and sadly most of them were very disappointing. I put a few on my watchlist that generally had good reviews but yeah let's just say I'm glad I didn't miss anything in the last 2 years lol. The only one I liked was Love Mate, the rest was pretty much pointless. Hopefully the upcoming ones will be better 🤞🏻

New series & movie announcements

🎥 Beating Again (dance-themed, starring Kaownah K., Earth K. and others) - Date TBA (Thailand)

🎥 Unknown - Date TBA (Taiwan)

🎥 The Book Store - Date TBA (South Korea)

🎥 Term Begins - Date TBA (Thailand)

🎥 Mafia Prince and the Bookworm - Date TBA (Thailand)

🎥 Black Forest - Date TBA (Thailand)

🎥 Go Alone With Me - Date TBA (Thailand)

🎥 Can I Love You? - Date TBA (Thailand)

🎥 The Shining Star - Date TBA (Vietnam)

🎥 At My Fingertips (Unintentional Love Story spinoff) - Coming May 2024 (South Korea)

🎥 Connecting To You - Date TBA (Taiwan)

🎥 The Star (movie) - Coming March 2024 (Thailand)

🎥 What's the Nong? - Date TBA (Thailand)

Other news from the BL world

❗️ Actors Mike Chinnarat, Fluke Pusit, White Nawat, Pluem Purim and Lee Thanat have left GMMTV.

❗️ After Korean actor Choo Youngwoo won an award for "Best Rookie Actor" at the recent KBS Drama Awards, he came under fire for not mentioning his participation in the BL You Make Me Dance which launched his career and earned him the award.

❗️ Actors Jin Hoeun (All Of Us are Dead), Kwon Hyuk (The New Employee), Byun Junseo (Perfect Marriage Revenge) and Nam Yoonsu (Extracurricular) have been confirmed to star in the upcoming BL Love In The Big City, which portrays the life and love of an HIV-positive gay writer.

❗️ ZeeNunew and GeminiFourth won an award respectively for "Best Thai Artists" at this year's Seoul Music Awards.

❗️ The Chinese BL Stay with Me is getting an audiobook. The series furthermore recently confirmed its second season, further details are unknown.

❗️ Over a year after its initial premiere, the Thai BL To Sir, With Love won "Popular Foreign Drama” at this years's Vietnam Face Of The Year Awards.

❗️ The Thai BL Playboyy will no longer air on youtube after the suspension of the channel due to explicit sexual content. The show will continue to exclusively air on Gagaoolala, as well as RakutenTV.

❗️ Actors EarthMix had a cameo appearance in Ossan's Love Returns; they will star in the Thai adaption of the same name later this year. Details about the production are still unknown.

❗️ MileApo (KinnPorsche) were announced to star in the upcoming series Shine. The show is an extension/spinoff of Man Suang and focuses on Khem and Chatra's story in more detail.

Upcoming series & movies for February

👉🏻 Anti Reset - February 2nd (Taiwan)

👉🏻 Perfect Proposal - February 2nd (Japan)

👉🏻 City of Stars - February 2nd (Thailand)

👉🏻 Love Syndrome: The Beginning - February 8th (Thailand)

👉🏻 Baka Pwede pa? - February 9th (Philippines)

👉🏻 1000 Years Old - February 14th (Thailand)

👉🏻 My Strawberry Film - February 16th (Japan)

👉🏻 A Secret Love - February 17th (Thailand)

👉🏻 Unknown - February 24th (Taiwan)

👉🏻 Wedding Impossible - February 26th (South Korea)

👉🏻 Kiseki Chapter 1 & Chapter 2 - February TBA (Thailand)

[thought--bubble]

But You can Show Me? (One-Shot)

Billy Taylor X (Hotel Guest Reader)

Warnings after the cut

Billy Taylor Master List

Full Master List

Banners by @arcielee

A/N: I have been holding onto this one in my drafts forever, the absolute filth in this had me hesitant to post 🤣 but alas time to release some more Billy Taylor into the world!

Warnings: Cheating, unprotected sex, smut, corruption kink (if you blink). (I suck at warnings, so if you think I should add something, please tell me!)

Why are all men so disgusting!

That thought has been playing in your head on a loop for the past two days. Since you caught your husband deep in the throws of passion with her. His secretary.

Your husband was supposed to be the love of your life. Your fairytale ending. You were supposed to fill your home with a cacophony of the laughs of children and declarations of undying love and devotion.

A farce. That is what it had been. Something entirely made up in your head. Unfortunately, you were the last one to figure that out.He hadn't even looked guilty when caught. Just annoyed as if you should have had the respect to wait until he was finished to question him about his actions.

Two days staying at a friend's house was long enough. You were thrilled to be spending your husband's hard earned money to stay at a fancy hotel while you figured out a way to get yourself out of this marriage without becoming destitute. He hadn't chased you down. No begging for you to come home. No promises that it wouldn't repeat. Just a "take some time to yourself" and a wave of his hand. Thank God for small kindnesses.

You step out of the town car that your husband paid to bring you here. Your black hair is curled to your shoulders. You wore your cutest cocktail dress. Black with red trimmings. Head held high. You step forward and take a look at the hotel. Big, fancy, just what you deserve after what you've been through.

Two bellboys meet you out front and introduce themselves as Billy and Derek.

Derek lifts your suitcase while Billy takes care of the hotel introduction.

"Hello, Miss, welcome to the Halycon hotel. My name is Billy, and I will be showing you to your room. " he stumbles over his words a little bit, making you smile. It's obvious he is making his best effort to follow the script given to him by hotel management.

"Thank you very much, Billy."

Billy brings you to the check-in counter.

"Room key for -" Billy scratches his chin and then flushes in embarrassment when he realizes he forgot to ask the guests name. He turns back to you, cheeks flushed bright red.

"Umm, M-miss. What is the name for the R-reservation?"

You tell him your name and get your room key heading to the lift.

As you get into the lift, Billy takes your bag from Derek and waves him off. You can tell billy is incredibly nervous. It's endearing.

"So how long will you be staying with us miss?" He asks voice squeaking at the end of the last word.

"Not quite sure yet," you smile at him, and you see a faint blush paint his cheeks.

As the lift reaches your floor, Billy puts his hand out as if keeping the lift door from closing on you as you step out.

You step to the side and wait for Billy to lead you to your room. He struggles a bit with your suitcase, and you stifle a giggle.

"Room 308" Billy stops in front of the door.

"Thank you, Billy." You open the door with your key, and he carries your luggage in.

"Just there is fine" Billy puts down your suitcase and rubs his palms on his trousers.

"Hold on one moment," you say as you start to fish around your purse, looking for some money for his tip.

"Oh that's ok you don't need to give me anything" he says nervously

"It will take just a moment. I know I have something in here," you continue fishing around. "How old are you, Billy?" You ask while continuing to dig through your bag.

"18. Just waiting on my draft papers now" he says proudly.

"Oh, is that right? I feel safer already knowing such a strong kind young man will be out there keeping us safe, " you smile finally, finding some money in your bag. You hand him a little cash and smile.

"Oh..... ummm.... thank you very much, miss, " he says with another flush of red covering his cheeks.

"Oh, I have one more thing for you," you say as you walk over to him and place a soft kiss on his cheek. His body goes rigid, and his face turns a dark red. Even the tips of his ears are red now.

Billy clears his throat, nods, and skates out of the room as quickly as he can.

You quickly unpack, making yourself comfortable in the room, trying not to stay in your thoughts.

You have a meeting with a solicitor in the morning hoping to find a way out of your failed marriage, and your stress level is through the roof.

In the evening, you decide to go out and bring dinner back. The thought of sitting alone in a restaurant is mortifying to you.

As you walk back into the hotel, you spot the adorable bell boy from this morning hat off looking like he must be getting ready to head out for the day.

"Hi Billy," you say as sweetly as possible as you pass by him on your way towards the lift.

"Oh... em hello miss" he says with that familiar blush highlighting his cheeks.

You tell yourself you should end it there. Keep walking up to your room with your lonely dinner and sit around in self-pity. Is that what you actually do? No.

"Did you get your draft papers?" You look at him expectantly.

"Oh, ummm, not yet. Sure, it will be soon. " he half mumbles half stutters.

You scramble around in your head, trying to think up a way to keep the conversation going but draw a blank.

"Oh. Ok then. You have a nice night, Billy. " Your voice is gentle with a hint of sadness as you continue on your way to the lift.

"Oh miss!" Billy follows after you. "A-are you alright?" His brows furrow slightly.

"Oh yes, I'm ok," you say with a small smile that doesn't quite reach your eyes. "Just off to have supper," you hold up your bag of food.

"Alone?" Billy asks immediately, regretting he had asked "Oh that's none of my business miss. I apologize truly"

"Oh no, it's quite alright Billy, yes supper is a solitary activity for me as of late"

"If you fancy some company, I could sit with ya for a bit. I've got some time?" He sounds entirely unsure of himself, but you got to hand it to the guy. That was brave.

"Oh... sure I wouldn't mind the company. " You smile sweetly at him.

The two of you walk back to your room in silence. Both of you too nervous to say much.

When you get into the room, you sit down at the small table and set up your food.

"So Billy, tell me a bit about yourself?"

"Oh.. ummm...... erm....me? Not much to tell miss." He cheeks are starting to flush as his eyes dart around the room.

"I'm sure that isn't true....... is there a particular station you are hoping to get when your draft letter comes?"

"Oh...oh! Yes. Yes, miss.... I hope to be where the action is." He smiles with pride

"But won't your family and your girl be so worried?" You say as you pick at your food.

His face flushes bright red again. " oh....um...oh I've got no girl, miss..." he looks away awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck.

Now your face starts to flush. You thought for sure a sweet boy like this would be matched up with an equally sweet girl. " Oh?..... That's...... that's quite a shock, if I'm honest"

His face is beat red now, and his grin is so wide that you're sure it must be slightly uncomfortable."w-w-why is t-that miss?" He looks over at you with puppy dog eyes.

'Oh boy. This is dangerous.' You think to yourself.

"It's just...." You look at him with mischievous eyes. " You are such a handsome young man. I'm just shocked a lady hasn't snatched you up yet"

His face is so red at this point that you're convinced it must be burning up. "Oh" he says quietly.

You move your chair over so you are facing him without the table between you. He starts breathing a bit faster while fidgeting with his bellboy cap in his lap.

"What are you so red for?" You say teasing.

"Oh miss, I'm not... no, " he says, touching his cheeks, no doubt feeling how hot his face has gotten.

You put your fingers under his chin and lift his head so he is eye level with you.

His breath catches in his throat, and he makes a slight coughing sound.

"Ummm miss? What is happening here?" He looks so lost and excited.

"Why did you want to come to my room with me?" You ask while gently rubbing your thumb on his chin.

" i-i-I.. what?" He asks entirely flustered.

"What made you want to come up here and be all alone with little. Old. Me." You tap his nose three times.

"Well.. i...i...umm.." he whimpers and looks at you helplessly at a complete loss for words.

"Maybe you were looking for a kiss?" You lean in towards him

His eyes go wide, and he stiffens. He opens his mouth as if he is going to speak, but all that comes out is a squeak.

"May I give you a kiss, Billy?" You say leaning in even closer

He nods furiously, his face becoming ever redder

You stand out of your chair and lean down a place a chaste kiss on his lips. You sit back in your seat and smile as you watch him he has a huge smile on his face and has yet to reopen his eyes.

"Billy?"

"Hmmmm?" He hums with his eyes still closed

You giggle "you can open your eyes now"

"No" he chuckles " not yet"

"But you'll miss what I do next," you say seductively as you move toward him.

His eyes fly open. "n-next?"

"What have you......done....with a woman up to this point Billy?" You ask eyes locked on his

"D-done? Lots of stuff, a course, " he answers with genuine confusion, and this basically answers your question.

'Do I really want to be the one to corrupt this seemingly angelic young man?' You think to yourself. As you mull this thought over your eyes, don't leave his, and you can see the gears turning in his head as he makes sense of what you asked him, and you can see the moment where the pieces fall into place.

"Oh... wow, miss." His face turns bright red again.

You sit back in your chair, and he picks up on your hesitation right away.

He scrambles out of his chair and onto his knees in front of you.

"Not much at all, miss. Not much at all... but....but.... but you can show me?" He looks up at you all eagerness and beautiful blue eyes.

'Call me the devil' you think to yourself as you slip out of your chair and onto your knees with Billy.

You grab him by the cheeks and pull his face towards yours as he shuffles closer towards you on his knees.

You press your lips against his, and he eagerly tries to kiss you back he's a bit over excited, and his kiss is sloppy, but this serves to excite you more as you smile into the kiss.

You nibble his bottom lip as he whimpers, and he does the same back to you.

You pull back and smile at him, his face is flushed, and his eyes are almost all pupil.

"Let's get a bit more comfortable, yeah?" You ask as you get up and reach your hand out to him.

He nods as he stands up, following you over to the bed like he is in a daze.

You sit on the edge of the bed and take your shoes off .

"C'mere," you pat the bed beside you. Billy sinks down next to you, breathing fast and fingers twitching.

You lean in close to his ear and whisper, "No shoes on the bed." You then crawl up onto the bed as he tries to get his shoes off as quickly as possible.

You lay back and motion for him to join you. He turns and crawls towards you on his hands and knees. You grab him by his collar, pulling him over you, slotting him between your legs.

He looks down on you, his body slightly shaking.

You start to unbutton his jacket, and he loses patience plucking the buttons quickly and tossing the jacket to the floor. Once it's off he looks down at you smiling as if awaiting further instruction.

You grab his cheeks and pull him down to you, kissing him gently. He kisses back with passion, grabbing the sides of your face and pressing his lips to yours harshly.

"Billy...... take your time, love." You giggle as he presses his forehead to yours.

"Sorry, miss. Got a little caught up in it, is all. " he brings his face down to yours and starts to kiss you this time calmly but still with purpose. He pushes his tongue against your lips, and you open your mouth, enjoying the sensuality.

"You're a quick study," you say as he pulls his face back to breathe.

His cheeks tinge pink again as he goes to kiss you again.

"Let's get these off first," you say, tugging at his waistband. That is all you needed to say. Billy had his trousers off so fast that you thought he very well may have just torn them from his body.

You slide your panties off as Billy crawls back toward you, his eyes like dinnerplates as he watches.

You pull the skirts of your dress up to your hips.

"C'mere" you reach out toward him.

He crawls back over to you, retaking his previous position between your thighs. There is noticeably less fabric separating you two as he lowers himself back on top of you.

The two of you begin to devour each other. He holds your cheek with one hand and your hip with the other. His body slightly shivering as he pushes himself up against your core, the fabric of his boxers, the only thing separating your flesh.

He whimpers as he presses up against you harder and harder, desperate for friction.

"Take them off," you whisper to him

He quickly shoves his boxers down his legs and yanks them off his feet, tossing them to the floor.

"I ummm.... I don't.....ummmm.... have anything with me, " he says nervously as he bites his lower lip.

"That's ok." You were too far gone to care at this point, and judging by his response, so was he.

He pushes himself into your heat slowly as he whimpers.

"Are you ok? Is this ok?" He grips your hip tightly as he continues pushing himself in slowly

" Perfect, sweet Billy," you coo. You were all too aware this was going to be a very quick affair but you wanted it anyway.

Billy bottoms out and doesn't move. He just hovers over you, holding his weight on his elbow, his other hand grasping your hip eyes closed with his bottom lip between his teeth.

You gently trace his jawline with your fingertips, making him shudder.

"I don't think...." he groans." I don't think I can move"

"Shhhh," you pull his face back down to yours and kiss him deeply and slowly. He starts to calm as he slowly starts to drag himself out of you before slowly pushing himself back in.

Just as you suspected, this was short-lived. Billy starts to move himself in and out of you a bit faster, pressing his entire body against yours as he whimpers into your ear.

"Thank you, oh gods, thank you." Just as you feel that band in your lower stomach tightening, Billy reaches his end with a loud groan. He collapses on top of you, his head on your chest, breathing heavily.

"Oh my. Im so sorry...... I didn't mean....oh boy"

You chuckle and kiss his forehead

"Let me show you one more thing," you say seductively. There is no way this man is leaving this room just yet.

He rolls off of you and looks at you quizzically.

You take his long slender hand and bring it to your bud and start to move it in circular motions, applying just the right amount of pressure.

" j-j-just there," you moan out. You lean over and start to kiss him again. The kiss is sloppy and dirty. Billy slides his hands down to your slick folds and gathers some of the mixture of his seed and your wetness and brings it up to your bud, resuming the circular motion you had shown him.

"Ohhh God. Oh god!" Hot waves of pleasure shoot through your entire frame as your body cleches tight. Billy watches on in awe.

You lay back and chuckle.

"Like I said quick study" you say in between labored breaths.

"Too quick....." he says rolling back on top of you.

"Think I need a bit more studyin, ya know. Make sure I got it down"

You chuckle as he moves in for another kiss.

"Just call me the devil"

To be added to taglist click here

[court-jobi]

Just Be Gentle

Pairing: Paz Viszla x reader (fem!reader, 'Songbird' for the use in the fic)

Words: 3,589

Rating: Teen+

Warnings: post-mission, light banter, mutual pining, mild!grumpy/sunshine, FLUFF, tender touching, teaching self-care, injury care, washing up- (not spicy yet, sorry loves) cuddles if you squint

Summary: He is a Cornerstone in his own right. The moment the Hunter dropped her off to him, she knew instantly by the reactions of everyone around her that this was a leader they respected, followed into the grittiest of scraps, because he’s the man with the biggest gun and equal fire. They call him Al’orad, their Top gunman, and always, brother. And brothers, well– he sure fought to protect them as only family would.

Paz Vizsla is the storm itself. Only now, it seems he got caught in the crosshairs and succumbed to the hurricane of the skirmish. It didn’t worry him, he’s patched up his own scrapes before.An immovable Mandalorian he may be, but she his Songbird– gentle soul who’d sooner see to his wounds herself than watch him treat himself so roughly any longer.

A/N: Special thanks to @newpathwrites for the original ask! Here's to you~ The response to my Paz thoughts inspired me to finish this one out the rest of the way, and was a joy to write. If you're like me and still reeling from the episode which must not be named, then you'll be glad to know PAZ LIVES ON IN FIC! This was written in third person as a practice for me, but please put yourself in Songbird's shoes in whatever race, kind or creed you claim. It's a big galazy, so imagine along with me~ edit: @newpath3432!

For my Star Wars | Mandalorian Masterlist, check it out here!

Read on A03

She could tell by the slight limp: Big Blue was hurt. He walked the earth with a strong presence, and now that presence hobbled with a case of the hiccups. It would be funny, if it weren’t stemming from a place of clear pain. Wouldn’t be caught dead admitting it, but he can’t avoid the obvious. 

When he started walking into a lean towards the pillar in the dank entrance to the covert, she walked even faster. The heavy artillery strapped to his back in coils was slipping. Speeding up to a light jog, she caught him fast by the elbow– flitted past the other sentries like the little Songbird she is, straight to his side to corral him by the arm.

"THeRe you are.."

Her name flowed off his tongue when he realized she’d snuck up on him; not that the Mandalorian ever really used it. By the way she’d been caught humming at all hours of the day and night, she’d come to earn the nickname ‘Songbird’ around the dank halls of Nevarro’s underground lava flats.

There’s barely a point trying to hide someone as tall, broad, and vast as him; as her blue-armored warrior claims the attention of everyone in any room he enters… but perhaps for just a minute, she could manhandle his form so that he’d blend into the support column on the other side. To keep him behind it, and out of sight for only a quick once-over.

He is a Cornerstone in his own right. Both a buoy in the sea and a lighthouse on a hill. The moment the Hunter dropped her off to him, she knew instantly by the reactions of everyone around her that this was a leader they respected and would gather arms with him into the grittiest of scraps. They call him Al’orad, their Top gunman, and always, brother. ‘You couldn’t be in better hands,’ the one she’d later call Din Djarin had said:

Paz Vizsla is the storm itself and brings the fire befitting a Mandalorian. Only now, it seems some of the fire has caught him.

He halted at her first call to him, yet followed into her tug willingly. A testament to their unexpected orbit; Paz found himself biting his tongue and falling into her draw whenever she sought him out even though he’s twice her size– just as she could pick his boisterous call out of a crowd and would come to stand alongside him as if no one were watching. For her, stepping out under everyone’s helmeted attention took an uncharacteristic flare of courage- one that Paz brought out in her.

Under the arch, the Alor’ad was quite literally pulled from the roster of tasks in his mind to her will. That stern look in her usually tender eyes siphoned his full attention.  How they never failed to stare right where his would be.

Paz greeted her with his immediate sense of concern.

"--shouldn't you be inside?" he braced an arm against the pillar ledge, relaxed.

"Shouldn't you be in the med tent?" Her eyes flickered across him: around his belt, to holster, and up again.

"I'm just fine."

"Paz."

He pressed a hand over hers, where she’d gripped the lip of his chest plate. "I will go when the others are seen to.”

“You need to be seen to!”

“Our healers are few; they’re overwhelmed.” Paz’s firm words -though delivered peaceably- commanded this conversation. “Those who suffered entry wounds receive attention first. My injuries are not urgent."

"You're limping; I could see it a mile away, and that's no good to anyone if you're ignoring your own problems,” she stressed again, “Play ‘Mr. Defender’ to your tribe all you want, but you’re fooling yourself if you think you can serve them at your best in this shape..."

He paused, looking back to her again and winced internally at the level of quiet care she was pleading to him.

"In my experience,  I know you Mandos tend to shrug off anything short of a lost limb when it comes to pain,” Songbird’s a natural at this; making a case. She spoke her peace with a rein on her temper. “I'd prefer to see it not get to that point. You're no exception… and you're the strongest one I know." she admitted.

Against impropriety’s warning bells in his bucket, Paz cupped her cheek, mindful of the rough leather to not irritate her. It’s indulgent, but he risks it.

"I'll be there soon,” he promises, “I give you my word, if you'll believe it."

"I want to, Blue," she offered with a gentle warning.

"Then keep me accountable. You’ll find me sitting in that alcove in ten minutes. If I'm not..." His head quirked with a little show of amusement, "You have my permission to drag me by my shebs there."

Sure enough, he did– true to his word, once his offloading task was completed. 

The covert’s Song remained under the awning of the covert’s med tent in the karyai as she watched Paz’s still-armored self being seen and treated on the left triage station. There she waited for him, until he reemerged with a hand to her shoulder in greeting. She squeezed it, asked if he was good to go, and he was all too ready to agree to some downtime. To seal the deal, she offered an arm around his back and he willingly outstretched his across her shoulders. 

It would be pointless to assume she’s honestly bearing any weight, but her offer to help was received kindly, as if he did. Then again, the way Paz spoke of her to the others in his faction, she knew he believed her capable of heart.

Then, with every grace like a nesting dove, she moved independently in his space like it was second nature, despite her only having been here one or two other times as emergency demanded it. A sealed bacta patch had been applied to the slope of his neck on one side, but after inspection, they’d hardly cleaned him up much. She'd located clean handcloths and a pitcher since they were ready and prepared at a moment’s notice on Paz's galley counter.

The question of what the case for water was at the front table lingered at her tongue, but it left her completely as she heard Paz grunt on sitting, one leg extended further than the other. He busied himself with smaller huffs of effort trying to get his armor off.

"Do you need help?" She offered gently, not wanting to coddle the grown man before her.

“M’fine. It's-- (ah) tricky, anyway. Faster if I do it." 

But even as he turned to wince and release the back plate with no success, she’d stepped over to him and released the clasp with a few well-placed fingertips. It unlocked easily and loosened into his lap. He turned a bit -until the woman he’d come to adore came into his visor’s view- to see a smile finally eased across her features.

"I've watched Djarin work it enough times, I could wear a kit myself. May I?"

Just the sound of that one word alone sunk a ballast into Paz's stomach worse than the fight did. Not even the clan he was folded into–she knew his first. His low tone shared such, though she took it as tiredness at first,

"You know his name."

"Hm? Oh, yes! I do know," she piped up. "It was the two of us drifting out on the Belt for so long, I think he took pity on me. Only so many times I would say 'hey you' before he felt bad for me, I think. Just calling him ‘Mando’ like everyone else seemed odd after a while– especially since he said I’d be meeting more soon; even that was never going to last as a nickname around a covert of them."

Paz only hummed. The clear picture of familiarity came to mind, how their months were spent  in the time before him buzzed around his jealous thoughts uncomfortably. That nasty inkling of jealousy seeped into her sharing of stories of him. 

But her lightness never wavered as she kept speaking–she simply moved her way to take care of his shoulder pauldrons next.

"--but he did tell me that's not the case everywhere, telling a non-mandalorian their name... He asked for discretion, so I never speak it around anyone else. Said it was fine here though, that you would call each other by clan name or given, so. Uhm.. where do you keep these?"

Paz turned to see her cradling one piece under each arm, one contoured to her breast, and the other gently in the crook of her elbow - hands full with the inner paddings of both. He leaned forward a touch, drew up a bottle of some solvent from the crate nearest him, and squirted some into the basin of water. 

"In there is fine.."

She emptied her arms, and noticing he made no move to continue disarmoring himself, she kept going in his stead. She imagined he'd probably never had someone tasked to do this for him, and perhaps enjoyed the doting behind closed doors. 

"Secret ingredient?" Song pried.

"It's an old recipe; cleans the armor without stripping it." He leaned back to where he was before, widening his legs for her to step between if she needed. “The alchemical reaction requires a tub to dilute the concentrate. Too strong and potent on its own, it would oxidize on contact without water."

“You’re on the wrong planet for that.” She grimaced with a jerk towards the window, the lava flats beyond.

“All the more reason for us to keep sentries by the reserve tanks. It is precious.”

Huffing a bit, she chuckled. "I can tell. oof- but that smell would be strong on a ship."

He hummed back to agree, and in a rare show of comfort as the weight of beskar was taken from him piece by loving piece, spoke, "...You're good at this."

She shrugged, a little tone in her voice. 

"Yeah, Din came back half dead after a run-in with a pack of Trandoshans on Ord Mantell, so that was a trial by fire I won't forget. I had to do it all myself. He could barely talk, his concussion was so bad- oh gods, I was terrified the whole time, because I knew I needed to check to see if any bits were cutting into him between the plates. But also figured because of the Creed, I thought he might have to kill me once I was done. Had to weigh the options for a sec, but really, he was too passed out to notice. When he woke up the next day he was mortified, poor baby.. Felt bad that I had to manage on my own, but he didn't care at all that I had seen actual skin." 

Her eyes twinkled and she smirked at what happened next. 

"I told him I was flattered of course, but I wouldn't have peeked.. if for no other reason, then out of respect for that sweetheart he's got on Sorgan."

–And thank the MAKER for that sweetheart on Sorgan.

But rather than scream his relief, Paz laughed it out to cover up his anxious nerves. 

"Sorgan, huh? Isn't that planet just a bunch of fishing holes?"

“Farms of them, apparently.” His elbows were now exposed, and next, the vambraces.

“So Djarin was wooed.. by a farmer.”

"Mhm," she removed the second, slipping out the lining and gloves to wash. "Widowed, with a cute little daughter who has eyes for the nugget- sweet guy was done for. She started leaving him his meals out for him on a hot plate the first night, so he wouldn't have to eat it cold. He still denies it," she rolled her eyes, "--but he said if he had the chance, he'd love to 'teach the little ones how to hunt one day’. Tell them more stories since so much has happened since we last stopped there. He'd make a good retiree. Deserves someone like her." 

She seemed full of nothing but pride as she spoke. However, soon the sentimental coles turned impressed.

"And hell, she's a real catch if her shot is any indication. No wonder he was so gone on her. So... Who knows?"

She busied herself with turning the gloves back inside out to wash and knelt to start on his boots, but froze looking up when Paz asked, 

"And you? Anyone else on Sorgan?"

"No. Not into farmers." she didn't look up, but shrugged, "Nothing Sorgan could offer me." She leveled out her mouth oddly, “...Might find it here, though."

"Is that so?" 

"mhm..." She finished loosening one and yanked it off with a little give before moving to the hurt one, more carefully. 

"If I can get 'im to quit getting banged up," she groused adorably, "maybe, just maybe I might find a Mandalorian to put up with me long enough…." 

Attentive as always, Song remained mindful of his breathing to ensure she wasn't jostling too much. 

"Might have to learn how to shoot better though. Those weapons are everything to you. I doubt anyone around here would take on a civvie like me as I am." She looked up and leaned into deprecating humor with a shy look. "M'not exactly the strongest either even though I’m light on the feet. That won’t do much good around here.. And I have a pretty bad mouth to get myself in trouble enough as it is."

This worry under the surface– not unlike a turtleduck spending its days furiously pedaling under the water, but looking ever too graceful on the surface. Naturally, the covert’s Songbird herself made counting her faults look like preening.

Paz chuckled.

"That's hardly a bad thing." He eased her worries. "Shooting can be taught. It's things like that ‘smart mouth’ that draw someone in. Catch someone's eye and ear."

How dare her heart give her that much hope…

"Y'think so?" She loosened his knee braces, doing her best not to ogle the strength of his legs in such close proximity. Surely he’s being too kind.

"I listened to you, didn't I? The list of those who can manage that feat is very short– ask anyone here…”

This seemed to humor her at least, if not outright pleasing her, and she shuffled back up to her feet, taking the cloth he'd been wiping his hands with and taking it with the dirty clothes. 

He'd shed his shirt too in the space while she talked-- and she hid her surprise the moment her back turned and her ears burned with the sight. 

Thick arms matched his thicker-than-durasteel legs, and strong ones– they’re downright gorgeous like the rest of him… but when she looked back, a tremor of panic surfaced, seeing how rough he was wiping along his patches from the nurses station, and she hurried back to his side right away to remedy that,

"--hey, easy!"

Paz looked up with surprised and she second guessed her urgency, coming back calmer.

"Y’just-” the poor thing braved a word of careful guidance, “You shouldn't be so rough, when the edges are still healing.."

Although intimidated by his size and what foul response he may have for being chastised, Paz surprised her with a simple 'by all means' and surrendered the cloth. She dampened it, and dutifully stood before him again.

To her surprise, Paz patted his leg and prompted her to sit: just as she had by the fire.

Yet while she took the spot, she didn't fall into his arms with the same comfort as that night a few weeks back. A wine-drunk flirty version of herself sunk into the embrace of her protector to chat him up, at his invitation. She’d not even been that nervous then, or even days after when they’d both been sober. There was a shortage of chairs in one of the meeting rooms, one glance turned to another, and he patted his leg in just the same way. She’d hardly shied away from his attention– enjoyed it, actually, to the point of craving. The top-of-the-line thermal compression pajamas she’d seen spread around on all the midwinter advertisements around the market could never warm her through like he could. She’s ruined for life if this trend turns into a habit…

But this was hardly the time for a cozy rendezvous– not while he was hurting. 

Unaware of any of these inner ramblings, Paz laid a hand on her waist to train her to relax anyway. His free hand simply held her to his lap, thumbing along her far thigh. To ensure she didn't slip, of course. 

Starborne’s Grace and Favor… this man is a delight for the eyes. For a man brimming with muscles, the cushioned fat layer made Paz quite comfortable– and quite the sight with blossoming tattoos along his chest and ribs.

While she set to cleaning the remaining blood the nurses missed first, Song also freshened the cloth, waving it a bit to introduce cool air, and dabbed off his collarbones and along either side of his neck, swiping along where his lean indicated. 

Gods it felt good. He'd be asleep in minutes if she kept this up. Paz bit his tongue to keep from moaning outright.

Attention trained towards his comfort, the Songbird asked softly, "You must be hot under there."

His words slurred a tad in response, "I'm used to it."

She frowned a little but just tipped the chin of his helmet up just a touch, wiping up his throat to catch some sweat. She was interested to find dark, auburn stubble to hint at a full beard under the seal, but evaded from peeking too much and jerked her sights up to his visor instead. 

"I don't say that to pry about what's under there, but I'd reckon to say a beard does make it warmer y'know…"

"I count on it during the cold seasons here." He murmured just as low as the first time, tilting whichever way she wanted. She could feel his true voice hum along his throat by the bob of his Adams apple. " I didn't plan on going to a damn swamp for the last week, or else I woulda shaved it."

"Poor thing." She mimicked, caressing the back of his neck. She spaced out at some point over him as she worked along his shoulders and passed the hand towel back and forth, registering only through touch how warm he felt beneath her. Warm and pliant and dangerously close to stealing her heart away and ruining her for other men… 

It felt incredibly good, but Paz had half a guilty heart; she must be getting tired. The helm faced her head on,

"You don't have to do all that..." he cupped the fleshy inner part of her palm with utmost care– care that he typically never treated himself with.

"I want to.” she hummed back easily. “You deserve it.”

At his encouragement, she swept broader strokes down his back and up again with one hand, bracing on his shoulder with the other. It was so contoured, sweeping hills of strength along his spine where muscles built up over years of use. A landscape worthy of some special attention.

Paz just sat there –calm on the exterior, but a swirling pool of doubt and bewilderment, and unworthiness weighting down his chest into heavy breaths. This girl was making him into mush by the minute.

"How's that. Better?"

The helmet nodded back and its voice hummed a little.

He’s growing more in love by the minute, too. Just keep talking, sweet sparrow.

She sat back and propped up in his lap, crossing her ankles.

"I can warm up that food if you want; or you can shower up and I'll have it inside for you before I go." 

His hand caught hers, "--You don't have to go."

"Not even so you can eat?" She clarified, curiously.

"I can wait on that. You..." He tipped the helmet down so their joined hands were in view. "...Food can wait."

The Paz Vizsla was holding her hands in both of his now, and she let him. These hands– the ones that made it their mission to treat him kindly when little mercies in this galaxy ever did…

She smiled, even though he was hardly watching: his big blue helmet is trained on feeling how soft hers must be by comparison. She’s finding it adorable that the big, strong Mandalorian seemed fascinated by her hands of all things. Song couldn't imagine she was the first girl to be perched on his lap like this, but by the way he rubbed over her like something precious, she secretly hoped she could be the last.

" ‘Food can wait.’ “ she repeated in a tease, “Since when would any fiery Mandalorian say such a lie– stalling a meal just because you found a little bird on your lap, huh? You want me to start singing for you next?"

Nudged from his trance, the visor lifted to her again making him lean back more comfortably, 

"I wouldn't say no to that." Paz flirted right back. 

With outstretched legs once more, Paz brought one up to be elevated as advised while guiding her in by her waist to relax in his lap again and take a break herself. 

The Songbird followed his lead this time– and resumed her trademark humming with the knowledge of a job well done.

[moonriddles]

Heyyy just finished translating all of this, it's mostly cultural stuff for each tribe cuz i wanted to give em' their own individual spark. I mean they had so much potential but in the series aspects of some cultures were used for comedy relief and i'm starting from there 👍👍

So i'm putting their individual designs and their descriptions or sum.Sorry if i mispelled things, english ain't my first language.

Lagravis Leonard VII inherits the throne upon the death of his father King Leonard VI. Strict, he firmly believes in tradition, rules and can be quite stubborn at times, which causes him to clash with his son's quirky personality.

Trustworthy and a good advisor, he is often approached by other leaders for opinion.

•The lion was the first creature to drink from the chi water, completing its transformation immediately ran to warn the other animals that the water was safe. They were given as a gift their great sense of honor, justice and democracy. Their wise leaders and ability to roar for help make them a trustworthy tribe that others turn to in times of trouble.

•Robust land machinery adaptable to any type of terrain.

• Ruled by a hereditary absolute monarchy. It is the only modern tribe whose population is built entirely of males.

•There is an unspoken code of loyalty to help the Lion Tribe should they roar for help against threats. And the Lion Tribe will roar to defend any tribe against injustice.

•Every dawn, the lions gather in the citadel to roar and prepare for the next day. The roar banishes fatigue and awakens the spirit of the warriors.

•Young lions go through initiation rites to become warriors. They endure fasting, injury, and defeat opponent warriors to show courage and strength. Only a successful check grants them the rank of a warrior.

•In the citadel, statues and emblems of heroes of the past are venerated. The lions honor them with offerings, prayers and roar in their name, believing that their spirits guide the tribe.

• Lions can become blood brothers through a ceremonial cut and a mixture of blood. This unites them as a family and they defend each other with their lives, even over their own relatives.

•Developmental milestones such as the first roar, first kill, and scars symbolize a lion's growth into a strong warrior. These tests and rites make them defenders of the pack.

•Body paint and scarification is used to mark important events in the life of a lion, something that has marked his life as a warrior, friend, partner or family member. They are symbolic witnesses to important intertribal treaties, oaths, and events. Their presence seals the legitimacy and permanence of such agreements and alliances.

•During the long winter nights, the elders gather the cubs together and share stories of legendary heroes, myths, and prophecy. The stories help convey wisdom and unite the tribe through stories of shared glory and struggle.

•When a lion gives birth to its cubs, the whole tribe gathers to welcome the new life. The cubs are marked with paint and given signs of status/responsibility in the tribe.

Grumlo is the chieftain and wise old man of his tribe. He has led for many years and guided with his deep knowledge and experience, he is a strong but patient leader, helping to hold the tribe together in difficult times. The tribe admires Grumlo and respects his judgment in important matters. He serves as a mentor to the younger members, passing down their traditions and skills. Grumlo was not born into leadership, he came from a long line of hunters and gatherers in the tribe, but he did not inherit any special status. He had to earn the respect and trust of the tribe for many years.

• They live in large huts in the treetops, woven with vines and other materials from the jungle. These cabins are made of edible fruits and are constantly discarded.

• Tremendously strong but also incredibly sensitive, empathic and mild-mannered. They can instantly feel the pain or feelings of other creatures.

•Their culture deeply revolves around nature, spirituality and maintaining harmony with the jungle environment. For each harvest, the fruit-bearing tree is thanked, and each hunt is thanked for the prey for lending its meat so that they can live another day.

•Most gorillas braid their long fur, and those with shorter fur use natural vines, flowers and rope. Braiding is an important part of their grooming and cultural practices.

• They practice meditation, spirituality and union with nature. They have a state of "Great Mellow" that they energetically train to achieve, where they feel deep relaxation and unity. This takes place in the Flower Tower.

•As their strength suggests, they can hold their own against enemies, but are distressed by any conflict and damage to the environment. They only fight as an absolute last resort.

•Their lives revolve around the changes of the seasons, the cycles of nature and the maintenance of balance in the jungle ecosystem. They see themselves as servants of the land.

•Family groups and the elderly/experienced are highly respected. Harmony, empathy and sensitivity are the most valued traits.

•They have festivals to celebrate the blooming of rare jungle flowers, the ripening of fruit, the beginning of the rainy season, etc. These often involve meditation and dance.

•The tribal leader guides meditation rituals to commune with the spirit of the jungle, see hidden truths and gain wisdom.

•They carry out ceremonies to honor their ancient ancestors and heroes. Stories are shared, chants are made, and tokens of respect are left on clan totem poles.

•After violence, illness or anguish, rituals are performed to purify the body, mind and spirit. This includes meditation and herbal baths. •Regular rituals, prayers and performances are given as tribute, thanks and honor to the forest, the land and all aspects of nature that sustain them. Flowers, leaves and natural symbols are incorporated.

•The gorilla tribe believes that when they die, their spirits do not disappear. They merge again with the forest that has nurtured them. Their essence will flow in every tree, leaf and flower. The forests are their eternal home, and even in death they would always remain, scattered throughout the wild places they held dear. No tree was alone, for within its wooden heart will beat the spirits of long-deceased elders.

•For important events in each family, a bead or ornament is added to their braids, events such as: the birth, the death of a loved one, the achievement of the great mellow, etc...

Leader of the Eagles' Ruling Council, Ewald is prone to endless deliberations about everything from battle strategy to what they should eat for lunch. He's always looking for the perfect solution to everything, which prevents him from achieving something solid. The truth is, he loves the debate about the action MUCH more than the action itself. He spends his days in pursuit of knowledge, often with his beak in a book and his mind far from everyday concerns.

•The Governing Council meets regularly to discuss the welfare of the tribe, solve any problems and make decisions collectively. They lead by example and consensus.

• The laws are few and simple, focused on the good of the community, equity and sustainability. Punishments are rare and usually consist of community service.

• The ruler, elected from the Council, helps facilitate discussions but has no special privileges. They can be quickly removed if they abuse their power.

• Everything is shared in the community: food, tools, housing, etc. No one "owns" private property. The goods are distributed according to the needs.

• The community market is primarily a place to exchange knowledge, skills, arts, and occasional surplus goods with other tribes. They rarely use currency as they are more inclined to barter.

• Most construction and building is done through collective effort and sharing of skills. The defense of the people is a shared responsibility.

• As the most knowledgeable tribe, they share libraries, education, arts and innovations freely with other tribes. Knowledge is for the benefit of all.

• Most activities revolve around the community, including meals, ceremonies, arts, sports, etc.

• Deep bonds and loyalty are formed through the interdependent and shared way of life. The community comes before the individual.

•As a tribe of scholars and guardians of history, stories, lessons, myths, and legends are often shared through recitations, plays, songs, and images. Oral history is central to their culture.

•Have few deeply held beliefs or spiritual philosophies. Their rituals and symbols are superficial, focused more on tradition and community bond than deep meaning.

•Their knowledge and wisdom seem trivial or common sense. While they are book smart, they lack deeper insights or new perspectives. Concrete skills and practical knowledge dominate abstract thinking.

• Emotions and relationships seem simple. They are missing complex social hierarchies, deep emotions, psychological depth, or character arcs. Interactions reflect a simplistic "family first" mentality.

• Morality is very simplistic, based on general concepts of "sharing," "fairness," and "harmlessness" rather than dealing with moral ambiguity, nuance, or deep ideas of justice, virtue, or the greater good.

Everyone to your posts, they are attacking the temple of Cavora!... Oh no, it's just Belkar's snoring.

Don't let his large size and hoarse voice confuse you, he is a great warrior but as soon as his companions turn around he is already lying on the meeting table taking his sixth nap of the day. The position of star guide became his by selection of the legendary beast itself, just as it happened with his father and his father's father. Could it be that the stellar family has a special connection with dreams?

• Bears are the strongest tribe physically, with their size they could surpass even the numerous and coordinated tribe of wolves... Luckily for all of them, they are a peaceful tribe and have no bad intentions.

• Robust and heavy land machinery, first tribe to implement piloted mecha.

• Able to fall asleep anywhere and even drive their speedorz in this state, they have an instinctive feeling to maneuver while their conscious system is off. Even when they're asleep, their bodies can still react to sensory input like touch, sound, smell, and balance.

• Due to their ability to fall asleep at the least opportune moments, the bear developed a defense mechanism that keeps it safe while it is within the realm of dreams; while sleeping, they are immune to evils such as poison and controller plant pheromones.

•The tribe believes that dreams are not just a product of the individual unconscious mind, but can be a place where community and shared experiences emerge. Any outsider would think they are lazy, but within their dream world they are quite active; They have collective dreams, which means that they all share the same dream, and within these they can have normal conversations, meetings and discussions.

•A star guide, a highly trained dreamer, can access the dream of an animal outside of his tribe in times of emergency with a ritual.

•They are beekeepers, farmers, collectors and artisans.

Rhigor adopts the title of Highhorn, making him the toughest and strongest of his tribe. Although intelligence is not his best virtue-just like the rest of his tribe-command became his by right of seniority and earning the title after the defeat of the former leader.

• Leader chosen under combat.

•The Rhino tribe lives in the rocky canyon and their dwellings are simple huts made of mud and stone.

•Heavy and robust earthen machinery, perfect for drilling and rock harvesting.

• Their entire culture revolves around the rocks because it is believed that they house the memories of centuries and centuries of ancestors; each rock is a friend, family member or companion, and devotion is shown to them through frequent interactions and greetings. Upon reaching maturity, young rhinos must show their strength in a ceremonial rite that consists of hitting the family pillar with their horn. The fragment that breaks off is considered good luck and is carried as an amulet. It takes the name "crack". The cracks can combine when a rhino finds a mate, thus forming a new family pillar.

•Rhinos are notoriously clumsy, mainly due to their poor eyesight. They are always falling over things, and each other, because they can't see clearly and because their bodies are so big and unwieldy.

•Violence with the intent of malice is not common, and fights are often a sign of joy or a greeting between members of the tribe.

•Because of their low intelligence and great charisma, rhinos are considered the friendliest of the tribes. Just ask any animal in Chima! They will surely tell you that they have a horned colleague.

•Their sheer size and brute strength make them excellent battle partners, always ready to lend a friendly hoof..Just be careful to provoke them, conflict excites them and they can unintentionally cause great disaster.

The wolves were the last tribe to join the council, becoming formal members just as Wakz's rise to power began. Being a tribe always isolated and distrustful and kept their distance from others, Wakz decided to join the guards for the benefit of his people.

She is extremely cunning and isn't afraid to throw overwhelming force at an opponent, fair or not. Not many wolves survive to such a distinguished age, much less being as small as her, Wakz has achieved her position by being more cunning, fiercer and stronger than any of her opponents.

•Flexible hierarchy due to the strong ties between them: the position of Alpha and ambassador is awarded to the strongest warrior and the best spokesperson.

•Known for their great skill as hunters and their love of battle; most of them have scars as a result of previous fights. His main strength is his coordination.

•Wolves live in your camp, but they are a traveling tribe and never stay in one place for long.

•The pack hunts, rests and travels together. They depend on cooperation and teamwork to provide food for all. Disagreements are quickly resolved so the pack can present a united front. •Betrayal of the pack is almost inconceivable and punishable by exile.

•Robust earthen machinery.

•They sleep in piles on top of each other to keep warm and protect their backs. Everyone in the pack is someone's brother, sister, or cousin. So they will do anything for each other.

• Main metal workers, they are dedicated to blacksmithing and welding, as well as being hunters and warriors. In the community market they barter with furs, weapons and pure metal.

•During the full moon, the bestial nature of Wolves emerges, increasing their power, aggressiveness and strength. It fuels a heightened ferocity in battle, their senses, and skills as a hunter. During this period his mind is affected and outside tribes are not recognized as allies.

•When the first new moon rises, the wolves gather to give thanks for the return of light. They share dreams/visions, play animated games, and demonstrate skill through competitions. The pups are given names at this time.

•They are intensely loyal to their pack. They form strong emotional and physical bonds with their tribe, as they depend on each other for survival. If pack members spend too much time apart, their health and well-being suffer.

•The Mother Tooth is the most sacred relic of the Wolf Tribe. Named for being the front fang belonging to the legendary beast, it is a symbolic reminder of the pack's history.

• They do not share their meat with members of other tribes, the hunt is by and for the tribe.

The leaders of the Raven tribe had no established title until Rawsom's arrival, her incredible skill and stealth earning her the respect and loyalty of her tribe and she took the title "Queen of Thieves", ushering in a new order. Ravens are hoarders and live by the belief that "more is better", Rawsom makes this clear under her passion for decoration and great sense of fashion, wearing gold trim and unnecessary accessories...If the queen approves then it has style!

• Leader elected by the people.

• Robust aerial machinery. Simple ground machinery for travel and quick escapes.

•Ancient legends paint the crow as a servant, collector and messenger of the mythical phoenix, it was never satisfied with it's position because the greedy bird always had it's eye on something else; the chi of fire. Its magnificent radiance was impossible to ignore due to its greedy nature, and the first ravens tried to steal from their masters and escape the temple with their treasure.

Clearly they were trapped, and as punishment their wings were taken from them and their heirs so they would never make the same mistake. That legend was lost over time and no raven today seems to remember its true origin, the wings of a raven are considered a myth.

•The Crow Tribe is known primarily as a tribe of unscrupulous thieves and inventors, concerned only with making maximum profit at the expense of others.

•With a few exceptions, raven technology is generally improvised from items and vehicles they steal from other tribes. Their general strategies consist of disorienting their victims with hit and run tactics and disruptive devices before moving on to hit/robbery.

• They use the scarification and modification of their bodies using prostheses as a symbol of beauty and status.

•Master thieves, they only want one thing, and that is a good profit. They are not prejudiced about who they steal from, targeting friend and foe alike in their pursuit of financial gain. Most other tribes agree that it's best to avoid the Crows altogether, and if you don't, check your pockets before leaving their company!

•First tribe to implement dyed fabrics. Their enormous creativity makes them excellent craftsmen, inventors, seamstresses, etc.

•No crow can steal from another, it is considered a crime and is punishable by stripping other people's property.

•Very superstitious, they have rituals and amulets to ward off bad luck.

•If you help a crow, it is very likely that it will never forget you, it will show its gratitude and friendship with gifts that for anyone are insignificant objects, but for a crow, giving one of its shiny gifts is a symbol of loyalty.

After the death of King Crominus and Queen Crunket, Prince Cragger takes over as tribe leader at the age of 16, being taken under the guardianship of King Lagravis and treated as a son. Cragger is proud to be able to represent his tribe and help protect Chima as a guardian of the Chi.

Competitive like no other, Cragger's only goal in life is to win. He is the youngest leader among the guardians of Cavora at only 18 years of age. Love interest of Prince Laval.

• Hereditary monarchy.

•Mainly aquatic machinery. Simple earth machinery.

•Crocodiles are a tribe of hunters who primarily fish and hunt other aquatic prey. Their weapons, tools, and artifacts feature the bones of the creatures they hunt. Fish would be their main source of food.

•Despite their fearsome appearance, the Crocodiles appear to be a peaceful tribe. They are simple fishermen and hunters instead of aggressive warriors.

•The double-bladed sword is a weapon passed down to kings from generation to generation.

•An annual fish throwing competition is organized to demonstrate their hunting skills and support the tribe. Whoever can hunt the largest and heaviest game wins the honorific of leading hunter; taking command of the fishing until the next competition.

•Crocodiles perform ceremonial songs and dances around large bonfires, used as a celebration.

• They revere their ancient ancestors and the wisdom they have passed on to them. They make regular offerings and prayers to honor the ancestors and ask for guidance. In the sanctuaries, the legendary beast is also asked for good fortune.

•Although peaceful, crocodiles engage in non-lethal head-butting and wrestling competitions to demonstrate their strength and skill. These fights provide entertainment and a chance to gain status and a partner. Weapons are not used to avoid injury.

•Before going hunting the close ones-Family, friends or partner-of those involved place a carved stone on a mound to wish them good luck and safety. They offer prayers to the spirits of water, fish and prey for abundant fishing.

• Main stone workers; carving, inscriptions and paintings are made on these.

•An essential accessory for members of royalty are macaw feathers, an ancient tribe that fell under the clutches of their ancestors.

And that's all for now, i still need to do the designs for the ambassadors and other characters but for now i'm giving my hands some rest zzz

[averyhollow]

That Man’s Amazing Journey: How That Man Can Win While Still Being The Worst

Y’all notice how Stede Bonnet (*mimes spitting on the ground in disgust at the very mention of his name*) and Pennywise have never been seen in the same place at the same time? Something to think about.

Be Forewarned

This deals with a line reportedly in the OFMD S2 trailer.

If you don’t do criticism/disdain/negative opinions towards or about characters, please let the above (totally accurate, I’m just saying) observation, the fact I refer to Stede as That Man, and my blog being sponsored by Humanity Against Stede Bonnet, set the tone for what’s to follow.

I haven’t actually seen the trailer

and have no intention of watching it, but by no means does my general disinterest mean I’m over my specific hatred of That Man and Gentlebeard. Finding out That Man refers to Ed (could be someone else I guess, but I choose to believe it’s Ed) as “shipmate” instead of “co-captain” means I can dream That Man is not calling himself a captain anymore or being indulged by his put-upon crew.

Intro

It is my belief That Man must be removed from captaincy - never again to ascend to said position - for his own good (which I don’t care about), the good of all around him, and the sake of basic piratical decency. That man saying he and Ed are shipmates instead of claiming to be co-captains is a sign of growth and self-reflection on his part, as it signifies he’s accepted that he’s no longer the captain, never should have been, and that he needs to apply some elbow grease and see himself as a pirate and not a patriarch.

His Own Good

Dude’s captaincy was bought and even if OFMD portrays (so far) the pirates in the show’s universe as less than egalitarian, democratic, and inclined towards talking things through as a crew; it still has created a world where captaincy is earned. He can’t truly claim to respect Ed, Ed’s world, and Ed’s accomplishments, if he continues running around calling himself a pirate captain.

That Man expecting to be welcomed back as captain, let alone actually being allowed to resume captaincy, would be a continuation of him having bought his captaincy in the first place. He should be happy to accept that the position was taken from him and apologize for having ever held it by use of economic coercion. That Man is accustomed to living by exploitation of others. Time for him to put some sweat on his brow and give working to meet his base material needs a go.

He embarked on a life of piracy where he intended to menace the poor and downtrodden for fun because exploiting them in the conventional way wasn’t enough for him, and then left every cent of his unearned wealth to his equally vampiric family. The least he can do is acknowledge that he was an utter fool and proper ass to appoint himself captain, and that he can never be with Ed if he’s holding onto any of the trappings of privilege and power he left behind.

The Good Of All Around Him

The crew doesn’t need him or to cater to his whims. That Man was only running the ship because he was running them checks, and he not only can’t do that but didn’t take enough money to give them one last bonus. They’ve selected a captain in the proper way of pirates - something That Man doesn’t know a damn thing about - and they selected him for damn good reasons.

That Man rolled in knowing nothing about piracy and decided he was going to set about “fixing” the culture based on his own assumptions of its problems. The crew deserves better and have chosen better.

And the fishers. What of the fishers? Do they not deserve to fish in peace? Do they not deserve to have one of the few pieces of ornamentation they have safe from a man who would steal it from them at gunpoint, even though that man could afford a thousand such plants and pots should he want? They were probably fishing to supplement their meager diet because they barely make ends meet due to the exploitation of That Man. They’re probably literally on the verge of starvation now because they’re too traumatized to go back out fishing.

Let the fishers fish and let That Man have several fucking seats, but only after he’s done with a day’s work. Matter of fact, make him make his own damn seat. He can use the wood from the broken sitz bath he had the crew sharing while he had a whole ass porcelain monstrosity for his own use.

The Sake Of Piratical Decency

There’s no universe (I’ve checked), where That Man can change for the better (and his better will still be The Worst) and end the show as a pirate captain. With the exception of perhaps a 20 year time jump where he leads a crew of pirates new to both piracy and sailing in general.

But That Man earning captaincy over any of the crew as it stands? Nope. That Man earning a captaincy of another crew without work and experience? Nope. And should That Man do the bare minimum of learning about piracy and sailing, he should then realize the true extent of his ignorance and hubris, and never again dare to put himself forward as a captain. At least not anytime soon.

The Show Must Go On

I accept that the show is a romcom and therefore certain things must happen and that it has no real world-building or sense beyond what happens to get Ed and That Man together, and what happens to get Ed and That Man to a place where they can be whole enough in themselves to be wholly together.

As such, certain inherently fucked up things about That Man (that the show didn’t have to do, but chose to and chose to quite flippantly and clumsily imo, but that’s neither here nor there) must be handwaved and ignored, but I don’t think the ridiculousness of him buying a captaincy is one of those things.

Co-captains might be fun to say (for some people) as a cute ship name and reminder of when Ed and That Man first acknowledged their affinity for each other and desire to share a life and future in any form; but the version of That Man who first proposed co-captaincy is not the version that I think can ever truly be family with the crew, or a partner to Ed.

[sad-boys-anonymous]

Day 2: Overworked/Exhaustion

Fandom: Genshin Impact

Character: Baizhu

To say Baizhu was busy was putting it lightly. Between the seasonal stomach flu that was ripping through Liyue Harbor and his laundry list of patients that required regular care, Baizhu had barely had a moment of peace and quiet. As much as he appreciated having earned the position of the most respected medical care provider across Liyue, another part of him wished that, perhaps, sometimes he could be a little less needed. 

“Your breathing is uneasy,” remarked Changsheng from her perch around Baizhu’s shoulders, “You should stop and take a rest.” 

“There’s no time for that,” Baizhu said, shaking his head. “Mrs. Cheng will be at the clinic shortly for her check-up. I plan to start her on some prenatal supplements today.” 

He stopped at the foot of the sprawling incline leading to Bubu Pharmacy, catching a sigh between his teeth. He was already winded from walking across the residential district of the Harbor. The half a bowl of Jewelry Soup he had scarfed down between appointments that morning felt so distant now, the hunger already clawing its way up into a headache. 

If there was one thing he detested about Liyue, it was its fondness for stairs. Every house call he made required scaling Archon-knows how many flights of stairs, which left the already tender joints in his hips and knees agitated and inflamed. He couldn’t bear the indignity of being seen hobbling into his clinic, but some days he didn’t have an option. 

“Is everything alright, Doctor Baizhu?” a voice behind him broke Baizhu from his thoughts. A man peered inquisitively at him. Baizhu recognized the man’s face, but he couldn’t quite place the name. The rush of new patients the past few weeks had broken his normally thoughtful and dedicated streak of memorizing the names of all his patients. He was now identifying them by ailments, to which this man was “Single father with 4 children, all sick with the stomach flu”. 

Baizhu seamlessly switched on his bedside manner, flashing the man a gentle smile. “Ah, I was just lost in my thoughts. How are the little ones?” 

“Still quite pitiful, unfortunately. I came down here to pick up more of the prescription you gave us last week,” the man said with a sigh, starting to make the climb to Bubu Pharmacy. “I’m glad I ran into you, I actually had a few questions.” 

The twinge of annoyance Baizhu felt was perfectly concealed by his cool and collected mask. Even if he had wanted to take a rest, he didn’t have much of a choice. He was back on the clock. “Of course, sir,” Baizhu said smoothly as he fell into stride beside him, “What kind of questions did you have?” 

“It’s about Lin. You remember Lin, right?” 

Baizhu did not remember Lin. 

“Ah yes, what about her?” 

“Well, I’m having difficulties getting her to take medicine you prescribed, I was wondering if you had any tricks to…” 

Baizhu was on autopilot. A few questions, in fact, turned out to be many questions. He offered his advice for everything from feeding children bitter medicines, to proper meals for picky children with sore tummies, providing fluids to children unwilling to drink water, and even proper sanitation to prevent the illness from spreading. His conscious mind was being consumed by the effort of keeping up with the man. He walked up the stairs in a clear hurry, and Baizhu struggled to not fall behind. 

His chest was already aching, but Baizhu kept his breath as shallow as he could. If he actually inhaled as deeply as his body wanted him to, he would wheeze. He tried to focus on the gentle pressure Changsheng’s cool scales left on his neck, instead of the tunnel vision he was rapidly developing. 

Only a few more feet, Baizhu thought, as the man launched into an anecdote about one of his daughters. He hoped it wasn’t something he was expected to give an actual answer to. A hum and nod of his head would have to suffice. 

As they reached the doors of Bubu Pharmacy, Baizhu made a beeline for his private quarters located in the back. Waves of heat washed over him, triggering the kind of rapid sweat the body used as warning signals. His feet were much heavier than he recalled, and the hallway was much longer.

“Ah, Doctor Baizhu, where are you going? Mrs. Chen is waiting to see you-” Gui asked innocently, from his position at the front desk. 

The floor below him wavered as Baizhu threw out a hand against the wall to steady himself. Changsheng’s voice was muffled under the ringing in his ears, but she sounded concerned. 

“Just a bit further,” he muttered between clenched teeth, “I can make it.” 

————

Baizhu awoke slowly to the presence of a cool cloth pressed against his forehead. Immediately, dread churned in his stomach as he forced open one of his heavy eyelids. The blurry shape of Qiqi came into focus, the girl clutching a cup in her pale hands. 

“Doctor Baizhu,” she said matter-of-factly, staring up at him with her big, gemstone-like eyes. “You fell asleep in front of your office. Qiqi caught you.” 

Baizhu draped an arm over his face, half out of embarrassment and half to shield his eyes from the sudden light. His smile was genuine this time, as he let out a bemused huff. “Thank you, Qiqi. I appreciate it.” 

The warm lump nestled into his side stirred, and Changsheng poked her head out from the blankets he was laying under. “Try not to scare me like that, Baizhu. You nearly crushed me.” 

A pang in his stomach called his attention back to his own health. The dull ache he had attributed to hunger and stress had turned into something a little more concerning. Baizhu rolled over onto his side, sighing. 

“Qiqi, let Gui know that I will be taking a few days off. And prepare a pot of ginger tea too, if you will.” 

[lovelyladyabsinthewrites]

One, Two, Three

Pairing: Arthur Dayne x Reader

Warnings: mc almost gets assaulted

Words: 3k+

Story Request from @blissyooo

Hey lovely! I was wondering if I could request an Arthur Dayne x Reader where she persuades him to train her in sword play and they bond over time (and there's a looooot of longing looks exchange when they're in public) then one day there's some sort of chaos and the Reader finally puts her training to good use and Ser Arthur is proud 😭 Thank youuuuu, I adore your asoiaf fanfics!!

“No.”

You puff out your cheeks.

“That’s still a no, (y/n).” He sighs.

“Oh Arthur, please!!” To make your acting more convincing, you even put on your best puppy dog eyes that normally do him in. Your best friend out ten years though is used to your tactics and merely shakes his head but a smile betrayed how cute he finds you. You know it, he knows it, so why wouldn’t he give into your one request of the Morning Star personally training you to fight with a sword?

This time his tolerant smile was strained as he places his warm fingers around your upper arms and holds you at an arm’s length. For years he had given in to your every wish. How could he not when he was so in love with you? This was the line he would draw though. “Your father would have my head. It’s too dangerous.”

Sputtering out a laugh, you wave off his concerned grip. “How dangerous could it be if you do it?”

“I’m serious (y/n).” He puts on a stern voice that you have only heard a handful of times.

Every time it surprised you to hear Arthur’s voice reach such a deep baritone. Reminded you that he was a man grown. Your heart, without your consent, skips a beat hearing him be so assertive. He was soon to be inducted into the king guard after all in a few months. Meaning you had so little time left with him before he was to depart to Westeros. What would you do without him? You wanted to keep some part of him with you and you had always wanted to learn how to use a sword. The best of both worlds would be available to you if you did so. Your father would be angry, yes, but he would get over it. You were the handmaiden of Ashara Dayne after all, that was a great enough honor. Your family name was nowhere near infamous as the Daynes but your father had been utterly loyal to Dorne and earned his place among the respectable men of the region.

Ashara saved you the whole ordeal of going on your knees to beg him. “Oh train her. It will do her some good.” Her lilac eyes were lit up with unspeakable mischief. Your mistress was well aware of the sweet love you and Arthur dare not speak. She was team Arthur and (y/n) all the way.

“Ashara, (y/n) could get hurt. If either of us make a mistake-“

“So don’t make a mistake.” She glares at her brother while throwing her arm around your shoulders. “And train her so she doesn’t make a mistake.”

Two against one, Arthur gave up and instructs you to be ready at the crack of dawn for exercises. Before you were to even hold a sword, your muscles were to be conditioned.

If you had known that it would take you three weeks to actually hold a sword, you may have changed your mind about learning. And those three weeks were no cake walk. By now your fingers were thoroughly calluses and you were covered in bruises daily. The first bruise Arthur had dealt you made him dubious on continuing.He didn’t like the idea that they were caused by him.

Sternly you demanded that he treat you like his fellow knights. You didn’t want him to go easy on you. You would not half ass it. Arthur would teach you the art of swordplay properly.

Muscle had firmed up your arms and legs and you were pretty sure he had checked out your ass several times.

In the best shape of your life, you were thrilled on the day when Arthur finally placed a practice sword in your hands. Another two weeks passed before finally a real, sharp bladed sword was bestowed upon your sweaty palms.

“Really? I’m finally ready?” You look up at him with cautiously optimistic eyes. Strong fingers grip the hilt, Arthur let go so you are now the soul support holding it up. There was heft to it and you knew had you not spent all those excruciating weeks training your body, it would have been heavier.

Arthur grins at you with a nod. “I mean, if you’re not ready you can give it ba-“

“No No! I know I’m ready!” Taking a step back, you position the sword behind you. Your smile is radiant to him. Both of you greatly enjoyed the time you shared together during the course of your hard work. Watching you excel made his chest swell and cheeks warm.

“Then take your position.”

Promptly you obey and move to the opposite end of the training ring. A swift pivot of your feet has you facing Arthur head on. You pull your sword in front of you in a fluid motion and take your proper stance.

“Now lets take the movements slowly the first time. Progressively it will get faster until you grow accustomed to how it feels. Then we’ll start actually sparring.” He’s incredibly serious when he states the following “These are real blades, (y/n). Weapons of death which should be respected. If I hit you with it, there will be real damage.”

You level him eyes brimming with understanding and determination to continue. He was an excellent instructor; even your father regrettably admitted that. Having two older sisters, they had dutifully married lords. Once upon a time there had been a hope that perhaps Arthur would ask him for your hand in marriage. Since the sweet age of two, both you and Arthur were never seen without the other. It would be a great honor for your family if you were to marry into the illustrious House of Dayne. Years passed though and with neither you nor Arthur prepared to cave into your feelings, your father lost hope and just let you be for the time being. You were still young after all. Things could change.

You saw the hopeful glances everyone shot at the two of you.

Mirroring his movement, you follow along with skillful ease while counting along in your head One, Two, Three, One, Two, Three. . . The rhythm matches your steady heartbeat.

You’re surprised when your blades finally kiss, the clang of it making your bones shiver in delight. With first contact over and done with, you grow more confident in your swings and thrusts. Advancing on him, Arthur grins equally excited. Light dances across his beautiful eyes, purple like the Targaryens. When you were six, you imagined life as an adult, married to Arthur and the children the two of you would create together. They would all have his eyes. You had been determined with that fact. You wanted them all to be as beautiful as their father.

So why after so many years had neither of you admitted the attraction? It was quite simple, each of you held strong to that Dornish stubbornness. Plus you had found out he wanted to join the Westerosi Kingsguard one day. That meant he would make an irrevocable vow to take no wife and father no children. Even if you knew that Arthur liked you back, he must not have loved you that much if he were willing to make such a promise. You meant little to him in that matter.

What would be the point? Never subjecting yourself to begging him to stay, you decided that you would never tell him outright. You wouldn’t let him see how vulnerable you were.

Instead you chose to use the sword to let your frustration known. A good outlet, every regret you wanted to voice was suffocated with the sound of your swords colliding with the other. Such a sharp noise that cut through your inner thoughts efficiently.

A sweaty mess after, your cheeks are near burning as you take in slow, steady streams of air. While you always braided your hair and coiled it, many strands had come loose during your session.

Chuckling, Arthur hands over a clean towel for you to dab at your face. Feeling nice against your skin, you watch Arthur go to get some water for the two of you. Even when he was a sweating mess, he was utterly handsome. His backside wasn’t too bad of a view either. You found it delicious how his muscles rolled and moved underneath his glistening skin. “You did well for your first real sword. Not a scratch or cut on either of us.”

“Hurrah!” You laugh and pump your fist into the air in victory. Just to be silly, you assure Arthur that you have all ten of your digits by holding up your hands and wiggling each one.

He checks his own hands to make sure he too had all fingers in attendance.

You join in on a united giggle. Like this you felt younger, the saccharine days of childhood were behind you though.

Sooner or later, Arthur was going to leave you for Westeros.

Very soon that day did come where you were forced to bid farewell to Arthur as he packed his things for the long journey to King’s Landing. Tourneys to induct new Kingsguard members didn’t happen too often and he had to jump on the opportunity. During one of his visits to Westeros, he had befriended Rhaegar Targaryen and Jon Connington in the Red Keep where they soon formed a close brotherhood of sorts. He had written to you of this when it had occurred, but you didn’t think he had still been in contact with Rhaegar since then. Well, you had hoped he hadn’t. Of course Prince Rhaegar would want to keep their friendship going. Arthur was hard, near impossible, not to like. A natural charisma with people, friends came easy to him.

As the attention of other girls.

But you knew that you were closer to his heart than any woman. You were assured that he didn’t having wandering eyes for no one else.

Rhaegar had informed him that through connections, he saved a spot specifically for Arthur Dayne of Starfall. He wanted his friend to take his rightful position on his father’s Kingsguard. The Crown Prince of Westeros!

A heavy ball of bitterness took root inside of you. In the end, no matter how you saw it, he was choosing the Kingsguard over a life with you.

That was why you shoot a heated glare when you spy the ship that was to deliver Arthur to Westeros. Already small black spots were loading all of his essentials onto the ship. Being high up in Ashara’s balcony, your nails pierce into the stone railing as it was the only thing that kept you from screaming at the inanimate object.

At the sight of a familiar deep blue painted trunk, you squint your eyes in an attempt to gain a better look. The metal crest of your family caught a glint off the sun’s rays.

“Ah! There you are!” Came your lady’s boisterous voice. Her hands are on you shoulders and swiftly steering you away.

“My lady, I think there is a mistake. My chest-“ You struggle to turn your head to face the open sea once more.

“There is no mistake. You’re going to Westeros with us. Well, with me specifically.” She’s even more lovely when her smile is so bright. The kohl under her lower lashes make her familial purple eyes glow. “Permission was given by your father of course-“

Digging your heel into the floor, Ashara staggers. “Wait! Why wasn’t I even asked? What if I don’t want to go?”

She steps away from you and appraises your disgruntled features. While her smile disappears , her face grows apologetic. “I thought you would be happy. You’d be able to spend a little bit more time with Arthur.”

Ashara meant well, of course she did, but you had already grieved Arthur’s departure and prepared yourself for it. You didn’t want to see anymore of Arthur lest your heart betray you. Taking a deep breath, you shake your head. “I don’t want to see him win the glory that will get him knighted as part of the Kingsguard. I want to be happy for him, but I can’t. I’m sorry. I just can’t be happy right now.”

Her hand goes to cup your cheek. “(Y/n), I’m sorry. I just was hoping. . . I don’t know what I was hoping. That both of you would stop being so stubborn maybe. In the end I guess I did more so for myself. Selfish as it may sound, if the two of you did marry, then I could keep you both close by me forever. I don’t want to lose either of you.”

This was hard for her too. Ashara and Arthur, along with their sister and nephew, were the few surviving members of the House of Dayne. They had always been a close knit family, one that you envied very much since your own family was spread all over Westeros and seemed to prefer it that way. Hardly any letters were passed between your family. They had their own lives and were simply happy you were thriving under such an influential household.

You place your hand atop of her’s and lean into her touch. “I’ll go for you to ease your pain but for no other reason. Arthur has made his choice.”

*

You kept to your cabin during the voyage, ignoring the longing glances Arthur would shoot you when you dared to step outside. They were tolerated with an icy shoulder that you would turn his way. Ashara was aware that there was nothing she could do to mend things between her brother and lady in waiting. This was something that ultimately the two would have to figure out themselves. She wanted to have a hand in smacking them upside the head for acting like children.

Thank the gods that the harbor of Blackwater Bay came into view. You were all too grateful to be back on land even if it was King's Landing. In your opinion, King's Landing couldn't even hold a flame to the great Dornish cities of Sunspear and Starfall. The slums were overrun and leaked to even the prettier parts of the Westerosi capital.

Your horses and litter passed through the thick of it as pedestrians strained their necks to get a glimpse of your beautiful Dornish lady who sat straight and pretty, her hand pulling back the curtain of the litter window to watch everyone gawk. Her lips are pursed in a straight line at what she sees. "I can't believe he's leaving Dorne for this."

"Technically its to serve the Targaryen king among the finest of knights." You mumble and look away from the open window. While the carriage trudged on through the cobbled streets, you hear the ringing of the bells that belonged to the Great Sept of Baelor. As if you and Ashara were being welcomed by it when the gates to the Red Keep opened up for you. The ancient home of Aegon the Conqueror. For centuries it housed the royal Targaryen family.

In the heart of the throne room, the Iron Throne’s pointed swords told of enemies that had been vanquished long ago. There seated was King Aerys. His limp, silver hair clung to his skull much more than his crown did. It slid to one side of his head, barely able to perch atop his brow. At the bottom stood his lovely sister-wife Rhaella and on either side of her were both of her sons. The youngest being Prince Viserys who was just a young boy.

The members of Aerys’ Small Council had their own respective seats off to the sides. Other lords stood behind them, probably their own representatives. All eyes were focused on House Dayne’s entourage. It wasn’t often that the Dornish leave their land. They fetishized your features: dark skin and exotic beauty. Resenting the selfconciousness that they made you feel, you keep close to Ashara in an attempt to hide yourself. Not that they would be paying attention to you. You had no distinguishable house sigil. The lords of Starfall were well known, especially the great sword Dawn that was forged from a fallen star.

Speeches lingered on for longer than was necessary as other aspiring knights puffed out their chest in such a typical alpha male way that made you and Ashara roll eyes.

When all the introductions were over, a steward has you following him to the private wing of rooms specifically for Ashara and Arthur and anyone who was in their company.

A relief, you nearly moan once your back hits the mattress of your bed. Every muscle expressed their own feelings as your body’s firmness softens. This type of exhaustion reminded you of your training days with Arthur.

Loneliness crept up on you with cold fingers that tickle your stomach.

You weren’t ready to face a life without him.

***

Rhaegar, wanting to meet the young lady who took residence in Arthur’s heart, was escorted to (y/n)’s room by Arthur himself. The young lordling was hesitant on knocking on her door. His curled fist hovered frozen in front of the wood door.

She had spoken to him, not since their departure from Starfall nor the ship journey. While she didn’t necessarily keep to herself, (y/n) loyally stood by Ashara’s side whenever his sister was out on the deck. Her eyes though, the refused to even look his way. That probably hurt Arthur more than (y/n) not speaking to him. Thankfully he had spent more than a decade in her company and knew her as much as he knew the back of his hand. (Y/n) could hold a grudge but was slow to anger. Normally she was warm and could make a room full of intense men laugh due to her bawdy jokes.

Most important to remember was that (y/n) needed her space when she was hurt or angry.

Arthur would reluctantly offer her that space. But this was a request from his prince. “Please don’t take offense if she’s not outwardly nice. It’s nothing personal. I’m to blame.”

With a gentle smile, Rhaegar pats Arthur on the back. “I won’t take it personally. I’m sure she’s lovely.”

“As much as a spitting viper.” Chuckle lowly, Arthur finally raps his knuckles against the door.

They wait.

And wait.

He knocks again, this time with worry. (Y/n) had a tendency of finding trouble. If she was by herself and not with Ashara. . .

Trying her door next, another hand maid opens it and brings back her mistress. Ashara is already dressing for dinner and had just afixed an earring on. “(Y/n)? Yes she mentioned something about going to see King Baelor’s Maidenvault. I told her the story while we were on the ship and she has been curious about it since.”

“By herself?” Arthur tried not to let the worry leak into his voice. This was a foreign country which (y/n) hadn’t visited before. While it wasn’t night yet, the sun had just started it’s crawl away from the open sky. It would be easy for (y/n) to get turned around and lost.

Ashara didn’t appear too worried though. She leaned against the doorframe a bit with a glint in her eyes. “You better go find her then, huh?” Then to Prince Rhaegar “Lovely to meet you, Your Grace.”

Rhaegar didn’t see the urgency that Arthur felt and matched Ashara’s smile. “The honor is truly mine, Lady Ashara.”

Back to her brother, Ashara placed her hands on her hips. “Well? Get to it then.”

Arthur groaned and turned to Rhaegar. “Can you show me to the Maidenvault?”

Immediately upon arrival, Arthur heard (y/n)’s distressed voice hiss out “Piss off.”

Arthur and Rhaegar stop in their tracks and watch quietly as (y/n) tried to pass through one of the arched pillars that opened out to the entrance of the Maidenvault. Candles at the base of each pillar had just been lit an hour earlier.

There’s a man, his facial features hidden by the oncoming dark, that attempted to grab her arm accompanied by a snarl.

About to surge forward, Arthur froze when (y/n) easily whipped out of his grip and took a defensive step back.

The unknown assailant growled “You Dornish whore, who do you think you are denying me?”

“I hate repeating myself. But for someone with as small of a brain as your’s, I’ll say it again: Piss off. I’m not interested in your shriveled Westerosi cock.”

That set off the male to advance on her. Much to his surprise, (y/n) smacks him with the back of her hand sending him reeling. In his vulnerable position, he isn’t aware of (y/n)’s nimble fingers encircling the hilt of his sword as she deftly unsheathed it from it’s scabbard that hung at his waist.

In a flash, the blade swipes upward so that it only slashes his chest superficially. His eyes are gaping at you, hand clutching at the torn fabric of his tunic.

Oh.

Oh the pride Arthur felt overwhelmed him and made his cheeks burst with flames.

“Get out of my sight. I’ll be keeping this sword. Only men with honor should wield a weapon like this.”

What else could he do but hightail it out of there like the worm he truly was. (Y/n) watched her would be assailant flee.

“That is the woman you are leaving for the Kingsguard? Oh Arthur you fool.” Rhaegar breathed out.

Frowning, Arthur turned to the Silver Prince. “What?”

The prince’s face is stone cold serious though, even a little stern. He had never seen Rhaegar in a state like that. “Listen to me Arthur. Giving (y/n) up for the Kingsguard will be the biggest mistake of your life. There is no glory or honor in protecting my father. No honor in taking the Kingsguard vow. At least. . . Not anymore.”

“Rhae-“

He shook his head fervently. “You are too good of a man, Arthur. And (y/n). . . There aren’t many women out there like (y/n). If you don’t wisen up then someone else will find and claim her. Please, reconsider. Win the tourneys if you must, but do not accept the gold cloak.”

Arthur’s head spun at what Rhaegar revealed to him alone.

***

Having seen all of the Maidenvault as you wished to and making sure that creep wasn’t lurking outside, you walk down the front, stone steps to find Arthur sitting on the other side of the red column.

“You always find me.” You murmur.

“Of course I do.” He rolls his head against the scarlet stone to look at you. The purple in his eyes was luminescent in the early night.

His eyes always made you weak at the knees. How irresistible the call was that his body cast out to you. From your earliest memories, you recall it had always been like that. Both of you naturally gravitated to one another.

You duck your head and return to your stride. “I should be getting ready for dinner.”

“Please wait.”

And you did. His voice was heartbreakingly gentle and it matched the contours of his face.

Arthur gets up and in a few steps he’s in front of you. His hand easily engulfed one of your’s, startling you when he kisses your knuckles. A shiver shocks your nerves at the contact, leaving you breathing heavily.

“I was told recently that I’m a fool.”

Quite unladylike, you sputter out a giggle. “Oh yeah? Was it Ashara?”

“No, it was Prince Rhaegar.”

Whatever humor that had manifested in you dried up. “Prince Rhaegar?”

He purses his full lips, running his thumb over where he had just kissed your hand. “We saw what happened earlier. Prince Rhaegar said I would be a fool to give you up in favor of the Kingsguard.”

You would definitely have to get down on your knees and thank Rhaegar profusely. “You would be.”

A curl of a smile, Arthur chuckles. “I’ve decided I don’t want to be a fool.”

“A great decision.” You grin.

[curiouschaosstarlight]

yessss do all of them. For gensh <3

(I had to take this off of the official numbered list because my rambles are just too rambly, and tumblr started yelling at me......) 1.) my beautiful cinnamon roll too good for this world fave: Bennett!! Bennett, Bennett, Bennett, I choose Bennett-- Also Chongyun and Freminent. Somft boys. Doing their best. Also could kick your ass. Also I have all of them. :3c (...Very sad that I had to take Chongyun off my main team, because Bennett's about to C6 and render him useless.)

2.) my trash-shit fave: I have no idea what this means, but I'm gonna guess that Dottore and Scaramouche belong here-- Especially Dottore; he's the guy giving me the MOST brainworms right now. (But I can't share most of the brainworms because I'd have to explain all the reasons why my version of him turned out the way he did, then be told I'm wrong anyway, so.) Anyways, I love Scaramouche/Wanderer's entire story, I love that he Has Problems but those problems aren't JUST that he's a little asshole bitch for no reason like fandom keeps trying to claim. Also I want!! Playable Dottore!! I want him so bad. Sure sure, to some people having him redeemed would be soooooo boring, but- Personally, I only have a certain amount of fun with villains that are villains for the evulz, and I LOVE characters with Potential (potential for both better and worse, sometimes even for the same reasons); also a lot of certain little details about Dottore gives me the vibes that he isn't the one-note crazy man basically everyone writes him as, which is apparently, supposedly backed up by the actual og Chinese writing of a few things. And I genuinely think that ANY way they go about redeeming him/making him playable -- be it revealing Tragic Backstory reasons, or a begrudging process, or "well I've decided I like and respect you, so sure, I'll behave, for now >:)" -- would be interesting no matter what they go for!! ...I'm genuinely gonna cry a bit if they do opt to just kill him off ;v; but if Gensh goes that route, I do hope it's at least to an epic boss fight or something. Full monster transformation, if possible.

3.) my I love to hate them fave: God, I have no idea, I'm not usually the type outside of very specific characters. I guess Signora might qualify? ...I'm not gonna earn much love with that one-- She's just, like...tragic backstory? Check. Pretty lady with beautiful theming and massive tits? Check. Front-story bitch? Yeah that's pretty fun! ...Why is it so hard to force her character to shift in writeys. Like, even thinking about alternate ways events could go on my own, it's like...she owns her own girlboss so hard, it borders on Ungrateful behavior (which tends to be one of the few kinds of behaviors characters can have that grind on my nerves). Apparently there's a chance she might get revived in Natlan, and honestly I'm hoping. I don't think it'll be the worst thing in the world if it doesn't happen, but I sure would like the excuse to put her back in the oven to bake some more, without having to wait for my brain to become actually hooked on her to do it.

4.) my I hate to love them fave: This one's gonna sound weird; Faruzan. ...Okay, okay, let me explain- So, y'all know how Faruzan had a boosted drop rate when Wanderer was first released? (...And I think it happened again when his banner came back around, but that's not important--) I was. SO. DAMN. DESPERATE. to get Wanderer. I had picked out a name for him months in advance (well, tentatively; some leaks a friend was looking at said you could name him, and I wasn't 100% convinced but I wanted to be PREPARED in case it really was true, and then it was!), both of my friends (including Devoid here <3) were pulling for him as well, and both got him before I did, which intensified my desire to get him. I had been saving up. I was doing SO MANY TEN PULLS. And I got. SO. MANY. FARUZANS. I think I had one ten pull that was, like, four Faruzans in a row. I had her C6'd extremely early on into my pulls, and then she just kept showing up. It was driving me mad. I don't really get too bothered by a character's in-game actions unless they're a specific kind of irksome, but messing with my pulls? That bothers me a lot-- Eventually I did get Wanderer, but I'd also gotten like...twenty or forty Faruzans in the process or something like that. It was ridiculous. And I was all set to just hate her forever. ...But then, like...her hangout comes out and that was really good. And then the event with Wanderer, Kaveh, Tighnari, and everyone happened, and THAT was also really good, and she's so affectionate towards Collei and hnnnnnn...Why's she have to be such a good character with such great taste in other characters?? Save me--

5.) my I wouldn’t piss on them if they were on fire non-fave: So, you know how I said that character actions don't tend to bother me outside of certain traits? Fucking. Royce. I hate Royce. I mean- I view Benny's entire ex-team rather unfavorably, but Royce's "almost-has-a-realization-just-to-backtrack-and-yell-at-Benny-again" behavior drives me up the goddamn wall. I'm sure there's other NPCs that piss me off but no one else I can remember by actual actions or name. I do have some playable characters I don't really like at all, but this category is very strongly worded for those feelings. (No hate to any Royce fans out there >////////< And also apologies, but this is probably the only time I'm gonna talk about him anyway, at least by name)

6.) my I didn’t care about them either way at first but the fandom makes such a big deal about them now I can’t stand them non-fave: I've been avoiding most fandom content precisely for this reason!! (...Unfortunately I've still gotten exposed to a bunch of shitty fan takes, but it for the most part hasn't shaken my character opinions much. My ship opinions however...) ...The most popular takes of Scaramouche and Dottore (by fans and non-fans alike) have only further solidified my personal vibes of wanting them more sympathetic and avoiding one-note portrayals like the plague. Signora has been on thin ice for a while because so many people are really fucking aggravating in regards to her, but she's yet to budge because I do feel mildly compelled about her. So hopefully that sticks. But I WILL absolutely despise Capitano out of sheer fan spite if he's revealed to be the 1st Harbinger, and there's a ~secret 10th Harbinger~, that is just, like...It's almost kinda neat, but so many people are being so bullheaded and shitty about it (mostly on reddit, I think), to the point it's invaded the wiki that I otherwise really respect for all the work that goes into it, that he just better fucking be the 10th or I will be UPSET.

7.) my I could take them or leave them kinda non-fave: Honestly, most of the cast. Up until about Sumeru, I really only cared about 2-5 characters per nation. Then with Sumeru and Fontaine, they've really knocked it out of the park with characters I absolutely adore and only one or two that kinda just fade out of my memory. I won't say which ones. !!!!!! IMPORTANT NOTE!! This has nothing to do with writing quality or design quality or "oh my subjective opinion is absolute fact and anyone who disagrees with me is a dumb stupid idiot with no taste" or anything like that- It's just that I wasn't vibing too strongly with most characters; not for any necessary particular reason or failure on Mihoyo's part or anything like that. Just how it turned out.

8.) my I will go down with this ship and I won’t put my hands up and surrender, there will be no white flag above my door. I’m in love and always will be fave ship: Dottore x Scaramouche is my BIGGEST ship right now, especially onesided. Especially reluctantly reciprocated. Primarily on Dottore's side. Also Fem Traveler/Lumine/Lillian x Everyone. Also Enjou x his weird "go ahead and beat me up" fetish-- Keep being funky you strange, fiery demon man. Love him. (Also Alhaitham x Kaveh, though I generally don't like looking at the fandom art for it unless my friend handpicks out the art for me, because their ver of Kaveh did irreversible damage to my brain and now when I see trans!Alhaitham and cis!Kaveh, my brain gets SO CONFUSED. It's just like "????? But that should be reversed, tho, obviously???" Like...no brain...it's not obvious. It's fine. You're just Attached.)

9.) my dirtybadwrong fave ship: Apparently Scaramouche/Kabukimono x Niwa is real controversial, which is very sad because I fucking love it, and also it seems like such an obvious and easy-to-like pick to me :P Also Kaeya x Diluc, which I know would/will? get me headhunted if this post shows up for the majority of the fandom. I'm probably forgetting a good amount of ships at the moment, but... (+ Bonus for both 8 and 9, but my extra myriad of Dottore ships where I'd probably have to explain how I ended up where I ended up, which means I'd have to explain the way I write Dottore, which means I'd have to explain-) ...Also Neuvillette x Furina APPARENTLY fucking qualifies, because as we all know, if the girl is short and cute and femme, she's automatically a child!! :) Don't y'all totes know she's Neuvillette's little baby girl daughter and not an adult and totally wasn't RUNNING AN ENTIRE NATION AS THEIR ARCHON for LITERAL FUCKING CENTURIES? Nope! Neuvillette, the person that totally wasn't working under her that entire time, has all the power in that dynamic, and totes sees her as a daughter, so it's problematic!!

10.) my they’re cute together and I dig them but I’m not all that terribly invested kinda fave ship: Most ships in the fandom, tbh. See- the problem is I don't really like protag Aether takes, and I'm just amicable to about 70% of the cast. And I might be a massive multishipping slut with few standards, but I do need to Feel Something towards characters to then Feel Something towards the ships, and when the general vibes I have with a character is "ah, they're neat" or "I like 'em well enough" or even "I don't really like them", that's just the kind of ~amicable vibes~ that lends to me going "that's cute! ...Anyway"

11.) my I didn’t care about this ship either way at first but the fandom makes such a big deal about it now I can’t stand it non-fave ship: Well, I have two. I won't say one because I think my vaguing gets more obvious if I say it outright, but someone I was following seriously bashed [ship I like a lot] while going "why dont people like THIS ship instead??? It's WAY BETTER!!", and. lemme tell you. If you want me to UTTERLY DESPISE your fave character or ship, the best way to do that is praise your fave while bashing another character or ship!! Fuck me, it doesnt even have to be a character or ship I even like, but for some reason it always fucking is. Like the sheer amount of people that go "Why dont people like [character] more??? They're much better than ITTO!!" like. 1. fuck you. 2. Itto has a MUCH LOUDER presence than whatever character you're trying to praise. 3. why does everyone always try to go after [specific ship I like a lot], or Itto? It's always them. Like they're making some big sweeping statement of "oh THAT dumb thing is getting attention for no reason!!" when like...entertainment factor, you knuckleheads. They're just onscreen and instantly make an impression. I'm really, really sorry your fave doesn't get as much attention, I get it, I really do, I've had barely popular/outright bashed faves before, but y'all actively hurt your case rather than helping it when you try to tear other characters/ships down to build yours up. I get that you're frustrated, but it's not fucking helping. Cut that shit out and then get back to me. Anyways. The other one that bothers the shit out of me for far more petty reasons is Wriothesley x Neuvillette, which. I feel bad about, to be fair. I feel sorta guilty for not liking it, because it definitely has potential. There's just one problem-- one of my biggest fucking pet peeves is ship bashing/attempted ship sinking (-gestures at my sarcasm a bit earlier-, which also sums up half of why I despise "child-coding" and "oh!! this small girl character is TOTES the daughter to these two gay men and definitely not responsible or mature in her own right uwu totally needs to be babysat by her two gay dads!!") in conjunction with people obsessing over other ships, and with Wriotheo and Nuevy, it started BEFORE the update happened and we actually saw any interactions. Like. I get it. They're two hot men and gay ships are hella popular. But with it occurring way before the update, thus way before any canonical interactions, it just felt like people were fucking desperate to make sure neither character could be straight-shipped with the two "children" they were actually working with (two full-ass adults, Furina and Sigewinne), which just drives me up the fucking wall. (And I can understand being uncomfortable with shipping characters that kinda resemble children, but I've seen way too many people go above and beyond any reasonable reaction to that sorta thing.) I want to like this ship. I really do. It could definitely be really good. But it's gonna take, like, a year or two, when we're in Snezhnaya and my frustration becomes a petty dumb memory instead of something I want to rant over. (...I'm sure this is gonna come back to bite me pretty hard, 'cause if this post makes the rounds people are gonna rush to be like "oh you're not OPPRESSED by gay ships!!" -> No one ever says they are unless they're a real smooth-brained fuckhead, "Oh, so we can't just have fun anymore??" -> I'm apparently not allowed to have fun, so neither are y'all. :\ If I can take fifty-million fans constantly trying to call me a terrible person for liking any of the ships and characters and takes I like, y'all can take one "this got on my nerves and I'm still mad even though I know it's dumb and petty")

12.) my MAKE IT STOP non-fave ship: Ready for me to burn another bridge? ...Can't stand Yae Miko x Raiden Shogun. Like- I see it, I absolutely see it, and I think it absolutely works, but. well. guess what? Guess that happened?? Shitty fans. Shitty fans that INSIST Yae Miko is canonically a man-hating lesbian and froth at the mouth if you dare even imply she MIGHT be the tiniest bit interested in a guy. I can't quite articulate how much I HAAAAATE when people try to claim their headcanon as canon and then treat other fans like shit for "violating canon" (that doesn't actually exist -- and god, even if it did, some of the behavior I've seen really goes above and beyond any realm of acceptability), and yeah. This is one of the biggest offenders. In general, I've noticed way more vitriol and toxicity out of f/f fans than any other kind of fan lately, and that is...ugh. again, I get it. Out of the ship combinations, f/f is probably the least popular in general and all that, and when you feel like your favorite stuff is getting passed over again and again for stuff you can't see the appeal in (trust me, I can relate, I've been in a LOT of fandoms), it's really, really frustrating. But also can we stop being shitty to other fans over subjective opinions? Fandom's supposed to be fun. I shouldn't feel like every other fan I follow would hate my guts over the pettiest of preference differences. (Yes this goes for more than just f/f fans, ofc, it's just those are the ones I've noticed the most recently.) !!! -> Please don't feel bad about liking any of the ships I listed ;v; For any reason-- I did Not put them down to shame anyone, and I don't judge anyone for liking ships and characters I don't like. I do judge behavior towards other fans, and if someone's really hostile to "competing" ships/characters, that also bothers me, but that's it. It's not the content itself that has or will ever bother me, so I really do hope no one who's reading this feels bad about their preferences...

->-> Primarily Unrelated but One thing that I lovehate about this, aside from the fact that if a bunch of people see this entire thing I'm DEFINITELY getting hatemail/a callout/something, but it also gives the impression I'm massively into m/m, which is amusing and frustrating at the same time. (Not the first time this sort of thing has happened, and I'm always self-conscious about it, because I hate when people have Incorrect Takes about my feelings/opinions, especially when I've openly described them but the other person's like "lol nope, I associate you with this more, so this is the truth now". Hate that shit.)

I'm actually primarily a m/f shipper (which honestly might be more controversial on tumblr, specifically tumblr, I'm not an ignorant dumbass about other places on the internet), that's just not how it turned out for Gensh, where I wound up mostly into the guy characters. Before I got extremely into Scaramouche (and then Dottore), Lumine/Lillian was my primary favorite character and the one I was focused on shipping with. She was also, like...the female character I liked the most, which I'm given to understand is an odd thing to say, I guess? Because western people don't usually like the protags of games?? Which is so weird to me. (<- Fresh off the Persona fandom where the Persona protags are also in my, like, top 5 characters of their respective games, and that is a hugely unpopular take for some reason.) (Though I guess I'm pretty weird in how I tend to play games and develop the protagonist's personality in my head + I usually prefer to play the fem character -> the fem protag of a game tends to be in my top 10 favorite characters)

For anyone curious, my preferences go m/f -> f/f -> m/m (least favorite), but that is also extremely arbitrary because of a few different factors, but primarily because I will write basically anything and everything. If I'm writing it and I'm having fun, then nothing bothers me, and I'll come up with all sorts of ships for all sorts of reasons. (Usually ships occur on a whim during rps, which then makes it hard to explain how I got to that result outside of rps...)

Anyways, I hope I explained my reasonings well enough m(_ _)m I could definitely ruffle more feathers if I, like, posted a character tier list or something, and I'm kinda tempted anyway, because...I dunno, a tiny part of my brain is like "hehe, stick it to the man >:3c", I guess? Despite the fact I would definitely not be actually "sticking it" to anyone, like If no one cared what I thought before, they're super not gonna care after this--

[tricksnahas]

Action bronson tour houston

#Action bronson tour houston full

As the set went on during the show Monday night it becomes very clear that the love Bronson needs to be investing into his meat vessel is simply not being tended to. Factor in the night-to-night need to make that shit move around a little on stage, and shake it just right for the fans it has to be tough on the big man. Having to carry 300+ pounds around daily and having one of the more formidable weed habits on of anyone on god’s green (earth), to compliment his love affair with food puts Bronson at a disadvantage. Long sit-ins with other musicians while getting high and watching the History Channel’s delightful show Ancient Aliens, burning as many trees as one could ever want, and consuming a king’s diet daily has predictably begun to be visibly hard on the big man. Combine that show’s gruelling tasks with those involved with travelling the Stars: Ancient Aliens with Action Bronson and Friends’ duties, and perhaps there is such thing as too successful. The life of wandering the earth in exchange for rhymes while dining at only the raddest of eateries for his show Fuck, That’s Delicious certainly sounds like a man doing it right. Pulling in good numbers at The Commodore Ballroom during this current stint, Bronson’s show in May of last year managed to sell out The Vogue Theatre in the hours leading up to the show. Throw in two producing credits with his two starring roles on Shane Smith’s Vice Network, and whoever said that weed makes you lethargic must have slept on some ‘Actionable’ data.Īlways good about checking in on Vancouver throughout his career, Monday night marked the rapper’s return to Granville Street.

#Action bronson tour houston full

Incredibly prolific musical output coupled with consistently strong reception by fans and critics alike, the consummate stoner is riding two full length LPs, two EPs, four mixtapes, a full length compilation album (Action Bronson / Statik Selektah), 22 singles (nine as the featured artist), 54 guest appearances and has a new mixtape on the horizon. With some down time from the kitchen and unanswered questions in the rap game coinciding, Bronson dedicated proper effort behind the mic. Working out of his old man’s kitchen and earning respect among New Yorkers as a fire-flame gourmet chef, Bronson was just a few episodes deep into the online show he had created Action In The Kitchen when a benign looking slip on the kitchen floor resulted in his breaking of his right leg. Happy with being a short order cook or potentially a chef someday, the thoughts of playing music professionally started to wane, inching further and further from his then reality. Considering a career in music to be but a pipedream, the new father resigned his thinking and was comfortable pursuing his second passion of a life inside a kitchen. Shortly after having had his baby boy (Elijah) the new requirement for money put Bronson back in the kitchen. The product of Queens, New York then proceeded to follow his ambitious pursuit of mastering the culinary arts by doing what most young men at that age do, nothing. Bronson showed signs of ambition early in life, having gone to culinary school at the age of 18. An EP release produced by Harry Fraud, "Saaab Stories" followed, featuring guest appearances by Raekwon, Wiz Khalifa and Prodigy.īesides it being potentially the strongest name in the game, it’s clear by Action Bronson’s schedule why the rapper went with the brawny forename ‘Action’ to precede the obvious homage to Charles Bronson.īorn Arian Asllani from an Albanian father and Jewish mother, Action Bronson seems to get busier with age. Several high profile performances followed, including at Coachella Valley Music Festival, bringing Bronson to wider fame, becoming featured on XXL Magazine's annual 'Freshman Class' list in 2013. and entertainment company VICE, releasing "Rare Chandeliers" a mixture in collaboration with The Alchemist. He then teamed up with Party Supplies for his mixture "Blue Chips." These releases gained plaudits from many critics and brought Bronson recognition for his talents. Lecter" which was follow up by his second, "Well Done," a collaboration album with Statik Selektah. In 2011, he released his debut album, "Dr. His witty sense of humor, boundless charisma and intricate wordplay has made Bronson one of the most exciting and talented rappers of the modern era. He regularly collaborates with many of the new wave of hip hop artist such as A$AP Rocky, The Alchemist, Flatbush Zombies and Earl Sweatshirt. His love of food has continued to be a theme lyrically in his music, with Bronson also hosting food programs on VICE to great popularity.īronson's style and flow draws similarities with Ghostface Killah, alongside Mobb Deep, Kool G Rap and Wu-Tang Clan. Bronson was born to an Albanian father and Jewish mother, finding his first calling as a gourmet chef, becoming well respected in New York.

[imthebadguyyy]

maybe something like interviewer asking her sexist questions and the boys stand up for her , after that interview she feels insecure and the boys comfort her . that's just an idea you don't have to write it !! <33

I hope you like it, and I'm so sorry about the delay 😭 I couldn't find my footing with this one, and I hope it's what you wanted ! Have a lovely day 💙

The One Where They're There For Her

Pairing - One Direction x Reader (6thmember!female!reader)

Fandom - One Direction (Directioners)

Summary - A particularly sexist interview decides to reduce you to just a sexual being and makes no effort to hide his misogyny. But the boys are there to support you.

Warnings - sexualization of the lgbt community, sexist comments, swearing, (honestly I hated myself for writing some of the comments here,and I'm so sorry)

Being a part of the biggest band in the world comes with certain responsibilities. Not responsibilities that come along with signing a recording contract, but those that a person deems themselves responsible for. For example, as the only female in a boyband, a female with a fanbase as large as yours, you took it upon yourself to always stand up for what's right, and to be an ally for the causes close to your heart.

That meant that your social media was often flooded with information about important causes, or your opinions on issues like feminism. Was it always well received? Heck no. There were people filled your feed with hate and comments calling you the most horrible names and labelling you a 'man hater' and a 'bitch' But you didn't let it get to you. On most days. On days like today, it was all you could do to keep it together. It had been a tiring few days, touring, recording, performing and doing an endless amount of interviews and photoshoots. It was safe to say you were on the last of your nerves, having battled your way through a makeup artist who had insisted on pointing out your flaws and had used a shit ton of makeup to cover them up. You had battled a photographer who had not hesitated to tell you that if you didn't look more feminine people would think you were turning into a man.

Before you could retaliate, Paul had dragged him away and told management to cancel the photoshoot, and find another photographer before grabbing the six of you some sandwiches and had let you all go back for a quick power nap at the hotel. Then in about half an hour he had woken you up, to get you ready for another interview. That's how you were here, in a white jumpsuit and a black blazer jacket, paired with black heels. Another day, another interviewer that got on your nerves. But this one, this one was different. This interviewer was different, but also the same. Another misogynistic man who thought he was entitled to stare at your ass and cleavage, and eye fuck you as you settled into a seat in between Niall and Zayn.

Settling in, you crossed one knee over the other, plastering a fake smile onto your face, as the man leaned back in his chair, throwing you a sleazy smirk. Noticing the look, Zayn shifted so you were out of view of the interviewer, but in view of the audience. It was in moments like this that you were a 100× more grateful to have your boys. They were well aware of how sleazy some interviewers could be, having had plenty of experience with them, and Zayn and Louis in particular were very protective about the way you were treated. Squeezing your thigh softly, he leaned back a little, lips settling into a thin line as he looked at the interviewer with a cold look. A little behind, Louis threw the interviewer a dirty look.

"So, One Direction! Congratulations on the album, as you all know its out on November the 22nd, with eighteen new songs, including the singles Night Changes and Steal My Girl Speaking of stealing girls, do you think I could steal your number Y/N? And may I mention, you look ver, very hot in that outfit" The interviewer joked, throwing you what he thought was a sexy smirk. (P.S - it wasn't) Answering with an awkward laugh, you shook your head, as Niall tensed up beside you. "Aww come on, your'e a pretty girl, I'm a handsome guy, let's go out sometime" he pressed on, ignoring the growing anger in Harry's eyes. "That's umm, nice. But no thanks, I'm not going to go out with you" was your answer, as you pushed a strand of hair behind your ear. Picking up on your nervous tic, Zayn moved his hand to rest on your knee, stopping it from bouncing up and down.

"Aww come on baby, what is it? You like girls or something? Because I wouldn't mind being a part of that action either" the sleazebag chuckled, ignoring the disgusted look Liam sent his way. "That's rude" Liam said, while Zayn tightened his grip on your knee. "Oh come on lads, are you telling me the idea doesn't appeal to you? Two women together, mm, makes me all excited just thinking about it, especially if one of them's Y/N" That comment was all it took for Louis to stand up, turning to the man and saying in a voice much rougher than his usual voice, "Alright, that's fuckin' enough, what the fuck is actually wrong with you?" he was backed up by Liam, who stood up, going to tower over the interviewer, whose eyes had lost some of the sleazy look in them. "All you've done since we walked in here is make those disgusting comments about Y/N, and it's sickening. Have some fucking respect" he practically spat.

Behind him, Zayn took your hand in his and pulled you to your feet, noticing the slight glossiness in them, leading you back to the dressing rooms, while Niall, Liam, Louis and Harry stayed back to continue to snap at the interviewer. "That is no way to treat a woman, and not only are you disrespecting her, you also made those god awful events about seeing women together. Your'e a shame to every single person in this room by talking like that" Harry continued, glancing over his shoulder to check if you were okay.

"And no, it doesn't excite us, because we are not assholes, and you are, a disgusting sleaze who does not deserve the job he has. Fuckin loser" Niall chimed in, standing up and storming out. Louis stood up as well, turning to directly face the cameras and the cameramen and sound technicians, who had all looked shocked when the man had made his comments towards you. "I sure as hell hope you have that on record, so you can see just how fucking sexist this industry is to women. Y/N does the same job as us, works just as hard and has the same number of awards, nominations, and records and yet you decide to only focus on her body, clothes, love life and sexuality. Get a fucking life" he spat at the camera, before walking away himself, eventually followed by Harry and Liam, who apologized to the outraged fans before leaving themselves. As they made their way to the dressing rooms they could hear the audience telling the interviewer to apologize to you, their anger at the way you were treated echoing through the building.

Walking in, Harry caught sigh of you curled up in one of the armchairs, with Louis sitting beside you, while Niall and Zayn talked to a furious Paul. "He had no damn right to treat her like shite, and you need to make sure that he knows those comments were un-fuckin-acceptable" Niall was saying, looking angrier than Harry had ever seen him. "And to make those sickening comments about wanting to get action? Can't we sue him for something?" Was Zayn's reply, glancing over his shoulder at you to make sure you were still okay. "We can't sue him, atleast I don't think we can, but I'll have someone let the smug bastard know that he needs to learn how to respect a woman" Paul said, before leaving the room to give the six of you some time together before you had to head back to the hotel.

"How're you feeling darling?" Louis said, moving over and patting your knee so you moved. "I'm okay" you mumbled back, letting Louis settle in next to you, leaning back to rest on his chest. "He had no fuckin right to say any of that, and don't you let it trouble you for a second" Zayn added, pouring out a cup of tea for you and for Louis and Harry. "I don't care about what he said, I couldn't care less, but it was just so frustrating, sitting there and listening to him just sexualize a whole community of people. You've got to be in a really sad place to think of shit like that. That's what annoyed me. You think I give a damn about what he said about my clothes or wanting to take me out on a date? It was the way he was talking, like he was sure any woman would be glad to have him that irked me. He's really tiresome" was your reply, as you reached forward for a sip of your tea. "That's the right attitude love. Haters gonna hate" Harry said.

"I know that. But I just wish I could punch him once, which sounds mean, but he does kind of deserve it" Niall said, earning a laugh from you. Niall was never usually aggressive, and even now, he wasn't particularly rude but it was rare to see him wanting to punch someone. "It's okay Niall, you don't have to. I can do it myself, but I won't" you replied, leaning up to squeeze his hand. "Besides, Ni, if you went and punched him, I'd do it too, and then we'd all go to jail" Liam chimed in, scrolling through his twitter. "Twitter isn't happy either babe. #stopsexualization and #Y/Ndeservesbetter is trending already" he added, showing you his phone. "If it means some of these sexist asses get their heads out of the sand, I'm happy. But I dont want to to think about it now" you replied, cuddling closer to the warmth radiating from Louis's body.

"Okay, we won't talk about it. Do you want to go back to the hotel?" Harry asked, standing up and walking to the door "No I want to go to Nando's. Anybody else hungry?" You asked, to nods of assent from the boys. "I'm starving. Those stupid sandwiches didn't fill me up at all" Zayn said, standing up to grab his coat and wallet. "I know and I'm craving some hot Peri Peri chicken with some fries. Do you think they'd let me put the lemon and herb sauce on the fries?" You asked, standing up yourself, earning a laugh from Louis. "Your'e an international superstar babe, I think they'd give you some lemon herb sauce" Liam joked.

Laughing, the six of you made your way to the car, with Harry and Niall squishing you in between them, as Louis sat in the back with Liam, and Zayn sat in the front with Paul (he was driving thank GOD) "I'm proud of you darling" Harry chimed in suddenly. "I am too" Niall added. "You know I am" Louis said, before Liam added "Always babe" and Zayn turned to smile at you before adding, "We are all proud of you, and we always will be, not only because you do a damn good job of not listening to the haters, but because you do what you think is right" "Awh come on, your'e gonna make me cry" you mumbled, leaning into Niall's shoulder. "Almost makes me feel bad for teasing you about having an extremely low spice tolerance the last time we were at Nando's Haz" you smirked, earning a roar of laughter from the boys.

"That chicken was spicy love!" "It was lemon and herb with no peri peri!" "And it was spicy!"

And just like that, you were back to messing around with each other. Sleazy interviewers would come and go, but your boys were always there to support you. Always.

-------

A/N - Thanks for reading ! I'd also like to apologize on the behalf of this fictitious interviewer I made up, I felt so bad while writing some of this 😭 anyways, I hope this is what you wanted! Enjoy !

Tags - @zaynkissbot @gucci-hazza @bxtchboy69

[bodyswapmischief]

Transformative Justic: Personal Trainer and the Nerd

To understand what led to this moment we need to know about the history of two men.

Payton was more than your average jock. He was 6'2" with tanned skin, from years of showing off his body. He was filled with muscle after years of working out and being personal trainer. He was also gifted with a thick 7 inch cock. He was shaped by the gods themselves.

The whole world loved him and he knew it. He was faster, stronger, and hotter than any of the guys at his school. And, that held up anywhere he went in life.

Every guy wanted to be him and every girl wanted to be with him. That much power and respect can go to a person head, especially when it's not earned. It was merely handed down to him through a lucky dice roll of genetics.

Nonetheless, Payton became, for the lack of a better word, an asshole. He bullied people he found to be particularly weak. He cheated on every girl and guy he dated. He became  selfish and arrogant. He began to feel like people where just there to be used and entertain him. And, the worst part is he was right. Everyone allowed his behavior because despite it all he was charming, manipulate, and hot.

I would be crazy to deny that anyone in his position would have a hard time not to abuse their position in life. It's what you do when your the alpha of alpha males. Becoming a arrogant asshole... a bully is almost required. But, that doesn't make it right. That doesn't make it fair. But, life is unfair. Karma can turn a blind eye. And, I'm here to fix the mistakes... to dish out justice... to punish those that deserve it.

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Tommy wasn't as blessed as Payton.  He was 5'6" and incrediblely pasty. His skin easily got sunburned and his body was riddled with other conditions: poor eye sight, asthma, and a weak body to name a few. But, to kick him down further life gave him a 3 inch cock.

All he wanted in life was to get bigger. He was always stick thin with no muscle or fat on his body. At this point, he would have been okay with either happening to him. He was just tired of being so small and weak.

----------------------------------------------

So the time came when he decided to do something about it. He joined a gym and met Payton. As Tommy explained he wanted Payton to be his personal trainer, Payton broked out into laughter. But, Tommy begged and pleaded. And, once Payton realized how much money Tommy was willing to spend, he agreed.

And, so, their abusive relationship began. He put Tommy through the hardest workouts. He would become physical  if Tommy fucked up, threatening to kick Tommy's ass. Payton hurled every insult at Tommy. Payton also enjoyed publicly humiliating Tommy infront of the whole gym.  

He couldn't stand looking at someone as weak as Tommy. To him Tommy didn't even deserve to live. They would always end thier sessions with Tommy washing off Payton in the showers. And, Tommy sucking Payton dick, as Payton's cum dump.

But, no matter what Payton threw at him, Tommy never gave up. He felt like Payton was the only person in this world that could beat the nerd out of him. He wanted a bodies like Payton. It's also didn't help the he had a huge crush on Payton, despite all the abuse.

----------------------------------------------

Over the past few months there has been some small improvements to Tommy's body but, he was still incredibly far from his goal.

He looked at himself in the mirror: flexing the smallest amount of muscle that now exists in his pencil thin arms. He smiled to himself. But, in walked Payton.

"What the fuck bro. You got not reason to be happy. Your still a fucking weak bitch." Payton says standing behind him  in the mirror and flexes his impressive biceps. He puts Tommy to shame. "This is how a real man looks." He pushed Tommy to the floor. As, he started checking out the rest of his body.

He finally looked down at Tommy. "Fuck bro, your still so small. Are you even trying? Look how fucking pathetic you look. Are you even keeping up with the diet I gave you."

Tommy looked up and sees the hunk of man towering over him. "I... I... I'm trying. I.. I just can eat .... that much. I get so full.. so fast." Tommy said both turned on and scared.

Payton kneeled down, one leg on Tommy. He used his hand to press Tommy's face into the ground. He leaned in, "See you fucking weak whore. You don't fucking try. I'm tired of bitches like you. Your lucky your good at sucking cock or I would have stopped being your trainer along time ago." 

Tommy could feel the manly heat radiating from Preston ripped body. He already knew what was coming. Payton continued, "looks like you need a heaping serving of cock in you mouth."

As, always Tommy was prepared to please Payton.  But, I wasn't going to let it happen. I was ready to give out justice.

The room shook and the lights flickered, as the two men jumped up. Their hearts pounded as the world around them spun. They lost balance as their eye sight went black.

Payton was the first to wake up. But, the world around him was a blur. He couldn't make out anything. "What the fuck! I'm can't see... I'm blind... help!?" He screamed but, he quickly held his throat. His voice sounded much higher. "What the fuck is going on." He said as his eyes began to water. The sound of his voice made him sound like a bitch and he hated it.

Tommy began awaking to the sounds of someone screaming.  He looked up and everything was clear. He lifted his hand to adjust his glasses but, realized he wasn't wearing any. He shot up and saw his old body screaming and crying, as it  crawled around the floor. He panicked, "This can't be happening... this can't be happening..." He kept repeating with his deeper voice. He looked down to see a familiar buff body.

He began to slowly get up. The new weight of all this muscle made him slightly off balance. He stood up his theory was right, as he saw his reflection. He was now in Paytons body. He began to feel himself up and felx. Every movement was so heavy but powerful at the same time.

Payton could hear the sound of another man in the room. "Hey, are you there? Help me! I don't what's going on. I can't see." He continued crawling around the floor. He was moving in the direction he heard the other man. He felt weak and pathetic as he did.

Tommy saw Payton struggling and realized his old body didn't have his glasses on. He saw them tossed at the otherside of the room. He went to go get them, worried of  Payton's reaction we he would finally see the reality of the situation. "Okay don't be scared Payton... I've got something to help you... but, when I do promise not to scream." Tommy deeply said.

Payton heart begins to race, as the stranger is talking to him. But, the more the stranger talked the more familiar he sounded. "Who are you?" Payton said with a high pitched whine, as he felt something be placed on his face. In an instant his vision was clear; he was able to see the world around him.

But, that didn't help. As, now he saw who was infront of him. He screamed as he saw his body moving without him inside it. "I told you not screamed." Tommy said, with panic in his voice, using his new speed and strength to muzzle Payton with his hand.

Payton heart raced as he felt his powerful muscular  wrap around the slender one he was in now. Tommy pulled Payton up, off the floor. "It's okay... just breath mam... you don't want to get..." Tommy tried to calm down Payton but, it was no help as Payton got a glimpse of his new reflection in the mirror.  His heart stopped and his chest began to tighten, as he began to understand what happened. He started to wheeze for breath. "Fuck! man your gonna be okay... your having an asthma attack." Tommy said releasing Payton from his hold.

Tommy rushed to his locker and grabbed his inhaler. He helped Payton use it. "Here, I'm probably not gonna need it now that I'm in your body." Tommy tried to joke. Payton just glared as he tried to relax his breathing. He was still pissed and weirded out by seeing his own body act so nice.

"What the fuck man! How did you do this... you got to change us back." Payton began to whine, after gaining his breath back. His weak body looked more hilarious than threatening, as he scolded Tommy.

"Look Payton, I didn't do this man... I don't know how to change us back." Tommy tried to explain.

But, Payton would not hear it. "You are a fucking useless nerd. Once I get my body back I'm gonna kill your pathetic ass. Your not a man and you'll always be a fucking little bitch..." Payton screamed another one of is rants. But, he sounded more like a bitch, instead of the alpha man he once was.

Something snapped in Tommy. At first he was scared that Payton was yelling at him, again. But, the more Payton yelled the more Tommy realized the tables have turned. He felt the strength and muscles in his new body has he moved around. He saw Payton in his body looking like the bitch he is. He didn't have to be afraid of Payton, anymore.

With lightning speed, Tommy grabbed Payton by the neck and slammed him into the lockers. "Look, you bitch... things are gonna change. Your no longer an alpha in that body. So, you can't be acting like you use to... your coming off like a little bitch." He leaned on Payton putting more of his muscular weight on him.

Payton tried to fight back but, it was no use against his old bodies strength.

Tommy continued, "I still see the old you in those eyes... but you need to learn a lesson... you need to learn your new place in life... I'll break you into the true beta you were always meant to be." Tommy let go of Payton but not before slapping him so hard he fell onto the ground.

The sting lift behind caused tears to run down Payton face. He was terrified at the idea of Tommy getting his revenge for all the shit he put Tommy through. But, part of him was getting turned on by all of this. He remained speechless not wanting to piss off Tommy, even more.

"Now, I think your first lesson should be how to bathe a true man with your tongue. So, meet me in the showers in 5 minutes or, I'll hunt you down and kick your ass." Tommy said walking to the showers his sculpted body flexing and tightening as he walked. "Then maybe we can move on to cuck sucking."

Payton laid on the floor. He needed to find away back to his body. But, at this moment there was nothing he could do. His heart sank as he realized he would become Tommy's cum dump in the next five minutes.  But, it was better than getting his ass kicked. Everything was so much more painful in this body. He didn't know if we could even survive a beating fron his old body. But, with all that said his small dick began to harden has he thought about pleasing Tommy

With trepidation and growing lust for Tommy, in his old body, Payton walked into the shower room.

[lestwritewhilewaitingforajobcall]

Tamed Seas - Poseidon x Reader

(A/N)

This is the very first post I’m making on this equally new account and also the very first time I am ever using a second person POV for the reader. Let me know your thoughts!

The following story is just for shits and giggles. I do not own any of the characters, they are the property of Shinya Umemura and Takumi Fukui and Ajichika. I also do not own you, the reader.

Warning: Swearing from my disclaimer.

Tamed Seas

Poseidon x Reader

They were never allowed to stare.

If Poseidon never looked anyone in the eye, deeming them unworthy of even a simple gaze, then anyone other than himself were equally unworthy in looking at his wife.

Just before the meeting had started about a decision to be made on humanity’s fate, Poseidon had entered in his full regalia, his wife walking alongside him. Of course, such a prestigious couple deserved such a special entrance, as Hermes, per Zeus’ request too, played his violin most ceremoniously, a proud smirk on his face upon seeing the royal feet step perfectly on the red carpet he had immediately placed upon knowing of their arrival. Zeus’ older brother held a record of never attending meetings, much more any simple get-togethers unless they were of real utmost importance such as this one.

Shiva’s eyes grew at the sight of the couple. Even though Poseidon’s wife had originally been a mortal who had ascended to godhood, you were glowing and looked as ethereal as Aphrodite. Was he seeing things? He blinked and leaned forward in his seat. The last time he saw you was at the announcement of your wedding, then after the ceremony he never caught a glimpse of you ever again and only heard stories of your new and impressive conquests. Were you always this godlike?

As if reading his thoughts, he gulped upon finding himself at the receiving end of Poseidon’s cold and stoic stare. He shrugged his shoulders. Man, he had heard rumors of his sudden protectiveness towards his wife, but he never expected him to be this overly protective. He was merely trying to figure out if his wife was always glowing like this or not. Both figuratively and literally.

Alright, maybe he was checking you out a little bit.

Unlike the god of the seas, his wife greeted Zeus, and all the familiar gods with a warm smile. It had been ages since you had seen them all together, and the sight brought a sense of nostalgia to the days where you had first earned their favor, then their respect, and then their friendship. Although your story might not be as mighty (and as physically taxing) as Hercules’ was, you considered those ‘young’ days to also be one of your best apart from getting married to the man god who you had given your heart for and will continue to love and cherish for the rest of your life. Since you became Poseidon’s wife, you had not had much time to do leisure outside the palace, and correspondingly after heralding the title of ‘queen of the seas,’ you had taken it upon yourself to help your husband in matters concerning his own kingdom and the vast seas themselves.

“Master Zeus—” Zeus threw you a knowing look. “My apologies, Zeus, it’s such a pleasure to see you again!”

“Same here, little lady! Judging by the frequent calmness of the Atlantic Ocean, I trust you and my brother are faring along quite well?” The father of all gods chuckled, then wiggled his gray eyebrows. “Why, I must say, me and most of the other Olympians have been waiting for some new gods and goddesses to rule alongside us, if you know what I mean! Ehe he~”

Characteristic of your husband, Poseidon simply scoffed before muttering how gods such as themselves need not gossip. Blue eyes never left the Hindu god however, and unbeknownst to his wife, he lingered closer to you than usual whenever the both of you were in public.

This time, Shiva had had enough. He was sure he only looked at the direction of Poseidon’s wife only once, and admired you only once as well, yet he was being skewered by the god’s gaze for longer than what he had intentionally allowed. As if he had openly claimed you as his! He was the god of destruction for heaven’s sake, and would not allow this sacrilegious act, regardless of whoever he had to settle the score with. If it was with another prominent deity, then it would be a lot more fun. Golden eyes narrowed daringly, an equally challenging aura oozing from his form and startling the nearby gods.

“Lord Shiva, are you okay—”

“(Name). How many times do I have to repeat myself? You have no need to refer to other gods with honorifics.” Your attention whipped to your husband, who to your surprise, held a familiar, challenging stance. Unbeknownst to you but the other gods especially Aphrodite, Poseidon simply matched the challenge of the Hindu god. “You are the wife of the seas. All the other gods are beneath you, as they are beneath me as well.”

Upon hearing this, Shiva gripped his concrete armrests too greatly and it crumbled to dust under his strength. Pumped at where this interaction seemed to be heading−the thought of fighting, he stood up, arms on the ready to cause destruction. Despite being in the middle of the crowd and quite far away from the center of the stadium where the couple stood, he caught glimpse of the famous trident he would never be caught dead wielding. Now this was getting interesting!

“My rules are simple: you disrespect me, you die,” He pointed at Poseidon, which the latter found disgusting enough to scrunch up his nose.

“Should we put a stop to this, Lord Zeus?” Hermes asked behind a white gloved hand. Not exceeding any expectations, Zeus laughed after a stroke of his beard and clapped. He always was one to find entertainment in alike situations, especially after the fact that this was the only time, he and all the other gods had really felt Poseidon riled up. The expression on the god of the seas’ face remained calm but it was betrayed by the suffocating, dominating presence he emitted from where he stood.

“And after you die, your wife would become firsthand witness of realizing how your title betrays your strength,” Shiva stretched, but halfway through noticed Poseidon’s quick work of his trident. He took a stance and prepared for the parrying move.

Amidst the unexpected battle that was soon to happen, to everyone’s surprise, a whistling sound echoed along the tension-filled stadium. It was a tune most foreign to the gods, all except one. From your lips, a beautiful melody poured out as a soft gentle breeze seemed to have begun to blow. It was an old tune you had learned from one of your many lifetimes in the mortal world,

And the very same one you had sung to Poseidon that had sustained him in trying moments.

Poseidon came to a full stop, his muscles unmoving as he listened and slowly, put his trident down. What was he thinking? He should not have been swayed by a foolish taunt committed by a foolish god. He was perfection incarnate. His wife would never fall for a foolish antic, so why did he? Now he was both angry and confused with himself. How could he have allowed himself for even a moment, for others to see him angry over this? What even was this?

Without the need to look at you, relishing in your fine tunes reminded him of the initial catalyst to his reaction and an answer to his question. Whenever matters concerned his wife, his emotions, which he learned were out of his control, seemed to defy all rational logic, which, even at the very beginning of your courtship, bypassed his ego. Of course, despite these strong feelings, the one thing Poseidon had control over were his actions. Therefore, he had always had a grip on how he presented himself. Although it was still a slow progress to figuring out this foreign feeling with his wife, the only other being he deemed truly worthy to allow into his life, anyone else will never have a chance of being privy to this side of him−a sentiment that thankfully, his wife shared. Though he never admitted it, he was confused and left mulling over for some time when you had also told him before that you had meant a different thing.

“…Foolish. Gods have no need for wars, we are perfect beings ourselves. You are not the reason for my presence here and are not worthy of my time and attention.” Another long silence fell, finally broken by Poseidon, ignoring the mix of surprised and fearful stares. His legs started carrying him towards the direction of one of the high stage boxes in the stadium. “Come, (Name).”

Shiva, who had his fists out and ready to fight, blinked twice in confusion before grunting, scratching the back of his ear violently in frustration. “You Greek gods have always been boring! And here I thought I’d finally be able to cause some destruction again, this time in Valhalla…”

Other than the Hindu god himself, none would ever understand if he had riled up the Greek god on purpose for the sake of his own entertainment or, perhaps, for something more personal. Zeus, meanwhile, followed the sight of his older brother walking quietly alongside his wife. Aphrodite nodded her head in his direction, affirming his suspicions. He would never fully understand the concept of love, but hey, he did get the message that all would be damned if so much as a single hair went missing on (Name)’s hair. And it seems he was not alone in this thought, as despite Shiva’s aggressive taunting, he also managed to peak into the gravity of the god of seas’ feelings towards his wife.

After Shiva had been calmed down and more gods piled in along with the Valkyries, Zeus set his meeting in motion. From the stands, Poseidon and his wife occupied the two seats that closely resembled their thrones. Eagerly sitting beside the god, (Name) grinned. Every day she had to sit close to her husband or even at times on his lap, she always felt like her body fit snugly against his.

Blue eyes stared uninterested at the spectacle.

“Dearest?” Poseidon turned his head and met your gaze. Any dark smudges had disappeared beneath his eyes, and his mouth that was carved into a seemingly permanent frown softened. His lips went from a thin line to a gentle curve.

“Thank you.”

No more words needed to be said. Poseidon knew what you were thanking him for, and he responded by closing his eyes as though he was swallowing every ounce of serenity that emitted from you. And the taste was sweet…

Above the angry retaliation of the gods regarding the verdict of Ragnarok, Poseidon enjoyed an elusive peace. Even if it was just a simple moment like this, he set his features in calm lines and his shoulders sank−a truly rare sight, a special secret between himself and his wife.

“I don’t care about this. I am eager to go home.” Poseidon whispered under his breath.

A chuckle left his wife’s lips. “We’re going home soon, don’t fret.”

[willowser]

and there's this burning, just like there's always been—

fushiguro megumi x reader

wc: 5.5k+

warnings: 18+, explicit language, angst, underage drinking, light smut, loss of virginity, struggles with mental health, i use too many commas, toji is a bad dad, gojo is a menace, fwb, end of long-term relationship, college/university au

Melancholy has always been a blade at Fushiguro’s throat.

Even as a child, six or seven, Megumi can remember how uninterested he was in the activities Gojo tried to put him in, the books Tsumiki read to him — the life he lived. There’s always been a flat line on his face, even when his knuckles were reddening over the skin of someone’s cheekbone, and there are very few moments he can look back on and realize that heaviness hadn’t been behind his eyes.

Toji is a piece of shit dad, but most of those moments are all with him.

And Megumi knows better than that, to think the fleeting dates with his father meant anything at all, but it still made his chest pound when he thought of seeing Toji coming to check him out of school early, to buy him ice cream and take him to the arcade in the middle of a Wednesday afternoon. Laser tag and pizza, that motorcycle game and a handful of stuffed animals from the claw machine, the dinosaur themed shootout; Toji had racked up more than 400 tickets that day, let Megumi use them to buy a giant toy gun and walkie-talkies (they were cheap as shit, probably came from a 99-cent store somewhere, but he’d earned them, with the little tickets those machines spit out — and that mattered).

All those memories are ruined, of course, by the tears that kissed out the flames of his birthday candles instead of his breath. Surrounded by adults he didn’t care about — Utahime, Shoko, Gojo, and even Nanami — Tsumiki told him to make a wish, but Megumi hadn’t gotten the chance, wouldn’t have taken it anyway, because a wish wasn’t going to earn him enough tickets to buy another afternoon with Toji (just one, that’s all he wanted).

It follows him everywhere, the end of that knife, and there is a long period of his life that Fushiguro feels really, really alone — and this is all before college, all before Itadori and Nobara. All before you.

It’s the summer after he graduates high school that he finds comfort in someone that isn’t Toji, for the first time.

Fushiguro wouldn’t have ever considered someone like Kamo his friend. They’d been through school together, shared classes and projects, ate lunch together when there was no one else to sit with — more of an acquaintance than a friend, and though he thought the guy was a bit of an asshole, Megumi can’t forget the night they’d been standing around a fire at Maki’s house and Kamo slurred out,

"I respect you, Fushiguro, for never backing down.”

It had been completely unprecedented and all eyes moved from the fire to him, which Megumi hated, and all he’d done was nod and mutter out a quiet "thanks”.

That’s when you’d come out, quietly, Mai in tow, to slip between the other six bodies standing around, to slither up to Kamo, to place your hand in his. Megumi didn’t really think about you at that point, when he was seventeen and quiet and alone, but he knew your name, knew you and Kamo had been together since the two of you were barely fifteen. Young love — the two of you seemed determined to make it last.

He didn’t think about you then, not at that point, but you’d always been nice, casual; you looked in his eyes when he spoke and asked his opinion if he was silent when a question was asked to the group, you laughed (maybe because you felt like you should) if he said some witty, asshole kind of thing. But Kamo’s arm was around your shoulders, your lip gloss was on his cheek, and Fushiguro isn’t that guy, knows better than to pine over a woman on another man’s arm.

It isn’t until another year later, six months after he’d turned eighteen — and Gojo still hadn’t kicked him out, like he always said he would — that he found you in the grass outside of Miwa’s house, that he found another woman on Kamo’s arm. That sight had sent him searching for you (maybe because he felt like he should), absentmindedly, ignoring the warm buzz beer was producing in his chest.

Toji wasn’t ever going to help him get a truck, even if he’d said it one weekend in January, when he’d bought Megumi cigarettes for the first time, and there was no asking Gojo for assistance, so the little truck he managed to save for was sitting in the street. Your feet were against the wheels, kicking them without any real force, and when you looked up at him, Fushiguro recognized the heartbreak on your face.

“I can’t find my phone,” The mascara running down your cheeks was quickly wiped away before you patted the grass drunkenly, pulling some of the blades out with a little, angry grunt. It had been underneath you; Fushiguro asked for your number and called it, a little tune from a Sci-Fi movie you’ve talked about playing from underneath your butt. That’s when he’d offered you a ride home, since you looked about as miserable as he felt.

The truck cab had been filled with only the sounds of your sniffling, your hiccups, all the way across town as he drove, and the little bit of alcohol in his system hadn’t let him feel like it was weird of him to do. Out in the grass, crying as the love of your life got hot and heavy with a college girl — why wouldn’t he offer you a way out? If you felt awkward, he had no idea, you just kept tucking your hair behind your ear, yawning, picking at your cuticles as the street lights grazed across your face.

When Fushiguro turned the truck off in your driveway, the both of you just stared at the garage door, left half open by your younger brother to allow you a silent sneak inside. That’s when you asked,

“Why doesn’t he want me anymore?”

There wasn’t anyone more ill-equipped to answer that question than him. It dawned on Fushiguro that he should’ve said something positive, something motivating about not needing Kamo, but Megumi has never listened to that bullshit — especially not from Tsumiki — and he wasn’t about to be a hypocrite.

“I don’t know.” Is all he said, all he knew to say.

How many tickets do you have? Megumi wanted to ask. Maybe the two of you could pool them together, get another night with Kamo, taste whiskey for the second time with Toji in the harsh fluorescent light of a liquor store. If the two of you tried hard enough, they’d come back. If the two of you blew out the candles together.

But Fushiguro hadn’t said that, just nodded when you said goodnight, watched you crawl into the darkness of your garage. And then he went home.

Two weeks later, Gojo wouldn’t stop asking him about college, if he was going, in that annoying way he does, when he acts like he doesn’t care — but he wouldn’t have been asking so much if that were true. It had been the kind of night where Fushiguro knew he wasn’t going to get any sleep, and he knew right away; there are very few things in the world that make him as content as crawling into the warmth of his blankets, shutting off his brain and emotions and turmoil long enough that he lay, suspended, time passing him by and not hurting like it usually does, so when his eyes hadn’t fallen shut after twenty minutes of honest-to-god trying — Megumi knew.

Your number hadn’t even been saved to his phone, just sitting in his call log, staring back at him as he tried to understand why he’d even thought about you. It had been late Saturday, early Sunday morning really, and the chances of you being awake were slim, even slimmer than the chance that you would answer. There wasn’t any way his number was saved to your phone, no way, and a call in the middle of the night — morning? — was something that was likely to go ignored.

Even before he pressed ‘call’, Fushiguro regretted it, but you answered after the second ring. You said his name in a question when the line picked up.

“Hey,” he said quietly, digging his fingers into his eyes because he was a fucking idiot. “Wanna go for a drive?”

Between the tears and sadness and longing coating your throat, you croaked out, “Yes.”

There hadn’t been any destination in mind, not at 2 in the morning, and you still sat beside him and sniffed and cried as he drove aimlessly. There was a shirt on your frame that was too large and, even though it smelt like you, it had been obvious why you’re wearing it, who it belonged to, and the sweatpants on your legs had little rice balls all over them (not that he had been wearing much better). It’s not like you wore that much makeup, but he’d never seen you so bare-faced; eyes red and swollen, nose raw from rubbing it, lips peeling because you couldn’t stop biting them. Even after Miwa’s party, mascara had been enough of a mask on your sad, pretty face that he hadn’t looked too close.

But then, as you played with a string coming loose from your seatbelt, watching the long-closed buildings pass you by, Megumi wondered if he looked like you. The stupid name had always made him feel unintentionally feminine, not to mention that Tsumiki called him a pretty boy, but he’d been just as bare-faced as you — eyes red, nose stinging, lips chapped. It made him feel like he wasn’t so alone, for the first time.

Fushiguro pulled into a parking lot eventually, a spot as far away from the lights as he could find, and he’d been about to start crying, too, encouraged by your shamelessness, when you turned to him.

“What are we doing?” The way you asked made it sound like something else had been going on, something besides two lonely souls trying to understand why they aren’t enough.

“I don’t know,” Fushiguro said — again — then he worried you were expecting something from him. Did you smoke weed? Is that what you thought he meant? Fushiguro never had, but there were cigarettes in the glove box if you wanted one. “What do you want to do?”

“I don’t know,” It sounded like another wave of heartbreak was about to crack you open, the way you clutched your stomach and groaned quietly. In some dark, disgusting way, Fushiguro hoped it would — then he could let go, and maybe he could trust you not to say anything. “Are you a virgin?”

That had him choking on the lump in his throat as his face lit up the inside of the cab. “What?”

You faced the parking lot again, tucking hair behind your ear as you spoke away from him. “Because if you are, then I’m not gonna do this.”

This. His mind started racing, trying to remember how his voice had sounded when he called you, if — somehow — he had made you think this is what he wanted from you. It wasn’t, hadn’t even been a thought in his head until just then. Was he that guy? The kind that takes advantage of girls that are heartbroken and crying, searching for comfort from a boy just as lost?

“No,” Fushiguro breathed, “I just wanted to —”

To sit and cry with you? About the ache in your chest, because he had it, too?

“It’s okay,” With a sniff, you shrugged, finally looking back at him, and then he realized you weren’t crying anymore. “I just didn’t know if you were —” a frown split your face, like what you were about to say hit too close to home, “— saving it for someone.”

Fushiguro had watched porn plenty of times — something he insists to himself is out of curiosity and not because he’s some horny bastard like Toji — and he’d flown straight through puberty. Gojo took out a new girl almost every week, even had the audacity to bring them back to the apartment and hang a sock on the door, which always made Megumi scarce for at least two hours. There hadn’t been any girls in school that seemed worthy enough of the effort it would take to unveil himself, to take out the broken parts of him and arrange them in a way they could understand, and so he hadn’t.

The this you’re referencing made his whole body hot, turned him into that horny bastard he didn’t want to be, and he should’ve told you yes, that he was a virgin and no, he wasn’t saving it for anyone, but he hadn’t. There had been enough want pumping through his blood to cloud his head, especially as you shuffled around to get rid of your cute, little sweatpants, and crawled to straddle him in the truck. When you scratched your fingers against his scalp, he was already half-hard, even when you told him,

“I’m not going to kiss you, though, is that okay?”

It’s a good thing you wouldn’t; Fushiguro just nodded.

Gojo bought him condoms for his eighteenth birthday, arranged them in the shape of a dick in front of everyone — adults he didn’t care about; Utahima, Shoko, even Nanami — and Megumi had thrown them into the glove box, furious, afterwards. When he reached to grab one for himself, the pack of cigarettes fell out; there were only two missing: the one he smoked, the one Toji bummed.

"They’re extra lubed up,” Gojo had told him, grinning like an asshole and patting his shoulder, "because you probably won’t get her very wet the first time.”

Fuck him, he’d been right.

The feel of your breath against his neck, the way your nose nudged just under his ear, the flutter of your eyelashes against his skin; Fushiguro was embarrassed at how hot it made him, how quick he got rock solid without so much as a kiss from you. The way you’d started rubbing your clit told him you’d done this before, especially since you didn’t so much as cringe when sinking all the way down on him.

Nothing had ever been as difficult as not cumming on the spot for Fushiguro.

The whole interaction lasted about six minutes and had been painfully awkward, especially since he hadn’t even held you, just gripped the seat underneath him so hard his knuckles turned white, and because he filled up that condom long before you finished around him. His legs were made of jelly when he slumped out of the truck to toss it in the dumpster and your sweatpants were on when he came back. The two of you just sat in silence, breathing evening out, while staring at the parking lot.

If you had started crying again, Fushiguro would have felt really bad, even worse than he already did as the cloud of lust faded from his mind, but he tried to find solace in the fact that you didn’t look bothered. You tucked hair behind your ear again and had the courage to smile sadly at him, which made him realize he was probably in love with you.

“I was gonna follow him to college, you know?” The reminder of Kamo had him flinching, “Even though it wasn’t my first choice school, but —” you shrugged, “— he wanted to go alone.”

Fushiguro wouldn’t have ever considered someone like Kamo his friend, but he did consider him to be a giant idiot. It’s really cliche, the way he felt about you after that, especially since the quiet way you mourned over a guy that wasn’t thinking twice about you seemed all too familiar.

“My dad,” Fushiguro breathed, wiping a damp hand against his sweatpants, “is a fucking asshole.”

It didn’t have anything to do with what you were saying and you cast him a quizzical glance. It didn’t have anything to do with what you were saying, and yet it did.

Maybe Fushiguro had been imagining it, since he’d started seeing you in a rose-colored light, but it seemed like you understood. “Kamo is a fucking asshole, too.”

That made the both of you laugh, bitterly, and then you started crying again.

That summer, it only happened three more times before coming to an end. It hadn’t been all that special and he always came before you, but he’d say something about Toji (“I’ll never be like him, for as long as I live. I’ll kill myself before letting that happen.”) and you’d say something about Kamo (“I just don’t know what I did wrong, what I did to make him change his mind.”) and it felt a little like the two of you were lying in the grass, looking for the phone, kicking the wheels of someone’s truck together. Like the candles were lit and both of you were crying and neither of you were making the wish, because it didn’t matter.

Neither of you were enough and it had been comforting, in some weird, sick way.

The second and third time happened in the bed of his truck, because you almost hit your head multiple times when riding him, and he gathered all the blankets in the apartment to bring with him — casually — when he picked you up again. And the last, because he was a fucking idiot, had been in his room.

Gojo had that nice shirt on again, so Fushiguro had been watching from the window, waiting any minute for his car to disappear from the driveway before you came over, but it never did. Everytime he peeked out into the living area, Gojo had been just sitting in the kitchen, picking idly at a book, at his phone, inspecting his sunglasses as if they were broken. Of course Fushiguro hadn’t mentioned you’d be coming over, because that would have only started a grand shit-show, but, nevertheless, when you came walking up the driveway in a dress, he’d had to slide down the wood floor in his socks before Gojo could answer the door.

“Myfriendiscomingover.” Is what he’d spit out, standing as still and straight as the pencil poised between Gojo’s fingers. When the doorbell rang, when he pulled it open to reveal you, wearing a less-than-sincere smile, his roommate had grinned.

“Oooooh, who’s this?”

It had been a giant mistake, to bring you there, but Gojo was supposed to be long gone, not in all his menacing glory, asking you your name and where you came from, how much money Fushiguro paid you to come over. Everything got worse when Gojo insisted he wasn’t going anywhere, that the two of them were about to start cooking a three course meal, if she was hungry, because he’s a fabulous cook, did you know? Don’t be shy, Megumi-chan!

You kissed him that time, after he’d finally gotten you into his room and his pants off (just before Gojo had knocked and asked, “I’m going outside, need anything from the car?”; he didn’t, he’d gone to get them from his truck yesterday). It was hopeless, how he felt about you, which is why he’d stolen Gojo’s cologne and put on a shirt he hadn’t worn since the last Zen'in reunion, trying — and failing — to remain casual, and it’s why he tried to take the lead and be on top that time.

He told himself it had been an accident, when you placed your hands lightly on his shoulders and leaned up, mid-thrust, to kiss the lip that was throbbing between his teeth. When you did it again, then he knew, and it made his hips stutter in a way that told him he was a lot closer to finishing than he wanted to be, so he just stilled inside you and moved his mouth against yours until his lungs began to ache.

Just for once, Fushiguro was enough. At least, that’s what it felt like.

Gojo actually had gone to the car, and then to a place down the street to get food for the three of you, and Fushiguro — as usual — was done in a heartbeat, before he got back. You did stay for dinner and laughed at the dumb things Gojo said and did. The two of you were left alone again, just to watch a movie on the couch, and you sat next to him and held his hand, leaned your head against your shoulder and only left after the film was over. Before getting in your car, you’d even kissed him again.

It felt like something he had always wanted and always needed, the calm kind of serenity that most people were born with, the kind Toji had robbed him of long ago. Even Nanami commented on it, once more when they were pestering him about college — Tsumiki was pissed, when she came home from University one weekend to find out about it from Satoru, of all people.

The traitor that is his heart wondered (a lot) if his dad would like you, if he’d meet you — even once, just once. Maybe Toji would be proud of him, scoring a girl like you.

The next time Fushiguro called you, it had been screened almost immediately, and he was halfway into over analyzing the text he’d been typing out when yours came across the screen first.

I still want to be friends, but I feel like I should let you know Noritoshi and I are back together.

The two of you didn’t stay friends, didn’t speak again before you followed Kamo out of the city, off to college.

When Nobara finally gets to the library, where Itadori and Fushiguro are waiting, there are three cans of watermelon Redbull in her arms, along with her books and pencil case. As usual, she sits down in a huff and whacks Yuuji when he reaches for one, chastising him, “the last thing you need is any more energy than you already have, idiot”. It makes him smile when Itadori whines about it, when they get into a whisper-war about name calling.

These days, at college, with friends that remind him he isn’t as alone as he once thought, Megumi smiles a lot more, feels threatened by that blade a little less.

It had taken a year for Gojo — with the help of Utahime and Shoko, even Nanami — to finally convince Fushiguro to enroll in a local college. All the money his “guardian” had been collecting, all this time, for raising him mysteriously materialized when he finally applied; to this day, Gojo insists he spent that money on clothes, cologne, women whose names he didn’t remember. He was behind them, Nobara and Itadori, but it only made them better study partners.

The Redbull should have been a dead give away; Kugisaki likes them — the taste more than the rush of caffeine they provide her — but she never drinks more than two in one sitting.

She doesn’t look up, avoids eye contact with Fushiguro completely, when you sit down beside her, squeezing her bicep and whispering, “sorry i’m late”.

“It’s okay,” Nobara whispers back, “I just got here, too.”

It’s only after you pop the top of the can that you peer at him, over the lip of the energy drink. Nothing flashes over your face, not recognition, not shame or surprise, and he just gapes at you.

Fushiguro just gapes at the tan-line around your ring finger.

It had been late August when the Zen'in’s had their reunion again. Fushiguro hated them, all of them, but he only went because Mai felt left out when Maki started strutting around, making her presence known, being the pest she thrived on being. To his surprise, Mai had taken a cigarette from his pack when he’d pulled it from his back pocket — after the summer ended, he started smoking them more, even if they made his lungs ache, because he was searching them, trying to understand what Toji liked about them so much. If he found out, then maybe he would understand his piece of shit dad a little more.

The two of them had been leaning against a tree outside, ignoring all the talking and bullshit reminiscing. Mai had been in the middle of complaining about the way Naoya spoke down to her, threatening to kick his ass, when she’d tried to show him whatever she’d been absentmindedly scrolling through on her phone.

“Him, too,” She spat, angling her phone in a second attempt to make Fushiguro look at it; he didn’t care what was on her Instagram, honestly. “Kamo was always a fucking asshole. I can’t believe she’s gonna marry him.”

The ring he bought you was nice, because he came from a wealthy family and could afford it, and in the photo of you, showing it off with a great, giant, teary smile, Fushiguro noticed that you’d cut your hair, that you looked as if you’d lost a little bit of weight since he’d kissed you. The caption you put read, and they lived happily ever after. It had a bunch of likes, comments from your friends — even Mai double-tapped it, though she’d just been fuming about it.

The last known number Megumi had for his father was one from a shitty complex a few towns over, which made the chances of Toji answering dismal. Fushiguro called from a pay-phone, because maybe, if his dad didn’t know it was his son calling, he’d pick it up — and he had.

Megumi wanted Toji to sound tired or drunk, as if he really was out there, addicted to or busy with something that could justify the absence in his son’s life, but he hadn’t. Toji sounded fine, normal, casual.

“I’m glad mom left you because you never deserved her, not a second of her fucking time.” Fushiguro spat, “You’re a goddamn disgrace and leaving you and me was the smartest thing she ever did because you’re a fucking curse, you know that? And I’m doomed, just like you, to die in this world without anything or anyone.”

And then he hit the pay phone against the receiver, over and over again, until change started shaking out of it, until the plastic cracked and the dial tone finally went quiet.

Itadori looks surprised when he sees you at the table, too, but you don’t look at his face for very long, you only smile, as if you’re shy, before scooting closer to Nobara.

“Hi,” Yuuji whispers, a friendly grin quirking up on his lips. “Nice to meet you.”

Kugisaki rolls her eyes — and finally spares Fushiguro a quick glance. “Don’t be weird.”

“All I said was hello!”

“Hey, Megumi,” Your eyes are on your notes when you say it, writing something in your loopy, pretty hand-writing. When you look up at him, his face goes red, just like it had in the truck. The smile you send him is sincere this time, for the first time.

“Hey.”

Now Yuuji looks really surprised, looking between the two of you, even as Nobara kicks him under the table. “You know each other? Ow! Knock it off!”.

The lead in Kugisaki’s pencil breaks with how hard she presses it into her paper. “I told you already, Itadori. Remember?”

He leans across the table, as if you aren’t going to hear him loudly whisper, “I would have remembered if you told me about Fushiguro knowing —”

Another kick silences him, this time from Megumi himself. Yuuji looks at him with a frown, shrugging as if he can’t understand what he’s doing wrong.

“Yes,” You lean a little forward into the table, eyes dancing over Fushiguro’s face in a way that’s too studious, “we know each other. We graduated high school together.”

There are rings on your fingers, little silver ones, but none of them are the diamond you had shown off in that picture, four years ago. Fushiguro is twenty-two now, he’s kissed and slept with a few other girls since then, but the sight of you — looking at him like that — breaks and heals his heart all over again. Young love — it’s determined not to die out, no matter how hard he wants it to.

“Do you have the notes from Yaga’s class last week?” You ask, tucking hair behind your ear. “I missed and I’m struggling to get caught back up.”

Fushiguro snaps his eyes back down to the notebook on the table, suddenly insecure of everything about him — his handwriting, the smell of his deodorant, the crinkles in his clothes, the messiness of his hair. “Uh, which lecture?”

With a sigh, you say, “All of them from that week.”

“She’s behind, too,” Nobara says casually, looking up at Megumi pointedly from underneath her eyelashes. “I think the two of you even have all the same classes.”

Does she know?

You send Kugisaki a red look, full of embarrassment, and she shamelessly nudges your shoulder with hers. It makes him hot, the idea that Nobara knows the intimacies of whatever fragments of a relationship the two of you had, the idea that there has been a time when you’ve sat down and explained it all to her. The idea that you’ve thought about him.

The semester is well worn in — they’re all studying for midterms — and he’s never seen you on campus before. How could he have missed you, if you had all the same classes? If you had even one together? How could he have missed the gentle sight of you, when you were supposed to be cities away, living your happily ever after?

(There is a part of him that’s proud that he’s missed you, as if it’s a testament to how far removed from your hold he is, how over you he is. But then Yuuji pipes in with something about his own notes, how he’ll find his old ones and share if Fushiguro won’t, and the genuine grin on your face is so blinding.)

“Of course,” His words come out clipped and he sends Itadori a look he never has before, one that’s green with unjustified jealousy. “Of course I’ll share mine.”

It’s dark outside when Nobara reaches across the table to pinch Itadori in the arm, when she gives him an obvious look and tells the two of you that they are going back to their dorm, because they’re tired. "If you wanna stay and keep studying,” nothing about Kugisaki is casual, “that’s totally cool.”

“I’m tired, too.” A yawn accompanies your words, as if to prove it, and he tries not to feel a little disappointed.

“Don’t you live off campus?” Nobara asks, “Maybe Fushiguro can give you a ride.”

Everyone is looking at him, which he hates.

“Yeah,” You answer and it’s only because of the light in the library that he can see the shyness in your eyes. It’s giving him whiplash; Fushiguro doesn’t have a memory of the two of you where his face wasn’t bright and hot, where he wasn’t the nervous one. “I live with my parents right now.”

There isn’t a ring, there isn’t any sign of Kamo — Fushiguro wonders if this will end like it had before, when he was alone again, when he wasn’t enough. The thought makes his entire chest hurt, but he already knows he’ll let you do it, ruin him.

Maybe he shouldn’t, but as soon as the two of you are outside, away from the hawkish gaze of Kugisaki, he stops on the stairs and asks, “Do you ever think about that summer?”

When you spin around, there isn’t a mask in sight; the heartbroken look on your face is as plain as day, much darker than the smile you’d worn all afternoon. “Yes.” Already you’re crying, hands clenching into fists, and Fushiguro regrets asking. “Do you?”

None of it had been particularly special, but there had always been a quiet peace, when that blade wasn’t nicking him, when he didn’t feel ashamed to bear his emotions to the world — to you — when the feeling of you in his arms was enough. It hadn’t really been about the sex, and Fushiguro is certain that summer would have wounded him even without it, even if his lips had never met yours.

“Too much.” The way he felt about you was cliche, but it would have happened all the same, because he’s cursed.

“Me too.” It’s whispered, since your voice can’t go much higher than that without breaking. “I thought about you —” then your voice raises, and your chin wobbles with the effort it takes for you to form the words, “— more than I should have, more than I ever did. Even after —” You can’t continue anymore and it’s pitiful, how frustrated you seem at yourself, the way your hands come up to cover your face as you sob into them. Faintly, from behind your palms, he eventually hears you cry, “— even after he came back, I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

And it’s like maybe you’re doomed, too.

It dawns on Fushiguro that he should say something positive, something to cheer you up or to comfort you, but he’s never been good at that. When he wraps an arm around your shoulders and pulls you, when he rests his mouth against your hairline as you gasp, he says,

“Hey, wanna go for a drive?”

an: thank you for reading !! i post all my works on ao3 and i also have a twitter :3