#though with a lot of me doing my own thing because I had the idea before

[adventuringblind]

Chin Up, Princess (2k words)

Max Verstappen x Reader

Genre: Ghoulverse Hurt/Comfort

Summary: Jos oversteps and causes a whole lot of hurt for Max and his mate, he takes things into his own hands and ends up resorting to extreme measures in order to save his lover. (Background Landoscar, Charlos, and Sewis)

Warnings: Mind control, talks of eating people and mentions of gore but nothing explicit, ghoul on ghoul violence, burning of a character, major character death (not a good guy tho), ED but like... also not an ED, soulbonds

Notes: Ironically the most tame ghoulverse fic I've done thus far. Thank you to🏍️for the amazing idea!!

Side Note: Feed my praise kink please?

Masterlist // Request Form // My Website // buy me a Ko-Fi

It’s raining again. The kind of rain Monaco doesn’t see often. The torrential downpour that keeps everyone hidden away inside to keep warm. 

She watches the water droplets race down the window, wondering which one will hit the edge first. It’s not productive, but she needs something to distract her from the ache in her bones. The hunger pains have gotten progressively worse over the last three weeks. Still, she’s finding ways to cope. She has to manage; the pain is what’s keeping her sane. 

 It’s nice being home and hidden behind the water covered window. It means she’s free to drop the human look. All horns and tail, long tongue and sharp teeth, dark eyes and pointed ears. It’s natural - or it used to be. 

It doesn’t quite feel like her anymore. Like somehow everything that had once been a part of her is now irritating. Her horns are heavy and her tail refuses to be anywhere but the ground. All because his words sit in her head and bounce around the cavity in her chest. 

He changed her. 

~~~♡~~~

A month ago, she ran into Jos in the paddock. Even though she doesn’t like the guy, he’s still technically her king - and Max’s dad - so her father in law in a way. Max had mated with her (a heavenly feeling) but had done so without the consent of his father. 

Jos doesn’t like her one bit. Which she doesn’t care about. If Max is the prince of the demons and set to take up leadership at some point, that makes her a princess. They both dislike each other but in the essence of keeping things civil, she makes it work. 

“I didn’t expect to see you here today!” She nodded her head to show respect. Opting for that instead of bowing to this man in broad daylight. 

“I wish I hadn’t seen you at all!” Well - fuck you too - she supposes. She’d fallen into step beside him as they made their way to the Redbull garage. 

She nearly crashes into him when he stops abruptly. He grabs hold of her bicep and drags her down some alleyway between buildings. She goes with compliance, hell only knows what this man can and will do to her. 

Her back hits the wall with a disorienting force. “You’re not enough for us.” 

“I think you mean for you.” 

Jos hisses close enough to her face that she can feel his saliva hitting her. “The council decided you’re not one of us-'' He grabs her chin and she watches as his eyes fade to that deep dark color that usually means something bad is about to happen.

“You will not eat. You are not one of us. Am I clear?” 

She snaps at him. Her attempt at fighting his hold is futile. Not when the damn demon king is trying to hypnotize her. “No!” 

He clamps a hand over her mouth and pulls a lighter out of his pocket. The open flame hovers just above the healed over scar on her clavicle. She shakes, desperate to get away from the heat. “You will not eat. You are not a ghoul. You are not one of us.”

It’s a hypnotic tone that seeps through her ears and floods her veins. The heat of the flame no longer her one weakness as her mind submits itself to the will of her king. 

~~~♡~~~

Her jaw snapped shut. Her vocal chords refused to work. Her throat constricts around liquids. Her teeth become glued to each other each time she tries to bite down into something of nutrients. 

A month of this torture and she can feel herself getting progressively more ravenous. Slowly they’ve exhausted all of their options. No matter how desperately she tries, she can’t get any substance into her. 

Max’s reflection appears in the window. A frown etched upon lips. It doesn’t suit him; Max was made to smile. She likes being the one to cause it. These days it feels like all he’s doing is trying to ease her slow and painful death. 

He sits opposite of her and heaves out a gust of warm air on the window. His pointer finger paints a simple picture of a stick figure. It’s - objectively - a terrible drawing, but it serves its purpose and makes her laugh. 

“I’m scared, Max.”

“I know, schat.” 

They continue to stare out the window. The bond doing the talking for them, passing their emotions back and forth. He can feel her pain and she can feel his inner rage. 

Humans don’t understand. Maybe they never will. They fear those who are different. Think this way and do this thing or you're a monster. Certainly not all of them. Lando and Charles are prime examples of this. Still - surviving amongst them gets harder each day. 

“I know what you want to do.” She turns towards him. Unbidden in the comfort of their own home. His tail flicks in uncertainty. A habit he picked up from Sebastian. “I don’t want you to regret it.” 

“It’s inevitable. Just earlier than planned.” He won’t meet her gaze. “I can’t watch you suffer when I can stop it.” 

“You have always been the chivalrous type.”

Max slides closer to her. His thumb comes to the underside of her chin and pushes it upward. Her eyes have nowhere else to go, forced to get lost in his. A never-ending sea of endless dark that she’d willingly drown in. 

“Chin up, love. There is going to be a crown on your head soon. I’d hate to see it hit the ground.”

~~~♡~~~

She hates not being able to go inside. She understands why she can’t though. She already has the weight of one hypnosis spell weighing her down; she’s more susceptible to another. 

Still, waiting is nerve wracking. The sound of familiar roars fill her ears. Occasionally wincing when she feels Max’s pain. Mild compared to what it is for him. 

Lando and Charles are sitting on the ground with her. Their mates are inside with Max, along with Lewis and Sebastian. She attempts to hold close to the bonds of their tribe. They’ve been planning this for the last couple of weeks. Every hole is plastered with flexi tape. 

“Relax, chéri. They are fine.” 

She won’t open her mouth to mutter a thanks. Not when she’s already salivating and can smell exactly where their pulse points are. Not when she can hear the steady rhythm of their hearts. 

No, she can’t eat, but she’d also rather not risk it. 

“Do we have to bow to you after this whole ordeal is over?” Lando looks at her with a curious expression. “Cause like - Oscar doesn’t bend like that.”

Both her and Charles gape and the odd statement. Lando looks like he’s just stated the weather on an average Monday morning. 

“Lando, are you sure it’s not you who doesn’t bend like that?”

“I think I know how I can bend mate! How do you think we broke the table-“

Charles grimaces, his nose scrunching up and cheeks turning red. “Bleh! I don’t need to know how Oscar bends you.” 

“You asked!”

“And now I regret it…”

Another roar bellows into the night sky. It’s loud and painful. She looks to the boys beside her for confirmation that it’s not Oscar or Carlos. They nod at her, leaving only three options. 

She bolts inside. 

The roars turn to whines. The fire rages over the body of Jos Verstappen. Max has sunk to his knees, the sunset hues of the flames reflect in his eyes and illuminate the tear tracks on his cheeks. 

She falls beside him. Panicked hands search for any possible wounds; any burns in need of immediate attention. Max is crying as she does so, but he’s smiling at the same time. There are a million emotions running through the room. The large flames a mercy to the now deceased king. 

A fallen king lay before them. His body burned to ashes. They watch as he is devoured by the fire. The silence is deafening. The only noise being the roar of the flames. An irony that doesn’t go unnoticed. To feel serene with the one thing that would surely kill her if the starvation doesn’t first. 

Max is the first to approach the pile of ashes on the ground. He creeps up to it like they might reanimate. Like they might take back what they once had and reestablish their hold on her mind with no chance at her escape. 

Sebastian meets Max in the middle. He scoops handfuls of the ash and decorates Max’s skin. The Dutch looks miserable when Sebastian dumps a handful into Max’s own cupped hands. 

“Do I have too?”

“Do you want your fathers powers?” 

He groans, but doesn’t wait any longer. He tries to be serious, but there is an element of humor here despite the situation. 

“Does this mean Max is a cannibal now?!” She supposes Lando is trying to whisper, but the building they are in echoes. He chokes when he hears it. 

“Lando! I am trying to eat my father!” 

“So you are a cannibal!” 

Oscar slaps a hand over his mate's mouth. Briefly, a look of disgust flashes across his face. “If you  really think licking me will work, you are mistaken.” Muffled sounds from underneath Oscar’s hand escape, but nobody understands. 

Max is finally able to choke down the ashes of his father. Certainly not the most conventional of coronations, but she can’t picture it any other way. 

“Never thought I’d see the day where we were dropping to our knees for this guy.” Carlos chuckles from somewhere beside her as they close in on the new king. 

Not a prince anymore - a king. 

It suits him more, she thinks. Standing tall in front of his tribe, still laughing at Lando and Oscar and their odd positioning. At Carlos and his playful pride as he kneels. He exchanges a smile with Charles after years of rivalry now comes a shared respect. He turns endearingly to Sebastian and Lewis looking at him like proud parents. 

Then to her. She’s on the ground, her knees bruised already. Max pulls her up into his arms. He brings his hands to her jaw and once again she drifts into the calm of his endless eyes. 

Soft fingers massage her jaw. The one that aches with a desperate need for something she hasn’t had in so long. He’s gentle with her, like an antique porcelain doll that might break if he applies too much pressure. 

“You are worthy of every good thing. You are one of us, just as you always have been and you are deserving of your life.” 

The cement that had been fire in her veins vanishes as he speaks. Max keeps talking, but she’s too lost in the relief from these heavy feelings - the euphoria of knowing she belongs again. The cavern of her chest is beating with words of comfort. 

Her horns don’t feel like extra weights and her tail finds Max’s with immediate ease. They intertwine like they had before. 

“You are here and loved. You have a place with us.” He tilts her chin upward like he’s done since they mated. “Chin up, your highness, you’re a queen now.” 

~~~♡~~~

Sated. 

Her body aches from a full belly instead of the hunger pains. As does the rest of their tribe, she presumes. 

Max keeps getting phone calls… and he keeps ignoring them. Instead opting to keep his attention focussed on his tribe. His love for them - for her - is radiating through his every move. 

“I think King Max sounds good on you.” She flashes her teeth at him. The others are either chatting, or if you’re Oscar then you’re using Lando as a blanket and sleeping. They are paying no attention to them. 

“You think? I’d always resented it.” 

“You’re going to change things, Max. That’s not something to resent.” They hook tails again, a comfort she’d missed dearly. “Plus, you’re stuck with me now since you saved my life. I’m going to be the most demanding queen.” She waves her hand around for dramatic flair. 

“Oh yeah? How so?” 

“First I’m going to demand that you cuddle me - and I’ll figure out the rest later!” 

“As you wish, your highness.” 

[thydungeongal]

I have seen several posts about your dislike for D&D and I wanna know if it's the same for Pathfinder? I love pathfinder but in my eyes it's just a crunchier D&D. (Though admittedly the "canon" worlds for Pathfinder are far more interesting to me)

Obviously that's a very baseline view of the two but I wondered if it's possible to like one and not the other due to their similarities.

P.S. I hope you've had a good week!

Truth be told, I don't dislike D&D! I dislike people treating it as a universal game when it's a very specific type of game! Note: what that specific type of game is also depends heavily on edition! But regardless, D&D will end up sucking big time if you don't play to its strengths!

Now, my opinion on Pathfinder is basically that Pathfinder 1e leaned in on some of the worst designs of D&D 3.5 (a quirky game that still had a lot to love about it): towards the tail end of D&D 3.5 its designers were at the same time getting really nutty with the design and coming up with some really inventive designs (Binders, Tome of Battle, a lot of individual systems in Complete Champion and Complete Scoundrel) but at the same time they were running out of ideas and they came up with the Worst Type of Feats: feats that made a thing that anyone could theoretically do into a thing now gated behind a feat. Player's Handbook 2 for D&D 3.5 had a few of these.

And Pathfinder 1e for some reason decided to really lean in on this type of feat. I will never shut up about the feat that allows gnomes to request their captors to loosen their shackles.

Now Pathfinder 2e is a much better game in my opinion because it seems to have largely rejected that type of design and focused on being a really crunchy D&D clone. It feels like a better successor to D&D 3.5's design ethos instead of Pathfinder 1e, that was ultimately a collection of D&D 3.5 house rules (some of which imo made the game worse than D&D 3.5!) coupled with following some of the worst design trends of D&D 3.5.

Also I refuse to ever shut up about Pathfinder 1e literally having feats that didn't do anything like Monkey Lunge and Prone Shooter. But anyway Pathfinder 2e actually looks like a fun albeit crunchy game instead of just being D&D 3.5 but somehow blander and with worse rules-writing. (now of course D&D 3.5 also kind of sucked in its own ways, but it kind of sucked in a "hey these example characters don't actually qualify for the Prestige Class they're supposed to be representing" type of way instead of a "our FAQ accidentally made it so you could qualify for the Eldritch Knight Prestige Class simply by virtue of being a Tiefling" type of way)

[ceasarslegion]

wait, now im really interested in the silica gel drama. how did hlrp sex ed lead to eating a gel packet?

This is going to require a novel's length of context.

To begin, I want to underline that this is not meant to be a callout post, and I will not be providing any identifying traits that could be used to single this person out. The most you will get out of that are she/her pronouns, and her age at the time this happened, which was years ago, and I will not specify what year. I genuinely do hope she got the help she needed after this, because LORD knows she needs it and didn't find it at home. This is also not meant to be a character assassination, nor should anybody who reads this post consider it to be a takedown of any sort, and if you try to find this person through me or any of our mutual friends, you will not be met with kind words. The only thing this is meant to be is a wild-ass story of some of the most off the wall experiences I personally had with this person from my specific side of the story, with a few no-username screenshots attached to prove I am not bullshitting you.

With that in mind, let's get started. This is going to be very long, so I'm throwing in a read more

Back when I was in uni, I joined a growing group of Half Life roleplay blogs. The whole idea of our group was that we each chose a character, canon or OC, and we would blog as if the pre-Black Mesa incident moment in the timeline was a workplace comedy a la The Office or Superstore. I played Barney, because I was already working night shift security at this point and thought it would be funny. Plus, it gave me something to do that wasn't staring at CCTV feeds all night tossing a ball against the wall. We played off of each other very well, yes-anding our way through funny little situations and plotlines we put together. At one point we had roleplayed enough that one of the scientist rpers created a discord server for us to talk as the actual people we are instead of through characters.

Great idea at the time. None of us saw the "Pandora's box" label on the tin before we opened it. Would I still join it if I knew what was about to transpire? Yes, because I met my boyfriend and many genuinely lovely friends through it. Would I hesitate for a second first, though, as the events that are about to transpire flashed before my eyes? Oh, abso-fucking-lutely.

We started off as many fandom servers do: chill for the most part, very loud minority of a few assholes who ruined it for the rest of us, but unlike most fandom servers, we actually won and it ended in them getting banned and the server itself surviving to this day. But the other two lunatics are not who you came here for. You want the christian lunatic.

Let's give her a nickname to make this easier. I have the Sylveon build a bear on my PC desk. Let's call her Syl.

Syl was not there for Half Life, she was there for Portal. She LOVED Portal, Half Life was just part of the same universe for her. Portal wasn't just a game for her, it was her entire personality. Which I didn't see much of an issue with at the time, because she said she was 15. Whatever, I thought; she'll learn to control her emotional attachment to things as she gets older. Syl also said that she was christian. I am a flaming atheist who doesn't even believe in the concept of a soul in comparison and I am NOT the biggest fan of christianity as an institution to put it mildly, but I'm not gonna like, be a dick to you for your personal religion if you are not a dick about my beliefs, so I didn't think much of it at the time.

It quickly became apparent that Syl looked up to me more than any of the other adults in the group the more I would talk about my life growing up as a third culture kid and moving out on my own at 19, working 2 jobs and going to a good university. She would ask me a lot about growing up and uni and moving out and yes, sex ed, and it became even more apparent that she didn't get any actual guidance from her parents or pastors or ANYBODY beyond bible studies and homeschooling, so I kinda stumbled into a mentorship role in her life. I wasn't cold, but I was aware of the age and maturity difference between us and established the appropriate boundaries with her and made it very clear that I am an internet friend, not an irl friend or an educator, but if no one else was going to give her information that wasn't actively harmful then fuck, I guess SOMEONE had to do it. I could not in good conscience watch some kid go through life with harmful inaccuracies about the world and basic human biology when I could have done something about it, y'know?

And the more things I taught her about the real world and how things actually work rather than how her republican bible-thumping rural town said they did, the more I realized she was born into a full-blown cult under the guise of a christian congregation. Oh goody, I had my work cut out for me. I will not get into the details of how messed up this group was because it will be a dead giveaway of where she lives and potentially who she is, but let's just say that one time I said that I appreciated the gesture of praying for me during a stressful week I was having but it didn't really do anything for my mental health because I was an atheist, and she sent me a bunch of bible verses begging me to start believing and said "I just don't want you to go to hell because you're so nice :((" EXCUSE ME??? Another time she said that death was only sad for non-christians because their loved ones were in hell and that proper christians deaths were a good thing because they were in heaven now. Hi, that's the most insensitive death cult shit I've ever heard in my goddamn life.

Okay, set up is done. All of these details will tie in like the world's worst reboot of Pulp Fiction, I prommy.

After a good long while learning about the world from me (which like... a uni kid working night shift security is not exactly an academic source but we take what we can get) and exposure to viewpoints outside of her in-group, Syl began that very painful journey of realizing that what the cult taught you was a lie. Except that she just wasn't grasping that unlearning things was an active process. She started to flip to the opposite side very quickly, but kept all the fundamental brainwashing of the cult that raised her. The concepts were all the same, just slapped a different label on them. This created a noticeable pull between two sides of the same personality: the cult personality, and the person beyond the cult who wanted to break free. Mix that with how fucking 15 years old every 15 year old is, and you have a LETHAL concoction just waiting to blow up at the first sign of a spark.

Remember how I said that Portal was her whole personality? Syl decided that she wanted to be a scientist, and go into an ivy league program like I was in (I was in a SOCIAL science, but sure). Problem was, she didn't have the grades or the ambition, really. I had told her that I still got into an ivy league when I failed math in high school, and she seemed to completely miss the part where I said that I also joined every extra-curricular, then worked for 2 gap years for recognized institutions, and wrote an essay about why my math grade is not relevant to my program. I did it with one bad grade, so she was justified in basically just slacking off and then excusing it with "but its haaarrrdd" when we'd tell her she needs to put the fucking work in NOW if that's what she wants to do.

It quickly derailed from here. Not only was she going to be a scientist, she was going to be like Cave Johnson. And she was going to... replace her body with robot parts so she could be like glados. I don't... think she actually knew what science is, because she would just publically fantasize about running unethical experiments on people in the name of "science," and talk about how one day she wants to basically establish aperture labs for real. All of us who were there kind of agree that we don't think she was joking based on what we knew about her and the cadence of her tone. Here's something she said at the time to give you an idea of what direction she was nosediving in:

This was after a session with her therapist where said therapist said that she definitely has some kind of personality disorder, after which she was weirdly proud of having one and treated it like a badge of honour.

Syl then made a separate group chat for all the best friends she made on the server. There was her, me, @false-pyre, and @imtheaura. She titled it "My Family," despite the fact that we were all adults and she was 15 and she only knew us over a discord half life server where one person in it stepped up to somewhat equip her for real life outside of a cult. Regardless though that GC was more the vibe of a group of friends sharing memes and chatting about the day than the wider server was at the time. The others began to also take on a sort of mentorship role towards her as well, because that's kind of inevitable when you get someone talking about teenager problems in a room full of adults who all made the same mistakes before in their own lives. Well, minus the cult.

And remember how I said that she didn't unlearn any of the cult shit? Well, there was a lot of proselytizing. She decided she wasn't christian for a spell, but still wanted us and everyone to know that jesus was the lord and savior and we had to accept him or we'd burn in hell. Usually said after we'd make some joke about satan being daddy or declaring ourselves god instead, because that is just the type of humor the others and i have with each other. She took it so personally whenever one of us would go "oh my god" "you called?" it was fucking annoying. I lost count of the amount of lectures she gave us, all of which I'd shut down and tell her to get a grip about because I have a big stupid mouth.

The others and I also like to talk about evolution, and speculate about where we're going from here. My fucking god, did she not like that. She bit our heads off about how evolution isn't real and god made everyone as we are and there's no scientific evidence or whatever the hell. Like yeah good luck getting into STEM with that mindset. Whenever we pointed out that she was objectively wrong about that, she'd have a big stupid meltdown about how much we're slandering god and how jesus died for us and we're spitting in his face or whatever. He should spit in MY face inste-*GUNSHOT*

Eventually, we were making some actual progress with her. She was still one fry short of a happy meal and going off about how much she wanted to put living subjects in test tubes in between knocking on our doors and reciting Hello from the Book of Mormon musical, but we were getting somewhere. And then she went back to in person school, and her favourite teacher got fired.

The schoolboard did not say why she got fired, but we all had our suspicions that it was because she openly supported queer rights in a cult town. She was coincidentally retired shortly after making a declaration that queer people are still welcome in god's kingdom. This teacher was the first in person adult Syl had for guidance, so that incident shook her to her core, and she fell right back into the extremism. Hook, line, and sinker, even more extreme than before.

She was WEIRD that week, man. Suddenly everything was about how great god was, how amazing jesus was. Suddenly she understood why her cult member parents "just wanted to protect her" from gay characters on disney+ originals. Suddenly no one could say "jesus christ lol" around her or she'd have a fit. I said "I hate cycle counts lmao i wanna kms" because my then-job (I had graduated at this point) made me do inventory management spontaneously and wouldn't let me go home until I had counted every product in the store, and she bit my head off accusing me of turning suicide into a joke.

It was that incident that made us tell her to knock it off already, that we understood it was a hard week for her and she was in a period of grief, but that is no excuse for how she had been acting towards everyone around her that wasnt christian, and that she was actively relapsing. I'll let the exchange speak for itself:

So uh. After years of helping Syl through this she goes and pulls this bullshit. And then has the fucking AUDACITY to act like nothing ever happened in the wider server. I am genuinely gobsmacked by the balls on her to act like it was all sunshine and rainbows in the wider server after sending this and immediately leaving the same GC SHE made and titled "My Family" just because we told her to stop acting like a goddamn Jonestown citizen after all the work we'd put in to get her out of that mentality at this point.

So I dragged her up in front of everyone and essentially said "no, nuh uh, you don't get to say that shit to the people who have lost sleep and asked for nothing in return trying to help you escape a cult over the last 2 years and then act like we're all buddy buddy to everybody else. You don't get to be that arrogant and self-righteous without any consequences. I don't give a fuck how young you are, you DON'T treat the people who have helped you this much like that, you selfish little shit. How dare you treat us like this after all we've done for you over the years."

Unfortunately, no one involved had surviving screenshots of this, but they can back me up on it if they so choose. And oh boy, DID she face the consequences of her own actions. The whole server basically turned their heads and went "what the FUCK is wrong with you, Syl??" and asked her to at least like, apologize. She proceeded to double down with the added audacity of "you guys taught me how to establish healthy boundaries, that's all I'm doing right now :(( oh woe is me :(((" like WOW, okay. Someone's really going for the persecution complex.

Here's her last goodbye to us all before the mass block fest occured:

Oh, boohoo. You're so hard done by. You spat in the faces of everyone who stayed up all night multiple times helping you through crises and spent the last 2 years teaching you about how the world really worked and then they asked you to apologize after you tried to escape accountability. You truly are god's strongest soldier, the most persecuted minority in the world. Let me play you an ode to how righteous and holy you are and how this was the most important hill to sacrifice all your outsider friendships on on the world's smallest violin.

Syl then went on to post on her roleplay blog that she "was banned because I spoke up for what was right, and they didn't like that" before deleting it. Truly no one has suffered as much as you.

Anyway, the day after that went down, I called in from work, bought this book, and read the whole thing purely out of spite:

It was greatly therapeutic. After that incident, I vowed to never sanitize my own atheistic beliefs for the benefit of others again. If they don't like them, they don't have to talk to me. But I am not changing them for other people or keeping them quiet just to spare your feelings anymore, I have as much a right to my beliefs as anyone else does, including the world's most persecuted minority here.

And well, the silica gel incident?

There was one incident, during the height of Syl's "I am the irl cave johnson and only want to get into STEM to conduct unethical experiments on people. follow jesus" era, the rest of us were joking about how silica gel packets are the ultimate forbidden snack, and said "haha would eating it make you see shrimp colours" knowing full well it can kill you.

Syl proceeded to actually eat a silica gel packet and then send in "it has a sandy texture and tastes bad" prompting the rest of us to go "WE WERE FUCKING JOKING FIND YOUR POISON CONTROL HOTLINE RIGHT NOW"

And because i didnt get this done until now, I'll tag everyone who said they wanted to read this or expressed interest: @captainjonnitkessler @formydarlingtoread @cra-zwizard @chasingnightrainbows

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

I know you are tired of being reminded of the whole mess that’s been going on. I had no idea what was going on until foxyanon told me cause I asked. The shock that went through me when I was reading ems post. I was decent friends with bel and interacted a lot with her. Had no idea how vile those bloggers are, just damn right disgusting and rude. But I told em as well that I have nothing to do with what’s her face. I’m always here for you! This fandom needs some serious work done and rethinking. I’m screaming the biggest f you to her! I love your content even though I don’t say anything much. You’re wonderful and deserve better! 💗💗

Thank you for reaching out, and treating me like a human being. It is more than I currently deserve. I will place the rest of my response beneath a cut, as it will be quite long and I'd like to give people the option to scroll past, as they are doubtless tired of all of this, and rightly so.

Yes, the behaviour of that group is despicable, but I cannot downplay the gravity of my own in that.

I had a longstanding block with two users (I am not going to use their online nicknames, I do not deserve to), arcielee and sylasthegrim, I said disgusting things about both of them - the screenshots of my messages regarding them both on the post you have doubtless all seen are real (so is the final screenshot where I mention an anon I had received telling me to die in my sleep, the rest of the screenshots in that post have been falsified, doctored or snipped heavily out of context to make them appear hateful - the doctoring has been confirmed by two individuals well versed in Photoshop)

I hold my hands up and apologise to both those people, and the people that have seen those messages and been harmed by them. They are inexcusable, indefensible and were guided by a false belief that those two people were being hateful in turn about me, and actively going out of their way to harm and spite me. I am unsure what Bel thought she had to gain by exacerbating the animosity between me and Em and those two women, regardless, we should have done the mature thing and reached out directly to them. I will say, that I have never once sent anonymous hatred to either person. The extent of my vitriol was confined to that group chat.

Bel also used slurs in the group chat (I would like to point out that myself, Em and Fae did not). I won't repeat what these were. I do not want those ugly words on my page. They made me uncomfortable and I called her out any time she used one in particular, but she always laughed off my discomfort and carried on anyway. She is mixed race, I am white, in my mind it is not my place as a white person to tell an ethnic minority what is racism and what isn't. There are enough white voices shouting down others in online spaces. I know better now. I should not let my own discomfort silence me. I will call out hatred, bigotry and discrimination in every instance that I see it. My past inaction is embarrassing, it's offensive and I am devastated by the hurt I have caused to others. I am so deeply sorry.

I didn't speak up for a long time, because I have seen what these people are like when they have a grudge against someone. It's frightening, I was a coward. Yet despite staying silent on all of it, I have been doxxed just the same. I suppose perhaps that's karmic retribution?

I appreciate that people have felt my response has been lacking, however, I was out of the country, away from home, from the 14th until the 22nd, with only my phone at my disposal and with the expectation from my husband that I would enjoy the vacation we were on, and not be online dealing with all of this.

I would like the opportunity to atone for my behaviour, to make amends. Currently, I feel I am not going to be given the opportunity to do that, and understandably so. Emotions are high, people are raw from what they have learned and they do not feel comfortable being around me.

Seeing the screenshots of the people in their group passing around my personal photos and saying incredibly vile things about my appearance triggered a lapse with the eating disorder that I am in active recovery for. I then had another a few days later. I need to take some time away to get myself well, as the fear and anxiety of all of this is taking its toll. I also need the space to deal with the legal action I will be exploring with regards to Chris having doxxed me. I am not running away. I simply need to get myself into a space where I am stable enough to handle all of this, be accountable, and take responsibility without my own emotions diminishing other people's.

I know people hate me right now, but it pales in comparison to how much I hate myself. I am so very sorry for allowing this to happen.

[study-diaries]

How to do group projects? (If you're selected as the leader of the group)

I hate group projects, it's not necessarily the project rather, the people are not cooperative enough so here's some tips I use when I was chosen to do a PPT and a damn play with 13 members.

(Pictures aren't mine!)

Take phone numbers

Even though my teacher discouraged the idea of it, I still took the numbers of all the members and saved it on the same day the project was given even though the deadline was a month later. You should make sure that you have the necessary means of communication to every member.

Plan and outline within 3 days!

Make an outline of what needs to be done, plan out who's going to do what, how they'll do it, when will they complete it etc etc. The reason i do it within 3 days is because you'll get the base of how you'll do it because generally in group projects, by the time everyone completes the work and gives it to you, it would take atleast a week or two, if you start early, you'll complete earlier than everyone else

No group chats!

I personally don't prefer this because one i realised everyone just didn't reply expecting others to reply, especially when your group is big! So... Dms!! Just send the instructions personally, yes, it takes alot of time but it makes up for the energy wasted in group chats that involve unnecessary talks and questions.

Both face to face and text reminders!

When you've assigned work to every member, make sure they actually do it because you'll be the one responsible. Not gonna lie but reminders help especially when the deadlines are closer. Just a message like "Hey, friendly reminder about the XYZ project."

Save your own name!

This is something I'm really careful about. The accusation that you're being biased and assigning easier work to friends and people I'm close with. So, i figured that the best way to avoid it is to write all the work and the names of members in alphabetical order and assign accordingly. If the member can't do it, then I'll discuss and swap. It saves a hell lot of drama and actually results to better outcomes.

Back up

Make sure that there's always a second in command. This was a mistake I did, on the day of the 2nd project (the play), I was in one of the competitions and our teacher had started with our group first... I didn't exactly tell anyone that everything about the characters assigned to members and the narrations were in my bag so they had to scramble alittle but in the end, our group did the best play despite the situation so that's what you're aiming at. Your group needs to manage without you.

Flexibility

Do not, under any circumstances, expect everything to go well! You need to expect hindrances, like gurl, come on. A mistake I made in the PPT project, i made the PPT and told 4-5 people to explain it because that's how it was supposed to be done but in the end, ALL THE 4-5 PEOPLE HAD TO BE IN SPORTS PRACTICE so we ended up changing plans last minute. But nevertheless, we got an A-. Tell everyone to prepare accordingly.

Be a little lenient

Personally, when the teacher asked me to give the list of work everyone had done, i did'nt just write nothing for the members who didn't, i have even the smallest contribution because in the end, even one person's scores matters. It affects the whole damn group so be careful when you take out anger and frustration on the members when giving the list of contributions or even while doing the project. The last thing you need is drama.

Contact!

Make sure your members are comfortable enough to clear any questions or misunderstandings with you. If you don't know what's going in the group, you can't maintain the group. Be very clear that they can reach you any time.

Demo!!!

This is really important! Decide on a day and keep a demonstration of how your project is going to be presented. Do exactly as how you're going to do it infront of the teacher. Exchange some points on how to do better during the demo and discuss! It helps you to correct your mistakes.

Hope this helps! :)

[pencilofawesomeness]

If there is one dragon slayer that I wouldn't mind you bringing from 100 year quest it would be Wraith. The idea of a spirit dragon slayer is so amusing and also helps explain how the five dragons were able to be transfered to the kids, and to get past the dragon eater thing is that he had a dragon slayer lacrima but it only activated when he was near death having his enter a unconscious state that would only return to normal when his soul return to him but know he has spirit dragon slayer magic, so like how the revive revive fruit worked for Brook in one piece.

Ngl I did like Wraith. Honestly I just love evidence that Fairy Tail existed for a while, and that there were people before. (I would love to have more tales of the adventures of Makarov's gang, that was fun.) I will say I don't think he needs to be a dragon slayer, for the whole spirit thing to be fun. If anything, I think Wraith's story would be more interesting if it was used to dive into seith magic, spirit magic, etc etc (like whatever Chico's magic classifies as, for instance) and that kind of stuff.

[handfulofmuses]

When you dislike their kid but they are alright

[zappedbyzabka]

Robby loves Johnny (and I don’t believe he wants him dead or anything, though he definitely has understandable resentment) and I think Johnny would die for him in an instant. If the next season doesn’t show this more and give Robby some peace, then the writers are dead to me because they really only have this season now. Also, show his feelings about Shannon’s actions too (making him listen to her have sex, bringing creepy men around, letting him starve, etc) rather than just being like “She had free rehab so its cool!”

(I’m not open to argue about this, so genuinely please don’t get mad at my feelings <3.)

[shararan]

Does anyone else experience the thing where you have a ship you like, but they're not among your top faves, and yet they're the ones you enjoy writing almost the most? Cause Bingjiu is becoming that for me

[maxwell-grant]

Is Dora the Explorer a pulp hero?

"If it helps, I kinda hoped someday she was gonna outgrow this stuff, y'know?", he thought to himself, midway through an inner monologue you just barely missed the beginning of, as he leaped through fallen tree branches. 

He was dashing his way through the jungle, trying to keep ahead of the girl who moved just as fast and twice as recklessly behind him. Two colorful blurs leaping and vine swinging through the dense vegetation of Kunuhirka, or at least, the parts of it most untouched by deforestation.

"I mean, leave the jungle, go to school, make friends that aren't talking animals and objects, really. Go live a normal life with your people. She's been doing this since she was like, what, 7? 8? I'm not gonna say adventuring in the jungle isn't fun but, man, it just isn't the same now. Someday, she's gonna wind up pi-". He abruptly censored himself, out of instinct. He'd been taught by his grandma not to swear, and while neither of the two were kids anymore, he couldn't quite bring himself to swear openly still, so he concluded his thought differently.

"Someday she's gonna upset someone and there'll be no coming back from it. She's not a kid anymore. This, this stuff she's doing? It has consequences, man. It catches up to everyone-"

Whatever hesitation or doubts he had were far from the girl's mind as he tried to keep up several paces ahead of her, not looking back. While she was usually accompanied by a rather irritating little monkey in boots, it was nowhere to be found now. The very imaginatively-named Boots had been sent ahead by the girl to scout the region and search, and howl back if he found anything. She would be able to pick his howl amidst the many that echoed through the jungle.

When they were kids, it was easier to do so. The monkey and her still understood each other as if they were brothers, but it had been a long time since she'd been able to communicate as easily with him. Some of the skills she took for granted as a child had changed as she grew, like the ability to hear animals as if they spoke her native language. Nowadays, she could understand most of them on some level intuitively, but in her family, only her cousin Diego was able to understand and converse with animals to that extent.

She missed talking with Boots, more often than she'd admit. She would have never given that up, if she could choose back then. She could still make out words from certain beings, like her objects or the Explorer Stars on occasion, but no further conversations with any beasties.

"-if you don't count me, that is." 

Swiper the Fox finished the thought, interrupting our narration to instill a boost of confidence to himself, trying to offset the fact that Dora, a human girl and his arch-nemesis, was currently gaining on him. Sure, she knew these jungles about as well as he did by this point, and she took athleticism much more seriously, but it didn't hurt any less. Slipping away faster than anyone could catch was a skill he took pride in.

He, of all animals, was the only one Dora could still have conversations with. Swiper the Fox, the talking anthromorphic fox with human intelligence who dressed like a cartoon burglar and had spent the highlights of his career losing a battle of wits with a child.

"It's not like she didn't try, y'know?" He continued his thought, unaware of our assessment towards him. "Maybe at some point her parents probably figured that letting their kid run around exploring rainforests unsupervised, getting involved with magic and witches and whatnot, getting into adventures, was probably not preparing her for adult life.”

“She left to America, graduated college, probably got a bunch of degrees or something, I don't know what humans do in school other than waste time and get sad, but after all that, she wound up back in the jungles again."

Swiper had never gone to human school, or fox school for that matter, but he was correct in his assessment of school as well as the fact that Dora had indeed graduated. The archaeology degree was hers from the moment she walked into the school, the reputation of the Marquez family ensured that much even if she wasn't a genius in a field she'd done much to advance even as a child (even if most of her discoveries and advancements had been shared and attributed to her parents, to protect young Dora from potentially dangerous consequences). She'd eventually pursue another degree, one that was considerably more challenging, and had led her to her current predictment.

Dora was particularly famous as something of internet celebrity, having been one since childhood. Usually, whenever she traveled and explored nowadays, she tended to bring handheld cameras with her, to photograph and film her findings, one of the many things she was able to store in that frankly terrifying backpack of hers, that which had a face currently staring at Swiper as he tried to keep up with Dora. 

That creepy talking thing which liked to "eat" things and could summon talking maps and contained some kind of hole in space-time where Dora could freely ignore the laws of physics, which she used mostly to stash objects she needed.

If he were any more interested in keeping the things he swiped off the hands of people (mostly children) he might have figured out at some point that this backpack was a burglar's greatest dream. However, Swiper had never gotten used to the damn thing and he wasn't gonna start now. Her parents had given her that thing, where did they find it? 

Did they know what it could do? ...Could it be that it was once just a regular backpack, before Dora got a hold of it? Was she the cause of it? Would it even be that surprising -

"Stop! Stop, stop, just stop, man. You're gonna drive yourself nuts thinking about that stuff, it's way too much for you, just, let me do that thinking, allright? Stop slowing me down, I'm having a hard time not letting her catch me as is." So said Swiper who, uh, apparently was hearing us the whole time-

"I can't hear you the whole time, allright?", he thought, possibly lying, as he stopped running, nearly tripping and falling down an antlion pit, and went into hiding. Dora heard a noise, and was currently climbing a cliffside a couple hundred meters to his left, while Swiper was switching movement to take the long way around to not tip her off. 

"Don't even know what you guys are. Didn't used to be able to hear much of you at all, actually, but she can. She always could, if she focused on you, if she knew you were there. Haven't got the faintest idea how she does it, man, but I don't question it."

"It gets easier only when I'm near her, when I know you're in there. But she can't focus on you right now, allright? Keep your mouth shut and let me do my job."

We let him move on till he's out of sight and we think he can't hear us anymore. But, get ready to shout in case he does something bad. You know what works on him, right? The phrase? If we say it, he's gonna notice us. Shouldn't we alert Dora?

No, we shouldn't. They were getting close to their destination, and while Swiper was creeping his way out of range, Dora was currently climbing a rocky cliffside several dozen meters tall with no protection and armed with only a handful of climbing hooks, moving way faster than anyone hampered by gravity should be willing to in these circumstances. This was no carefree adventure, and the grim look on her eyes reassured us that, regardless of his intentions, Swiper was right. We can't disturb her now.

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

Look man, I don't know what to say, it was just supposed to be a caper like any other. Someone paid me a good amount of cash to swipe something that could allow time travel, so I figured I'd swipe a Time Travel Cape from Mr.Troll. Look it up, that’s a real thing.

No, no, stop, I'm gonna be real clear here: I was NEVER into this for the money, allright? I ain't that kind of thief. But, look, I'm getting older, I got bills to pay now, and my grandma to look after. We're trying to keep Blueberry Hill untouched by greasy human paws (and, the Marquez family helped with that, I have to admit), and, 

I'm Swiper the Fox, man, it's not like I'm ever gonna get a regular job even if I go looking for one. Plus, Dora and her family had left off to America, so, nobody was gonna get in my way if I did a little swiping here and there. 

So, I took it. Was child’s play. I suppose that’s what this always was, in the end.

And, okay, maybe I swiped it for myself a little. I mean, it's a cape that lets you travel through time! Who could blame me for wanting to keep it a little longer? I wasn't gonna break the deal, obviously. You should know by now, I'm a fox of my word. Always was, always will be. This game doesn't work otherwise.

I know how to use it, already did this when me and Dora had to work together. You tie it into your shoulders, cover as much of your body as you can with it. You take a step back, breathe in deep, and then you start to shake it. Shake it, spin it, and sing the song, until circles of light start showing near you.

Shake, shake, shake Shake, shake, shake Shake your travel cape.

You do it, and then you'll be able to travel through time to a set destination...shouldn't it be more complicated than that?

No. Stop. Just, go with it. That's how it works. It's worked before. We got this. But...I thought to myself...

See, last time I used this thing, was for some Christmas adventure a while ago, and in it, I traveled to the future and met this old version of myself. A real gloomy jerk that guy was, left Blueberry Hill and Granny behind to go rot in a castle. He was richer beyond anything I could have ever wanted but, he seemed like he'd failed where it mattered most. I try not to think about that too much, but, I wanted to know.

Was I still gonna be that guy?

I figured, yeah, to be honest, I did miss Dora, kiddo was friends with everyone, even someone like me, but I figured without her around, nobody was gonna stop me from swiping whatever I wanted. 

No more Dora, no more "Swiper no swiping!", no more rules or games, no one stopping me, right? So, maybe we should get a look at what Future Swiper gets up to!

Shake it up, shake it down Shake it all around Now, let's go!

.....

.....

.....oh

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

The big shock to her family and friends came when she decided to pursue a degree in journalism. Not just geographical or scientific journalism, but investigative journalism. Watchdog journalism. Gonzo journalism. Dora was restless in her genius, never able to stay in one place or one area of expertise for long.

It wasn't like she had never had to deal with bad guys, before. Swiper, for one, even if he was mostly an annoying goober who never set out to harm anyone. The Bobos pestered Diego, on occasion. Sometimes they were witches, whose schemes ranged from ice-skating competitions to trying to put Boots to sleep forever, but they weren't too bad.

But, as she got older, and started getting into different kinds of adventures, some of them got meaner. Land-owners, rubber robbers, resource pirates. Mercenaries, thieves, even killers. People who terrorized local workers and indigenous populations, who had no interest in these lands aside from what they could gut for resources and profit, damned be anyone who got in their way. People who had targeted Dora's parents, even Dora's abuela, until they mistakenly assumed the girl was an easier target.

Dora had claimed a certain amount of infamy, following her graduation, as a celebrity streamer who was also known for combatting and exposing criminal practices across the Amazon, particularly in her birth region of Kunuhirka. The jungles of Peru had been her home, and by the day, they were more and more devastated. Attempts to bring these to the attention of local and national officials had mostly caused more trouble, and while her international fame had allowed her to make considerable progress, it had also drawn more enemies against her.

She knew that much of her audience still consisted of children who knew her as a popular cartoon character, obviously there was only so far she could go through those mediums. She could handle herself, and she'd been a survivalist for longer than she'd been in the media, the fact that the bad guys somehow never succeeded in hurting her badly made her something of a hero, but had gotten many to dismiss her vlogs as stunts. 

Most people thought Dora was just a little kooky and childish, for they only saw a grown woman with a pet monkey talking to a camera and herself as if the things around her could talk back, reenacting bits of her old cartoons.

It made it more difficult, sometimes, for her to be taken as seriously as she may have wanted to, but on the other hand, it allowed her to operate undercover, kept potential enemies off her and her family. They could take care of themselves, of course, and so could she. It was to her advantage, in the end, that most people didn't take The Explorer very seriously, only seeing Dora as a harmless curio.

If any of this had any effect on her determination and optimistic outlook, she wasn't showing it.

She'd heard Boots's signals at the top of the cliffside, and had just finished climbing it. She'd regrouped with him there, and stared ahead at the cave near the mountainside. "Good work, Boots! You found them", she said out loud, never one to keep her thoughts constrained to internal monologue - wait, what's she doing? Why is she looking this way?

"Now, can you say, "trampa?"

...Guys? Guys, wait, I think she wants you to say it. Yeah, you, behind the screen. Go ahead, say it...

...Oh, what, you think you're too much of a grown-up to answer Dora The Explorer? You're only gonna hold her back this way, but fine, we'll do it.

Trampa.

"Say it again!"

Trampa!

"Yeah! You said it! Now, "trampa" means "trap", and that's what this is in front of us right now. Some bad guys knew I was gonna come after them and they've set up traps inside this cave to hurt me. They probably know we're here now, I wanted to say it loudly to distract them, buy cousin Alicia a little more time."

What?

"Now, we're here to rescue her mine so, I'm gonna have to ask you all to be reeeaal quiet, ok? Don't worry, these bad guys can't hurt you. But I'll be hearing you, and we're gonna need as much help as we can get. Now, who do we ask for help when we don't know which way to go?"

The, map?

"That's right! Mas, did you know, maps can come in many different shapes and sizes! Sometimes they don't show locations, but they can help you locate yourself much the same, entiende?"

She packs up some of her tools she needs to use now, like her yo-yo and baton, and as she makes her way into the dark cave, we're gonna need your help with this too, okay? Don't speak. But, shout if you see something, ok? It's not too -

Wait, there! He's got a gun! - *THWACK

Dora! Another one at your six! - *whirrr - THWOK

That guy's got a bum leg, he's - *THWIP - CRASH

Guy and girl behind you! Girl's got a knife! - *POW-POW - clink

Boots! Dora's friend is two doors to the right. Still breathing, not too injured - *OOK-OOK!

....PAOW......BANG BANG - BANG!...........

....

....Dora, duck!...Oh -

WHIRR - SLASH-THWACK!

....

....

....

"Alicia? Alicia? Estas bien? Te lastimaron?"

"D-Dora? Como me encontró?"

Dora breathed a little easier, reverting closer to her more cheery self.

"I had a little help", Dora said, as Boots climbed onto her shoulder. "I've been following these, these, cabróns, pardon the language, for a while now and, apparently so have you. I figured they got to you to try and get to me, but what did they want with you?"

Alicia caught her breath, and replied. It wasn't her first adventure. She wasn't quite as used to danger as Dora was but, she could keep her wits about her for now.

"They needed someone who could take them to this location. They were trying to get their hands on this, thing, didn't quite get what it was, but they said it was gonna "take them back" to when this place still had anything worth stealing. They figured it was a tech thing, I know the region, I was easier to kidnap. They didn't hurt me too badly, seemed like they were mostly waiting for someone."

"Well, they'll have to keep waiting. I got some friends who can take these guys away, they'll be here shortly. Can you stand up?"

"Yeah. Yeah, think I can"

"Great! Now, come on, let's get you safe!"

Isabella seemed unfazed by the cheerful disposition of someone who'd just walked through gunfire in a dark cave and beaten her way through a squad of mercenaries with an oversized yo-yo. Just Dora being Dora, she guessed.

Boots held up a flare torch and walked in front of them to help them walk out of the cave, the leader of the mercenaries woke up behind them, and gradually got to his feet. A bald man with faint traces of a goatee recently shaved, he had a nasty bruise on his forehead where Dora's yo-yo had smacked him, a cut bleeding above his left eye.

Cuts in the forehead weren't too serious, more effective as a scare tactic and blinding method. Dora never fought or injured anyone if she could help it, but her ability to knock out the man and cut his forehead with a blunt toy spoke much about her ability nonetheless. 

Groggy but furious, he reached to his back pocket, reaching for his gun to stop them. It was two girls and a monkey, he thought using terms we preferred to censor, he could get them.

Or so he could, until he realized his gun wasn't there, and as he tried to move, he tripped and fell on his face, the laces of his boots tied together. 

A couple feet to his left, he'd heard a finger snap and a mocking voice.

"Oh, maaaaan! Guess I was too late, huh?"

Swiper was sitting in the stool they'd used to tie Alicia, twirling the gun with remarkable ease for someone with such tiny fingers. He detested the damn things, never even came close to them, but sometimes humans were too big and too stupid and only learned better with one of those awful things pointed at them. The mercenary leader was still too dazed to stand upright.

"Well, can't say I blame you, man. I'll admit, she can be pretty annoying, y'know? Nobody gets the better of her for too long. I'd say I sympathize, but, the kind of thief that you are? You had it coming, man."

"To think I almost joined up with you guys, hah!. Offering my services to people like you, not knowing what you guys were really up to. Good thing I learned my lesson for this episode in time. Oh, wait, I mean, day. You know what I mean."

"Still, a deal's a deal, I did bring you the Time Travel Cape you paid for. I do always honor my word, y'know. Here, I'll even get it ready for you."

The mercenary leader gradually returned to his senses at the sight of this ridiculous tiny fox-person dancing around shaking a colorful cape, singing some song in Spanish that he couldn't quite understand the lyrics to, not helped by the fact that Swiper, although born in Puerto Rico, was mouthing the words with a barely intelligible accent.

Agita, agita, agita Agita, agita, agita La capa de viaje!

The little rat they'd paid to distract Dora and deliver them the time-traveling device had led The Explorer straight to their den, ruined their entire scheme, and now had the nerve to dance in his face?

Shouting incoherently, he lunged forward and grapped the cape off Swiper's grip, and pulled on it as hard as he could, sending Swiper reeling backwards with comical cartoon drums simulating a tumbling noise. As he grabbed the cape, he didn't notice as circles of light started dancing around the mercenary. Swiper cleared his head and shouted

"Hey! No swiping!....", and tried to keep a straight face before he broke into a fit of giggles.

"What? What's so funny?" asked the grown man in body armor clutching the colorful children’s blanket he'd spent a small fortune on. He hadn't noticed yet that the blanket was tied to his wrist.

"Nothing, nothing, just, aah, you wouldn't get it. Hey, uh, hope you got a good look at what I was doing with it, man. The dance, y'know? The lyrics, too. Doesn't matter the language, just gotta get the words out in tune. That's how you get Mr.Troll's Time Travel Cape to work. I did tell you this was the time-traveling thingamabob you wanted me to get, right man?"

The man looked at his surroundings, gradually realizing the electric light circles that were surrounding him, as he tried to shake the cape off his wrist.

"Last thing they used this cape for was to go travel back in time to meet the dinosaurs. Maybe that's where you'll end up? Maybe not. Either way, good luck finding your way back, man. I'd tell you to stay away from my friend if you do ever come back but, guess that goes without saying, right?"

The man didn't get a chance to answer, before the cape started taking him into an era he'd have no chance of coming back from. By the time help arrived, no trace would remain of there having ever been a nationally-infamous mercenary and a thieving, talking fox having been in this place.

"You did get the lyrics I said, right? Brushed up on your Spanish recently, man?"

[scarletcomet]

i feel like I'm gonna cry. not for any particular reason other than *gestures vaguely*

[carewyncromwell]

“You took a great risk, coming here.”

“Well, what’s life without a little risk, my brilliant Frenchman? ...Forgive me -- your Highness.”

“No. ...Forgive me, but...I never want to hear that phrase out of your mouth again, Mr. Knightly.”

“...Then I shall simply have to come up with others, my prince.”

In England at the start of the 20th century, a soft-spoken, intellectual prince with a love of academics and learning and a flashy, charming vaudeville entertainer with a tragic past carry on a secret whirlwind romance that comes to a head at a fateful royal ball, where the prince is expected to announce his engagement to a foreign princess and the young actor plays his part so well that no one would suspect his humble origins. 

xxx featuring James McAvoy as Jackson Knightly @carewyncromwell and Luke Treadaway as Montelimar “Monty” Bloom @cursebreakerfarrier 

[skeletalheartattack]

Great taste

Funny

Hot damn zarbon WAS gnc as FUCK huh

wadda hell.. great taste AND funny...? wuh, who mee? 😳👈

no but seriously thank you!!! 🌺🍀🌼

and absolutely in love seeing people react to zarbon the same way i do :) but YEAH what a fucking icon he is... an absolute gnc prince omg...

[nothorses]

I was talking with my dad recently & we got on the topic of People Thinking They Can't Do Things, and like, he is at his core a well-intentioned person who genuinely wants the best for others, but he has definitely internalized some harmful ideas a la "anyone can do anything, the only thing stopping them is their own attitude". so I was like. I see where you're coming from, but let me tell you a story.

last year, I worked with 10 year olds- many of whom had never really spent time outdoors- in an outdoor education program where they came to spend a whole week doing shit outside in nature. the top two scariest experiences for these kids were 1) very tall metal tower, and 2) walking outside at night in the dark with no flashlights.

I tried a lot of different things to persuade them all to join me for each experience: I presented it with enthusiasm and passion, I did physical demonstrations and scientific explanations to help them understands how safe it was, I voiced my absolute commitment to their safety, I invited them to brainstorm ways to help each other and themselves feel safe, etc.

generally I always had at least 2-3 kids out of about 10 who opted out, or if they did join me, would spend the entire experience crying and freaking out. when it was over, they would conclude that even though they did not die- or even get hurt- it was so scary that it wasn't worth it and they never wanted to do it again.

then I changed the question I asked. instead of asking them to tell me whether they could do it or couldn't do it, I asked them to raise their hand for one of three options:

You can definitely do this.

It will be hard or scary or uncomfortable, but you can try to do this.

It will definitely be too hard, scary, or uncomfortable, and you cannot or should not try to do this.

suddenly, almost nobody was opting out of these experiences.

they would try, even if they were scared, because they know that being scared didn't necessarily mean that they couldn't do it at all. and more importantly, they knew that if they needed to stop, that was an option; they weren't trapped in their decision to try.

and the real takeaway here, for me, is in the nuance: people need to be able to challenge themselves and to be uncomfortable in order to grow, and people need to be able to opt out in order for opting in to be a safe option.

[gojonanami]

I WANNA SHOW YOU OFF - SATORU GOJO

✴︎ summary: aka sugar daddy! gojo. when you accompany your friends to a bar rich men and women frequent, you catch the eye of a certain white-haired rich man, who is more than willing to spoil you -- in more than one way. ✴︎ contents: 18+, a lot of smut, fluffy, sugar daddy/sugar baby relationship, virgin!reader, fingering (f!receiving), oral (f! + m! receiving), but w/ feelings, semi-public sex, sex in a changing room, lingerie, nipple play, first time sex ✴︎ wc: 9,065

This had to be the dumbest idea you had let yourself be convinced to do. 

You sat in a bar, nursing a soda instead of a drink (because it was all you could afford), and you glanced at your group of friends who had all split off to chat up a different man. And meanwhile, there you were, at the bar alone. 

Your friends had seen a video or article online with a list of places that rich men tended to frequent, and after another dinner of instant ramen and looking at your dwindling bank account, you let yourself be dragged along to this bar.

You were surprised how easy it was for you all to be let in, but you supposed young clientele also helped to attract the rich ones the bar was really after. It was the perfect place to find a sugar daddy, or mommy. In your case, you were hoping to just find someone who would pay your bills month to month and possibly your tuition. But now you were just hoping someone would talk to you, much less anything else. 

You had sat here for about twenty minutes, and not a single person had approached you — you had felt a few men and women alike eye you, but none had spoken even a word to you. Heat crept up your cheeks and insecurities bit at your nerves as you stirred your drink absentmindedly — you were such an idiot— you should have just stayed in today, snuggled up in bed and watched Netflix—

“Mind if I sit here?” And your gaze snaps from your flat soda, ocean blue eyes stopping your breath in its tracks, his lips curled in all too tempting smile, and his snowy locks just tousled enough to look natural. 

“Not at all,” you manage to say, surely you were gonna catch flies if you didn’t pick up your jaw off the floor. He was gorgeous — as he slid into the stool beside you, his baby blue button up showed off his toned physique, his sleeves rolled up, as he looked over the menu. 

“Can I order you a drink?” a smile on his lips as he offered you the menu — non-presumptuous and didn’t order your drink for you — was he even real? 

“Just another soda, I don’t drink often, and I’m the designated driver for tonight,” though, as you glanced at your groupchat, you didn’t think many of your friends would be making it back tonight, at least not with you. 

“A woman after my own heart— two sodas please,” he ordered, “I’m not a huge fan of alcohol either. I prefer things that are sweet,” and his gaze slides over your body, “are you?” 

And you flush, trying to look nonchalant as your drinks arrive, “Take a guess,” and he hums, as he takes a careful sip of his drink, eyeing you. 

“Oh sweetheart, I don’t guess — I intend to know,” your eyes snap to his, playful mirth in his eyes, “and if you have a price, I’m more than willing to pay it,” he places his platinum credit card on the bar, sliding it to the bartender, “start a tab for me and the beauty right here,” he flashed a wink at you. 

Even though this is exactly what you had come “You don’t have to—“ 

“But I want to,” he leans forward, his lengthy fingers brushing against your hand, giving you ample time to withdraw, but you don’t, your fingers intertwining with his, his thumb rubbing against your knuckles, “you deserve to be taken care of, sweetheart,” 

You bite your lip, “and how do you know that? You don’t know me,” 

And he tilts his head, a wry grin on his face, “I know enough, baby, and I know that I want to be the one to take care of you,” he lifts your hand to his lips, pressing it against your palm, “now what do you say? I’m sure we can reach an agreement that you’d enjoy,” and his other hand brushes your thigh lightly, “and that I’d enjoy as well,” 

Your lips part as you stare at him — he could have anyone he wanted, that much was clear — the wealth, the affluence, not to mention his charm and looks — but he wanted you. 

And who were you to say no? 

He dropped you home that night, having his driver fetch your car for you after. You both sat in the back of his town car, his hand resting on your thigh, as he spoke to you, his breath warming your skin, as he leaned against you. He didn’t ask to come in or to take you to his place, instead he helped you out of his car, walking you to your apartment’s doorstep. His fingers resch inside his coat pocket, and handed you his business card, his personal number scrawled on the back. 

His fingers ghost over your jaw, as he tilts your chin up, the low buzz of the overhead light drowned out by your heart thumping against your ribcage, “Call me, ok?” And you nod wordlessly, breath hitching as he drew close. 

“Good girl,” he smiled, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead, “I’ll talk to you soon,” he winks, before heading back to his car, “you won’t regret it.” 

But here you sat, staring at his business card the next morning, the only proof that what happened wasn’t a dream, as you lie awake, staring at the number typed into your phone. 

Satoru Gojo. 

How do you do this? Hey it’s the person you hit on at a bar and propositioned to be a sugar baby? 

But you couldn’t get him out of your head — it wasn’t just the money, he was…smooth. 

Fuck it. 

You go to text him, but fate is cruel, and you hit the call button by mistake. You end the call quickly, and contemplate throwing your phone out the window, when your phone starts flashing with the exact number you had called. 

Double fuck. 

You panicked, as it rang, then taking a breath and picking the call up, “Hello?” 

“Gotta hand it to you, sweetheart, didn’t think you’d be so bold to call me,” Satoru is chuckling over the line, the sounds of the road in the background, and it was clear he was driving somewhere, “but it’s a pleasant surprise,” 

“Is it?” you ask, and he hums, a noise that sends heat across your cheeks. 

“Very,” he cuts to the chase, cutting over any of the silence that could linger, “could we have dinner tonight?” 

“Tonight?” 

“I don’t like to waste time when it comes to things I want,” and you’re glad he can’t see you — your knuckles pressed against your lips, “are you free?” 

“I am,” you say slowly, “but I wanted to ask, after dinner what would the expectations be?” You had no idea how any of this worked, what the arrangement would be, or how it would be handled. 

“There are no expectations except for your time,” he says, “we can take this at your pace, your rules, your limits - we are getting to know each other, and we both happen to want more, I’d be more than happy to make that happen,” and his words nearly make you shiver, “does that sound good, princess?” 

“Perfect,” you murmur, and he chuckles, “what time—” 

“7:00 PM — I’ll send a car for you. I have your address noted, and I have a little dress picked out for you if you’re comfortable with that?” 

You hold your burning cheeks, “Sounds too good to be true,” 

And he hums, “Well, perfect,” he echoes you, “because that’s what we both are.” 

The car is prompt when picking you up, and your roommates help you get ready — thoroughly jealous when they see a selfie the two of you had taken that night. And then the doorbell rings, and the three of you are rushing towards the door. 

“Tell us everything don’t miss a detail,” your roommates yell-whisper, “hot, charming, and so rich? I hate you,” 

And you shush them opening the door, as Satoru stands in a blue button up, simple slacks, and a grin that made your knees nearly buckle, “Well I am rich, she ain’t lying,” he offers you a bouquet of flowers — your favorites, all arranged perfectly, “and I’d like to think I’m the others as well,” 

“Satoru, they’re beautiful,” you inhale their scent, before you furrow your brow, “how did you know—“ 

“Lucky guess,” he smiled, fingers finding your own, “I guess we have the same taste in flowers, beautiful — great minds,” and he plucks the flowers and hands it to your roommates, “please take care of these, and I’ll be sure to take care of your gorgeous friend,” 

And he’s whisking you into the car, opening the door for you, as he slides in beside you, his arm sliding behind you, “do you mind?” 

And your heart squeezes, he’s so close, you could smell his cologne — a musky, amber smell mixed with his own scent — his strong arm brushing against your back, and as you peered up at him, a smile on his parted lips, as he stared at you with his cerulean gaze. 

“Not at all.” 

God, you were in trouble. 

“How’d you like this to work, sweetheart?” And you nearly choke on your drink at his blunt question, dinner now finished, as the two of you wait for dessert, his lips curled in his perfect smile as always, “I just want us to have an understanding, so I don’t do anything that makes you uncomfortable,” 

You shake your head, “No, you’re right,” dinner had gone on fine — the restaurant he picked was impeccable, the prices must have been astronomical (not a single price on the menu itself), and the atmosphere of the corner booth gave the perfect illusion of privacy, “we should talk about it,” 

The financial aspect is simple enough — he offers a stipend that was more money than you could fathom and even consider accepting — but after discussion, you settle on him paying for your tuition and other educational needs as well as a monthly stipend. 

“But this doesn’t include anything I choose to treat you to,” he smiles, fingers toying with the hem of the dress, making you almost shiver under his touch, “like this dress or this dinner,” 

“Fine,” you smile, gaze still shying away, “there’s still the matter of what I do for you,” you bite your lip, swirling your drink in its glass, “I’ve never done this before,” you admit, tucking a stray strand behind your ear, and he tilts his head. 

“Nooo, I would have mistaken you for a pro,” he teases, and your cheeks flush, as you sip your drink, mostly for bravery  — that was true, you had never done the sugar daddy thing — but that wasn’t what you meant. 

“I mean that too, I’ve never had this sort of arrangement, but,” you toy with the napkin spread across your lap, “I’ve also never…been with anyone before,” 

And he pauses mid-sip of whatever fruity drink he had ordered — more juice than alcohol (he didn’t prefer the taste of liquor), “At all?” 

You flush, swallowing thickly, as your eyes looked down at your lap, “I’ve been on dates, but never beyond hand holding — I’ve never let it get beyond that,” you never had much an interest, and the people you were interested in had never truly reciprocated— until, you glance at Satoru, now. 

He sets his glass down, his lips curled, “but with us — you think there’s a chance that—“ and you squirm under his gaze, “of well—“ 

And his gaze softens, “You never have to feel obligated to do that — no matter what we agree on for what I can do to help accommodate you, I don’t want you to feel like I’m paying a price for your body,” before he adds with a cheeky smile, “unless that turns you on,” 

You huff a laugh out, chewing on your lip, “I appreciate that, but,” you finish the rest of your drink, before sliding closer in the booth, your thigh pressing against his, “I want to know what it’s like,” and you lean forward, all too close, but he dares even closer. 

His fingers find your jaw, tilting your gaze up, “And you’re sure, Princess?” his breath warms your lips, and you can smell the sweet smell of his drink on his, “there’s no rush,” 

“Who said anything about rushing?” you murmur, and you don’t know if it's the intoxication from the alcohol or from Satoru Gojo himself, but your lips graze his first, barely even. Your lips parted as you brushed your lips for a moment, before sliding away a centimeter, “Satoru—”

But his lips find yours again, fingers cupping your cheek gently, thumb gliding along the soft slope of your cheekbone, “You’re right, you’re not something to be rushed,” he murmurs, words as smooth as velvet, “you’re something to be savored,” and his lips slide against yours, swallowing your gasp as he deepens the kiss with the tilt of your heads, before he’s pulling away, allowing you a moment, “does that mean I’m your first kiss?” 

And you nod, with kiss ruined lips parted and chest rising and falling, eyes half lidded with pleasure and excitement — all of which makes him want to kiss you breathless, kiss you silly until you have no thoughts but of him, “I’m sure I’m not yours,” you tease, a small smile on your lips, but a slight anxiety about your inexperience lingering in your words. 

He only chuckles, wrapping his arm around you to draw you closer, one hand cupping your jaw and the other sliding through your locks, “But you’re the only one that matters, sweetheart,” and he’s kissing you again, and your lips begin to learn the dance he was teaching you, as he steals your breath and sense in one fell swoop. And when his tongue asks for entrance, he swallows your gasp with a smile, as you part your lips for him. And you swear you almost hear him murmur, “good girl,” between fevered kisses and touches.

Now, his body leaning into you, pressing you against the plush leather of the booth, his hand rested on your thigh now, toying with the hem of the very same dress he had bought you, “Satoru,” you sigh, as your lips finally part a moment, foreheads resting against each other. His eyes take you in, kiss bitten red lips, your cheeks flushed. 

His lips kiss your cheeks, and then your forehead, “I think I should take you home,” his thumb rubs against your lips, pulling at the bottom one.

“What about dessert?” and he shakes his head. 

“There’s only one dessert I’m craving at the moment,” he murmurs, crystal eyes lidded with lust, as he cups your cheek, “and I wouldn’t be keeping my promise if I indulged, now would i?” 

“And if I offered…dessert?” and he makes a noise — a cross between a hiss and a sigh, before shaking his head. 

“I want to do this right,” he murmurs, “I know this isn’t a relationship, but it’s like one — and I want you to enjoy it, and if we rush into things, you may end up getting hurt, and not in the enjoyable way,” he pinches the soft flesh of your thigh teasingly, “let’s get you home, princess, and we can plan our next outing, and our next step,” 

And you rise, as he helps you out of the booth, as the waiter comes over, “Have you changed your mind about dessert?”

Satoru hands him his card, paying off the tab without even a glance at the receipt, “Yes, I had something far more sweeter and satisfying,” he winks at you, as he pockets his card again. He escorts you to the car, hand resting on the small of your back, his side pressed to yours, as if he was afraid you’d slip away any moment. 

The car ride home was spent with quiet conversation and stolen kisses, your hand slid up his thigh to tease him, as his lips slide over a particularly sensitive spot on your neck, both of you moaning lowly, as he stares at you with lidded eyes, “You sure you’ve never done this before?” 

“Promise,” you flush, a rush of pride settling into heat as you saw the way he looked at you, before your lips find his again, “but you make me never want to stop,” and he growls lowly, leaning forward his hand snaking around your waist to nearly pin you down on the seat. 

“Say more words like that and I may lose the hint of self control I have,” he groans, and he’s kissing you again, his tongue slipping into your mouth again, as you slide your hand into his hair, finding smoothness underneath his white locks — an undercut, fuck. 

“Maybe I want you to,” you murmur, and he pulls back to look at you with his crystal gaze, dark pools of lust that made you shiver, his fingers digging into your waist. 

“Don’t tempt me,” and he’s about to kiss you again, when the driver clears his throat, and the two of you glance out the tinted window and realize you have arrived back home. And the fact of the matter was the car hadn’t been moving for quite some time. 

You bite your lip, “Do you want to—” 

And he kisses you softly, his fingers tracing over your jaw, “I want to, but we should take this slow,” he presses another kiss to your cheek that only serves to make me pout, “it will be worth it,” and he leans in to kiss your other cheek, but you turn your head to meet his lips in another kiss, making his breath catch, as you pull away with a smirk. His lips parted, as his gaze darkens, “such a tease, princess — I was thinking you were an angel that I was corrupting, but maybe you’re the one doing the corrupting.” 

“As I should be,” you grin, before pulling open the door, moving to slide out of the car, “call me?” 

“If I don’t, I can always count on you calling me first,” he teases with a wink, “I’ll call tomorrow, dream of me, ok?” 

“And if I don’t?” and he laughs, leaning forward with that smile that always made your heart stammer in your chest. 

“Oh, you will.” 

“Satoru,” you whined, “can we—” 

“So impatient,” Satoru chides, chuckle rumbling from his chest, voice deliciously raspy from the makeout session they had just had, “forgot how needy you are, baby,” 

And how could you not be? Splayed across his lap, your back pressed to his chest, thighs spread across his now very damp slacks, your dress riding up on either side as his hands slid up your bare legs, his touch teasing enough to have you on edge, your panties growing more drenched by the moment. 

“I need—” 

“You don’t know what you need,” Satoru murmurs, as his fingers brush your hair aside, “do ya, baby? You just want—” and his fingers finally tease your inner thigh, “more, don’t you? Such a greedy little princess,” 

“Only for you,” and that makes him groan in your ear, his lips pressing a kiss behind it, before sucking at your earlobe, “please, Satoru,”

“We have a shopping trip planned, baby, gotta get you some new clothes for our little vacation, don’t we?” He hums, his fingers toying with the edge of your panties, “especially since you keep ruining all of yours,” 

“You’re the one ruining them, baby,” you pout, your lips pressing wet kisses along his jaw, “I know we promised to take it slow, but please, I’ve been so good— don’t I deserve a little reward?” 

He hums, two fingers pulling and snapping the elastic of your panties against your skin, “Let’s go shopping and I’ll see about your reward, Princess,” and your lips purse, as he chuckles, lips pressing against yours, “don’t worry it will be worth the wait.” 

And it was. 

That was how you ended up in this particular predicament, pressed against a changing room wall, the black dress he had insisted on you trying on for him, hiked up around your waist, as his thumb pressed against your puffy clit. 

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it, pretty baby?” Satoru coos, his finger beginning to press against the growing wet patch on your panties, “wanted to reward you, and you look so pretty and perfect in this dress, how can I resist?” 

And a whine leaves your throat, and he tuts, “Not so loud, don’t want the other shoppers to hear what we’re doing,” and his fingers finally pull aside the crotch of your soaked underwear, “you’re so fuckin’ wet, baby, you sure this pussy is a virgin?” 

“Satoru, please,” and he pulls your lips into a sloppy kiss, all tongue and teeth, right as his finger finally sinks into your needy cunt. He swallows your moans eagerly, as his thick finger curls against your gummy walls, reaching places you were never able to by yourself. 

“So fuckin’ tight, sweetheart, gonna break my finger, how would I fit my cock in this tight cunt?” And he drags his bulge against your ass, making you gasp at the size of it, “Gonna have to stretch it out, make you nice and loose for me,” 

“Fuck,” you whisper, and he’s grinning as his lips press sweet kisses against your neck, his finger pumping in and out slowly, your slick squelching as he does, finger brushing against that spot that has your knees nearly buckling, “Satoru, I—“ 

“Already gonna cum, baby?” he’s humming, while your lips try and fail to pout, mouth falling open in a silent moan as your walls flutter around his finger, as he fucks you through your orgasm.

But he’s not stopping, as your hand reaches for him, he’s caught you by the wrist, a second finger sinking into your dripping cunt now, “not done with you yet, pretty baby, I know you got more left for me,” he’s scissoring and stretching your walls - curling his fingers just right so he hits that special spot of yours. And it isn’t long until you’re cumming again, his hand covering your mouth, muffling your moan as you ride his fingers. 

“Satoru, please,” you’re nearly crying from the overstimulation, but you’re refusing to use your safe word, as he guides you and him to the seat in the fitting room, sitting on his lap right across from the mirror. 

“Look at you, all fucked out and pretty for me,” his fingers under your chin forces you to look at yourself —- your cunt dripping and spread open, his fingers plunged inside you still, your slick dripping down his hand, “so perfect for me,” he murmurs, “think you have one more for me?” 

His fingers move slowly, parting your walls, making you gasp, “Too sensitive,” you whine, but he’s sliding your lips against yours again, as his fingers begin to push into you, “Satoru,” 

“C’mon baby, this is your reward,” he’s grinning against your lips, “just relax and enjoy it,” 

And you don’t know how many more times he makes you cum. By the end, the dress you’re wearing was ruined, damp from the cum dripping down your thighs, “Don’t worry, I’ll pay for it,” he’s cleaning you up, before sliding your underwear back into place, “now let’s find some other clothes for you, baby — need to get you out of this dress now, don’t we?” 

“Do you want to stay over?” Satoru murmurs, his lips pressed to your neck, making you pause, “I’d stay over at your place, but with your roommates we’ll have an audience,” and he adds, “unless you’re into that,” 

And you roll your eyes, before smiling, “what would staying over entail?” 

“Anything you’d want it to,” he’s kissing your cheek, and then your jaw, and then your lips,“I just want to wake up with you — maybe make breakfast together, maybe a little more if you want to,” 

“That sounds perfect,” and you knew just what you wanted for breakfast. 

“Princess,” he hissed, his ocean blue eyes half lidded as he stared at you between his thighs, “this isn’t what I meant when I said I’d make you breakfast,” 

And you pressed a kiss to his weeping tip — you never expected a cock to be so pretty — but why wouldn’t it be on Satoru Gojo? If a higher being existed, it gave with both hands when it came to him — the tip was flushed red, every vein and curve was perfect, and it was so long. 

“Well this was exactly what I had in mind,” you grinned, your tongue flicked against his slit, collecting the pearl of precum resting there, “couldn’t wait to taste you, Toru — if I couldn’t have you fuck my cunt, I might as well have you fuck my mouth,” 

He swallows thickly at your words, adam’s apple bobbing, crystalline pools clouded with lust, “Careful what you wish for, Princess,” 

“I’m always careful,” you suckle at the swollen tip of his cock sloppily, drawing a moan from his lips. It was clear you were inexperienced — your lips and tongue were clumsy, your fingers grasping at his base were unsure, but the heat in your eyes only made all of your inexperience all the more arousing, “tell me what to do,” 

And Satoru swallows thickly, eyes fluttering down at you, as his lips slowly curl, “start by sucking at the tip, slowly at first,” and you do just as he says, all too eager, making him liable to cum on the spot, “now trace the slit at the tip with your tong—” and he grunts as you’re already doing as he says before his sentence is done, “good girl,” and the praise sends a wave of heat through your body, your needy cunt growing wetter by the second.

“Now, want you to slide my cock into your mouth, mind your teeth,” he warns, “no rewards for bad girls who bite my dick — that’s a lesson for a different day,” he adds with a wink, making you hum around his cock, making it twitch, as you take more of his length, slowly sliding it further into your warm mouth. 

He’s grunting, holding himself back from fucking your mouth then and there — there would be time for that, but right now, he needed to teach you right. 

He was a teacher — first and foremost. 

“Just like that, pretty,” he’s moaning, his fingers gently gripping your head, guiding your mouth up and down his cock, “that’s it — fuuuuck—” and he’s hissing when your fingers toy with his balls, as your tongue traces over his veins, forcing every muscle in his thighs from having you deep throat his cock then and there, “now can you—” 

And you suck at his cock, lips wrapped around, as you stare up at him, eyes lidded with lust, thighs pressed together, as you slurped at his cock, your tongue flicking at his slit, “baby, you sure you’ve never done this before?” and his hips begin to stutter against you, making you gasp around his length, “so fucking perfect for me, baby — know what I like without even trying,” 

And how is he this fucking close already? Is he the virgin or are you? His hips roll into your mouth shallowly, your fingers finding what couldn’t fit in your mouth and stroking it, all while his fingers grasp at the mussed sheets below him, “fuck, sweetheart, ‘m s’close,” and you’re only re-doubling your efforts, cheeks hollowing around him, “you don’t have to—“ but you suck at the tip, tongue laving at his length, and he’s spurting his load down your throat. 

His head falls back, as his hips stutter into your mouth, fingers tugging at your hair, drawing a moan from your lips. And his half lidded eyes falling to your lips around his cock, his cum slipping down the corner of your mouth as you continue to swallow.

“Fuck, baby,” he’s panting, hissing at the sight of you as you pull your lips away from his length, strings of his cum and your spit connecting your mouth to his cock, “such a good fucking girl,” he says, nearly a growl, “my good fucking girl,” 

You’re smiling up at him, watery eyes, as your tongue darts out to clean up his release from your mouth, making his breath catch, “You taste so good, Toru,” and god, you’re so cute — he wanted to spoil you, buy you the whole world and more, and he catches your thighs rubbing together — but first— 

And he’s manhandling you, fingers sinking into your thighs and he’s flipping you onto your back, his chest still heaving, sweat glistening on his forehead, and a grin on his lips. 

“My turn,” he murmurs, sliding his lips against yours, tongue tasting his release on your mouth, before kissing down your body, before he’s settling between your thighs. 

—he was going to have his breakfast. 

The semester wore on and Satoru became more and more busy with work. His messages became few and far between, and your time together dwindled to nothing. Although he still sent the stipend each month, you found your thoughts wandering to him far too often — daydreams between paragraphs of reading and review for an exam that you didn’t particularly care about. 

This should be the dream right? Money for essentially no effort. You had long forsaken the days of ramen noodle dinners and scraping by on your loans — you should be happy. You could go where you wanted, do what you wanted — but why was the only place you wanted to be was with Satoru? You pulled out your phone, refreshing the notifications over and over as if it would change the outcome — but it didn’t — still no new messages from him. 

Was he really busy with work? Anxiety begins to creep into your mind — or was he busy with someone else? Had he been hanging onto you on the back burner — waiting for someone better to come along? You open Satoru’s text chain — the last message sent was your own — and you chew on your bottom lip. 

Were you about to break your own rule about double texting? 

You type — Hey, just wanted to check on you. Been thinking about you a lot. 

You delete it. Is this desperate? What if he thinks you’re desperate? You’re running your hand over your face, pressing your knuckles against your lips.  

Fuck it. You type the same message and send it. 

Oh, it’s worse. Texting and having to wait for a response is worse — and now you simultaneously want to constantly check your phone and also chuck it in a lake. You lay back on your bed, turning and burying your face in your pillow. 

What the fuck were you doing? 

Several hours pass, and you place your phone in the kitchen, as you sit in your room, trying to focus on studying for your exams, instead of thinking about whether Satoru texted you back or not. You finally allow yourself a break at dinner time, and wander out, spotting a few texts from Satoru. Your heart squeezes as you pick up your phone and check. 

Hey baby, is that your way of saying you miss me? 

Because I miss you too. 

When’s your last exam? 

You bite back a smile — it’s on this Friday — I’ll be done at 6:00 PM. 

He types, and then stops, then types again, and then stops. Then he sends a simple “ok.” 

And you don’t hear from him again, which only makes the rest of the week a delight to get through. You’re sure you scraped by on your exams — Friday didn’t come soon enough, but it had arrived. You stretch as you leave the exam hall — bundled up in your jacket, as you make your way back to your apartment. But only, you're not the only one outside the building. 

Satoru stands, leaning against the side of the car, eyes on his phone as he stands in a long deep gray winter coat, a cream sweater underneath, looking utterly too perfect. He glances up, cerulean blue eyes finding yours, lips curling in a smile that you hoped was only reserved for you. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” and you’re holding yourself back from running, quickly walking over, and he’s closing the gap as well, pulling you into his arms, his arms sliding over your jacket — “is this all you’re wearing? We need to buy you a warmer coat,” 

“Satoru,” you’re shaking your head at his priorities, your fingers sliding over his front before sliding them under his jacket, “what are you doing here?” 

“Well, my project finished up earlier today, so I spent the day preparing a little surprise,” he’s tilting your chin up, leaning down to brush his lips against your jaw, and you shiver — most assuredly not from the cold, “we’re going on a trip,” 

“A trip?” you blink, utterly too distracted by his lips placing wet kisses up and down your jaw, nearing your lips, but always stopping short, “where—” 

“A hot spring — I thought we could use some rest and relaxation,” his lips hover right over your own, his thumb dragging down your bottom lip, “and some privacy — I reserved us a private hot spring,” and his palms slide down to your hips and squeeze, “just you and me,” 

“That sounds amazing — wonder what else you have planned,” your lips lean up and brush against his, making his curl into a smile, and your heart stirs — god, you didn’t care about the money, about the amenities, about the dates — he could have just taken you for a walk and you’d be happy by his side, “I missed you so much, Toru,” 

And he’s kissing you again, his hand sliding back to hold the back of his neck, deepening the kiss before he pulls away. You’re panting as he does, lips kiss bitten red, “I did too, baby, it was so difficult being without you — kept thinking about seeing you. I had to hold myself back from seeing you the minute you texted,” he’s sighing, “but that’s why I thought this weekend would be perfect — spend it just with each other, no distractions,” 

“Toru,” you murmur, “I need to tell you something,” you can’t hold back — you need to tell him, you need him to know, and his lips press into a pout, forehead wrinkled, “I think I have feelings for you — more than what our relationship should have,” your cheeks flush, eyes falling to the ground, and you watch your breath warm the cold air, “I don’t know if you feel the same or if we should stop, but I needed you to know because I—” 

And his finger rests against your lips, eyes nearly shining in the moonlight, “You really mean that, sweetheart?” and you swallow the lump in your throat, before nodding. And he grins, before his lips find yours in a bruising kiss, pulling you impossibly closer, wrapping you in his jacket as he presses himself against you, “I have feelings for you too — I have for a while,”

“You—do?” you manage between kisses and breathes, and you look up at him with wide eyes and parted lips — and you’re so impossibly cute — he has to hold himself back from taking you against his car then and there — “Satoru, please—” 

“I do, I do, sweetheart, you said you’ve never done any of this before, well I’ve never done half of the things I’ve done with you,” he murmurs, a chuckle caught in his words, “do you think I’d plan a trip like this for just anyone? I’ve never even engaged in this sort of relationship before — until I saw you,” 

You pause, mouth agape, “So you’ve never had a different—” 

“You’re my one and only baby,” he teases, pressing a sweet kiss to your forehead, “and worth every cent, second, and effort I’ve used,” And you bite back a smile, eyes slightly glassy, “what?” 

“I thought — I don’t know, when I hadn’t heard from you, I thought you had found someone else, that you were going to leave, and it just seems so silly now,” you shake your head, but he’s cupping your chin, meeting your gaze. 

“It is silly, baby,” he’s pressing another kiss to your lips, “because I’d never leave you — and I’m not planning on it, are you?” 

“No! No, of course not,” and he laughs at your eager reply, making your cheeks hot, as he’s burying his face in the side of your neck, “Toru—” 

“At this rate, you’re gonna make me fall for you, princess,” and your fingers card through his hair, grinning as kisses your neck, and you make him look at you — pale skin flushed from the weather or your touch, it could be either. 

“That’s the plan.” 

“Was this part of your plan?” Satoru’s voice is caught, as looks at you — oh and he could look at you forever. 

Your innocent lips painted pink, a perfect accent to the light cerulean lingerie that you had wrapped yourself in. The lace and see through panels left almost nothing to the imagination, but at the same time, hid just enough. You were a present ready to be unwrapped — and you wanted him to do the unwrapping. 

“You tell me,” you chuckle, twirling a strand of your hair between your fingers, letting your legs spread further apart, making him drop the bouquet he was holding, “nothing to say?” 

It had been a few weeks since your trip away and you had been hinting at wanting to finally have your first time with Satoru. But each time, he always ended up fingering you or sucking you off — he was hesitant, he didn’t want you to regret your choice. 

But how to explain that you could never regret him? Well, this was the only way to think of — a hammer instead of a gentle hand. 

And his gaze grows lidded, mouth dry, as he steps forward, “sweetheart—“ 

“You kept saying you wanted our first time to be special, but you don’t get it—“ you reach out and tug him closer by his tie, “my first time will always be special if it’s you,” you kiss his jaw, smiling, and he’s wordless as he stares at you, hesitancy eating away at your confidence “but if you don’t want—“ 

And he’s got you pinned under him, knee pressed between your thighs, his fingers sliding up and down your exposed skin of your sides, his perfect lips curved in a smile, “I guess we’re really not understanding each other, baby,” his lips ghost over the nape of your neck, as he inhaled deeply, before pulling back, his thumb now dragging over your lips, “I want you — badly,” and his fingers tease the fabric of your lingerie, “you don’t know how many times I’ve come close to giving into you, to wanting to just fuck you like I’ve dreamed about, fantasized about — but, I guess I was waiting for a perfect moment that didn’t exist — since every moment with you is special, right?” He teased, making you flush. 

“I want you too, Toru, so bad,” you rub yourself against his knee, “I can’t wait anymore, are you gonna fuck me or—“ 

His knee grinding against you cuts you off with a whine, “don’t tempt me so much, sweetheart, we gotta do this right,” his lips find yours again, all tongue and teeth, as he swallows your noises and more with pleasure, his knee rubbing against you in earnest, “gotta prep you right,” he murmurs reverently. 

His lips trail from your lips to press wet kisses to your jaw, and his fingers part your thigh further — and you let him with ease. And his lips tease the edge of your lingerie, “it’d be a shame to take this off, so maybe I’ll just take you in it,” his mouth closes over your clothed nipple, teasing it through the fabric, making you gasp,  “but then again, I wouldn’t  be able to see your body without any obstructions. Decisions, decisions,” 

And he’s snapping the shoulder strap against your skin, as he pulls his knee away, the dark damp patch on the fabric, “Plesse, Toru, I need more—“ and his lips curl, as his fingers tease your clothed cunt, two fingers dragging right down the slit. The wet fabric barely doing anything to stop the press of his pads against your sensitive folds. 

“So wet for me already, sweetheart? I’m flattered,” he grins, leaning down to inhale, before a soft moan leaves his lips, “your scent is as good as you taste,” making you keen against him at his words — you could never grow used to the sight of him between your thighs, his blue irises fixed on your cunt. 

“Just for you, Toru,” and he bites back a groan, his gaze half lidded with lust, “only for you,” 

He can’t wait anymore. 

He kisses up your body, teasing your bellybutton with his tongue, dragging his mouth up your abdomen until he reaches your lips. And he kisses you again, lips burning against yours, stealing any coherent thought with only a brush of his lips or a stolen touch of your thighs. But now his lips reach the waistband of your lacy panties, giving another broad lick, tasting you through the soaked material, before he’s sliding two fingers inside the elastic tugging it down your legs. 

“As much I love your lingerie — it needs to go,” and he’s sniffing the fabric with a small moan, before pocketing it with a wide grin,  “for now,” 

“Toru, those were expensive—“ 

“I know, my money paid for them,” he winks, making you shiver with a graze of his teeth against your inner thigh, “I’ll buy you as many as you like, as long I’m the only one taking them off,” his warm breath makes your cunt twitch as his fingers part your pussy, stretching out your walls — so fucking tight,  “s’pretty, all for me,” his thumb brushing against your clit, making you whine, “so needy, pretty girl — you need my cock that bad?” He’s thumbing your chin, making you meet his gaze and his cock throbs — you were already so fucked out — chest nearly heaving, your breasts nearly escaping their cups; your lips parted with pants and soft moans; and your eyes fixed on him, lidded and needy — it was enough for him to cum there and then. 

Was he the virgin or were you? 

“I’ll give you my cock, baby,” his tongue finally licks up your cunt, savoring the taste of you on his tongue — sweetest thing he’d ever had — “but I’m going to have your cunt first,” 

You’re a mess — moaning and twitching as your fingers grasp at his snowy locks, white strands between your fingers bury him deeper in your aching warmth, thighs nearly suffocating him — and he wouldn’t want to die any other way, honestly. Fuck, how is he so good at this? Two seconds, and you’re ready to squirt all over his face — the way his tongue drags against your insides and flicks against your clit, before sliding back into your sweet cunt, making your walls twitch around him. 

And he can’t help but grind against his sheets and mattress, surely leaving a stain on his pants — but fuck, he couldn’t help it. All he couldn’t help it — all he wanted to was sink into you, bury himself deep inside, until he made you cum over and over — but he wanted this to be good for you. 

It’s when his lips close around your clit and suck as your fingers sink into you once again and fuck you open when it’s all over for you. You’re moaning unabashedly now, your back arching and your legs trembling as you cum hard, his name on your lips in an almost scream, as he only eats you out through your orgasm, tongue lapping every drop of your release, as you come down from your high. Intense pleasure ebbs away to slight twitches and heavy pants, as you look down at him with fucked out eyes, his face absolutely covered in your glossy release, as his pink tongue darts out to collect the rest, back of his hand taking care of the rest, your cunt convulsing at the sight of him. 

“Know it was good, but didn’t realize it was that good,” and he’s leaning up, sliding off the bed to strip off his jacket before undo the buttons of his shirt’s cuffs, fingers deftly undoing his button-up now, “so perfect for me,” and he’s pulling his phone from his pocket, as he leans down to part your thighs for him, his gaze dark with lust as he snaps a few pictures of your leaking cunt, “such a pretty princess cunt,” and you hear the clink of his belt as he undoes it, your gaze lifting as your eyes raked over his defined abs and muscles, following all the way down to his v-line and below…

Fuck. 

You knew he was big — hell you could barely fit him in your mouth, but how the fuck was he going to fit inside you? And your nerves come back full force, but mixed with an excitement — an excitement and a relief that your first time — your first time would be with someone you loved, would be with someone that the word ‘love’ failed to encompass your feelings for. 

Even when he was a teasing ass. 

“Like what you see, baby?” he’s grinning, as he drags his engorged tip against your fluttering walls, smearing his pre-cum against yours, groaning as he watches it mix, “fuck, been dreaming about this for so long,” as he leans over you to press a kiss to your sweet lips, the lust mixing with love — an entire ocean of love that threatens to drown you if you look for too long, “are you sure?” the words are said with such concern, such care, such gentleness that it almost makes you want to cry — but you don’t know why. 

“I am, always, when it’s you,” and your fingers find his cheek, as you lean up to kiss him, his lips curved in a smile reserved for you. 

“Don’t go getting all soft on me now, sweetheart,” and you laugh. 

“Shouldn’t I be saying that to you, old man—” and you gasp as he presses the tip against your entrance, waiting for your go-head to push in — but that doesn't mean he couldn’t make you eat your words. 

“What was that, baby?” it’s his turn to laugh and yours to pout, before you’re pulling him close again. 

“Satoru, please—” and your gazes meet again, and there’s no need for any more discussion. He moves slow, lining himself up, making sure he is lubricated enough to slip into you. 

“If I’m hurting you—-” 

“I’ll scream,” you tease, and he snorts. 

“I’d like to see you screaming for a different reason, but that works too,” and he’s leaning down to capture your lips once more, as he sinks into you slowly. Your lips part in a gasp, your expression twisting with the discomfort you felt, but it wasn’t anything you couldn’t tolerate, and his eyes meet yours, as you give a nod, and inch by inch, he fits himself in you — until he finally bottoms out. 

You both groan, his fingers running through your hair, “So fucking perfect f’me, sweetheart,” and he’s not moving, letting you get used to him filling you up, “I know, it’s so much, isn’t it, baby? But you’re doing so well,” and his lips met yours again, as the slight discomfort ebbs away, all you feel is want, want as his tip finds your cervix, want as you feel your walls meld to his shape, and want when you hear the low groan stuck in his throat, “good girl, my best girl,” 

And you can’t help the desperate whine that parts your throat, “Please, move,” you nod, and that’s all he needs for him to pull back and thrust back in, pulling gasps and moans from your pretty lips. 

“That’s it, baby,” he grunts, as he falls into a rhythm, “fuck, your cunt is practically sucking me back in — getting the feeling you don’t want me to stop, sweetheart,” he’s pressing sweet kisses to your neck, in contrast to the dirty squelch of your cunt and the slapping of your hips with his as he fucked you. 

It felt so good. 

Your fingers find purchase on his neck, fingers dragging through his white locks and undercut, drawing him impossibly closer, as his lips close over one of your nipples, licking and sucking as he thrusted into you. And he’s guiding your legs around his waist, and your legs pull him ever closer — ever deeper — as he groans against you. He presses sloppy wet kisses along your collarbone, his groan vibrating against your skin. 

“Look at that, pretty girl, taking me so well,” he’s grunting, as he looks at where you two meet, watching himself sink into you over and over, “g’nna make you only want this cock — no one else’s — all mine,” and you’re so close — your head buried in the nape of his neck, and he could hear every pant, moan, gasp right as it left your mouth, “such pretty noises — never made these noises for anyone else, have you, baby? Just f’me,” 

And you nod, eyes fluttering shut, “Close, s’close,” pleasure building, like a coil ready to snap, you can’t find the words — “I’m—“ 

“Cum on my cock, Princess,” his fingers press down against your clit, rubbing and that’s it, “let me make you feel good,” 

Your walls clamp down hard his dick twitching in your cunt, a low groan leaving his lips, as he fucked you through your orgasm, and his hips stutter against you, low moans leaving his lips. 

It felt so right. Pleasure washing over you as your toes curled, your eyes nearly rolling back, as you came. And he can’t stand it much longer — 

“Where—“ he groans, your slick cunt too much for him, your cum drenching him, “I’m close—“ 

“Inside, please, I—“ and he gives a shaky chuckle. 

“So greedy, baby — want my cum too?” He kisses you, long and soft as he moaned your name far too loud, his warm, thick load spilling inside you, as he fucked it inside, “look at that, filled you up so good,” as he finally stills inside of you, as he eases out, groaning as he watches your mixed release slip from inside you and trickle down his balls, “s’good, so perfect for me,” 

He grabs a towel to clean you up, gently cleaning your thighs, murmuring sweet nothings. Before he leans down to press a kiss to your reddened lips. 

“Are you okay?” He runs his fingers through your hair, and you nod, as you cup his cheek. 

“I’m perfect,” you sigh, as he curls up beside you, burying his face in the nape of your neck, “and you?” 

“What’s more than ‘perfect?’” And you snort, before he’s leaning over you, “what?” 

“You’re such a dork,” 

“But I’m your dork, your very rich dork, who loves to spoil you,” and you laugh, pulling him close. 

“Just mine,” and he’s kissing you again. 

“Just yours.” 

And you find yourself at that same bar you did many moons ago. 

You nurse a soda, instead of a drink, because you didn’t care for the taste of alcohol. Habits die hard with the company you kept. You felt the gaze of several people on you, but none of them approached — and you didn’t mind one bit. 

“Mind if I sit here?” And you smile, stirring your soda with its straw, not bothering to look up at the sound of this very familiar voice. The same voice that had woken you up with several kisses to your neck this morning. 

“Not at all,” you reply, as you slide over his fruity drink — some concoction that is utterly too sweet — “you’re late,” 

Satoru sighs, swirling his drink in its glass. “Well, the business partners were particularly chatty. I think they knew we had dinner plans,” Satoru sips at his drink, pouting, as you comfort him with a chaste kiss to his cheek, “how’d the job interview go?” 

“I think they might give me the offer,” you smile, but you shrug, leaning against the surprisingly not sticky bar counter,  “I’m not too worried either way,” 

“I told you don’t have to work—“ 

“And I told you I want at least to work part-time to contribute something,” you remind him, as you lean close, fingers lacing with his with a squeeze, “don’t worry we will spend a lot of time together,” and he’s still pouting. 

“That’s not enough,” 

“Plenty?” And he relents, murmuring something about “that’s better,”, “where are we going for dinner anyway?” You raise an eyebrow, “such secrecy tonight,” 

“I have to keep you on your toes, sweetheart, can’t have you losing interest,” he smiles, as his fingers reach into his pocket, and you roll your eyes, unimpressed. 

“Never,” you roll your eyes, as he leans over and presses a kiss to his neck, and he’s finding your lips, fingers brushing your cheek, panting as he parts, “I know you’re trying to avoid the question.” 

And he only offers a grin, before he’s holding a ring before you, “take a guess,” 

You stare at it, blinking, your fingers covering your mouth, “Satoru—“ 

“I told you a long time ago here that I wanted to be the one to take care of you — and now I’m asking to take care of you forever,” and you can’t help but grin, “I’m sure we can reach another agreement — as long as you let me call you my wife,” 

And you’re already pulling him into your arms, lips sliding against his, as he melts into the kiss, “is that a yes?” 

You laugh, offering your hand, “put the ring on me,” and he does, sliding it onto your finger, smiling. 

“You won’t regret it,” and you kiss him again, pressing your forehead to his.  

“I know,” because saying yes to marrying Satoru Gojo was surely the smartest idea you’ve ever had.  

✴︎ a/n: s/o to @laneysmusings for being the best beta reader, and i was truly possessed with the idea of having gojo take care of me and hearing mei mei say that he's "so rich" and he's like " well, she ain't lying." I also didn't listen to agora hills while writing this fic, but i used all the edits of gojo to that song as insp for the title and header lol.

✴︎ taglist: @deegausserr, @satoryaa, @orianakira, @tinnkerbell, @laylasbunbunny, @aztecmoonwarrior, @empresslazingway, @chosoilysm, @idktbhloley, @lorain07, @dreampiies, @nestafarren, @daydreamermarimo, @hydraafk, @theonetheycallbatman, @soccasium, @clearlandchild, @indigoghnights, @cha-raena, @strawberiicreme, @thegreatandpowerfulloreothecat, @jgh15hog, @onlyangeltae, @satocidal, @mrsmoriarty-holmes, @arrloww, @kyyyynziee

[cryptidghostgirl]

The Love (Alastor x Reader)

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Description: Alastor is drunk and Charlie asks him if he has ever been in love.

Warnings: I don't think there are any but correct me if I'm wrong.

Word Count: 1,323

Master Lists:

Master Lists 

Hazbin Hotel Master List

A/N Y'all, I'm lowkey dying from the requests. I'm sorry for the last five or so taking so long, I just need a little break and mix in some of my own ideas if that is okay.

Alastor was drinking at the bar with Husk, Charlie, and Angel. The day had been a lot, seeing Mimzy was always a lot. Yes she was trouble, but Alastor loved her. He loved her for the same reason he was trying to drink himself stupid at the bar. He loved her because she reminded him of Y/n. Mimzy had been her friend first, after all.

He sat off to the side in his own little world while Angel and Charlie chatted and Husk obediently poured the drinks. Normally, Husk would have joined the pair in the mindless, mundane chatter but after the events of the day, Alastor's presence kept him silent.

"No way!" Charlie exclaimed.

She and Angel were talking about some TV show they both watched or another. A mind numbingly boring background noise but, Alastor wasn't complaining.

"Yes! They are one hundred percent perfect for each other." Angel replied animatedly.

"Literally how. Name one thing that shows they have good chemistry."

"Uh, they’re constantly at each other's throats? If that's not love, I don't know what is."

"Angel?"

"Yeah?"

"You don't know what love is."

Husk let out a short, sharp laugh as he topped off Angel's drink.

"Oh yeah? Well then, Princess, what do you think love is."

Charlie sighed, leaning her elbow on the counter as a dreamy look spread across her face.

"Love is... love is when you would do anything for the person. It's when they're your guiding star, your... your prayers answered."

"Uh, no? Love is when you want to literally kill the person but like, in a good way."

"Angel, what does that even mean." Charlie laughed.

"It means... it means there is passion. That spark everyone always talks about? It's violence."

"Hey Al!" Charlie suddenly called, leaning back in her seat to peer at Alastor behind Angel's back, "Who's right, me or Angel?"

Alastor looked up from his glass.

"I hate to say it, but neither of you are correct." he sighed in irritation at having been disturbed, "Love is neither a constant fight nor a blind devotion, though it contains aspects of both."

"Like you know anything about love, mister fancy talk creepy voice." Angel scoffed, turning to face Alastor as well now.

"Actually, I do."

Charlie's face lit up. She practically vibrated with anticipation.

"Alastor! You've been in love!?"

Normally, on a night like this, he'd be alone. He'd be careful to be alone, or at least have Husk as his only company. When he told Husk to shut up and pour, he listened. Other people, not so much.

"Yes."

Charlie had stars in her eyes. She inched closer to him.

"Are you gonna spill?" Angel asked after a moment.

"It was a long time ago."

Alastor took a long sip from his glass.

"Do you... do you not remember it?" Charlie asked, her excited smile slipping slightly at the notion

Maybe it was the drink. Maybe it was the long day, Lucifer, Mimzy, Husk. Those shark demons. Maybe it was just that secretly all along, he had wanted someone to talk to. He watched the liquor in his glass as he swirled it gently.

"It was a long time ago, but I still remember it." his smile softened as he spoke, "It's strange. I remember her laughter, her little quixotic tendencies. I remember the way her eyes would light up when she smiled and the way her perfume smelled. I know her favorite author, the way she took her coffee, the way she folded her clothes but, I can't seem to ever see her face anymore. I..."

He trailed off, taking a breath.

"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to." Charlie quickly said, not wanting to make Alastor uncomfortable.

Alastor shook his head.

"I've spent years not talking about her. Maybe... maybe something else would be nice."

"So, how'd you guys meet?" Charlie immediately asked.

Alastor looked up at her and let out a light chuckle. He felt like he was human again for a moment. It was odd.

"I don't know if you know this about me, but I was a radio broadcaster back when I was alive. A rather famous one at that, in New Orleans at any rate. Her family ran a restaurant near the studio that I went to get lunch at from time to time. She worked there as a server."

"And she loved you?" Angel asked, "Like, you weren't just delusional?"

"I was quite the lady's man back in my day."

"Uh-huh." Angel doubtfully replied, "Sure."

"Oh hush, Angel." Charlie shoved the spider demon slightly, "Tell us more! What was she like? Did you ever get together or were you just friends? Gah! I wanna know everything!"

"She was..." Alastor's gaze fell back to his glass, "you remind me of her in a way. She was so idealistic, so driven. So... bubbly. She worked hard and she cared deeply. I don't know how I swung her, despite my charms. We were friends for about a year. The whole time, I was trying to work up the courage to ask her out but she ended up being the one to ask me. We got married when we were in our mid twenties. I only had a few years with her as my wife before I died."

Unbidden ideas darkened the edges of his mind. Y/n had always been so good, so sweet. Alastor had no idea if she had ever learned of his... escapades. He figured she must know, considering the manner in which he died but it was a horrifying thought. He was grateful when Charlie spoke again, pulling his mind back to the present.

"Thats so cute!" Charlie exclaimed, clapping her hands as she looked between Alastor and Angel, searching for similar excitement.

"Can we meet this alleged doll of yours?" Angel asked, "Cause I am really not believing any of this bullshit your spouting."

Charlie gasped, suddenly struck by inspiration.

"Do you think she would want to be redeemed?"

"Oh dear," Alastor shook his head, meeting Charlie's eyes, "she's not here."

"Then wh-"

"She's in heaven?" Angel exclaimed, "You married someone who ended up in heaven?"

"Either that or she's over a hundred years old and still on earth." Alastor weakly joked.

"I'm sorry."

Alastor shrugged, downing the rest of his drink.

"No!" Charlie insisted, "You'll... you'll never get to see her again! That's so sad!"

"And here I thought you were trying to get us redeemed." Angel scoffed.

Charlie turned to him.

"I'm trying to get you redeemed cause you're a guest. Alastor isn't a guest."

"Right you are, my dear."

"But you could do that." Charlie said turning back to Alastor, "Angel's right, if you were a guest you could be redeemed. You could see her again!"

Alastor smiled kindly at the excited demon. He patted her back.

"I'm afraid I don't think that's an option."

"But why not!" Charlie insisted, "Anyone can be redeemed, Alastor."

"That's not the issue, my dear." he sighed, "I did some things on earth that she would most certainly view as... unfavorable shall we say? Things she most certainly learned of after my death."

"You're not even gonna give it a shot?" Angel asked.

"Yeah, come on Alastor. Let us help you. You never know how it could turn out!"

"It's alright. I have the time we spent together, the memories. I don't want to taint that." he slowly, unconsciously, raised a hand to his chest, his palm over his heart, "The love is still there, thats what matters."

The quartet fell silent as Husk poured Alastor another drink. Alastor sighed, grabbing the glass and examining it carefully, but not taking a sip.

"What was her name?" Charlie asked, her voice small and her smile long gone.

"Y/n."

It had been years since he'd said it out loud. His tongue relished every syllable.

"Her name was Y/n."