#Even MORE relevant now... How does it feel to be so right?

[gothicpaperback]

the art of the deal | eight

<<<PART SIX: INVESTOR BEHAVIOUR | MASTERLIST | PART NINE: COMING SOON >>>

wc: 3,4k | rating: 18+ for eventual smut | Harry Castillo x You | FALSE RELATIONSHIP

summary: you don’t believe in love. neither does he. that’s the only thing you agree on. after swearing off romance, you’ve built a quiet life in art preservation and avoiding anything resembling vulnerability. but when Harry Castillo, arrogant, infuriating, and stupidly rich, proposes you pretend to be his fiancée for the sake of getting his overbearing mother off his back, you’re thrown. but the money is good and with your detached views on romance and love, you make the perfect polished, commitment-free partner. It’s just a deal; cold, clean and temporary. but pretending to be in love with a man you can’t stand has a way of making you feel things you promised yourself you’d never feel again. especially when he starts looking at you like you're more than just a line item in a contract. And worst of all? You start looking back

the MC female character is YOU. she is not named and barely described physically aside from being able bodied and having hair long enough to grab.

tags/warnings: romcom, fake relationship, mentions of materialists film spoilers, smut, enemies to lovers, money issues, fake engagement, pining. more tags when relevant.

taglist: @chasingthepoguelife | @tnsmara | @sarahhxx03 | @taehyungxjungkookistaekook | @bluenightmarepost | @kakiki3 | @pascal-mynightlyobsession | @immyowndefender | @dedicatedfangirl2001 | @dotyoureyez | @decadent-hag1 | @madmelz | @sarahhxx03 | @orcasoul | @papapappapapapa | @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 | @greenwitchfromthewoods | @insertclevernamehereplease | @titlee78 | @thedisagreeablegirl | @millersgirll | @brinapedroswife | @15christyxoxo | @brinapedroswife | @magicxmiller | @sesdeuxyeux | @@hannahlupinblack | @pedritotito |

part eight | mediation

It's been a week since you and Harry have been in contact. Ever since that awful text and humiliating photo mix up. 

George had laughed himself silly when you told him that weekend that you'd sent it to someone at work. But then he saw the lingerie in question when you opened your robe and all laughter died as he took you to the bedroom. 

George is home back in the UK now and you miss the pleasant distraction he provided. 

"You must miss him a lot," Gemma says over lunch at the gallery cafe. "You two suited each other."

"I miss the sex, yes. But George isn't a serious kind of guy. He's a fun for right now kind of guy." 

Plus I don't want serious. That's the whole point of hooking up with a stranger. 

Gemma wrinkled her delicate nose at that, thinking deeply before nodding in agreement. "That makes sense."

"Besides I don't want to talk about me. I want to hear all about you and Bradford."

Gemma laughs and sets down her chopsticks, her entire face lighting up like someone flipped a switch inside her.

“He texted me this morning,” she giggles. “He said he woke up thinking about me. I know that sounds ridiculous, but-”

“It doesn’t,” you interrupt, smiling despite yourself. It does, actually. But you like the way she says it, like it’s a magic connection between them.

You sip your iced tea, letting her talk. Gemma is in that early peach tinted, glowing stage of dating. She’s practically vibrating across the table as she looks off into the distance and talks about him.  

You remember what that felt like, before everything went sideways. Before the concept of “forever” started sounding more like a sentence than a promise.

“God, I probably sound insane,” she says, cheeks flushed when she catches herself going on and on. “I’ve only known him a month. But it’s just so easy. You know?”

You nod, even though you don’t know. 

“Is that the way it’s supposed to feel?” she presses.

“Supposed to,” you echo quietly, stabbing a cucumber. 

You remember how things felt easy with Jarrod very rarely. How it seemed you were always chasing after that glittery feeling others mentioned. How you always felt like you never quite measured up.

You glance out the café window, watching strangers hurry past and wonder how many of them are like Gemma; hopeful, reckless, falling face-first into a love that will only hurt in the long run.

Gemma’s still smiling when you meet her gaze again. It’s so pure it almost aches to look at.

“I like hearing you talk about him,” you say honestly.

“Really?” she grins. “Even though you’re all cynical about love?”

You smirk. “Especially because I’m all cynical about love.”

She reaches across the table and squeezes your hand, steadfast in her belief that love still exists.��You let her because even though you don’t believe in love anymore, sometimes when you watch her excitement over her boyfriend, you wish you did.

“Partner call’s been moved to tomorrow,” Harry says, flipping the page of his meeting brief."The whole Munich innovation strategy.”

He doesn’t hide his irritation. The Munich office, technically a regional partner firm but operating like a rogue startup, had been lobbying for weeks now. They wanted more capital earmarked for their green energy initiative and, worse, wanted New York senior leadership to lend them credibility by joining their new climate innovation panel. 

It wasn’t just funding they wanted. It was optics. 

“Even after last year’s pass,” he adds flatly.

His assistant lingers in the doorway, tablet poised.

“Yes, sir. They’re requesting someone from the NYC office to lead the strategy panel this time.”

He rubs his jaw slowly. “Of course they are.”

They wanted him, the golden boy, a recognizable name too slap on their slide decks. Harry hated being used for show, especially when the numbers didn’t justify the enthusiasm.

“If this keeps up, I’ll have to go out there personally, won’t I?”

The assistant hesitates, pushing his glasses up. “It’s looking likely.”

Harry exhales through his nose, silent. He liked Munich well enough as a city, but travel meant wasted days, endless presentations, handshakes with partners who thought attending a climate conference counted as progress.

“Draft a note,” he says finally. “Tell them leadership’s reviewing portfolio priorities for the next quarter. We’ll reassess funding after.”

Translation: stall them. He wasn’t sinking more capital or his own time into a vanity project that Munich could barely operate.

When the assistant leaves, Harry leans back in his chair, staring out at the grey sprawl of New York through rain-fogged glass. Travelling used to feel like strategy and now it just felt like an escape running on a hamster wheel. Endlessly trying to escape, but from what? 

From you, perhaps? From the mess he'd made of everything that night with Chelsea?  He had no right to be so cold. The two of you were colleagues performing a job and he'd made it personal. 

 Exhaustion settles into his bones like dampness. It’s been a week since the night Chelsea walked out. A week since you sent the wrong photo to the wrong man. A week since his rude text and your silence. 

You’re not his and this isn’t real but for a moment when he opened that message and saw you in that barely-there lingerie his mind forgot that.  

He still has that photo saved in his phone. The one he's looked at more times than he can count. The one that's brought him to intense orgasms when he's thought about it in the shower. 

He leans forward again, the chair creaking. This is a professional workspace. No time for distractions. No need for thoughts that make his cock hard in bed late at night when he can't sleep. 

The knock on his door comes too quickly for him to brace himself. 

“Mr. Castillo?” his assistant pokes his head in, voice careful. “Your mother’s here.”

He barely has time to stand before Mona steps into the room like she owns it. In a way, she always does, she is one of the originators of the firm after all. She's impeccably dressed in a muted beige pantsuit, the scent of Chanel soft but unmistakable.

"Hello sweetheart,” she says, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “You look tired.”

The two of them laugh. It's their traditional greeting at work. It started one day and it just carried on. 

“Always nice to hear, Mother,” Harry chuckles, gesturing for her to sit. 

Mona takes a seat in one of the plush chairs opposite his desk, crossing one leg over the other and smoothing her trousers.

“I was at a board meeting next door. Thought I’d pop in to see you and Mason. How’s the climate nonsense with Munich?”

“You’ve been reading the FT again.”

“Well, someone has to understand what you do and your father isn't around anymore to keep tabs and report back to me.”

Harry chuckles under his breath, pouring her a glass of sparkling water from the sideboard. “They’re posturing. They want NYC to give them legitimacy.”

“And you don’t want to fly to Germany.”

“Correct.”

He shoots her a look when she only smiles in response. 

“While I did come to spy, I also came to talk about something else. Or someone else.”

Harry stills slightly when she says your name. . 

"You haven’t mentioned anything about the engagement.”

He exhales slowly and returns to his desk. “It’s been... busy.”

“That’s what I thought you’d say.” She takes a sip from her water glass, staring at him over the rim.

Harry forces a tight smile. “We’ve both been slammed. But we'll both be at the gala this week.”

“That's good, Ada hasn't stopped talking about it. Or your fiancée." She leans forward slightly. “But I worry.”

His chest tightens just a little. “About what?”

She studies him. “I like her, Harrison, quite a bit."

"And that's a bad thing?"

"Not at all. It means I care. And I can see she isn't completely accustomed to our way of life. I mean, I found her actions at the baseball game utterly charming" she smiles widely, genuine. "But I worry for her." 

He doesn't answer, but he does look at his mother in concern. 

"You know how people can be. Your grandmother for instance."

"I'll protect her." 

It comes out of him without thought. He'll protect you, even though you're the last person in the world that needs protecting. Mona looks satisfied with that. 

“Good, because she’s warm and funny and there's something about her that feels .. comforting. I can’t remember the last time I wanted to take a girlfriend of yours out for lunch." 

Harry nods faintly, not trusting himself to speak. 

“And you look at her differently.”

Now his eyes lift to hers. “What do you mean?”

“There’s a softness I haven’t seen in you since... well. Since Melissa.”

The name lands between them like a dust-covered relic. The girl that broke his heart in college. The girl that reminded him that love came with price tags.  Its rare Mona brings up his ex-girlfriend and even rarer does she do it with such gentleness.

"Well she's my fiancée," he says through a clearing of his throat. "Of course I look at her that way." 

Mona watches him with a kind of maternal knowing that makes him feel twelve again. 

"I hope you're treating her well."

"I am."

"Not putting work before your relationship like you usually do?" 

Harry has too much on his plate to put up with this conversation any longer. He comes to her chair and gives her a brief embrace when she stands. "Thanks for the visit, Mother.”

She kisses his cheek again, softer this time. “I adore you, even when you’re stubborn.”

“Likewise.”

She lingers in the doorway. “I think she’s good for you. You seem more alive when she’s around.”

After she’s gone, Harry returns to his chair and stares at the rain-streaked window again. Alive. He doesn't know what to do with that word. Mona's words won't leave him.

She’s warm and funny and there's something about her that feels .. comforting

He was too harsh on you in the text, he decides as the moments go by. You didn't deserve it. You were being kind and accommodating and he was being a prick.

Tonight he'll work on making up for it.

The morning of the gala you sit in your pyjamas and stare at your phone like it personally insulted you. 

Harry’s last message counts as that surely? Short. Instructions, not conversation. 

You haven’t answered in the week since and now your silence feels less like a statement and more like a defeat.

You wish you could pretend that you haven't sold off a bit of your dignity. But every time your thumb hovers over the screen, poised to ignore him for good, a sick twist of logic slithers in.

It burns the quiet knowledge that you’re calculating how rude you’re allowed to be, not based on principle, but on finances. 

It’s not you. You’re the person who prides herself on not needing people like him. You’ve rolled your eyes at women who bend for wealth, and now here you are, fingers itching, mind spiralling, all because some rich man sent you a one-line message and you’re too aware of the zeros attached to your silence.

And now you have to hold his arm and pretend you don't hate him so he can parade you through a throng of the upper echelon. How are you going to manage that when you can barely think about him without scowling? This whole charade is pathetic. Pathetic. 

You mutter the word aloud before dropping the phone onto the couch beside you, glaring at it when the buzz of your doorbell goes off. You march to the intercom, pushing the button with a frown. It's the dress being delivered.

"C'mon up." 

When a knock sounds and you open it and there are two young women on the other side you're taken aback. 

Blondes, both of them. Too-perfect curls, glossy lips. Dressed in matching black tights and shirts that toe the line between professional and playful. Their perfume drifts inside before either of them speaks.

“Hi!” one beams, already halfway inside before you even step back. "I'm Anna." 

“And I'm Hannah. Mr. Castillo said you might need help getting ready tonight.” The second girl, softer-spoken but no less enthusiastic, holds up a small silver case. “Hair and makeup."

Anna holds up a large box tied with a bow. "We can help you with the dress too.”

You blink at them. You’re still standing there in pyjama shorts and a baggy t-shirt.

"Harry sent you?" Your throat tightens around his name, dry and disbelieving.

"Yes." 

"I don't need help getting ready. I've been doing it all my life." 

The bolder girl shrugs, smile unbothered. “He said it was your choice if you wanted our help. Totally up to you.”

Your choice.

After his shitty message last week you recognize this is a gesture. Not a grand one or even overt. It's an olive branch disguised as nonchalance. Maybe tonight won't be the nightmare you've imagined. 

You step aside. "Just let me grab a quick shower." 

Confirming the dress has been delivered. And the girls?  I’ve been informed she is accepting their assistance.  Thanks Raj

Harry looks at the text message and feels his breathing come out a little more even. There had been a large part of him that wondered if you would simply refuse to show up at all. 

He's thankful that even though the two of you have been living in a frosty silence for the week that you'll still stand by the agreement.  But the relief doesn’t last because then he remembers the dress.

Harry drags a hand down his face, standing in the middle of his apartment like he’s forgotten why he walked into the room. The dress. Not one of the pieces you chose with Stella that one morning. 

After Ada’s call confirming the event was black tie he’d gone back to Stella himself, not willing to suffer through your eye roll or complaint of being dragged back there. He requested something that would fit the formality and colour scheme of the gala, something that wouldn’t give his grandmother ammunition to tighten her mouth and call you provincial.

And of course Stella had delivered, coming back from the far end of the shop three days later with something she knew would be perfect. 

“No sequins. No beads. Not even one little slit in the skirt. But try not to stare too much when she walks in, eh? A woman, she likes a little mystery in her man, caro."

He trusts Stella, which is why despite her cheeky comment he didn't bother opening the box before having Anna take it with her to your apartment. 

But now he's suddenly worried that you'll think this is another act of control. That you'll open the box to see an unfamiliar dress and you'll be upset thinking that now he's going to dictate every part of your wardrobe. 

Too late now. Harry checks the time, and then pockets his phone, telling himself he’s not counting down the hours until he sees you. 

He’s not.

Hannah and Anna work like a well-rehearsed team. Before you realize what’s happening, they’ve set up at your small vanity, opened cases of brushes and palettes and curling irons. They’re quick, efficient, but never make you feel rushed. Somewhere between professionals and sorority sisters, they chatter like sparrows as they work.

“Where are you going this evening?"

"A fundraising gala." 

"For what?"

You pause, brain buffering. You don't actually know what it's for. Shit. You should know what you're fundraising for. 

"Anna," Hannah whispers with a frown, saving you. "We're not supposed to ask personal questions."

"Oh right. Sorry." 

You give them a gentle smile and a shrug. You wish you had your phone with you. You want to message Harry and find out more details. 

Things you could have done earlier in the week if you weren't icing each other out. 

“Is Mr. Castillo as nice as everyone says?” Anna asks a short while later, lining your lips carefully and ignoring Hannah's groan. 

You freeze slightly, lips parted, unsure what to say. Your last text conversation ended with you throwing your phone across the room. But you’re here to play a part and you attempt to put some adoration in your tone.

"He's as nice as you think." 

The girls giggle to themselves, clearly delighted. Then Anna's stomach growls and you insist on making them both a sandwich. They thank you profusely, eating as they take time to glance at your modest home. 

"You have a nice view," Hannah offers politely and you laugh, putting the extra bread away. 

"I really don't. But thank you." 

"I didn't know Mr. Castillo dated women that aren't-" Anna catches herself, eyes blowing wide. 

You glance over at her from the kitchenette, brows rising. "Aren't what?"

Hannah is looking out the window and pretending that she's not party to this awkward conversation. Anna looks like her face is on fire, twisting her fingers with one another and trying to avoid your gaze. 

"Nothing."

"No, go ahead," you insist, putting the lid back on the peanut butter after swiping a spoonful. "I won't be offended." 

She swallows, obviously debating if she should say what's on her mind. Eventually she takes a deep breath. 

"Well, that aren't rich."

You let out a laugh, shaking your head as you lick the spoon clean. “I guess I’m the charity case this season.”

Anna’s mouth opens like she wants to backpedal, but you just flash her a grin, not letting her.

“Don’t stress, Anna. I’m just as surprised as you are.”

Hannah finally snorts from the window, unable to keep pretending she’s not listening.

"Okay, let's get back to it," Anna says clearly relieved that you're not upset, but still a bit shaken.  

You set yourself back in the chair, much more relaxed now that the three of you are a little more at ease with one another. They spin you around so that you can't face the mirror citing that they want you to be surprised.

You grin and as they work you ask them about themselves. They talk over each other in their excitement. They tell you about their boyfriends, about their own shitty apartments, about how they want to create their own makeup line. 

You like the sound of their voices, bright and harmless. It’s strange, how much you missed having someone in your space. Hannah hums as she taps gloss onto your lips, delicate fingers light against your skin. 

"Okay. All done."

When they finally step back, satisfied and spin you around you’re almost reluctant to look. You don't know that your styles will align. But then you remind yourself that it's only one evening and you drag your eyes back to the mirror. 

For a moment you don’t recognize yourself because your reflection looks luminous. Your hair’s been formed into soft waves, your skin radiant, your lips a deeper shade than you’d dare on your own. 

“Do you like it?” Hannah asks tentatively.

You nod, unable to speak. They beam at each other, gripping hands.

“Mr. Castillo is going to lose his mind."

You swallow around your grimace. “Thank you.”

They move to the dress now, un-boxing it and showing it off, marvelling at the luxurious black fabric. You frown, confused as you approach it, squinting. 

"That's not the right one... I've never even seen that one." 

Hannah notes the small card attached to the inside and hands it over to you looking curious. Your name is on the front and when you open it, you recognize Harry's spidery handwriting.

I apologize for the last minute change of dress. Ada belatedly let me know about the black tie nature of the event and I had to improvise. Stella assured me that you would approve. - H

You read it twice, anger ebbing away into mild irritation. At least this isn't a control thing on his part. You leave the note on your vanity before telling the girls you can get dressed on your own. They look disappointed but they nod. 

"Have an amazing time tonight!"

You give them both tight hugs, telling them you loved meeting them and wish them well. They leave pink-cheeked and grinning. You glance back at the dress when they leave. 

The dark colour, the fabric, it looks daunting and sliding into it feels like stepping into a different skin. It's soft against your flesh, the zipper at the side, hidden by beautiful stitching. 

You force yourself to look at your reflection again and it's like that day with Stella when you saw yourself in the lingerie. Not that the stress is anything scandalous, but it holds your figure and emphasizes your curves in a way that makes you feel like a goddess. 

The gown is black as ink is made from a dangerous fabric that looks like liquid velvet. It clings without being obscene. The neckline is high, but the back is low. A sharp plunge down your spine, held up by the elegant weight of the fabric itself. No embellishments, just skin and shadow. 

The intercom buzzes. 

Harry is here. 

i had to break the other chapter up so you get this one quickly. i managed to edit between meetings. i want to know what you think is going to happen at the gala because i don't think you're going to see what is coming!!!!!!!

xx

💋💋💋💋

[the-great-rat-attorney]

1-5 post-trial conversation you've all (at least one of you has) been waiting for. so many thoughts

1: the obvious thing first -- we actually get to hear how ryuu thinks about the race and xenophobia stuff. you can take it as the generic "right" answer, everyone is equal let's all hold hands etc, but it's interesting what ryuu doesn't say.

he could say, "when i first came to london, i felt overwhelmed and confused by the different culture, but now that i've been here for two months, i've come to understand the english much better." he also doesn't say, "if you put in that kind of effort, you could understand japanese people, too." he's not putting up work for barok to do. he's not treating it as work at all.

maybe that's just how he feels, or maybe he's choosing to say that to barok specifically (he does take a pause to think), although i don't think he's being overly calculating or misrepresenting himself at all. "you and i can understand each other. the only thing stopping us is that you're afraid." so welcoming, so accepting, so open for barok to come to him -- where has he even got the idea that he SHOULD be open to this guy? well, like barok said…ryuu is a great judge of character.

2: listen to that unabashed praise from barok. after his "teasing" from the end of the trial, he's turned around and put in an effort at simple, honest praise. i stand by what i said -- when he realizes his dry british wit (tm) is coming off meaner than intended, he wants to make sure ryuu knows what he really thinks of him. that he's noticed ryuu's talents (his intellect, his principles, his kindness) and he's impressed. please recall that this is happening on the SAME DAY that barok opened the trial by saying the only people he hates more than upper-class crooks are the SNEAKY NIPPONESES. strugglebus

3: also this is the very first private conversation they have ever had and barok's tone has taken a wild shift toward the earnest. shyyyy reaper can't say his feelings in front of everyone. he's also playing with a glass of wine through the whole conversation, which is just a soothing fidget toy for miserable alcoholics. he's nervous.

4: i usually cut out pauses in my screenshots to make my long ass posts a little more tolerable, but that pause from barok is important! that is a "please say more" pause. ryuu is maybe expecting barok to trample all over his opinion or even just ask a question there, but barok is genuinely trying to figure ryuu out, so he waits for ryuu to say more. and i think ryuu is trying to say what he thinks barok needs to hear from him, too.

5: so uh, how did they even end up here? i had it in my head that barok asks ryuu to stay behind, but he doesn't (i was conflating it with 2-3). we get the verdict, the fireworks, and then we immediately cut to an empty courtroom with only these two. did they both just choose to linger behind their benches, hoping they might get a chance to talk to each other?

6: stepping back from my ship for a sec, barok really shows a remarkable lack of classism. the way he talks about gina here…sure, he calls her dirty (i think quite literally) but he speaks of her heart being good.

earlier in the trial, when he besmirches her character, it's never about her being poor and orphaned. (someone correct me if i missed it/forgot!) she IS a self-confessed thief; he points that out. later on, it's established she perjured herself; that's relevant. but he treats poor witnesses with respect regularly -- think back to pat and roly -- while treating the wealthy with at least equal skepticism, which is a stated principle of his.

his language may seem distasteful at times (barok is routinely blunt and not very nice to almost everyone after all) but his behavior is generally not classist. this is not really in line with victorian social norms, nor with what we see from many other wealthy or middle-class londoners in the game. it's safe to assume he got this set of principles from klint, who hated rich and powerful criminals above all.

(barok did make fun of pat and roly's bouquet but i think that was a bit of sheltered cluelessness combined with his personal taste for extravagant everything… i think he felt pretty bad when he realized it was the only anniversary present roly could actually afford.)

next part is here

[ghcjhvk]

batman 161 spoilers and stuff

quick scroll if u dont want spoilers i just read new issue

damian teaming up with bane might be my final reason on the list

i mightve been okay with it if they gave us a reason. "you needed help" are you SERIOUS right now. can you give me like. a little bit more?? okay wait now im getting flash banged into the past when i read task force z and i think they said something abt bane not being the one to kill alfred?? i could be spreading misinformation here be forwarned. but like even if thats the case everyone else still thinks he did it so like give me something. why does bane even need to be here can we not replace him or something. he did like a singular panel of plot, got punched once, and then got sent back to blackgate.

batman's inner dialogue lowkey irritates me im sorry. i just dont like it.

jokers there. its like the plot forgets he's relevant sometimes. esp bc nw fucks off to go see batman 2 seconds after jumping out the lighthouse and like ig the jokers still out running free.

jason remains my favourite ragebaiter. he also pulls disappearing into the gotham water trick again for like the third (?) time. (fourth if we count utrh movie with utrh comic (?)) i choose to believe he has an undetectable submarine perpetually following him around just so he gets chances to do this shit.

nightwing loses jason in the water for the second time lmao

hush 2 be original challenge

i dont hate barbaras part in this issue (but also idk a whole lot abt her as batgirl) and i dont mind bruce's narration/perspective of her.

also lets just talk about this for a second; yeah i dont think letting ur emotions dictate ur actions is a bad thing. theres no such thing as emotions vs rationality when u make decisions im sorry. if u had to pick one over the other, i think a lot more people would be doing a lot more stupid things. they exist with each other, two sides of the same coin bs, except ur not flipping the fucking coin and calling heads or tails ur just using the damn coin to pay. anger and grief are emotions i fear. being calm is an emotional state of being i fear. compassion is a feeling. empathy and guilt after helping build morality. stop being stupid bruce it aint cute. also like how cliche is this dialogue someone sedate me rn.

seeing huntress reminded me of the rh comic we're getting in september 🥀🥀. i really dont like her costume design (or jason's) in it. the fact that its a crop top thing just doesnt sit right with me i dont like it. thats not to mention jason's drip card getting revoked. what the fuck happened. i didnt even hate the outlaw muzzle fit i thought it was nice (esp. in batman/catwoman gotham war). ill be brave and say atp i'd rather the pill helmet fit with the fuckass skull logo and cape. like im sorry for complaining abt the lips helmet i didnt mean it dc i swear. his jacket doesnt sit right with me and his logo is starting to become more and more indistinguishable from nw. (how rhato new52 felt after giving jason one of nightwings old costumes). like his muzzle fit logo has those two lil spaces in it bc the guy who made the design said it looked like jason's mask when he had his hood up and like, ill accept that. it works bc he has his muzzle. it also sometimes looks like a heart which just gives me more reasons to finish drawing a steven universe au.

this is not even mentioning all the wholly indefensible shit coming out abt the author rn (am i still holding out a small amt of hope bc she wrote beast world rh?? yes. but i know dc will crush and spit on that tiny bit)

wait why did no one tell me the alt cover of helena and jason kissing was done by nick robles.

anyway hey dc if we could have like, something good that is canon to the timeline or whatever thatd be kinda cool. yes this is abt the absolute series, rh resurrection, and wfa, sue me. fan works and not-canon works after being better.

[milfbrainrot]

i feel like i type so much more than is reasonable when i do talk to people but i also don't get to socialize a ton so i just have soooo many words in me and if i'm like, tired or short on time, it is so much harder to restrain to the already-pushing-it point i can sometimes manage ;-;

[tanicus-caesareth]

guarana drama, damage control

[quietwingsinthesky]

i have many many thoughts about rose & tentoo and how their relationship would evolve in this verse. about how you can't just take the love you have for one person and put it on someone else. not even a clone, a regeneration, a metacrisis. about how that doesn't mean you can't love them, or that you can't fall in love with them the same way, but that love has to be for them.

[aparticularbandit]

i just realized. re: the very long this post.

in ultimate ventriloquist's murder trial. the victim was monokuma.

like. nobody actually died. and junko would probably think that killing off the puppet that killed monokuma was an equivalent exchange. good bit, good fun, reset to center, no more puppets as people, the joke ran its route, good on everyone!

ultimate ventriloquist wasn't supposed to actually die. it was...it was a bit. a joke!

no wonder it gave junko the shakes.

....

this is either a case 2 or a case 4. i'm not sure which.

probably a case 4.

[seilon]

you know im realizing now. with the exception of a few resident psychiatrists, ive had like. no good experiences with mental health professionals

[rawme-price]

We need a part two of the malnourished gator!reader plsss 🙏

(no rush tho)

On it boss🫡👍

Malnourished gator!reader who spent the rest of the day and night in the private medical room, not allowing any visitors. They give you an IV drip for essential vitamins, and you think that's it, but a nurse comes in with a clipboard. She asks you alot of questions, ones you personally know are for risk assessment for things like eating disorders and suicide. You've learned from ur mistakes in high school, though, carefully crafting ur responses to be acceptable without a blatant lie.

Do you find urself obsessing over food? No, not at all. Do you deliberately avoid certain foods over others? Well i have foods i dont like, but so does everybody. Do you hold a poor self-image? I dont mind myself, I like the way I am.

All carefully practiced, trimmed and clipped from times you prefer to forget. Its actually pretty easy, falling into that mindset. Something about the sterile white room, the slightly judgemental look of the nurse, the tug of the IV in your arm. It feels oddly nostalgic in a way you know wont end well.

Ur handed a handful of pamphlets, the nurse rattling on about dietary changes. You dont pay attention, really, until suddenly "Alright, im going to let captain price know he can come back. The rest of this treatment is relevant to him."

You have to stop urself from shooting up, mindful of the IV and the fact ur still very dizzy. Besides, shes already human and humans hate when you make sudden moves. "What?! No, he doesnt need to know about this." You hiss, frantic. The nurse doesnt listen, and in seconds a knock is sounding at the door. How did he get here so fast?

The next half-hour is mortifying. The nurse goes over with price the exact details of everything ur expected to eat, and u can tell by the set of his jaw that he'll make sure it happens. This feels horrible. Having to be fed like a child? Seriously?

It makes you want to lash out, but the more reasonable part of ur brain tells u not to. So you endure and stay silent, and stay that way the entire walk to ur room. You dont care if the silent treatment is childish, you cant stomach the thought of talking to price or gaz right now. Even as price talks to you, tail swaying and letting out the occasional snuff, you dont react. Or when gaz shows up near ur room, chirping a greeting and asking if ur okay. You just duck into ur room, lock the door, but you can sense gaz a bit farther out, hovering.

So u pace and pace ur room, tight circles in the center from where you pushed everything against the walls. Its horrible, you cant rest properly or even sit down. Will they make you eat in front of them? Will you have to eat in front of the other soldiers on base? You dont think you can even stomach the amount of food discussed.

Something horrible and rancid is blooming in ur chest again, sprouting through the mud, the seed planted years ago. You feel uprooted in a way you never did back home. You look down at ur claws, at ur scales, feeling too monstrous to even exist in this body.

You cant do anything, so you pace and pace and pace. The one time you tried to leave ur room gaz was coincidentally down the hall. So you just...dont leave the rest of the day. Or. That was the plan until a knock came to ur door.

"its price, kid. Lunch time, doctors orders. Come out." Hes blunt, gruff. He sounds like hes willing to force you out, but you feel frozen in fear and anxiety.

[moonstruckme]

OMG IDEA....

Fwb doctor! Remus- so reader ends up at his work sick and then he ends up being the one to treat them like 'why didn't you tell me' and they're like 'well you're not my boyfriend so I didn't-' and whatever else but basically that prompts them to have the awkward convo that goes from fwb to dating

Thanks!

cw: mention of nausea, allusion to past sex but no sex takes place in this

fwb!doctor!Remus x fem!reader ♡ 1.3k words

“Oh.” Remus falters halfway through the door. You look up from your phone, clearly as surprised to see him as he is to see you. You blink a couple of times as though clearing a film, your lips parting on a breath. Remus wishes his first thought were something more practical, something other than that it’s absurdly attractive. He may be developing a sort of Pavlovian response to you. “Hello.” 

“Hi,” you say, as shy as if this is the first time you’ve met. “What are you…” Your eyes move down to his coat, to the clipboard in his hands. “Do you work here?” 

“Yeah.” His voice sounds a tad softer than usual, and it’s the strangeness of that—him acting so out of place in an environment where he’s supposed to be an authority—that helps Remus remember himself. He steps the rest of the way into the exam room, closing the door behind him. “I take it you’re not here to see me.” 

A tiny smile graces your lips. “I might’ve been, if I’d known.” 

“Maybe next time.” Remus sets down his clipboard, opting to get his answers from you instead as he leans against the desk across from you. “What brings you in?” 

“I’ve, um…well, it feels weird talking about my problems now that it’s you.” 

Remus ignores how that stings. “It doesn’t need to. This is my job; I promise I can take care of you just the same as anyone else. Of course,” he forces himself to tack on, “if you’d be more comfortable with someone else, I can arrange that. You may just have to wait a while longer.” 

“That’s okay,” you say. “I’m fine with you. Sorry, it’s just different, you know?” 

Remus softens. He does know, to some extent. If he imagines himself going to get a cup of coffee, or boarding an airplane, or calling maintenance to his apartment and then finding out that you work there (He actually has no clue what you do, either, he realizes now. That’ll have to be remedied.), it would probably be a bit of an adjustment for him as well. 

“Nothing to be sorry for,” he assures you. “We can go about this however you’re comfortable. Do you want to tell me what’s bothering you?” 

“Right, yeah.” You’re playing with your fingers, not quite looking at him. You’re acting shy, in a way Remus had almost forgotten you could be. It’s fucking adorable, honestly. He assumes it’s because of this new environment and the shift in the dynamic between you, but it amuses him to think of you being more self-conscious in clothes than out of them. He wants to tease you, but he has a new role to play, too. “I’ve not been able to eat very much lately?” 

Remus feels his brows come down. 

“I’ve just been feeling rather nauseous,” you say, picking at your nail. “I thought maybe I was nauseous because I wasn’t eating, but eating didn’t seem to help either, so.” 

“How long has this been going on?” he asks. 

“A few days. Almost a week.” 

You know what he’s going to say. Remus knows you know, because your eyes flicker up to his for just a moment, sheepish. 

He was with you two nights ago. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“I’m sorry,” you say, quietly. “I know I should have, but I really didn’t think it was contagious.” 

“That’s not what I’m worried about.” Remus feels his body gravitating towards you. Wanting to touch you, hold you, envelop you. He keeps it where it is. “It’s just that we spent all that time together, and you didn’t mention once that you weren’t feeling well.” 

“Well, I didn’t know that you did—” you gesture vaguely about the room “—this at the time.” 

“Even so.” 

You shrug, looking heartachingly unsure of yourself. “I don’t know. I didn’t think it was relevant. It’s not the sort of thing we usually talk about, is it? I mean, you’re not, like…” 

Remus can fill in the blanks. It hurts to do it. He’s not your boyfriend. He’s not someone you open up to about the everyday things in life. For fuck’s sake, you haven’t even asked each other what you do for work. 

But you are something to each other, aren’t you? Aren’t you at least friends? It’s not like all the time you spend together is taken up by wordless, impersonal, utilitarian sex. Remus tries to spend time with you before or after. At first it was just to make himself feel better about the transactional aspect of your relationship, but it wasn’t long until he was just doing it because he wanted to. He’s bought you coffee, and dinners, and pastries. He’s fixed the squeaky leg on your bed. You’ve sat on the roof of your building together and made up stories for passersby on the sidewalk below. He’s made you eggy toast in his kitchen. Your clothes have been in his dryer, for Christ’s sake; what could be more intimate than that?

“I’m your friend,” he says, because he won’t be leaving any room for argument, not on this. “You can tell me these things. You can tell me anything you like.” 

“Oh,” you say softly. You have that same look as when Remus first came in, like you’re seeing him entirely differently. “Okay. I didn’t know.” 

He feels his lips twitch. “Well, now you know.” 

“Okay,” you say again. Blinking. 

Remus puts you out of your misery. “Have you noticed anything else out of the ordinary?” 

You start listing symptoms, tentative, unsure. Remus forces himself to stay right where he is and listen rather than step forward to take your temperature, or get your blood pressure, or any of the other things that would help him get to the bottom of this more quickly. He doesn’t usually have to hold himself back, with other patients. It’s just that you…well, while Remus always cares about making things better for his patients as soon as he can, it’s possible that he cares just a little bit more in this case. It’s also possible that there’s still an instinctive part of him just dying to get closer to you. He wants to feel you beneath his hands and know that you’re okay. 

“Alright,” he says once you’re done, taking his stethoscope from around his neck, “I need to check a few things to be sure, but I think I know what we’re dealing with.” 

“Really?” Your expression glows with relief. A flicker of humor warms your eyes. “How did I know you’d be good at your job?” 

Remus hums, pleased beyond reason at your assessment of him. “You’ll need a prescription. You’re my last appointment of the day, so, if you’ll let me, I can take you to pick it up and get you set up at home afterwards.” 

“Oh, Remus…” You look up at him as the bell of his stethoscope settles over your heart. He ignores the drumbeat to hear you. “You don’t have to. I know we’re friends now, but that’s too much. You’re not obligated to do those sorts of things for me.” 

“I’d like to do those sorts of things for you,” he responds unflinchingly. “It wouldn’t be out of obligation, it’d be because I want to.” 

Your heartbeat ratchets up. “I don’t want to feel like a job for you.” 

“Sweetheart” —there it is again, that soft tone. Entirely unprofessional— “you could never be a job. I love spending time with you, alright? I’d love to look after you, if you’d be okay with it.” 

“I love spending time with you, too,” you murmur, so sweet Remus could kiss you if that wouldn’t truly put him at risk of getting fired. And yet he’s still thinking about it. “Of course you’re welcome to come over if you want to. I just…I don’t know how to…” 

It’s clear by now that Remus is a weaker man than he thought himself to be. He gives in, covering your lips with his. 

“We’ll figure it out,” he promises you.

[lizaintheduster]

Oh my god, the idea that God keeps bringing Cas back because he thinks Dean moping around the bunker is boring is so funny. Like the first two times God brings him back, he does it right away cause he's like, "This freaky lil Angel is pretty interesting to have around. Let's throw him back into the mix." But then when he betrays Dean and dies in season 6/7, at first Chuck is just sipping Mojitos and luxuriating in the man pain, but then the man pain just. doesn't. stop. And fuck that's boring, Dean just won't stop moping.

So fuck it, let's give Cas amnesia and some weird wife, he won't have to be plot relevant anyway cause obviously he'll take on Sam's hell trauma, boom two birds, one stone. Now we can get back to the brothers brothering. Except fuck, somehow Cas has wound up going to purgatory with Dean, ugh lame. Well, let's just give Cas a few nightmares that really play into his self-loathing, that should be enough to get him to stay behind, the self-deprecating sad sack. But shit, didn't think this through, Dean's out and he's already looking pretty mopy.

No worries, just gotta push Naomi in the right direction, just a little nudge, there we go. Cas is back, but with a tasty little twist of Heaven mind control to keep him out of the narrative. Excellent. Screw it. Maybe Naomi could even get him to turn on Dean? Dean could kill him, that would be awesome. Wait, why the hell isn't Dean fighting back? Get off your knees! Cas can't kill Dean, that's lame, I'll have to think of some way to bring him back... wait, wait what? Did he just snap out of Angel programmed mind control? Oh for fuck sake, this is gonna be such a pain in the ass.

Blah blah, several more seasons of trying to keep Dean and Cas apart including having Gadreel fall near the hospital, retconing how Reapers work so one can try to take out Cas, pointing that weird pink Goo Angel in a Cas shaped direction, having it so that stolen grace is a thing that drains away, but nothing is God Damn Taking. The Angel is still up and kicking, and for some reason, Dean seems hung up on the broken little thing.

Right, time for mental warfare. If just the right digs are made at just the right times, maybe, maybe the Angels self esteem will drop low enough to... that's it. There it is. Say yes to Lucifer. Another betrayal, right, Dean? Right, Dean? Dean? Oh for crying out loud he's not even dead! Dean get over it, he said yes to Lucifer, he sucks Dean, why do you care? Ugh fine, let's say Amara's juice blasts Lucifer out of Cas, happy now? Fuck he's so boring when he's worried about what? A defective Angel?

Whatever, let's just throw some random side quests at them for a while. Surely, Dean will just lose interest eventually. Oh! Idea! Trap Dean and Sam in a government facility and then sabotage every attempt the Angel makes to save them. Again, two birds, one stone. Cas will feel useless and pathetic for failing to save Dean, and Dean will surely realise what a useless waste of celestial intent Cas is.

Okay, at this point, I should have seen this coming. Oh, thank me, Lucifer kebabed him. Light show, big burnt out wings for dramatic effect. This time, let's just wait it out. Dean can't stay single minded, drunk and hung up on Cas forever. Eventually, he'll realise he needs to step up to the plate and start parenting the Angel kid, I have some amazing Abraham and Issac stuff lined up, so we need to get moving with the bonding. Any minute now. Any minute now. Come on Dean, he's not even that strong anymore, why do you care? Jesus Christ Dean, you know your mom is also dead, right?

Screw it. Let's say Jack's powers can reach the empty. Shit does this mean I need to figure out how the empty works? I never got round to writing any of that. Okay, wow that was a choice, maybe I'll retcon the accent later... let's just focus on getting Cas back to earth, so Dean... aaaaand Dean has it wearing a fucking cowboy hat. How, out of all my universes did this glitch wind up infecting the original. Should have let the Angel just stay dead that first time, would have made my life so much easier.

Well, it's the final hour, might as well get one last hit in. Let's kill off the alternate universe people first, that should be just the right push to... perfect, yep, Dean blames death, and of course, Cas will follow. Hook line and sinker. I'll just let Death kill Cas, and then I'll have Death's weird poison thing wipe her out at the last second so Dean's still around for the end game. Oh? Oh, no way? You have got to be kidding me. This is priceless. He's actually saying it? That's the money shot right there. Wow. I need a margarita. Oh, but wait. Idea! Wouldn't it be perfect, just perfect, if Dean's childhood selective mutism were to make the briefest reappearance. Just for a second. Ahhh. You have outdone yourself, Chuck. No more revivals, Dean. I'm already bored.

[felassan]

Dragon Age: The Veilguard info compilation Post 1

Post is under a cut due to length.

There is a lot of information coming out right now about DA:TV from many different sources. This post is just an effort to compile as much as I can in one place, in case that helps anyone. Sources for where the information came from have been included. Where I am linking to a social media user's post, the person is either a dev, a Dragon Age community council member or other person who has had a sneak peek at and played the game. nb, this post is more of a 'info that came out in snippets from articles and social media posts' collection rather than a 'regurgitating the information on the official website or writing out what happened in the trailer/gameplay reveal' post. The post is broken down into headings on various topics. A few points are repeated under multiple headings where relevant. Where I am speculating without a source, I have clearly demarcated this. if you notice any mistakes in this post, please tell me.

as this post hit a kind of character limit, there will probably be at least 1 more post. :)

Character Creation

CC is vast [source] and immensely detailed [source]

We will enter CC straight after Varric's opening narration [source]

You are given 5 categories to work your way through in CC: Lineage, Appearance, Class, Faction, Playstyle. Each of these has a range of subcategories within them. There are 8 subcategories within the "head" subcategory" in "Appearance" alone [source]

Lineage dictates things like race (i.e. human, elf, dwarf, qunari) and backstory [source]

Backstories include things like factions. Factions offer 3 distinct buffs each [source]

There are dozens and dozens of hairstyles [source]

There are separate options for binary and non-binary pronouns and gender [source]

"BioWare's work behind the scenes, meanwhile, goes as deep as not only skin tones but skin undertones, melanin levels, and the way skin reacts differently to light" [source]

CC has a range of lighting options within it so that you can check how the character looks in them [source]

There are a range of full-body customization options such as a triangular slider between body types and individual settings down to everything from shoulder width to glute volume [source]. There are "all the sliders [we] could possibly want". The body morpher option allows us to choose different body sizes [source]

All body options are non-gendered [source]

They/them pronouns are an option [source]

Rook can be played as non-binary [source]

Individual strands of hair were rendered separately and react remarkably to in-game physics [source]

Special, focused attention was paid to ensuring that hairstyles "come across as well-representative, that everyone can see hairstyles that feel authentic to them, even the way they render" [source]

The game uses strand hair technology borrowed in part from the EA Sports games. The hair is "fully-controlled by physics," so it "looks even better in motion than it does here in a standstill" [source]

The ability to import our choices from previous games is fully integrated into CC. This will take the form of tarot cards - "you can go into your past adventures" and this mechanic tells you what the context was and what decision you want to make [source]

In CC we will also be able to customize/remake our Inquisitor [source]

A core tenet of the game is "be who you want to be" [source]

There are presets for all 4 of the game's races (human, elf, dwarf, qunari), in case detailed CCs overwhelm you [source]

Story

The story is set 9 years since Inquisition [source]

The Inquisitor will appear [source]

Other characters refer to the PC as Rook [source]. This article says they are "the Rook" [source]

The ability to import our choices from previous games is fully integrated into CC. This will take the form of tarot cards - "you can go into your past adventures" and this mechanic tells you what the context was and what decision you want to make [source]

The prologue is quite lengthy. A narrated intro from Varric lays the groundwork with some lore and explains about Solas [source]. In this Varric-narrated opening section, the dwarf recaps the events of previous games and explains the motivations of Solas [source] (Fel note/speculation: this sounds like this cinematic that we saw on DA Day 2023)

What happens first off is that Rook, who is working with Varric, is interrogating a bartender about the whereabouts of a contact in Minrathous who can help them stop Solas. The bartender does not play nice and we are presented with our first choice: talk the bartender down or intimidate them aggressively [source]

The first hour of the game is "a luxurious nighttime romp through a crumbling city under a mix of twinkling starlight and lavish midnight blue" (Minrathous) [source]. The game begins with a tavern brawl (depending on dialogue options) and a stroll through Minrathous in search of Neve Gallus, who has a lead on Solas [source]. Minrathous then comes under attack [source] by demons [source] (Fel note/speculation: it sounds like the demo the press played is what we saw in the Gameplay Reveal). Off in the distance is a vibrant, colorful storm where Solas is performing his ritual. [source] Eventually we come upon Harding. [source] and Neve. Rook and co enter a crumbling castle, where ancient elf secrets pop up, "seemingly just for the lore nerds". [source] Then we teleport to Arlathan Forest, have a mini boss fight with a Pride Demon, and there is the climactic confrontation with Solas. After a closing sequence, at this point it is the end of the game's opening mission. [source] (Fel note/speculation: So the Gameplay Reveal showed the game's opening mission)

The action in the story's opening parts starts off quite quick from the sounds of things: the devs wanted to get the player right in to the story. because, “Especially with an RPG where they can be quite lore-heavy, a lot of exposition at the front and remembering proper nouns, it can be very overwhelming.” [source]

BioWare wanted to make the beginning of Dragon Age: The Veilguard feel like the finale of one of their other games [source]

Rook's Faction will be referenced in dialogue [source]

Minrathous is beautiful, with giant statues, floating palaces, orange lantern glow and magical runes which glow green neon. These act "like electricity" as occasional signs above pubs and stores [source]

The story has a lot of darkness tonally. These dark parts of the game contain the biggest spoilers [source]. However, the team really wanted to build in contrast between the dark and light moments in the game, as if everything is dark, nothing really feels dark [source]

Our hub (like the Normandy in ME or Skyhold in DA:I) is a place called The Lighthouse [source] (Fel note/speculation: I guess this screenshot shows the crew in The Lighthouse? ^^)

Each companion has a very complex backstory, their own problems, and deep motivations. These play out through well-fleshed out character arcs and missions that are unique to them but which are ultimately tied into the larger story [source]

We will make consequential decisions for each character, sometimes affecting who they are in heart-wrenching ways and other times joyously [source]

Decisions from previous DA games will be able to be carried over, it will just work a bit differently this time [source]. The game will not read our previous saves. For stuff pertaining to previous games/choices, players will not have to link their accounts [source]

Characters, companions, romance

Varric is a major character [source]

Every companion is romanceable [source]

BioWare tried to make each character's friendship just as meaningful, regardless of romance [source]

If you don't romance a character, they may end up romancing each other [source]

There will be some great cameos [source]. Some previous characters are woven into the game [source]

Companion sidequests/optional content relating to companions is highly curated when it involves their motivations and experiences [source]

We could permanently lose some companions depending on our choices [source]

Our choices can influence if characters get injured and what they think about us [source]

The bonds Rook forges with companions determine how party members grow and what abilities become available [source]

Each companion has a very complex backstory, their own problems, and deep motivations. These play out through well-fleshed out character arcs and missions that are unique to them but which are ultimately tied into the larger story [source]

We will make consequential decisions for each character, sometimes affecting who they are in heart-wrenching ways and other times joyously [source]

Gameplay, presentation, performance etc

Each class (warrior, rogue, mage) has 3 specializations. The ones for Rogue are duelist, saboteur and Veil ranger [source]. (Fel note/speculation: Veil ranger reminds me of Bellara. Maybe this is her 'spec' too?)

Duelist gameplay involves a sharp combination of dashes, parries, leaps, rapid slashes and combos [source]

Faction-related buffs include being able to hold an extra potion or do extra damage against certain enemies [source]

Individual strands of hair were rendered separately and react remarkably to in-game physics [source]

Playstyle settings include custom, distinct difficulty settings for options as granular as parry windows, meaning "players who might fancy that playstyle but typically struggle with the finer points of combat can give it a go" [source]

Combat mechanics is a mix of real-time action and pause and play. Pausing brings up a radial menu split into 3 sections: companions to the left and right, Rook's skills at the bottom, and a targeting system at the top which helps get in focus on certain enemies. [source]. In the pause system you can queue up your whole party's attacks [source]

Tapping or holding the shoulder button pauses the game, allowing us to stop the action and issue orders to companions [source]

There is a system of specific enemy resistances and weaknesses [source]. Weaknesses and resistances plays a big role in combat and abilities are designed to exploit these accordingly [source]. An example is that "one character might be able to plant a weakening debuff on an enemy, and another enemy might be able to detonate them" [source]

There is a vast skill tree of unlockable options [source]

You can set up specific companions with certain kits, e.g. to tackle specific enemy types, to being more of a support, or as flexible all-rounders [source]

Healing magic returns [source]

Abilities can change together with elaborate results, e.g. one companion using a gravity well attack that sucked enemies together, another using a slowing move to keep them in place, and Rook using a big AOE to catch them all at once [source]

A shortcut system lets you map a few abilities to a smaller pinned menu at the bottom of the screen [source]

There are class-specific resource systems. For example, Rogue has "momentum", which builds up as Rook lands consecutive hits [source]

Each class will always have a ranged option [source]

Rogue Rook can do a sort of 'hip fire' option with a bow, letting you pop off arrows from the waist [source]

Warriors can throw their shield at enemies, and can build an entire playstyle around that using the skill tree [source]

There is light platforming gameplay [source]

The game runs on the latest iteration of the Frostbite engine [source]

The game targets 60 fps

On consoles it will feature performance and quality modes so we can choose our preferred visual fidelity [source]

The game is mission based [source]. Some levels that we go to do open up, some with more exploration than others. "Alternate branching paths, mysteries, secrets, optional content you're going to find and solve." [source]

Everything is hand-touched, hand-crafted and highly curated [source]

Some sidequests and optional content is highly curated, especially when it involves the motivations and experiences of the companions. In others we may be investigating for example a missing family, with an entire open bog environment to search for clues and a way to solve the disappearance [source]

Gameplay, presentation, performance etc continued, after the above bullet list hit a character limit

There is sophisticated animation cancelling and branching. Gameplay is action-like, and the design centers around dodging, countering, and using risk-reward charge attacks designed to break enemy armor layers [source]

The dialogue wheel returns [source]. It gives truncated summaries of the dialogue options rather than the full line that the character is going to say [source]

The bonds Rook forges with companions determine how party members grow and what abilities become available [source]

For stuff pertaining to previous games/choices, players will not have to link their accounts [source]

We can play the game fully offline [source]

There are no microtransactions [source]

The game itself is not as cell-shaded in look as the first trailer looked [source]

[☕ found this post or blog interesting or useful? my ko-fi is here if you feel inclined. thank you 🙏]

[daimus]

people have done this before, but not us

You’ve known Oliver since you were best friends with his little sister in elementary school. Somehow, it never occurred to you that he’s also just a man with desires. 

wc — 4.9k

tags — MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, dry humping, grinding, Oliver Aiku sex tutor lol, childhood friends, inexperienced reader to the point of disbelief, best friend’s older brother but it’s less relevant than I thought it was going to be bc I didn’t feel like making up a whole new character for his sister, title from during the impossible age of everyone by Ada Limon (sorry for using it like this)

“He said you’re off limits,” Bachira says. 

“How did you get in my room?” 

Bachira’s laying on his stomach on the edge of your bed, his legs dangling off the edge. He’s kicking them like a toddler, cute almost, but his eyes are shrewd. 

“Oli said that his friend is coming to watch, but we can’t talk to her, and normally he doesn’t mind sharing, so I was like huh, she must be special to him. So I had to come see you for myself, right?”

“Uh huh,” you say, not really keeping up. There’s a tinge of annoyance building in you too, for more reasons than one. 

“So I thought about it! And the only place they would’ve kept you is-“ 

“Help!” You scream at the top of your lungs. “There’s a strange guy in my room! Help me!” 

Bachira bolts up, reaching for you, but you squirm away. “Stop,” he hisses, alarmed, but it’s too late. 

The door flies open, revealing Oliver, completely unamused. 

“Your friend is stuck up,” Bachira whines, but he doesn’t really seem angry, just mildly inconvenienced that his plan didn’t work. 

“I told you not to even look at her,” Oliver scolds. “You Blue Lock boys couldn’t listen to directions if it killed you.” 

“If it killed me-“

“Just go,” Oliver groans. “Now.” 

When it’s just the two of you, Oliver looks different. The transformation happens in seconds, so quick you wouldn’t know it was there unless you knew to look for it. It’s nothing so obvious as an expression, just the slightest shift in the line of his lips, a certain ease to the heft of his shoulders. 

He comes and sits next to you on your bed, where you’re blotting at the wet spot you think Bachira might’ve drooled into it. How long was he in here? Enough to take a nap? 

“I’m sorry.” 

You sniff with an air of haughtiness, but really you’re only mildly annoyed. You just want him to pay attention to you, and he will if he thinks you’re upset. He always does. “I thought Blue Lock would have better security.” 

“We don’t have any security, actually.” 

“What? But you guys are famous now.” 

He shrugs. “Ego rented out the whole hotel for Blue Lock and friends and family. There’s security outside to keep people from getting in. But inside? Nothing. I think he’s insane, personally. No telling what those boys will get up to. I was a teenager once, I would know.” 

“Talking like a grandpa already,” you say with a laugh. 

“You little-“ He pushes you down into the sheets, messing with your hair. “I’ll show you a grandpa.” 

“I think he drooled on my bed,” you frown. “Where am I going to sleep tonight?”

“We can share my room,” he says easily, casually. “Like we used to.” 

But we used to was over ten years ago. 

Oliver is gone when you wake up, which he warned you he was going to be. He offered to make breakfast, but you told him it was impossible to wake up at the same time as his insane footballer schedule, so instead you trickle into the cafeteria with the other aforementioned friends and family. No Blue Lock boys - they’ve been ready for hours. 

When you try to unlock the stadium doors with your priority pass, you find you can’t. The light flashes red over and over again - you’re beginning to feel embarrassed. 

“Fucking - work, goddamnit,” you hiss under your breath as the lock emits a loud buzzing noise for what feels like the twentieth time. 

“Here.” He’s your age, white and green hair, sleepy eyes. “Let me.” 

He introduces himself to you as Otoya. It’s a very memorable experience, since he also gives you his phone number, his Instagram, and his room number. Just in case, you know. 

You can practically hear Oliver’s voice in your head, telling you to stay away from him, except it’s not in your head, and he’s walking up, warning Ootoya not to mess with you. 

“Are you following me?” 

This feels like a reasonable assumption to make, but he rolls his eyes at you. Then he says, “Of course I’m following you, you idiot. Did you listen to anything I said last night? This is a facility full of hormonal teenage boys - my sister would kill me if I let anything happen to you.” 

His sister. Right. 

Otoya looks between the two of you. “Sorry, Oliver. Didn’t know she was yours.” 

You want to jump in with a protestation because first of all, you’re not, and secondly, that feels demeaning, but Oliver pulls you into his side in a way that makes it clear you’re under his protection. He just tucks you into the space beneath his arm like a mother hen, folding you away until you’re barely visible behind him.

“Well, she is,” Oliver says. 

It does something funny to you, hearing him call you his. 

It’s almost a pity that Oliver invited you, because you don’t really care about football. At this point, you can’t even really be bothered to pretend to care either, except for the really important matches, the ones where Oliver’s eyes sparkle and you can tell he’s actually invested in who he’s up against. Otherwise, football is a job like any other. People don’t get it. They’re always begging you for tickets to games, but you’ve been friends for so long that, well, it’s like being excited about a big project at your friend’s company. Yay! Profit! 

As far as you can tell, the match goes smoothly. It’s the after party that you have to worry about. 

Otoya makes a beeline for you as soon as you slip through the door, which really shows the amount of authority that Oliver has in here. 

“Fancy seeing you again,” he says cheerfully. 

“I think everyone’s here,” your response is dry. Oliver did tell you to be careful around him, after all - although he said the same thing about every other man in here that isn’t him. Overprotective much? 

Your standoffishness doesn’t bother Otoya. 

“Come on, don’t be like that. I don’t know what Oliver’s told you, but I’m not a bad guy.” 

“Right,” you don’t even look up from your phone. This is awkward. You don’t know anyone here. 

“Oliver’s worse, I would say.” Your head snaps up. “Oh, that got your attention.” 

You can’t resist it. Oliver’s your favorite thing to talk about. “How so?” 

“Let’s just say that if you like Oliver-“ 

“I don’t-“

“You should stay away from him for tonight. For your own good. He has a bad habit he has to indulge with a different girl every night. Just hang out with me instead,” he says with a rakish smile. 

“You’re just trying to get me to spend time with you.” 

“I mean yeah, but it’s true. Oliver’s…Oliver. You know?”

“No?” 

“No,” says Oliver. “She doesn’t. Because she doesn’t believe whatever ridiculous ideas you’re putting in her head.” 

“Oliver!” You brighten up and snuggle into him. He wraps a warm arm around your shoulders, radiating heat all the way through your body. 

“I’m ridiculous? You’re a stalker, man - how many times have you interrupted us already?”

“Only twice, and there won’t be a third time. Go find some other girl to bother. I mean it, Otoya.” He squeezes your shoulders. “This one’s mine.” 

The second time, it doesn’t feel as nice. He only says it when he wants people to leave you alone. He doesn’t mean to condescend, but the way he acts sometimes makes you wonder if he ever really understood that you grew up with him, or if he always sees the little girl from his childhood when he looks at you. He only claims you to make other people leave you alone. 

He sighs with relief when Otoya finally slips past the two of you, grumbling under his breath. 

“What were you talking about?” 

“You mean, what did he say about you?”

He breaks into a crooked smile and hands you a glass of water off a nearby table. “Caught me.” 

“He just implied that you’re a flirt.”

“Just? Or did he make it sound like I’ve been slutting it up in the NEL?”

“I hate the way people talk about you.”

He softens. “It’s not…it’s not wrong.” 

You turn to him, grabbing his face in your hands. “It is,” you insist fervently. “I know you’re not like that. You’re good, Oliver.”

You’re both liars, but it’s a game you like to play. You like to believe that he’s good and he likes to pretend he’s good for you. 

He’s always loved the way you grew up worshipping him. 

“Want to get out of here?”

You nod. 

You’re his little sister’s best friend. You used to idolize him. He was your knight in shining armor, your schoolyard savior. He walked you home after late club meetings and bought you ice cream at the convenience store when you thought $5 was a fortune. 

You love him, but you can’t tell if you love the idea of him or the man himself more. Oliver doesn’t seem to mind himself. In fact, he feeds into your fantasies. 

You know you’re the only girl he won’t fuck. 

On the tiny couch in his room, only slightly more furnished than everyone else’s due to his coveted title as captain, Oliver settles in next to you, momentarily bending down to sweep your legs into his lap. It’s so casual and so fast you don’t even register it. His thumb swoops comforting circles over the jut of your ankle, but his hand feels almost like a brace with the way it’s positioned, locking you down. 

You squirm a little to see how much give your makeshift anklet will allow you, but he playfully smacks your calf and says, low and throaty, with the rasp of a growl underneath his tone, “Settle down.” 

You stiffen like a log. He laughs and runs a hand up and down over your leg, smoothing imaginary wrinkles in the fabric. “Not like that, idiot.” 

Cute like a little sister. Cute like a kid. For Oliver, you’re all the warmth of home and domesticity. You could never bear to take that away from him, no matter how corrupted you’ve become, like every other greedy adult, sin burning like coals in your stomach and loins. You want to let him think you don’t know desire. 

You fall asleep on the couch like that, his warmth bleeding into you everywhere. 

The morning after, he makes you instant coffee as he tidies up his suitcase. You’ll be leaving together. He’s taking you home. He insisted. 

“Oliver,” you start. He hums to show you he’s listening. “Why do you fuck?”

He chokes. “Excuse me?”

“Is it like a medical condition? Like your dick will fall off if you don’t sleep with someone every night?” 

He walks over and kisses the top of your head. “You’re so cute,” he says fondly. “And ridiculous. And naïve. Don’t ask anyone else that, okay?”

“I’m not stupid.” 

“I do it because I want to. And it’s not every night, it’s just when I want to feel good.” 

“How good?”

He flicks your cheek. “This is some bold questioning, young lady.” 

Your cheeks are warm. Despite the fact that Oliver is obviously a sexual person, to the point where all his teammates know, he’s a curiously desexualized person in your head. You’ve just never thought of him that way, always separated the warm, sheltering bordering on smothering presence in your life from that. 

But now you go home with your face on fire, trying too hard not to think about what he looks like when he’s fucking into a tight little hole. What he sounds like when he’s close. 

Stop avoiding me. 

Shame burns through you at the text a few days later. You know he knows, because how could he not catch on? You’ve always been latched on to his every word, running to your phone when you get the tell tale notification, and now you lets hours pass between replies. 

You better be coming to dinner with us later. 

Dinner with the Aikus is always an affair, more so now that his little sister has gone off to college in another country. It’s in their blood, the itch to start over, be someone new in someplace new. You’d grown apart by then, but you still cried seeing her off. Oliver let you bury your face in his shoulder and soak his shirt wet with tears. 

Years ago, you’d never imagined, even in your wildest dreams, that you’d be closer to him than her, but some things change. 

And some things don’t. 

The Aiku family car is still always stuffed with random things, momentous from childhood, Oliver’s old soccer ball, some miscellaneous donations left over from cleaning out his sister’s room. They’re apologetic that there’s no space for you to sit, but you can just sit on Oliver’s lap, can’t you? Just like the old days, Mr. and Mrs. Aiku laugh to themselves in the front, reminiscing while you press your legs together and try very hard not to pant disgustingly lewdly into Oliver’s ear. 

He has a hand on your hip, the other on your thigh. Is it just you or does this feel- the car hits a bump and Oliver’s grip tightens, steadying you. 

It’s just you. A wave of shame washes over you at how obscene you are, lusting after Oliver when he’s just trying to keep you safe. 

“Comfortable?” He murmurs, pressing his cheek against your shoulder briefly. He’s a tactile person, always soothing with a touch or a kiss. 

You can’t say no, so you settle for a strangled ‘mm-hm,’ but you can’t get settled. You keep shifting on his lap, trying not to give away how bothered you are. Every time your mind drifts, you think about Oliver’s hand creeping up your leg and- 

You wriggle again. 

“Stop that,” he says. His voice is stern. “Don’t make me hold you down.” 

“Sorry,” you squeak. He sounds weird. Strangled. 

You feel something hard pressing against the underside of your leg and try to adjust again. Oliver hisses and pulls you against him, his arms like a straitjacket. 

“I said stop,” he hisses in your ear. 

The realization dawns on you like ice down your back. 

He’s hard. 

You can feel it through his pants. 

When you get to the restaurant, you practically jump off of him. He discreetly adjusts his cock in his trousers and runs off to the bathroom. By the time he returns, Mrs. Aiku has given up on waiting and already ordered for him. 

They’re a close family. She knows him. And, she says fondly, a hand over yours, she knows you. 

It’s nice to be loved like that. 

You’re sitting on the steps outside their house, waiting for Oliver to grab his coat to drive you home, when he sits down next to you. “Just give me a second,” he says. “Let’s not go yet.” 

You lean his head on his shoulder. It’s surprisingly easy to act like nothing ever happened in the car. Your body naturally relaxes around him. 

But even with all your defenses down, Oliver doesn’t take advantage of them, when you know for a fact that he would pounce on some other girl. 

Does he think you’re ugly? Or too inexperienced? 

Well, one of those you can fix. 

“You don’t know how to kiss, do you?” Says the stranger. His lips pull in a smile and you’re aware that he’s laughing at you. 

You don’t know why you ever thought you could do this without Oliver, not when he’s spoiled you your whole life. You’re too used to being pampered to strike out on your own. 

In his apartment, a mug of hot tea warms your palms. You’re not going to drink it, it’s just nice to have. You trace the contours of a cartoon face, some gift you brought back from it when you visited his sister abroad, and let him scold you. 

You deserve it, you think, for being such an idiot about this. But Oliver always reduces you into stupidity.

“Why,” Oliver looks exasperated, “did you let some random guy you don’t even like kiss you?” 

You didn’t cry when you were at the cafe and the guy you met on some dating app was publicly laughing at your inexperience, your sloppy way of kissing, but for some reason, Oliver’s sharp tone makes tears well up in your eyes. It’s not like you expected him to be on your side - you knew he was going to tease you at the very least - but you’ve had a bad day and it hurts. 

You don’t want to be chastised right now, you want to be cuddled.  

“I’m sorry,” he softens. “I’m not being fair. I’m sorry, baby, I’m not blaming you, don’t cry. It’s not your fault.” 

Your lip trembles as you try uselessly to stay composed. You want him to hold you and tell you everything will be alright. 

He does something similar, but not quite. 

“Could’ve just asked me,” he jokes. Then he reaches over and grips your chin, tugging your head around a little. “Pay attention. I see your expression. I’m being serious, you should’ve asked me. I would’ve treated you right, not some random guy.” 

“Right,” you roll your eyes. Oliver has never been interested in you, which is why you had to find someone else in the first place. 

He forces you to look at him again by his hold on your face, not letting you hide from him. Your face burns with embarrassment, staring dead into his eyes. He looks horribly sincere and it cuts through you like a knife. 

“When have I ever lied to you?” His voice is soft in a way it only gets for you. “Come on, baby. I’ll show you how to kiss. I’d rather it be me than some random.” 

“Really?”

“Just think about it like practice, okay?” 

He guides you to his couch, familiar for your platonic movie nights and cuddles, but this time, he tugs you down into his lap. You collapse onto him with a startled ‘oof,’ as he wraps his arms around your waist and nuzzles into your hair. 

“Just practice, okay?” He reiterates, as if he needs you to confirm. 

“Uh-huh,” your voice shakes. He’s so close, and so warm, and he smells incredible, woody and spicy and masculine. He laughs under his breath, laughing more when you kick him. 

“Stop,” you plead, “I don’t know how! Don’t make fun of me…” 

He rests his cheek against yours as your voice tapers off. “I’m not laughing at you, honey,” he coos, “don’t be upset with me. You’re just so cute.” 

You hit him again. 

“So-“ He grabs your chin between two fingers and jerks you around a little, watching the way you struggle to keep up with him. “Eager. Like a puppy. You don’t know how to clean up your own messes yet, right, baby?” 

He kisses your pout away. “Ah-ah,” he murmurs. “There you go again. Match my pace.” 

But you want more and you let him know it, trying to slip your way into his mouth so you can suck on his tongue again. It feels good in a way that makes you a little ashamed of yourself, wet in your panties from a little kissing. You can imagine how you look from his perspective, drooling into his mouth, panting and messy with saliva smeared across your lips. 

You know you shouldn’t be acting like this, but this sloppy kissing only makes you burn hotter. The back of your neck is flushed with desire. You almost feel scalded by wanting, feeling the hardness of his body pressed up against yours, the strength of his thighs underneath your legs, the iron grip of his fingers, toying at first with the edge of your shirt, brushing against your skin in fleeting butterfly kisses, before finally giving in and branding you, digging into your soft skin. 

Losing control like this is something you’re not used to, but you’re so desperate you can’t help yourself. You’re scared he can hear the sticky slide of your thighs against each other even though you know it’s just your imagination. Even if logically you understand this to be an impossibility, feeling so good you can’t control yourself has you throbbing. Your cunt feels like a second pulse between your legs, drooling pitifully with want. 

He pulls back again to your discontent. You can practically visualize steam rising off your heated body with the way you melt against him, more of a vessel for desire than a real girl. 

“Slow down,” he murmurs, pressing a chaste, close mouthed kiss to your lips against your cries for more. His hands skim your sides lightly, fleeting touches that disappear and reappear. “It’ll feel better if you let it build.” 

But you’re so feverish you can’t think, reduced to nothing but exposed nerve endings that need touch, need him. He moans into your mouth, finally letting you suck on his tongue again. His free hand comes up to wipe at the drool that’s dripping out of one corner of your lips, popping his thumb into his mouth to lap it away. 

You can’t help your teary eyed face or the sniffles, but he doesn’t seem to mind. He angles his head so he can kiss you harder. You hate to admit it, but he’s right. Letting it slowly build makes this so much hotter, his hands in your hair, lightly scratching your scalp as he kisses you like he’s starving. You suck in air through your nose desperately, still feeling short of breath and almost high as he presses your body into his like he could eat you alive. 

It doesn’t feel like kissing anymore. It feels like he’s trying to erase what makes you you and him him, to break down everything the two of you are until you can become one full being. 

You so distracted you don’t even notice what you’re doing until he bounces his leg a little, helping you grind against him. 

That sends shock jolting down your spine like an ice bath. He wraps his arm around you, locking you down in what might as well be a steel cage for how helpless you are against him, preventing you from clambering off his lap. 

“It’s okay,” he coos. “Aw, baby, my baby, don’t look so upset, nothing’s wrong. You’re just a little excited, that’s all,” and he drags you back down so he can bounce his leg for you again, watching the way you gasp and droop against his arm for support. He’s practically holding you up, his arm stiff behind your back as he lets you grind almost mindlessly against his thigh. 

“There you go,” he murmurs, “don’t stop, it’s okay.” 

His voice is syrupy sweet, almost condescending - no, definitely condescending, like he can get you off better than you can. 

And you believe it, trying to stop yourself, even though it feels so good that you can’t keep yourself from humping his leg even as your brain tries to scream at you to stop, that this is too far past ‘just practice.’ 

He lets you grind on his thigh like that for a while before you notice, too focused on chasing your own pleasure to be fully aware of anything else. You can feel him hard under you, accentuated by the fact that he’s obviously trying to subtly shift your weight off his dick directly so you don’t notice. You settle in, watching him with wide, innocent eyes. He exhales softly, trying to control the rasp in his voice as he politely asks you to get off him. He knows he’s caught. 

“Who’s excited now?” You laugh softly. A thought strikes you. He shivers as you blow cool air into his ear, his head tipped back, throat exposed. You can see his adam’s apple bob as he swallows hard. 

“You minx,” he mutters against you, a complaint accentuated by nipping your lower lip. “I didn’t make fun of you.” 

“Your loss,” you shrug. “It’s so fun,” and you bear your weight down against him again until he whines, straining up against you. That feels good enough that you have to grip his shoulder again for purchase, feeling his heat press up against the sticky mess of your panties. 

“Stop, you have to get off,” he chokes out. “I’m not going to- Please, I’m going to-“ 

“Why?” You frown. “I want to.” 

“Come on baby,” he says. “You’re going to make me cum in my pants. Get off.” 

You roll your hips down against him again and again, shuddering as you feel yourself leak more. He jolts against you, straining against his jeans. You can see a wet spot where you’ve pressed against him. 

“Yes-s-s,” your voice is staccato in delivery. “Please.” 

He grips your waist so hard you can’t move. You can feel your skin bruising under his fingers, surprising yourself with how much you want it. 

“Don’t do this,” he says softly. “I’ll take advantage of you.” 

“You’re killing the mood,” you snap back. “If you don’t, I’ll find someone who-“ 

It’s an empty threat, but his eyes narrow. He says nothing, just dips his head to your neck. The first graze of his tongue across your skin makes you jerk with surprise, but then it’s warm and wet and pleasurable and a little painful. Each brush of his lips brings an electric shock with it that feels heady. 

He’s trying to distract you. It’s working. 

“Inside,” you whimper. “Please? Please?” 

You sound pathetic. You sound desperate. You can’t help it, can’t even make a more convincing argument with all the blood in your brain migrating somewhere else. 

“No,” he groans. “Fine, just stay- just like this.” 

His hands move your hips until you’re grinding with him, rocking down into each thrust upwards. It builds and builds, a pressurized heat in your stomach that feels almost like fear, until you swear your whole body is thrumming with a force that you can’t explain. 

Oliver’s relentless, each thrust matching the way he drags you down until your clit hits the fly of his jeans, the friction sweet. “F-fuck,” he grunts. “You feel so good, you’re so pretty, so good for me.” 

You nod helplessly, riding the motion of his arms and legs, letting him do all the work. He shows you how to do it. He’s always led the way you for you, let you hide in his shadow as he was brave. 

He smells so good. You don’t know why this, of all things, is the only coherent thought in your head. 

You can’t speak, can barely breathe, robbed of anything but this steady, building pressure inside of you, beautiful and thorned and dangerous. You don’t know what’s going to happen when it breaks, but you your blood feels like it’s been spiked. 

He makes it first, yelping as his hips stutter against you, then falter. You can feel his cock twitching under you, but he doesn’t move.  

“Oliver?” Your voice is too loud in the silence. You’re almost annoyed by the interruption - you were so close. Your brain wants to go back to pleasurable mush, that fuzzy, colorful, sparking world of satisfaction. 

“Give me a second,” he gasps. “I think I just came in my pants.”

You tilt your head in a way you know he’ll find cute and grind experimentally down. 

He grabs your waist immediately. “You little brat,” he says, more amused than angry. “Stop that, I’m sensitive.” 

You pout. “What about me?”

“Don’t be stupid,” he says. “Of course I’ll take care of you.” 

Your panties are translucent, outlining the contours of your pussy. Oliver groans and presses his fingers up against the wet fabric, playing with you through it until you squeal and snap your thighs shut around his hand. He runs a soothing hand over the soft flesh of your outer thigh, shifts the soaked gusset aside so he can press in deeper, and keeps going until you’re whining and sobbing and making all sorts of noises that sound more at home from an animal than a person, but he doesn’t seem disgusted. If anything, it spurs him on, trying to coax you into completely breaking down. 

You slump forward against him, spent, and he turns his head a little so he can brush your hair over one shoulder and press a brief, soft kiss against your neck. His fingers toy idly with the hem of your now destroyed panties, occasionally brushing against your clit in a way that sends a painfully pleasurable zing up your spine. 

“Should I give you a taste of your own medicine?” 

You shiver and shake your head, still wondering even as you deny it if you can take more, but he laughs against you, husky and low. 

“I know baby, I know. No more.” 

[jazeswhbhaven]

He Can Match Your Freak | Asmodeus Selfie Spoilers

OKAY sooo FINALLY I'm posting this lol it's probably going to be like two parts maybe??? Let's see how this goes because I'm learning to not post thousands of screenshots unless it's relevant.

First. I'm skipping the prologue because most have seen it, and I'm doing a different thing with that anyway.

SOOO it's gonna be a crash course ya'll with jumping right in when MC is in his room about to get them cheeks clapped.

He wants to know more about MC because of what he's heard and well he wouldn't be wrong here. MC apparently is quite the deviant. And you can tell the writers tried to describe him as majestic and breathtaking as possible because the way MC sees him is similar to how they see Leviathan.

Until they said this mess.

G I R L WH A T

Even Asmo was like ???? But he has a sense of humor so he just laughed it off which I mean okay yes as if he would care about that phrase being weird.

But MC out here actin' up once a g a i n. lol

But also they mention his body odor keeps wafting over in MC's nose clearly yeah because not only them pheromones' but uh anyways we'll get to that part later

And MC was just like covering their nose and is like "this is dangerous" and for me ya'll?

I'd be afraid to offend him by saying he smells ripe which I'm sure he wouldn't be offended because I'm not sure what would offend him at this point in time.

So big boi puts a sigil on MC's body similar to a womb tattoo which is why he said "be surprised you aren't pregnant" but this symbol makes you into his "female" no matter the gender. He goes to say it nicely that you're his "virgin" though.

And with that, most of what's happening is that MC is feeling the effects of Asmo without him even doing much of anything just yet. The feelings of having climaxed multiple times over, hazy, losing your goddamn mind.

That sort of thing.

Baby I would have cried on the spot. What do you mean be your companion?

Yup he asked MC to not only be his one night stand but to basically be his and that he thinks he could fall in love with them.

He says that he can fall in love at first sight despite his reputation. And also he mentions MC is his third love. First was Solomon (rejected him and wouldn't tell him who it is he was in love with) and two his late wife who was a witch and it's their children/descendants who are the Unholyc that inhabit Earth.

I'mma be honest with ya'll I didn't finish Lovely Unholyc because I was mostly interested in William, there was no route for him at that time so I just kinda dipped, tried again and then dipped lol

oh btw he apparently just straight up wanted to yap about him clapping Solomon's cheeks and getting his cheeks clapped back and how many damn positions they did and I'm trying to wrap my head around what the fuck they did because at one point surely they were on the ceiling or floating mid-air, like I don't even know

But his wife who chose to live on Earth and grow old and die normally put a curse on his soul. He can love and fuck whoever he wants and should never be lonely but he can't have any more children. If he does, they die, and he dies along with the partner he made them with. (the fall of the house of usher vibes)

AND let me just say? That woman did the world a favor because he has a breeding kink. We'd have a whole universe full of little Asmo halflings running around. So either it was her being possessive or just her sparing the world of that burden then yeah thank you for that because phew.

i don't need no babies anyways

And he says the same thing like "Oh we can leave other things other than babies, like photos of us in a mess" meaning he really meant when he said he wanted to participate in the contest.

I mean he would have won so I think it's fair to give the others a chance. Lol

So things are getting hot and heavy now and he's wondering why MC is holding back. Honestly I'm like huh he did say that he turns you into a virgin and not everyone is confident when being presented with the chance of a lifetime to fuck the embodiment of lust.

But at the same time I mean...MC this is your element and you are pretty much striking out. (not to him but to me you are)

SO I complied all of these because this is important. Asmodeus is literally combining all of their philias and using them on MC and he's quite good at it. And well, why wouldn't he be?

And he even goes to strangle and lick up MCs tears?

Yeah we know what he's about.

His tongue did what now?

his tongue did what now

his tongooooooooooooo

Anyways I short circuited there because everything about him is just driving me nuts.

MC even said they were coming by him just kissing them and I'm like hold up??????

I fucking bet.

Okay ya'll picked the nastiest ass stuff for him to mention but I get it. Congrats if ya'll have things you're self conscious about during sex Asmo's your demon because he literally won't care and will still be turned on.

Ayo.

Moving on....LMAO

And uh...Asmo was licking MC's snot and spit off their face and they came again.

I'm drowning in a sensory nightmare why is he so h o t but this is nastttyyyyyy

"I can always go hard whenever I feel like fucking the opponent"

Sir what? He just be sayin' anything

But he does ask MC what do they want...and they just smack the fuck out of him so there's that. Lol

I would tell him I'd very much like that mouth on the kewchie. I don't even need anything else just his mouth. His jaw probably can go for days.

Now MC is making deduction here that Asmo is the king of lust and seduction and can pass this feeling on to others. He's dangerous this way.

Now Asmo how do you know that.

Tell me sir HOW (I think I know the answer....but I'd be hella surprised that Belphie would let him hit unless he was watching him...)

But mostly what's happening is that MC is feeling what Asmo feels basically the same spiel as the other kings except with him it's intense to the point where they are quite literally about to pass the fuck out. And Asmo ain't about to stop momentum so you better stay awake MC.

NOW YA'LL.

Bullet point times:

MC has climaxed pretty much several times and they haven't even fucked properly yet

But wait, their clothes are off and....

Bam they notice that Asmo's cock is pretty much halfway in their hole and they haven't even noticed

All he did was push himself to the hilt and MC squirted ya'll

So there's that.

But the womb tattoo is doing it's job because now the climaxes are back to back, and I'm just wondering how the hell MC is still mentally there because I'd be a babbling mess.

Yes daddy.

he makes me SICK (lovingly)

But also they mention the liquid he was feeding MC had a horrible smell and I'm just like oh fucking gawd please get rid of my sense of smell before sleeping with him because I would not make it. Why is everything having to do with him smell so much? LOL

LMAO

MC was begging for his dick and Asmo is like, baby it's already in are you okay?

I'm crying

Yeah remember those memes about people getting high and saying they were vacuuming the dishes?

I imagine that's what it's like having sex with him. One minute you're on the bed next you're in another dimension, floating, transcending, melting, legs bent in impossible shapes. Indeed I am mopping the lawn.

He even mentioned they've done it like six times already and he's just getting started.

with a face like that? phew.

Oh so he does have a good pull out game.

btw the visual for that???? GAWDDDDDDD -> look here

So let me back up a bit and mention that MC was feeling insecure that since they have been doing it for quite some time (2 days I think?) they thought he wasn't satisfied. Nah he was just savoring the moment. He could come at any time. ANd when he does? It's alot and from his horn and everything. Cum fountain.

And best part? No refractory period. He's already hard and slamming that thang back in.

Also he mentions here that there's a smell, and he's getting really worked up.

Yeah he's tearing that up. Like it's overtime ya'll.

There's purple smoke and a erotic aura in the air, he's grabbing and biting down on the back of MC's neck to claim them? Oh he's going in.

Alright here we go.

And just so ya'll know...sorry male MC players....the same line is used in ya'lls version too. No change.

This is the point where I would of preferred perhaps something else be said entirely instead. I know the majority of players are women/non-men but...I can see someone playing and getting side swept like?????

But anyways let's move on past this point

Until the room stank is an understatement.

But anyways, while MC is trying to somewhat calm down, Asmo is still trying to keep the momentum. And MC starts trying to have a normal conversation and figuring out why devil's fear him the most.

But also mentioned they wanted to shove his nasty, greasy, bodily fluid covered hair up their hole. E x c u s e the fuck outta me?

AN Y W AY S

Mc figures that the reason the devils fear him is because of this. Imagine falling for someone like this? Who is nothing but the sole reason existence of lust and temptation where you could fuck for hours and reach pleasure centers unknown and yet have that all be taken away when he leaves? There's no love? No sweet nothings? Just being used up and tossed without any direction and you're just in the dark?

welp.

But Asmo does offer MC some comfort

He tells them that he's back in Hell so he will be around more often. It won't be painful, that it's okay to start slow and that MC would wait for him when he's ready to fully accept his feelings. He could fall in love with them not that he was already in love with them. But with how he's considering him as a companion, how he's biting and claiming them, the amount of time he's spending with MC.

mind you he left Phenomenon on the floor the moment he entered the meeting room so I imagine they weren't fucking for very long at all. I imagine all of his sessions with others are "quick" and for those he really likes they last longggg like days.

Not mention he on that yandere vibes....telling MC he'd lock them up in a cage but he'll deal with it for now.

And apparently when he gives a sincere command, it must be followed. So MC basically ends up getting dressed, not whining about leaving, and all that good stuff. A true dom in that sense.

Also he mentions that when he's nearby MC will just get turned on automatically. "Your body will scream that your man is here"

why is that so hot?

So MC is back in Gehenna and this is when Asmo starts reminiscing about Solomon who predicted that he'd see MC in the future and that he would know that he feels at the moment for Solomon is not 'love'.

I wonder if Asmodeus was just helplessly losing himself for Solomon, and pepaw clocked that and was just telling him to chill on it for a bit. Although it is fucking WI L D to me that he is going to try this again with his friend's descendant..."hey I'm a friend of your grandpa...soooo yeah let's fuck and fall in love"

Sounds weird when I put that way huh? lol

Also since we're at the end I'd like to highlight some personality things about him!

He plays too much: Taking a photo of himself and MC sleeping and sending it to Satan knowing he'd storm immediately to the room

He doesn't have self doubt, he is very much full of himself but is considerate of his partner given the circumstances

He is not into aftercare, he claims that part is included during the sex, if sex is over then it's over

He doesn't shower ya'll. Like at all. But he oddly keeps his nails clean and that's about it? He seems to be obsessed with sex funk

He really likes Mammon. Like a lot. But he does that thing where he's like "Nah I want him to want me so I won't give him what he wants" lol okay

He fucks pillows, pretty much inanimate objects if he feels like it

He has a sense of humor

Romance is not absent, it's just tricky for him since all that's all his brain is "breed breed breed breed sex sex sex breed breed breed oh lets pause for a break sex sex sex kissing sex sex breeding biting"

He loves his children though. He really is a fatherly devil. He beams about his kids and this is a moment where you can catch him not being sexual

It comes to no surprise that he doesn't like the idea of sharing his favorite person but it has me think that his style of relationship is that he's monogamous but if you want to occasionally bring someone to "play" with he won't mind as long as it's discussed and he gets to fuck them too

He's got a one track mind, but it's not like he can't carry on a conversation

Now for my

T H E O R I E S

Asmo is older than all of the kings, but younger than Lucifer

I am reaching in the dark but it seems the only King he's had sex with or has watched have sex is Belphie

He's only in love with MC because he's taking a opportunity that wasn't given to him with Solomon

There's most likely a loophole to his curse that his late wife left on him but he simply chooses not to break it

If the Kings fight together along with Asmodeus, the war would be over, and if we ever get a final battle chapter it's going to be MC who is the missing "key" and the one who figures that out is Asmo because he spent so much time with Solomon

We may get a cameo from one of his children in the story

Asmodeus is possibly capable of lying and just hasn't revealed that to anyone. I say this because if he was one of the very early devils created he is the exception to the rule. So there could be some secret he knows.

BUT wow it seems that I have compiled ALL of this into one post. YAY FOR ME. Now there may be more little blurbs popping up as I remember them but for nowwwwww~ Thank you for reading, hopefully you grabbed some snacks, and ya'll are amazing. Feel free to let me know ya'lls thoughts if you haven't said already on our stinky hot devil man <3 lol

[unproduciblesmackdown]

another billions analysis thing is like so yeah while it's like "hmm let's think about power" but then doesn't really do that, what's there to offset that is "but let's think about what these people with billions(tm) are doing because of their like personal feelings & lives & whatever" and the personal feelings are the thrilling journey of s1 men following the compass of their ego & the way their personal lives matter at all beyond this is about their Relationships. except the relationships are also actually about the power billions isn't really thinking about because the ones billions focuses on involve this Fealty where one person does whatever and the other is just stuck with it. sure they might air some unhappiness sometimes, but if it's not punished or ignored from the start anyway, it'll still end up so inconsequential that it's as though it never happened. and what's left to offset the way that can't mean anything if you again take it for granted that of course people are just locked into such relationships & best they can do is fix it from the inside or embrace it as is? is "do you think this character is a winner among losers & you want to see them pwn everyone & do whatever they want forever" & if you like all the media the creators do like

[honeyshiddendesire]

Mean Bean

Warnings: mentions of pregnancy, smitten Zoro&Perona, set during Zoro's 2 year training (there's relevance to that) jealous Perona, he has a girly daughter because of Perona lol

Summary: Mihawk as a doting girl dad

*other girl dad headcanons*

🫛 Doting Husband and Father Alert lemme just start there lol

🫛This man will cater to your every need don't even doubt or question it

🫛 Pregnancy pain? He'll give you a massage. Cravings? Yup now he's cooking. Feeling emotional? Awe don't worry dear he's down to cuddle when you need it.

🫛 I picture you almost about to give birth by the time Zoro arrives for his training. That gives time for Zoro to see the bond between you too.

🫛When the child is born then Mihawk only gets tougher on Zoro

🫛LEMME EXPLAIN !! This man will fight harder with the young swordsman saying all types of shit like-

"You never know who you're fighting against and what's waiting for them at home. If they have kids and loved ones they will go for the kill to ensure you don't kill them first. They have something, someone waiting for them. So either give it your all or lay down and let them take you out first- always fight like someone is waiting."

🫛 Idk it's probably stupid but now Mihawk has people who care so he only goes harder and in turn will train Zoro the same.

🫛The training will be what makes Zoro such a good dad too don't fight me on this lol

🫛Since Zoro arrived right around the time you deliver he would totally be around the kid alot same with Perona.

🫛Yes she's totally jealous that Mihawk has to further spread his attention elsewhere but when she realizes you have a girl she's over joyed

🫛Perona dresses your baby up like a total doll and Mihawk will just roll his eyes but secretly loves it - how can he not? His baby girl looks so adorable in her frilly dresses and little matching socks.

🫛 Can totally see Mihawk walking around his castle at night with the baby whenever she's being fussy and he knows you need some rest.

🫛 You've totally caught him on occasion asleep with the newborn laying on a blanket by the fireplace (newborns don't move incase y'all think the baby will roll in the fire 🙄)

🫛 Is shocked to see how smiley his baby is compared to his stoic attitude "I guess she takes after you my dear." You'll raise a brow and ask if it's a problem and he'll just caress your cheek fondly, "No my love, merely an observation. If she becomes every bit like you then I'll be the happiest man alive "

🫛 Will catch himself staring far more than he thought he would when you breastfeed (if you breastfeed)

🫛 Loves your changed body and won't let you exert yourself more than you need during recovery

🫛 Will still do all the cooking and cleaning despite your protests

🫛 Breaks up fights between Zoro and Perona on who gets to chill with the baby lol

"You already got to play with her this morning, doing your dumb little fashion shows." Zoro would bark out at the pink haired woman who held your baby. Chubby hands rubbing her eyes making Zoro click his teeth, "Look see- the tiny thing is tired she wants to nap with me. Now hand her over!"

🫛 Despite Perona dressing up your baby Mihawk is also very skilled on keeping your baby in tip top shape. I mean have you seen him? Impeccable style 😏

🫛 When it's time for her to try eating food for the first time Mihawk starts with a veggie. Knowing that kids have the hardest time with them so why not get it out of the way first.

🫛You, Perona, Zoro and Mihawk would literally all gather in the dining room just to watch her eat for the first time lol 😂

🫛 Mihawk will feed her the first time, if you breastfeed then he does the solids. He'll feel like it's finally his time to shine and help out even more lol

🫛 First food of choice? Green beans.

🫛The second that baby tastes the yummy veggie then her sweet demeanor has vanished and she is replaced with something more like her father.

🫛 "AHHHHH! MMMMM! AHHHHHHH!" She would scream at the top of her lungs demanding more in an instant. Hands shaking in the air and face scowling with anger.

"Hurry up fed her faster. Looks like she's gonna explode." Zoro would panic watching your baby throw her body around, legs kicking in the high chair only to stop as Mihawk fed her another spoon. "Mmmm." She would smile for a second then bam! The monster baby returns until the next bite.

🫛 You would call her your little Mean Bean after that

🫛 Demands green beans all the time as she gets older, whatever sweet side she had would disappear when she realized green beans were not served with dinner.

🫛 Mihawk would just sigh as he stares at his child who now looks way more like him than he's used to. "Darling I thought we could try something new." He'll explain and your daughter would side eye him, "Something...new? But why? Is it so wrong that I like what I like? It's still a vegetable." Mihawk would groan as he runs a hand over his face not able to deny the fact she's right.

🫛 Perona would totally have to hide if Mihawk and his mean Bean are bickering cause her laughing at his child's sass only makes things worse.

🫛Mihawk has no idea how she got so stubborn...he will deny that it's from himself

🫛 Like all the other swordsman father he will teach his child the way of the blade only for her to be bored at first.

🫛 "Why can't I wear my dress and fight?" She'll question making the man groan. Ugh all her damn questions! "It's not practical darling." And she'll just glare at him with her arms crossed. "Then I don't wanna." Mihawk will feel like exploding until you pat his shoulder. "Go find one that's easy to move in." You'll suggest.

🫛You definitely have to settle their bickering matches

🫛 You quickly find out he is not the disciplinarian like you'd thought he'd be lol

🫛Mihawk loves his darling but she's a spitfire for sure keeping him on his toes more than he'd like.

🫛His daughter becomes a master with a sword despite dressing like a mini Perona, she definitely changes his mind on the whole dresses and sword fighting

🫛Has a picture of his daughter around a year old scowling angrily with a literal fist full of green beans that Mihawk caught her eating

🫛 Despite there constant bickering it's all with love because you still find them cuddled up with a book in his hands reading to her by the fire. First it was picture books, then simple one sentences now as she grows he reads chapter for chapter each night. The fire lighting them both up beautifully, their expressions soft and free from their usual scowls

🫛 Mihawk would teach his daughter to cook as well but what she had in sword skills she DRASTICALLY lacked in cooking

🫛I'm not talking bland or over seasoned ...no no- I'm talking full on kitchen fires and black bread out the oven. Kitchen engulfed in clouds of smoke as Mihawk sighs putting out fire after fire

🫛Its fine shes to pretty to cook anyways Mihawk would say as an excuse- any man should be happy serving her every need he'll think but deep down he hopes she doesn't starve lol

🫛 When she becomes 16 there bickering matches only worsen fighting tooth and nail for her to join him on his cross guild meetings - which as always he'll cave and allow her to accompany him

🫛 Once she's there Mihawk has to literally PEEL Buggy's son away from his darling lil mean bean - honestly he knew his sweet heart was stunning and expected this but what he never expected was for his daughter to like the little blue haired weirdo right back

🫛 Will have to pull them both apart whenever they're around no doubt

🫛 Once she's an adult the worse words he's ever heard leave her mouth, he thinks he dies for a minute after but you tell him he's just being dramatic

"You can't tell me what to do anymore." And just like that his little mean bean would storm out, leaving him to go join those circus pirates

🫛 You have to console him for a long time, back rubs, cold rags on his forever because he swears he's dying of a fever and as much as you wanna tell him to grow up you know his heart is broken.

🫛 When your daughter returns a year later after sailing the sea with her loser clown boyfriend (Mihawk's description) he has to swallow the flood of insults that threaten to spill as he prepares the clown and the rest of his family dinner.

🫛 You have to pull Mihawk aside and tell him to give Buggy's son a chance because he's really trying to get accepted and honestly he's not nearly as annoying as Buggy himself so he should be happy

🫛 After almost 2 months with the clown boy Mihawk warms up drastically, a whole 180 it surprises both you and your daughter- little did you know he threatened to chop his damn nose off if he ever broke his daughter's heart

🫛 Soon Mihawk has to accept the clown asking for his mean bean's hand in marriage and you and your daughter couldn't be happier-surprisingly Mihawk was as well... that was until Buggy came to visit to help with wedding planning

"This wedding is gonna be so flashy we'll make the whole ocean jealous of our kids."

"Kill me now." Mihawk would groan.

🫛In the end even as he walks his darling down the isle she'll always remain that same stubborn little girl who slammed her chubby fists down demanding more green beans.

"I'll always love you daddy."

"And I'll always love you more mean bean."