#it would have higher contrast and much more patterning

[nmhdreamscape]

pillow prince ✧ l.jn

pairing | idol!jeno x fem!reader word count | 2.5k synopsis | late night recordings and rehearsals had been doing a number on jeno, what kind of girlfriend would you be if you didn’t try and help him relax a little? content | whiny!jeno, oral (m receiving), hair pulling, praise, marking

the sound of the front door opening and closing catches your attention. you were stood in the kitchen finishing up dinner for the night when jeno crosses into your line of sight. the first thing that caught your attention was the lack of fabric decorating his arms, having a very strong weakness for the sight of your boyfriend in a tank top. the way that the black material contrasted against his pale skin. the sight of his muscular biceps and protruding veins. it was enough to drive you silently insane, stirring a sense of want inside of you.

however, those thoughts were soon interrupted by the fact that jeno simply walked right by you and straight into your shared bedroom. that’s how you knew something was off. you quickly turned off the stove, opting to follow him. standing in the doorway, you watched in amusement as he flopped onto the bed with a groan. jeno turned his head to look at you with an apologetic smile.

“hey baby. sorry, they threw in a last minute recording session on top of us learning an entirely new routine.” he sighed, rolling over and stretching with a yawn. you walked toward the bed, your boyfriend moving back to sit up against the headboard. you climbed onto the mattress beside him, studying his figure carefully. you carefully climbed into his lap, something you often did after spending the day apart.

“it’s okay! are you feeling okay though?” you reassured him, stroking his cheek. he quickly leaned into the touch, feeling some of the tension leaving his body purely due to your presence. you secretly adored when he got like this. the sleepiness seemed to only amplify his affections, jeno becoming a bit clingy and somewhat pliant.

“just a bit stressed and a little tense.” he mumbled into your palm, before kissing it softly. the earlier thoughts from when he had first come into your shared apartment quickly came front of mind as you absentmindedly tranced patterns along his bare arms. he seemed to watch with bated breath as your fingers trailed up higher. a smirk begins to grace your lips as you heard a sharp intake of breath come from your boyfriend when you traced across his jawline, tilting his head up to look you in the eyes.

“want some help with that?” you asked quietly, moving forward so that he could feel your breath against his lips. jeno stared up at you with eyes slightly glazed over, somewhat out of it, before coming back down to earth and nodding rapidly. he hurriedly pressed his lips against yours in a kiss, arms wrapping around your waist to pull you closer. any control you had over him before seemed to be slipping as you melted into his grasp.

his movements were more needy, sloppier, desperate. he let out an audible groan when your tongue finally slipped into his mouth, hands clinging to your hips harshly. you could still sense an air of hesitation surrounding jeno, still sat up straight, muscles still overly tense. he seemed to have trouble with fully letting go. it was natural for him to step up and take the lead, and this went very much against that. you could practically hear his brain whirring around, overanalysing every movement, every touch.

jeno needed reassurance, you could tell that much. you pulled away from his lips slowly, the strand of saliva connecting the two of you showing just how messy things had gotten. your boyfriend surged forward to kiss you again, only for you to move back again. he began to pout, pulling you even closer. he was still trying to take control, letting out a noise of confusion as you continued to maintain the distance between you.

“baby, just relax. let me take care of you, please.” you whispered, resting your forehead against his. you watched as everything seemed to click into place in his mind, his body visibly relaxing at the realisation of your intentions. jeno mumbled a quiet okay before looking up at you expectantly.

you smiled down at him before ducking down to begin pressing kisses against his neck. they felt light across his skin, barely giving him time to register they were there before you shifted to another spot. jeno knew why, you didn’t want to risk leaving any evidence behind. you had learned that lesson the hard way in the beginning of your relationship, when jeno had come home one night looking like a sad puppy after being scolded by stylists all day. it wasn’t enough, he wanted more. his eyes fluttered closed as he tilted his head up to bare his neck to you, fighting the urge to grip you in place to ensure he got what he wanted.

“you can leave marks… you know if you want to.” he muttered quietly, pink beginning to dust his cheeks. you let out a breathless laugh against his skin, very amused at how easily he was following along with everything now. against your better judgement, you gave into his request. he let out a whine as your movements became harsher, lasting longer, relishing in the feeling of your lips against his skin starting from his jaw all the way down to his collarbones.

you moved back for a moment to assess what you had just done, watching as colour began to bloom on his pale skin. he looked so pretty like this, blissed out and content, body free from the worries of the day. it made all the work you had to do in the morning to cover it all up worth it if he was enjoying it this much. your gaze soon shifted down once again to that damn tank top and just how good he looked in it. you gripped the hem and begin hastily lifting it up his torso.

“fuck, you always look so good in these.” you moaned as you finally managed to get the black fabric over his head. your eyes remained locked on his expression as you threw it to the side, watching how his cheeks went from a light pink to a brighter red. his breath seemed to stop at your comment, eyes darting elsewhere as he bit his lip.

oh. oh. that was new. you knew he liked to praise you, that was very much obvious. but you didn’t think it went both ways. sure, you had jokingly called him a good boy before, and you sure as hell complimented him all the time. you had just dismissed his reactions as shyness, not that he had like the comments like that. you certainly weren’t complaining.

you resumed kissing at your boyfriends neck, beginning to trail your lips down his collarbones and onto his chest. you conjured your assault downward, mumbling sweet praises into his skin. you studied his demeanour carefully as he became increasing flustered and needy. jeno’s hips were now bucking upward with each of your movements. your lips now firmly sucking marks into his hip bones while playing with the drawstring of the sweatpants that rested just below. your eyes remained locked on his, savouring each other noises you managed to pull from him in anticipation.

jeno let out a sigh of relief as your hands finally gripped at his sweatpants with the intention of pulling them down. he eagerly lifted his hips up to help you remove them along with his boxers. the mumbling of “good boy” caught him off guard, a high-pitched whine escaping from the back of his throat. jeno let out a hiss as his cock was finally freed from his boxers. you returned to kissing down his body from where you had left off, fingers now tracing patterns on his thighs. you could tell this was driving him insane, your hands and mouth being so close and yet so far away from where he actually needed them.

a quiet whine of “please” caught your attention immediately, your teasing ceasing. you had started this to help him relax, not to rile him up. that was something you could save for another time. jeno could have thanked every god above when your hand finally wrapped itself around his cock, carefully moving up and down to ease him into the feeling. a smirk graced your lips at how easily he was getting lost in the pleasure, slow strokes being enough for him at that moment.

but you wanted to spoil him, reward him for a hard day at work. that’s when you leaned forward to lick a long stripe upwards from the base all the way to the tip, collecting the precum that had pooled there on your tongue. you watched on in amusement as your small licks against his head drove him mad, head falling back against the headboard in pleasure as he muttered various curses. you tested the waters by slipping the tip between your lips and sucking, earning a whine from the lips of the boy now staring down at you.

you had now decided that enough was enough. your hands reached up, one to grip at his thigh and the other to grip at the base of his cock, before you took more of him into your mouth. you watched on in amazement at how vocal your boyfriend was being, making a mental note of this moment for use later. when you reached halfway, you started to bob your head, your hand working the other half of his cock as your eyes fell closed. you quickly found a rhythm that he enjoyed, occasionally breaking it to spending sometime kissing and lapping at the head.

jeno watched on in amazement as you worked, stress well and truly forgotten about as he focused on keeping his hips still as you worked. your boyfriend didn’t really know what to do with himself at that moment. he really wanted to grip your hair to help you along. thrust his cock further into your mouth to get that feeling of being completely swallowed by you. however, you were controlling everything, and he didn’t want to do something that you didn’t want him to do. as if sneaking his apprehension, your eyes opened to stare into his. your eyes shifted downward, and that’s when you noticed his hands curled into fists beside him. you pulled off of him with a downright sinful pop, spit dripping down your chin, and your chest heaved from the lack of air.

“you can hold on, i don’t mind. want to make sure you get the most out of this.” you asked, eyes locked with his as you pressed kisses along his length. you then reached up to grab one of his hands and placed it in your hair, giving him an encouraging nod before swallowing down again. it took him a few moments to realise why you weren’t moving before he sprung into action. only when he grabbed onto your hair did you resume your movements, enjoying the slight sting that came as his grip tightened in pleasure.

you continued your ministrations, hands and mouth working together as you slowly eased yourself down further along his cock. at the feeling of you going further, he accidentally thrust further into your mouth, causing you to swallow him entirely. you felt your gag reflex kick in, the sensation feeling heavenly around his length. you pulled off entirely, watching as he muttered out apologies in between curses and moans. you let out a small giggle before swallowing down on him again, stroking his hip to indicate he was all good and to continue. and that was all the indication he needed. he began to thrust needily into your mouth, matching the pace you had set, as your grip on his hip tightened.

you continued to work your hand in conjunction with his movements, eyes snapping up to take everything in. the sight of jeno with his head thrown back, eyes screwed shut with his lips parted in pleasure was enough to earn a moan from you. the vibrations drove him mad and caused a particularly harsh thrust, which only elicited further noises from you. his moans had begun to get whinier now and more frequent, hips beginning to fall out of line with your own movements. you could tell he was close. jeno’s mind was completely fogged with pleasure at this point, his only focus being on his release. that didn’t stop you from being surprised when you heard his voice from above you.

“please let me cum. i’ve been a good boy for you. please.” he whined. you momentarily based to look up at him in wonder, you would definitely have to revisit this later. jeno began to squirm as he waited for you to move again, shallowly thrusting into your mouth. when you snapped out of your daze, you nodded as best you could with his cock in your mouth, before resuming your movements.

all it took was a few more bobs of your head and a few more thrusts, and jeno was cumming down the back of your throat with a whine. you gripped onto his hips for dear life as he rode out his orgasm, a broken whine hanging in the air as he came down from his height of pleasure. you pull off of his length carefully, knowing he would be sensitive. a trail of spit follows you as you move away, lips puffy from being used. your boyfriend’s head fell forward with a blissed out smile, eyes creasing up into crescents as he looked at you. you giggled at his expression, leaning forward to press a quick kiss against his lips. before you could get away, he pulls you into his lap once again, lips pressing against yours harshly as his hands came to cup your ass. realising where he was going with this, you grabbed his shoulder to help push the two of you apart. jeno simply looks up at you, confused.

“is it not your turn?” jeno quizzed, landing a light smack on your ass. you let out a yelp, looking down at him with a smile.

“are you not tired?” you dismissed, moving to hop off of his lap and get ready for bed. jeno seemed to have other ideas though, shifting his hand to rest on your waist to lock you in place. any tiredness that your boyfriend may have had when he entered your apartment was long gone.

“not even in the slightest.” he smiled before moving to begin pressing kisses against your neck. you let out a small whine, attempting meekly to push him off, to no avail.

“tonight was about you though.” you pouted as your grip tightened on his shoulders, eyes fluttering shut as you let yourself get lost in the feeling of jeno finally showing you some attention.

“well now i want to watch my girlfriend as she cums around my fingers. think you can help with that?” he teased, snapping the fabric of your shorts back against your skin, eliciting a gasp from you. you simply nod in response before your swiftly pushed back down into the mattress. if it helps him relax, who are you to say no?

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[thefandomsfervent]

JayVikMel x Reader Four Glasses and a Bottle

minors DNI.

Summary: You aren’t sure how you got here. There had been talks before. Talks. That was all. Talks and imaginings. Ideas that were hidden in drunken conversations. Jokes that lingered in the air too long. Now you’re here, in Jayce’s apartment.

AKA - A fic where Viktor and reader are dating, Jayce and Mel are dating, and everyone likes each other. A lot.

Word Count: +3.4k

There is no plot. Reader is AFAB with female pronouns.

Tags: Slight Overstimulation, Polyamory, Cunnilingus, Plot What Plot, Gratuitous

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Dinner was going well at least, but the energy in the room was tense. Dessert forgotten on the table. A bottle of wine had been uncorked hours ago, sitting in a bucket of ice. You were nursing your glass slowly, it was lukewarm now. Mel had two already. Viktor and Jayce? You weren’t sure how many the two had drank. Not because they had too many to count, but because Mel kept her eyes on you all night. Golden freckles glinting in the low light of the living room.  She was enchanting. Viktor hadn’t really spoken much that night, his hand on the small of your back whenever you were together. Jayce and Mel had kept the conversation flowing for most part, you chiming in on occasion. Viktor offered small hums in acknowledgement, only ever speaking if he disagreed with a statement.

All four of you knew why you were here. You have a feeling that the councilor is enjoying drawing it out. Watching as you swirl your wine for the umpteenth time in this last hour. Watching when you bring it to your lips. The blush that had been creeping up your neck since dessert was definitely to your ears. You could feel the cool breeze of the window on them, on your cheeks. Jayce had been drawing patterns on Mel’s leg, her dress pulled higher and higher. Soft calves, lush thighs, smooth skin. You look away but Jayce catches your eyes. A hungry hazel gaze. You breathe out slowly, quietly. Viktor notices and plays with your free hand. His fingers opening and closing your own. 

“And you?” Mel’s talking to you. Has been for the past couple of minutes it seems. 

“Hmm?” You try to remain nonchalant. It fails, she sees right through you. You know she does. She laughs, a quiet rich sound. Like a bell cleansing the air. 

“Do you want more wine?” She’s getting up, walking towards you. Jayce doesn’t join her but does lean forward to watch. Waiting. 

“Oh! No thank you. This,” You raise your glass,” is plenty.” You sip some partly in show, and partly to quell the sudden dryness in your throat. It doesn’t help. 

Right. It’s a red wine. “Water, maybe, would be nice.” This was going to be a long night. 

“Sure.” Ever the pleasant host, she brings you some. Her hand so warm in contrast to the glass. It lingers there when you grab it. “But some liquid courage might help your nerves.” Fingers ghosting over yours. 

“Viktor?” her voice pulling his attention away from your hand. The fiddling stills. “How do you deal with such a tantalizing pet.” You almost choke on your water. “Easy to tease, I presume?”

The heat on your face multiplies tenfold. Viktor’s hand presses firmly into yours. He keeps his gaze level with hers, waiting until she sits down to answer. 

“The same way you deal with yours.” Oh. Oh it’s happening. It’s happening now. Were you ready for this? You had to be right? You were. He feels you tense, hand moving to your knee. The circles he’s drawing would usually soothe you. Now? They’re lighting a fire. Every inch he’s touching is burning. “Discipline and Reward.” His other hand is on your back now. You regret taking off your coat earlier, despite the heat emanating off your skin. 

“I think we have different rulesets.” You’re looking at Jayce, to see what he’s thinking. But his gaze is on Mel, a lovesick puppy. A man utterly devoted. Her hand is snaking up to his hair, tousling the brown-black locks. He’s leaning back in her touch, humming. Eyes closed. It deepens the swirling in your stomach, and somehow calms your nerves. “Reward and Training.” 

A long night indeed. 

“Well then, how should we start?” She’s standing again, Jayce with her. It’s hard to look at anyone in the room now. You stare at the floor. You feel Viktor pull you up with him and you don’t fight it. Now more than ever you need grounding, direction. And he would give that to you. 

“Perhaps somewhere more comfortable.” Your lover replies. She leads you to Jayce’s room, a couch facing the bed. She gestures for Viktor to take it, it has more room. She wastes no time in starting to disrobe. She was utterly beautiful, all three of them were in their own way. You felt self-conscious. Jayce helps her before shedding his own layers. Viktor’s taking off his shirt, but not his pants. He grabs your face with both hands, looking you in the eyes. Cool thumbs rub circles into your cheekbones, a small smile to soothe you. You reach up and grab his forearms.  It grounds you and he leans closer to kiss your forehead, your nose, your mouth. He pulls away when you sigh, much calmer than before. 

“Koloušek, help me with my belt.” It’s a question and not. It’s a command. You’re nodding, hands moving on their own accord. Muscle memory navigating metal and leather. He leans into your ear. “Are you ready?” You nod. Slowly, but you nod. His amber eyes looking into yours. Lids lowering. “Can they touch you?” You’re nodding again, a little faster. You were ready for this. For them. He turns you around, hands gentle on your shoulders and pulls you into his lap as he sits on the edge of the bed. 

“You are wearing too many clothes. Both of you.” It’s Jayce speaking now. He looks to Mel, who’s naked body is stretched along the couch. Like a goddess amongst people, like she lived like this. She gives him a dip of her head, royal hand gesturing at you. Viktor beckons him forward, and softly pushes you back up to Jayce. You try to stand steady, confidently. He’s holding his arms out. As if he was only expecting a hug. His big arms surround you in warmth. He smells like oil and cinnamon and sweat. “I’m nervous too.” his voice reverberates through your body, his chest muffling the murmur you reply with. “But we’re in good hands aren’t we?” You nod and his hands are undoing the strings of your dress. It pools around your feet and despite the lack of clothes you were still too hot already. No bra tonight. You knew it would get in the way. Yet you still had a pair of underwear on. For posterity if not to show that you had nice lacey sets. To present you as a well groomed package. 

Viktor is standing again too, leaning over your shoulder to kiss his fellow scientist. His hands find your chest, your back, the hem of your underwear. He’s pulling them down, and you widen your stance. Lifting a leg when necessary. You were well-trained. You can hear a whine and it’s not your own. It’s Jayce’s. You can’t move. Not that you want to, you’re caught between the both of them, watching Mel watch the three of you. She had a third glass of wine in her hand. 

“Help him out Jayce.” Is all Mel has to say for him to pull away from you and circle behind Viktor. Scruffy kisses on your lover’s neck. You move to sit with Mel, tentatively taking the seat next to her. She’s looking at you with desire and playfulness. A cat with its toy. She sets her glass down and leans towards you. “Don’t be shy. Come here.” Her arms pull you to her, but just enough that she can push you down onto the couch. Your legs are parted open for her to lean in between. Her pretty arms caging you on either side of your head. “Look at them.” Her nose is nudging you to face Jayce and Viktor. The former had Viktor in the same position as you, his pants had been pulled off at some point, forgotten at the edge of the bed. Jayce was kissing him so softly, like you do. It pulls something in your chest. Something hungry. “They look good don’t they?” Her voice is like honey in your ear, soft bites at the column of your throat. 

“Can I touch you?” You barely get it out as a whisper. You feel her smile into your neck, a hand pulling your arm to her chest. An answer. You’re moving slowly, cataloging every curve and dip. You’re trailing down her stomach when she kisses you. She tastes like wine and salted caramel, the dessert from earlier sweetening her breath. You’re whining against her lips, especially when her hands settle on your waist. Your hips buck into hers and she pulls away.

“Do you want your lover back, Viktor?” You mewl at the loss of contact. You’d never kissed someone so soft before. So sweet. “She seems desperate.” She nips at your bottom lip on the last word. When you chase her lips with your own, she pushes you back down. “Uhn-uh-uh. Behave.” Mel doesn’t miss the way you gasp at that. “Eager to please, aren’t you?” You're nodding dumbly at that. Putty in her hands. You’re leaning into her again when she speaks. “Why don’t you go back to the bed and let the men take care of you. Such a pretty girl.” 

The two perk up at that. Separating. Viktor is sitting up, opening his legs and patting his lap. You feel sluggish, head spinning. So much movement happening in such little time. Mel helps you up, waiting for you to cross over before she lays back down. Watching. 

Viktor is holding your legs open with his own. rubbing soothing circles on your hips as Jayce leans down. His puppy dog demeanor is hard to believe when his eyes hold a sweltering heat in them. He looks at you before looking to his partner. You feel Viktor nod at the crook of your shoulder. He's kissing your neck, nibbling on your ear. And Jayce is leaving small love bites on the inside of your thigh. His breath fanning over your obvious arousal, cool on your hot skin.

He spreads you open, fingers dipping dangerously close to your true center. He doesn't push in, just holds you open and stares like it's the finest meal he'll have in years. Mel is watching from the couch, swirling her wine in one hand. When you catch her green gaze you whimper. She hums in response, eyes narrowing in delight.

“Go on Jayce, don't leave the poor girl waiting.” He dives in, slow circles of his tongue to start. The contact has you leaning into Viktor. His hands on your side, moving slowly up to your chest. You can feel him behind you, straining in his boxers. It's hard to think about anything and you've barely started. So many eyes were on you. Two sets of hands. 

"You taste so good” Jayce is slurring over his words, wet slurps against your core. His voice is deep with want. He's speeding up, still not delving into you more than the occasional slip of his tongue. He's focused on your clit, hands rubbing a ticklish spot behind your knees. 

"Tell us more, let her hear your devotion." Mel is trailing one jewelry adorned hand over her breast, she's laying on the couch. Propped up like the muse of a painting. Kneese barely parted. 

"So fucking good. Needed to be here like this. For you." He looks up at you, chin shining with your slick. 

He's growling against your flesh at the eye contact. Eating like a man starved and you can't hide your gasps any longer. You don't know what to say. You don't know if you're supposed to say anything. Viktor's hands find your breasts. Knuckles slowly dragging on the underside of them as he starts to grab at you. His long fingers kneading, pushing and pulling, letting the weight of them shift in his palms. He's whispering something you can't quite understand. Rutting against you when you push back at a hard suck on your clit. He's biting at your ear and your eyes screw shut. 

You're close, already, you realize this and the moan that leaves you is a high keening sound.

"Please."

"No dear, not yet." You open your eyes at that. Your breath is getting harder to control. It doesn't get any easier when you see Mel lower her hand to between her thighs. Her beautiful hand setting a slow pace for herself. She knows she's asking the impossible and offers you a painful mercy. "Jayce, come here." He doesn't move at first, he's still licking at you and you're breathing heavier as you approach the peak. She calls him again, firmer. Sharper. "Jayce." He pulls away, pupils blown open and eyes apologetic as he leaves you to sit with her. She pulls him towards her by his hand, down for a kiss. It's filthy, mouths open, you hear his groan when she deepens it. Your arousal is shared on both their lips now. 

Viktor taps your hip twice for you to get up. Standing on shaky legs you turn to face him. He's freeing himself from his boxers, lithe hands peeling the fabric away. You can't hide the hungry look in your eyes at how pretty he is. Length springing forward and caught in one hand as he beckons with another. You move to straddle him. 

"Impatient. Kneel." Simple words. Observation and command. You whine but follow his order. He's stroking himself slowly, amber eyes almost hidden by blown pupils. He smirks at you, his bottom lip red like he's been biting it this whole time. You're scooching closer to him. 

"Please” you ask again, voice wavering. He doesn't answer you, just puts his good leg forward. You know what he wants. You sit up, straightening your back as you set yourself on the shiny leather of his shoe. 

"Do not move." He tells you. Your legs are sore from being held open by him and Jayce. He knows that. His half-lidded eyes staring down, daring you to disobey. You do your best to listen. A shake has set in your legs as you sink down slowly. The cold of his shoe helps soothe you some. Not much. Want is growing in you by the second as you hear Jayce and Mel behind you. Mel is laughing at something and when you turn around you see why. Jayce is kissing her neck, his beard tickling her ear as he ruts against her stomach. Her elegant arms playing with his hair. He's whimpering, whispering pleas to be inside her. To be good for her. You clench around nothing.

"Don't look at them, look at me." A hand on your jaw. A thumb in your mouth. You're mumbling apologies around it. Tongue swirling around the digit. You're gently grabbing at Viktor’s wrist. Needing to be anchored, eyes watering at his disapproving tone. 

"Koloušek" his voice softens at the tears welling. "It is okay, you are doing so well."

"You just got distracted. It's okay, come here." He pulls you up. He's kissing your face, trailing his fingertips down your back. "Do you want to watch?" He whispers in your ear. You nod fervently. "They are pretty. Yes?" You're whining again, misdemeanor forgotten as heat settles in your core again. He turns you around like you were earlier, holding himself up in one hand. You've done this before. You sink onto him. Back to his chest. The action is slow, every inch of him stretching you open. You let loose a breath at the feeling, mouth opening. Viktor is groaning at the heat of you. When you're flush against him he wraps his arms around you. "Don't move love. Just watch them" you're so full and you feel like you're going stupid. 

He is so warm. Holding you tightly against him. He curses when he feels you clench around him, your walls fluttering when you see the two lovers before you. 

Mel is smiling at Jayce, he's already spent himself once on her chest and stomach. The contrast obvious on her skin. They are sitting up, and she's rubbing soothing shapes into his arm. He's nuzzling against her neck again, golden shoulders heaving as he takes deep breaths. She looks at you again, sitting on Viktor's cock. Her eyes are dragging over you, past his hold on you. To where you are connected.  He can't help a thrust when you tighten again, or a second when you let out the most pitiful whine that night. 

"Well aren't we lucky," she's looking at you but speaking to the Zaunite. "Such devoted lovers. Such good listeners." Viktor just hums, chest rumbling against your back. she's reaching down, grabbing hold of Jayce's softening erection. He jumps at the contact, leaning further into her touch. "What should we do?" This time the question is directed at you. She's pumping her hand up and down, softly kissing Jayce’s temples as she awaits your answer. 

"Let him fuck you." You're blushing hard, panting. You want to move so badly. You want to feel Viktor go in and out of you. You want Jayce to make Mel feel bliss. You want bliss. 

"Quite the command." An airy laugh before she lays back down. 

"Well?" She's looking to Jayce "Don't disappoint her." he's climbing over her, lifting her waist up with one arm, one hand curled on her hip as the other lines himself up. He's groaning when he pushes inside. Head falling back, mouth open. Hair stuck to his forehead. It's a beautiful sight. Her eyes fluttering shut as she wraps her legs around him. He's rocking slowly at first. Her little sounds of pleasure joining the heavy breathing of the room. Viktor starts moving too, one hand finding your clit and another holding your hand. Fingers intertwined as he begins to quicken his pace, grinding slow circles into your core, rubbing gently on your bud. It's too much, the visuals, the sounds, the sensation. You don't have time to warn him before you're cumming. You're crying out and squeezing his hand hard. He doesnt stop, just flips you on your back and fucks you through it. His balance is off, kneeling on his good leg. Letting his right leg hang off the bed. He's cursing as your back arches, forcing him deeper into you. "Fuck.” It's quiet at first but he repeats the word over and over as he gets closer. You're thrashing against the bed. It's too much.

Mel is egging Jayce on. You hear the couch start to creak. Telling him he's doing so good, that he feels so good. He's between cries and growling, obviously pushed over the edge too. You can hear his rough sob as he cums, and her gentle groan at the feeling of being filled by him.

Its’ too much. Viktor hasn't stopped either. His thrusts were getting sloppier but he hasn't stopped, you don't know how long you're like that. Dangling over another edge as he pumps into you. You feel a cool hand on your face, brushing hair out of your eyes. You know you must look a mess right now, fucked out of your mind. Someone is kissing you gently, the sensation opposite from how rough Viktor is going. Wine. You taste wine. Mel is kissing your face, telling you how good you're doing. "Do you know how fun it is to see you like this? Behaving so well for us." Jayce is behind her, holding on like he can't bear a second without her. He's eyes are on you. Still dark but soft. Tired and content. He's holding one of your hands rubbing a thumb into your palm. A second, softer orgasm rushes through you, your eyes are watering again.

Viktor's hips stutter at the feeling. He pulls out and strokes himself. Once. Twice. And paints your stomach in his release. He leans back, hands on your thighs as he collects his breath. He looks down at you, covered in him. At Mel cooing over your face. And Jayce pressing himself into both of you. Jayce looks at him, his other arm raised for him to join. He's sore. Exhaustion setting quickly in the room. Talks of everyone bathing later fading as he settles on the bed next to you.

Despite the stickiness of everyone's skin, it's a comfortable piling that happens. A tender silence that fills the room. Breaths even out, soft caresses for everyone’s come down. The first of many nights like this. 

╚═*✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧-✦-✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧*═╝

---------.·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ -Headcanon Master List·-*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .----------

------------‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙· Master Fic List *̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊--------------

[rist-ix]

Redesigning Aisha's transformation because oh my god

PLEASE rainbow just let her wear green. Thoughts n comparison under cut

My thoughts on rainbow's compulsion to Make Aisha Blue is well known, so I’m not gonna repeat that rant here. But OH MY GOD, if you really HAVE to drill home that her powers are water-based, please at least commit to it. Don’t just paint her cyan and call it a day.

I think what bothers me the most about the outfit is that it feels really incoherent. We've got knee high boots, white socks that go just a couple inches higher than the boots, and then we get some kind of leotard??? With a half open skirt layer that ends well above her shorts, and doesn’t really do anything except flare out her silhouette a little I guess.

It's not a flowy, watery dress, it’s not a sporty look to kick ass in, the only thing really going on here is a couple thicker rim lines to divide the undefined blob of color that is her outfit. The boots look sturdy and kind of mundane, the socks are Just There, the leotard is very busy and undefined, like a 10-year-old's ballet costume.

I'm not really a character designer, but I hang around enough of them that I can kinda tell the patterns are not fulfilling much of a function, nor guiding the eye in a particularly clever way. Her hair feels kind of like an afterthought, just trailing behind her without much fanfare, which I find sad, given Aisha's original iconic wavy locks.

The wings, I’m ignoring. I can only take so much.

To throw in a positive note into my ranting: something the design does do well is center a lot of focus on the torso and head. Since the boots are uniform in color and very smooth, the high density of detail in the leotard and face draws more attention upwards, where all the gesturing and facial expressions are happening. Plus, while the outfit itself is a blob of samy colors, the brightness does make it contrast well with Aisha's skin, so at least the outlines of the outfit are clear and readable. They also make it melt into the background a bit, but that might just be a poor composition choice so im not blaming the character design.

No that ive gotten that out of my system: I'm not gonna pretend I am being any smarter with my redesign. A big weak point is doublessly that the eye is drawn downwards instead of up, and the top is kinda boring and plain. Texturing is not my strong suit.

Here's my thought process behind it:

Green.

Please. Please just give her her color back.

Green means she is still clearly visible, even in blue-toned water, and it contrasts nicely with her pink morphix particles. Green evokes calm ponds, lilypads, feathery algae and tropical lakes. Green is dynamic, fresh, durable, organic. With green as the main color, and pink as the tiny highlight, you have enough room in the color pallete to invest some nice, bright blues for her wings. Harmonic enough to the greens to seem connected, but different enough to pop.

The rest i didn't put a lot thought into, ill admit. I wanted to make her boots beefier in their silhuoette, and i think having these semi-transparent legwarmer looking things would add a nice bit of secondary motion to her step. Trailing after her a little bit, bouncing when she stomps her foot down, and so on and so on. Aisha is sporty, competitive and loves dancing, so I wanted something sleek enough that it wouldn't slow her down, and flowy enough that it would make for good follow-through animations.

The wings are where i put most of the water theme. Dragonfly-wing shaped, because again, PONDS!!! and slightly curved downward to look like cresting waves. Plus, the water coustics to serve as the dividers between those individual fragments in insect wings.

Is this a design that would fit into a winx club reboot? Probably not.

BUT! Is it a design that doesnt make me think of chorine-poisoned swimming pools? fuck yea

[whalesforhands]

Hii! I have an idea ☝️😈

What about teen gojo and geto meeting future reader and they’re all baffled and mesmerized and all this fluffy stuff and reader is just like “🧍‍♀️” confused since she was fighting a curse a few seconds ago- But the adult versions of the two are busy doing whatever else so she has to deal with them until the curse wears off?

Just wanted to ramble 🏃‍♀️ Merry Christmas!

i like ur rambling, anon. guess what timeline i picked, hehe. whether or not it’s canon to main dyf au, is for you to decide. merry christmas hohoho

You practically deflate onto the ground, knees scraping against the soft dirt whilst your poor, beaten up staff was used as your sole support where you had stabbed it into the dirt, your hands sliding down the handle of your weapon as the dust settles around you.

It was rare to have you deployed on-field for an exorcism of a curse, and even rarer for you to have to deal with anything above a Grade 2.

(Mainly due to your husbands who were sorely against you having to do any exorcism at all.)

But, alas, even they can’t slay every single curse in the world; the higher-ups having purposefully kept their most powerful busy as of late.

“And you promise to abandon your mission if you can’t defeat it?” A seriousness in his tone, almost dreadful, almost domineering in nature. Geto Suguru will not take no for an answer, his hands upon your shoulders squeezing lightly, trembling just ever so slightly.

“Do not fight anything you deem above your skill level.” Gojo Satoru is wholly deadpan, your pinkies interlocked in a promise as intense eyes stare you down. You feel his pinky tighten, restless, unlabeled impatience. Absent of any semblance of playfulness. “Okay?”

You’ve taken their words seriously, only taking fights that you know you would win; only running when you know you can’t.

A jujutsu sorcerer does not give their life up so easily.

You hear a rustle from the bushes, eyes darting behind you, and ripping your weapon out and readying for another face off just as you feel a familiar, overwhelming power looming just where you had looked away.

“Now, now, now.” That familiar voice, lacking in all the more mature tones you were used to, all the gentleness that you’ve grown so fond of.

“You’re gonna drop your weapon, put your pretty hands up and slowly turn around to face me.”

(You didn’t even hear his footsteps. Was he flying?)

There’s no hesitation in your compliance, the clatter of your staff to the ground as your hands are held up. The malice in the energy you feel all stoked and ready to explode at any given moment, the tones of his voice an underlying, upset melancholy.

You’re facing the Gojo Satoru, afterall. However, there’s an issue with him, something you’ve realized all too soon after loving him for so long.

There’s a tensed silence between the both of you during the stare-down, your eyes still getting used to his slightly shorter stature, much shorter hair as compared to your highschool days and current adult age. His cheeks a tad bit fuller, but eyes dulled considerably.

He’s still so cute.

“My Six Eyes tell me that you’re (name) (last name).” From your breathing pattern down to every last speck of your cursed energy; it was undeniably you. His eyes shine with quiet grief, and gritted regret as you meet his gaze.

You feel sorry for him.

“…but you’re not my (name).” You’re a little more mature looking, a little far too calm and collected in his presence. You’re the same; yet not the one he knew. His eyes narrow as the red on his glowing hand fizzles out, his stance commanding and broad as his feet finally touch the ground before you, using his looming height as a threat. It contrasts the way his voice cracks just as he ends his words, a beating silence enveloping the both of you as your heart calms, your hands slowly going down.

“And you’re not my Satoru.” It causes a stuttering, reddish plum to his cheeks, a throb to his heart that he hadn’t expected to feel, clenching his fists, a click of realization alongside his fingernails digging into his skin, intrepid gaze holding your calm one.

“So I am in another world.”

——

This wasn’t your Suguru either. His hair is messily bunned up, the bags under his eyes darker than you have ever seen him. His lips are dry, his complexion lacking any of the usual vigor your Suguru had.

He looks far too weary, far too tired as he sits upon a nearby bench, hunched over and just so exhausted that it makes you wonder when was the last time he has had a good night’s sleep.

“Oi, Suguru!” The ‘Satoru’ that you had met is all too keen to greet the boy, his hand around your elbow and pulling you along with him. “I found out where we’re at!” His loud call only heeds the visible slump of the black-haired boy’s tensed shoulders, eyes still cast towards the ground as the cicadas call around him.

“And I found somebody to help us.” He brings the both of yourselves to a stop before the blank boy.

“It’s nice to meet you?” You’re honestly at a loss for words at the situation. For how all powerful and odd Gojo’s powers can be, you hadn’t expected this situation one bit.

It’s at your voice that this ‘Geto Suguru’ nearly whirls his head back at a speed so quick that it nearly scares you. Dry, reddened eyes widening and mouth opening, getting up on shaky legs as he extends a hand towards you.

“You—“

——

“So…” The silence is far too awkward for you to be comfortable. “There was a (name) in your timeline too, I hear?” Your fingers are twiddling with your jujutsu uniform as you sat in between the both of them, their proximity a just inching between the line of too close whilst awaiting for Ijichi’s pickup to the campus.

‘Gojo Satoru’ is the first to speak up. “Yeah.”

A pause.

“Our (name) is… Dead.” You see ‘Geto Suguru’’s hands clench at his uniform pants, bundling the fabric up so tight that his knuckles started to turn white.

Oh. You feel bad now.

“I’m… Sorry about that.”

A breath is sucked in through his teeth. “Don’t be.”

You shouldn’t feel sorry for them at all. It’ll just make it worse than it already is.

Isn’t it funny? Comical? That their (name) had to be ripped away from their hold, had to be clawed away from their reach, only for fate to place another you; living, breathing right in front of them.

So palpable, so alike, so unbearably, painfully you. It makes them want to throw up in disgust, honestly. But they can’t.

Because it’s you.

“I-I’m sure that I-“ No. “Your (name) lived a good life if you were both around, then. Please- Trust me on this.” You know. You know that any version of ‘you’ would be satisfied with their life if they had friends like them; Gojo, Geto and Ieiri.

It’s a life that no version of you would ever regret. You wouldn’t regret becoming a jujutsu sorcerer if you had gotten to meet people like them.

And it brings two broken hearts just a tinge more comfort.

——

“Um, Satoru..”

“Yes?” It was a chorus of two similar voices.

“Ah— No. Uhm— My Satoru.” You’re a bit frazzled as you nod towards your blindfolded husband, a satisfied hum coming from him as he made his way towards you.

“Just call the other one Gojo! Or you can just call for your hubby~” He’s cooing into your ear for the duo to watch on, a hand on your waist to hook you in close as a smile is donned upon his face.

There’s a beat of silence before the more intimidating white-haired sorcerer spoke up.

“No. I want to be called Satoru.” The younger Gojo had had his eyes set upon you, never letting you leave his vicinity. Then, that means that the other ‘Geto Suguru’ would be called as simply ‘Suguru’, then.

“Your blindfold’s pretty lame. Do I actually want to wear that?”

Your Gojo chooses to turn his nose up, and ignore that sneer his younger counterpart gave him. “Man, I was so angry.” You hear a sigh as you see a hand wave off the younger boy. “Do whatever you please, little me. But don’tcha leave yet, please! My Suguru’s gonna be so stoked to see this.”

Oh, speaking of your Suguru.

“Did you tell him to pick up some dashi stock for our dinner tonight? I ran out yesterday.”

“…how about we just order a pizza tonight?”

“Sator— Gojo!” Your hands are immediately upon your hips as you feel him hug you towards him, a hand going up to stroke the back of your head, as your face is pressed to his chest to muffle the incoming scolding.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! Don’t be mad at me! A wife’s scorn is a husband’s greatest regret!”

“…you guys live all together?” ‘Suguru’’s voice breaks the moment between the both of you.

You feel a rumbling of your husband’s chest as a laugh is released.

“And we got kids together too. Ya jealous yet?”

——

“Aha, this is certainly a sight.” Suguru is shedding himself of his jacket as he kicks off his shoes by the genkan, the sight of his younger self, and double the Gojo certainly jarring for him as they sat around the dining table.

“Welcome home, honey!” It’s your Gojo that skips along to press an obnoxiously wet kiss to your other husband’s lips first as you gently place the final bowl of zaru soba down.

(Minus the miso soup side dish. You’re still slightly mad, but you have guests over.

“We could’ve just ordered a pizzaaaaaa!” Your husband’s whines are ignored as you strain the noodles out.

“I’m not feeding guests a pizza, dearest idiot husband of mind.” You pat your hands dry upon your apron, turning to flick at his forehead as he whines even more, begetting a giggle before you tiptoe up to press a kiss to the area.)

“Welcome home.” Your voice greeting your husband is lost on ‘Satoru’ and ‘Suguru’’s ears as they stare down at the bowl before them. The significance of the food almost making the cursed spirit user tear up.

This was his favourite food. It— ‘You’ and himself used to eat this frequently until—

“Suguru… Are you okay?” A whispered concern from his Satoru.

“Yeah. I—“ He thinks he’s going to be sick. “I’m fine.”

“It isn’t much, but I hope you enjoy it.” His ears finally tune back in just in time to hear your voice once more. Dreary copper-amethyst gaze flicking up to meet your warm, lovely face.

He’ll eat it. He’ll eat it. He’ll eat it.

“Don’t push yourself if you can’t.” It’s this world’s Suguru that pops in, much longer hair, his older features, his broader stature and more muscled body.

(Does— He know what he’s been through?)

His chopsticks are trembling as he brings the noodles to his lips, mouth opening and slowly chewing— He stops as a realization hits him.

It’s delicious. It’s so delicious. There are tears in his eyes as he begins to gobble it up, a hack in his throat as ‘Suguru’ pushes the urge to vomit away to take in more.

(If— if this was his final time meeting you- Then he has to. He has to. But— This is strange. Even his counterpart didn’t react all that much to his and Satoru’s appearance.

It occurs to him that perhaps, they aren’t in another world. If they’re meeting their older selves, then— Perhaps they are in another timeline.

Which means—)

His gaze returns down to the now empty bowl before him, before flickering up to meet your satisfied, almost prideful face.

“Thank you for the meal.”

“You’re welcome! I’m so happy you loved it that much!”

Perhaps this situation wasn’t so bad at all, giving him the chance to see your smiling face once more.

——

“If you give me a kiss, I’ll tell him~” Is he mocking his younger self…? You just wanted him to help the other ‘Satoru’ to get back to his world. Alas, you relent, leaning over to press a chaste, quick kiss to his cheek as your Geto watched on with upturned eyes and a happy smile.

“Hey, kid me.” A joyful hum, a satisfied gait as your Gojo watches the little boy who he once was.

“You already figured out how to go back already, right? Whatcha waiting for?” Huh…? Your Gojo already knows how to get them back?! Your eyes widen as you nearly choke on your water.

“Now, now Gojo. Don’t tease them.” Your Geto is chuckling, patting your back as you cough. “You’ll make our poor wife worried. I’m sure that they have some sort of unfinished business here.”

What?! Were they both in on this? This is just getting stranger, and stranger…

“Heh. Guess it isn’t a surprise I would know myself best, huh?” Satoru lets a cocky grin overtake his features as his fingers intertwined with his Suguru’s.

“Guess I really am the strongest.”

His gaze finally stops at you. “It was nice— Y’know.” He grows shy, eyes shifty from behind his sunglasses. “Seeing a (name) again.”

‘Suguru’ speaks up. “Thank you for— Allowing us to experience it again.” He’s grateful. The most he’s ever been, the most he’s ever felt ever since your passing.

Thank you. But— It’s only goodbye for now.

“It was nice meeting the both of you!” You’re bowing politely as you wave.

(The younger Suguru is finally smiling. Even if it’s just a little.)

“We’ll see you soon! Wait for us!” A salute and a bright grin. And in a flash, they have disappeared.

…what?

masterlist

Notes:

If you don’t get it, your current Satoru and Suguru have experienced what their younger counterparts have been through.

Younger Gojo and Geto have been watching every move you’ve been making. Keep that in mind if you ever reread this, haha.

During dinner, younger Gojo and Geto decided to share a bowl together since Geto hasn’t been able to eat a full meal without throwing up. It was the first time in a while he’s eaten so much. When Gojo saw how much he was eating, he asked for a separate bowl for himself.

Geto Suguru thinks he’s pretty handsome in this world. Would…you have liked someone like that too? His Satoru certainly does. He’s seen the shifty, almost shy gaze his Gojo threw the older Geto. Maybe he will grow out his hair.

“Aww, I was such an adorable brat!~” His hands are placed upon his cheeks as he cooed, watching as his husband and yourself cleared the plates.

“Hmm. I suppose you must’ve lost all that cuteness in your youth, wouldn’t you agree, darling?.” Suguru’s cooing back at him from the kitchen with a laugh, his body turning to you to ask for your opinion.

“His younger self was certainly so cute… But I suppose my answer depends on whether he helps with the dishes today.” You’re teasing him right back as you slowly wash the plate.

“W-what? Fine, I’m coming! Call me adorable, pleaseee!”

[demonic-radio]

★ what exactly do you think happened between Vox and Alastor?

Quite a few things.

Their friendship, which was quite possibly one of the strongest Alastor had ever had at the time, was built on a mutual understanding. A sort of 'click' that happens when someone just understands you, when conversation flows easily.

Vox and Alastor are each intelligent people in various different ways, leading to them easily keeping up with one another in conversation, observation, anything. Their different viewpoints lead to an interesting contrast that they each enjoyed, valuing one another's thoughts and opinions, even if their disagreements turned to fights on occasion. That's just what you get when you have two impassioned people arguing about things.

Alastor was, still is, and will always be an incredibly private person. He keeps people at a distance, even those he holds close. He keeps his cards close to his chest, keeps people guessing, and doesn't let anything slip. Something as simple as his plans for tomorrow is a bit much for him to share with anyone. He keeps to himself, and when he does engage with others, it's on his terms.

Vox, in contrast, is very public. He gives away his name, his number, his residence, all to sell himself to people. To get them to trust him, to buy into what he's saying, to win them over. Vox keeps himself in this highly controlled position with his attitude and his practiced words to make himself part of his sales pitch. He'd let anyone know what he's doing on Friday unless it was something explicitly private.

This didn't lead to too much clash. The both of them keep a lot of control over who they talk to, what they say, and how they present themselves. Alastor didn't mind having someone so talkative as one of his closest friends, not when Vox was so careful.

Vox understood that Alastor was private, and understood that Alastor wasn't going to volunteer information. When he did, Vox committed it to memory as soon as he could, knowing that Alastor wasn't going to offer it up twice. Vox also gleaned information from patterns. He got an idea of where Alastor lived long before Alastor had ever considered telling him, he learned what drinks Alastor liked from observing his orders, and plenty of other things. He never gave away how much he knew. Alastor was private, and liked keeping secrets. Vox knew it might cause a fight if he tried to act on anything he wasn't 'allowed' to know. He was quite good at it. Alastor liked having someone who paid such close attention to detail, knowing that Vox could order a drink for him from any location, while remaining unaware of what else Vox might have known.

Vox was always ambitious. Vox aims higher, wants something bigger, better, endlessly. When he reaches one goal, his sights are immediately on the next one. There's no victory, no end point, only growth, expansion, improvement, more and more towards greater things. This ambition is what drove him during his time in hell as he became an overlord, and it's something Alastor appreciated at the time.

As Vox grew into a more and more powerful figure, he wanted Alastor to be more involved. Alastor could get bigger and better things. He could move on from radio, hell, he could join the business partnership Vox was developing- he hadn't gotten a name yet, but perhaps something with a V and an A in it- and it would be their biggest success yet, for the both of them!

Alastor detested this ambition in the later years of their friendship. It drove Vox towards whatever was the fastest, the most modern, whatever trend there was. It drove him towards that partnership with Valentino, of all sinners, it drove him to keep moving on and leaving behind everything else.

Their time together had gone from drunken conversations at bars where they argued over AM vs FM or something similar to Vox coming by in flashy rides, somehow having known when Alastor was free despite the radio demon having explicitly avoided telling Vox anything about his whereabouts. Vox increasingly trying to sell Alastor on his grand ideas, like he was another mindless sinner to be sold into his growing media empire. Alastor didn't care for that mindless drivel. He didn't care for the prospect of this grand success being promised by the man who couldn't stay still, who couldn't seem to take 'no' for an answer anymore, who knew exactly what Alastor meant and refused to listen.

Vox had been determined to win Alastor over. He knew Alastor better than anyone, he knew he would succeed.

When Vox finally made his offer to Alastor to be partners, it was the final straw.

Alastor was far more harsh this time, putting his foot down on all of this nonsense. He didn't want Vox invading his free time, his space, he didn't want these demands for more and more of his time, his focus, his attention. Vox was tired of getting rejection after rejection when all he had ever done was try and adapt to Alastor's needs and wants, why couldn't Alastor see that this was the best for both of them?

The ensuring argument became a fight, and it was the end of their friendship.

As an aroace individual, I find it difficult to add romantic feelings into all of this, but, well, Vox's obsession wasn't subtle, and it's what drove him to trying to involve Alastor so heavily in the first place. He wanted a partnership, he wanted shared lives, he wanted reciprocation. He cared so much, and it seemed like Alastor didn't care at all anymore- if he ever did.

Alastor convinced himself later on that Vox had only become insufferable thanks to those pesky feelings of his, the ones that Alastor would never reciprocate. It makes it easier for him to brush it all to the side. He can dismiss the entire thing as Vox falling prey to those foolish emotions, and nothing that he could fix, nothing he could ever contemplate further.

TL;DR: Alastor and Vox are inherently different in their attachment styles, how they handle their personal lives, and their ambitions. Alastor keeps people at a distance, is a very private person, and only aims for personal success in what interests him. Vox keeps people close, is a very public person, and aims for the highest possible goal no matter what. They were never going to be able to maintain a truly close relationship.

I'm tired, so this is unedited. I will come back and look over it later, and when I do, I'll delete this portion of it. I hope my thoughts are coherent enough.

Ask meme response.

[irkimatsu]

Okay, okay, random idea.

If you don't write Fem!reader or AFAB, please, please ignore.

But...pussy drunk Husk? Like slurring words, hooded eyes, just the works?

Don't worry, I'll write any type of Reader! And yesss pussy drunk Husk is incredible. Haven't been able to stop thinking of this ask since I saw it, and I wouldn't have been able to go to bed without writing it. Good shit.

1.3k words of pussy eating from Husk as he steadily goes insane. Very obviously NSFW.

You’re already drenched in sweat by the time he makes it between your legs. Husk always takes things so damn slowly, which is both a blessing and a curse. You love how much care he takes with you, making sure that every inch of your skin is spoiled by his claws and his tongue. He adores your body, and he never leaves you doubting that.

But by god, the state of need he has you in by the time he’s lightly kissing your stomach and stroking your thighs…

“Husk… please…” You’re propped up on pillows so you can watch him kissing you… so you can see how close he is to where you need him, and how slow he’s being about reaching that goal.

“Just be patient, baby,” he urges as he kisses over your mound, burying his nose into the hair. “Mmm… fuck…” His kisses skip over your clit, the cruel bastard, and instead he turns his nose’s attention to your folds. You gasp at the cold sensation between your lips, contrasted by hot air as he takes several deep breaths. “Fuck that’s good…”

“Huuuusk…” you whine, jerking your hips toward his face.

“Patient,” he repeats as he firmly pins your waist down to the sheets. “You know I’ll take care of you. Just give me a minute…” He takes another deep breath, followed by a chuckle. “Fuck, ya smell good…”

You whine again as you squirm beneath his paws.

“Hey. Squirm again and I’ll go even slower.” His voice isn’t cruel, but you know he’s serious about his threat, so you try your best to hold still. Satisfied that you’ve obeyed, he replaces his nose with his lips, lightly kissing up and down your folds. You want so badly to grind against his mouth, to feel him more firmly, but you know he’ll pull away if you try, so you do your best to remain patient.

He’ll reward you. He always does, and he’s always perfect at it.

But knowing that is what makes it so hard to wait for it…

“So wet already…” he murmurs as his tongue lightly grazes between your folds. Even with the barbs, he knows the exact pressure to use to not hurt you as he savors your taste.

And you have to admit, you kind of like the barbs.

“You like that?” he asks before giving his tongue another pass, more firmly this time. You can only whimper agreement as you struggle not to moan; the sound is enough to get him to keep going, licking faster and faster.

“Fuckin’ sweet…” he moans as he takes a few more licks, then slips his tongue into your entrance.

“Husk!” you gasp as his tongue squirms inside you, unable to hit very deep, but still finding patterns that take your breath away. “Husk-”

He moans again, with just a hint of a growl, as he latches his mouth onto your lips and gently sucks on them. A series of staccato moans escape you, reaching higher and higher in pitch, only ceasing when he takes his mouth off you.

“So… fuckin’... sweet…” His eyes drift closed as he latches on and sucks you again. His teeth just barely graze your lips, and his thumb claws press small circles into your hips as he keeps you pinned. “You… you like that, huh…”

Oh fucking god yes you do. You’re almost embarrassed of how wet he has you already. Not only can you feel it, but you can hear it, sloppy sounds ringing out as he licks and sucks your folds. You used to wonder if the mess you always make would gross him out…

“Baaaabe…” he moans before sucking you again.

…but you learned quickly just how far from grossed out he was by your wetness. His eyes keep fluttering shut, and he can barely catch his breath.

“Fuck, I need more…” Another suck from him, another gasp from you. “So good… so hot…” He suckles at your entrance, drinking you directly from the source.

Contrary to how often he drinks, you don’t actually see Husk acting drunk very often. His alcohol tolerance is high enough that, quite frankly, it’s worrying.

But after only a few minutes between your legs, he is absolutely wasted.

“Gimme more, gimme more…” His words are starting to slur together as he begs for you between licks. “More… moooore…”

“Take all you want,” you urge him, your own head growing hazy. He doesn’t need to be told twice. He repositions himself so that your legs are slung over his shoulders, and then buries his face between your legs, licking and sucking as if he doesn’t need to breathe. You reach down and grab him wherever you can, lightly tugging the fur on his head and his neck. Far from slowing him down, it only encourages him to feast on you more quickly. He looks up at you with wide pupils, his tail waving with excitement. He sucks your lips, harder and harder, his wet moans ringing in your ears-

“Fuck!” you call out right before he releases you with a popping noise. He has you right on the edge, and you wouldn’t mind staying there just a little longer. “Husk!”

“Can I make you cum?” he pleads, almost unintelligible beneath the panting and slurring. He’s looking up with you with pleading eyes, large pupils hidden behind half-closed lids, his tail still waving like an excited kitten’s. “Wanna feel you cum… please, baby, tell me how…”

“Clit,” you gasp out, your grasp on language somewhat lost. “My clit- please-”

You’re cut off by your own squeal as his rough tongue laps your sensitive bud, a slight sting of pain quickly buried beneath waves of pleasure.

“Right there!” you urge as you push on the back of his head.

“Wanna make you cum…” he repeats between licks, his words becoming gradually more muddled. “Cum…cum, cum, cuuuum....”

He latches his mouth onto your clit, fangs lightly grazing your mound, and firmly sucks and releases at a steady rhythm, his lips never breaking contact. His claws dig into your skin as he keeps sucking, so clearly desperate to give you that final push.

You know climax is inevitable as long as he doesn’t move. You press your hands more firmly on the back of his head so he can’t pull away; not that he has any intention of stopping, you’re sure. Your back is arching, and you can barely breathe. You’re so fucking close, any fucking second-

The intensity of your orgasm still manages to catch you off guard. You cry out, and hope Husk will forgive the way your hips are spasming. It doesn’t deter him from suckling you as you gush, and even for a bit longer after that. You’re getting sore by the time he stops suckling you, but he still takes a moment to lick your folds again, lapping up as much of your wetness as he can.

By the time you can see straight again, his chin is resting on your stomach as he looks up at you, deepest admiration in his eyes. You can’t help but laugh at the state of his fur; his cheeks and chin are absolutely soaked. He doesn’t seem to mind, though. His tail is still waving, and he’s purring in deep contentment.

“Fuck, you’re incredible…” he slurs out, a dopey smile on his face. “I love you… so fucking much…”

You scratch behind both of his ears, and he purrs louder as he leans into your touch.

“You need a minute?” he asks.

You nod; you’re still so sensitive, and right now, all you want to do is bask in the afterglow. You think he’s going to ask for his own relief when you’re ready, but instead…

“Let me know when I can eat you out some more…”

[dontmixpaintinyourcoffee]

Miss Flowers is a disney princess to me. I love her so much. She literally doesn't do anything unique within the story but her iconic fashion, morally questionable career, and deep under-eye bags have captivated me. She's a mechanic/inventor. She loves bugs. She's bisexual. Literally what more could you ask for

Out of all the Lodgers I want to know what her deal is the absolute most. Most of the Lodgers I can kind of figure out how they would get into their niche. Plants, animals, the ocean, space, robots, electricity, blowing shit up, chemistry, ghosts- I can picture a pretty simple path that leads to a passion for all of those things. But what in the hell happens to you to make you, of your own accord and for no higher body or purpose, say to yourself "I want robot spy bugs with speech capability and holograms" and literally just that. That's her whole job. That's so specific. How do you get there. I love it

I didn't notice it until I was drawing her, but she breaks the goggles/gloves rule. She has gloves, but they appear to be day-wear, not ones you'd use for work. I was thinking about why she still blends in with the other Lodgers, and I think it's because of her eyes. It's the same with Griffin, he has those little black spectacles instead of any kind of goggles. Flowers has those really intense eye bags. The hat also helps I think, it's a bit of a similar shape to Tweedy or Maijabi's, or even Jasper's hat. At least, when contrasted with the very formal classically Victorian top hats that Lanyon and Jekyll wear. I'm absolutely overanalyzing this stuff, but I do think it's really cool when you find patterns like this, even when they don't matter a ton. I like when I can find those bits of cohesion.

[glitchy-npc]

19 please! For whichever ship you feel

19…for luck. Sidestep era. [AO3] for easier reading

“This is so stupid!” Ortega throws his hands in the air in frustration. “I don’t even know why they are insisting on another diagnostic, I’m fine!” The wires connected to ports along his knuckles and wrist flail wildly before returning to a haphazard heap as his hands fall to the sides of his medical bed with a soft thump. The wires are long enough to allow for at least some range of movement – the thick cables connecting to the ports in his spine, not so much. With the generator in diagnostic mode, his legs rest limply against the sheets, no electricity to transmit to the nerves there. He’s stuck and he knows it, so what else can he do but complain? 

You can empathize, all too well. It's why you agreed to visit in the first place. You know how it feels to be helpless, trapped – a lab rat to be poked and prodded until the scientists find the answers they're looking for. You try to suppress the memories but your brain never was very kind to you.

The sticky feeling of electrodes being fastened to your freshly shaved scalp. You’ll rub your head for weeks, still convinced the conductive gel is still there. The pain in your wrists from the restraints. Too tight, you had gotten too good at slipping out of them before. Not enough to activate your pain gate but sitting just inside the boundary of discomfort and pain that makes you grind your teeth. Or you would if not for the bite guard. You shouldn’t have bit that last scientist but it felt too good to truly regret it. Shouldn’t have gotten his fingers so close to your mouth, even lab rats bite.  

Ortega’s disgruntled huff brings you back to the present.

“You know why.” Despite the outburst you don’t look at him, instead you cross your arms against your chest, and squint at the output readings on the diagnostic terminal, trying to make sense of them. It’s not exactly your area of expertise but you’re starting to recognize some of the patterns. And you suppose the lack of giant flashing warning lights is a good thing. “You took a beating in that last fight so they want to make sure nothing got rattled.” You’d bet money his higher ups are more concerned about the machine than the man but you don’t point that out, he probably knows.

“Hey, we won didn’t we?” Ortega’s voice is full of wounded pride. Probably more than his body, in truth. Footage of the fight had been all over the news and the sight of the Marshal being thrown like a rag doll by a massive power armored villain had been a popular clip. The Rangers media team had done their best but the damage was already done.

“Barely.” You shrug. “It’s your own damn fault for rushing in.” You don’t need to coddle him, even if his ego is bruised.

“I knew you had my back.” Stubborn, as usual. 

“And you should be glad I did or you’d be in worse shape than just having to sit still for diagnostics. So quit whining.” There's a bite to your voice but it's more worry than anger. 

“I’m not-” He starts but sighs heavily. “Fine. I hate it when you’re right.”

“I usually am.” You don’t bother to suppress the smile tugging at the corner of your mouth.

“So…” He draws out the pause a little too long and you see him gesture at the monitor out of the corner of your eye. “You’ve been staring at that thing long enough, what's your assessment?”

You sigh through your nose. You don’t know exactly how his mods work and that's frustrating but from what you can figure out the majority of his systems are in the green. For all intents and purposes Ortega appears perfectly functional. You give yourself a mental kick for that. Functional. Ortega is a person, not a thing. Not like you.

“From what I can tell…it doesn’t look like there's any lasting damage-” You don’t get to finish before he interrupts you.

“Great! Unhook me.”

“What?” You turn to fully face him for the first time since you got here, his bright smile in stark contrast to your incredulous scowl. “Are you out of your mind?”

“Probably.” He chuckles at his own admission. “But you said it yourself, I’m good to go.” 

“I didn’t say that! And you do realize that if I fuck it up I could permanently paralyze you or electrocute myself or-”

“You won't.” The certainty in his words stops your rant dead in its tracks.  So sure, so trusting. What did you ever do to deserve that?

“How can you be so sure?” You need to know, it doesn’t make sense. 

“Please, you’re good with tech and electrical stuff, I’ve seen you hotwire more cars than I can count.” He holds up a finger for each new point that he makes. “You made a police scanner out of an old walkie talkie and who knows what else, that abomination of screens and wires you try to pass off as a computer and, dios mio, you even made a small bomb out of-”

“None of those are even remotely the same thing!” You groan. “But fine, it's your ass on the line and then we gotta get out of here, I’m probably breaking half a dozen laws just being here.” Not that you actually care about breaking the law, you just can’t afford to get caught. 

“Yes!” Ortega punches the air in triumph. “I am so ready to get out of here, I’ll owe you one.”

“You will, now give me your hand.” You hold yours out expectantly.

“Aww.” His smile grows wide and teasing. 

“Shut up.” You roll your eyes hard enough to hurt but this time he obeys. You try not to think about how warm his hand is in yours and you can tell he’s looking at you but you need to focus. You hold a breath as you slide the first grounding pin out from above his index finger and are relieved to see no sparks. You lay it gently on the bed before moving to the next. It feels intrusive, intimate, you can't tell if it's better or worse that he's not making any quips as you work. Maybe it's weird for him as well.

When you finish with the right hand, he offers his left unprompted and your own fingers move more quickly, more sure in their task. When the last pin is removed he mumbles something too low for you to hear.

“What?” And like an idiot you lean in. If you could read his stupid, static mind you would have known. Even without the safety net of your telepathy your reflexes should have been better. Maybe you were distracted, maybe you let your guard down, but you feel his free hand snake around the back of your neck and pull you down into a kiss. A deep one. You know you should pull away, it's not the first kiss you’ve shared but every one feels like one step closer to secrets you don’t dare reveal. Would he still kiss you if he knew? You’re mortified by the small sound that is teased out of you when his tongue brushes against yours but the embarrassment is at least enough to push yourself away.

“What was that for?” You say because you have to say something or you're liable to start kissing him again.

“For luck.” He punctuates his words with a wink.

“I don’t need luck.” You quickly duck and scurry to the underside of the medical bed, hoping your blush wasn’t as hot as it feels. “I need to concentrate.”

This is the most dangerous part after all, unhooking the ports in his spine poses the greatest risk, especially for him. There's a thin rectangle cutting through the plastic and foam of the backrest to bed where the cables snake through and you can see the hexagonal pattern of his spine mods and just a hit of his skin. You have to start somewhere so you choose the lowest port, closest to the small of his back. You take a deep breath and will your hands steady before slowly turning the head of the connector and sliding the cable out.

Ortega’s yelp startles you into dropping the cable and hitting your head on the hard plastic underside of the bed.

“What!? What's wrong!?” You can’t keep the edge of panic out of your voice, your heart is beating too fast, did you hurt him?

“Nothing, it's nothing! It's just…weird when I can feel my legs again, ugh they're asleep.” You can hear him shift as he tries to stretch newly invigorated muscles.

“You idiot, you almost gave me a heart attack!” You take a deep breath to return your heart rate to normal.

“Worried about me?” There's a teasing tone in his voice that would have gotten him slugged if you weren’t stuck under the bed. 

“Worried all this electricity has fried your brain more like.” You grumble as you start working your way up the rest of the ports.

“I’m not so sure how well I could argue that.” He says with a self-deprecating laugh. “But we should hurry, that might have attracted attention.” 

“You think?” You grumble sarcastically but your hands havn’t been idle. You breathe a sigh of relief as the last cable, one between his shoulder blades, is disconnected. You hear a small crackle and the smell of ozone. Looks like ortega’s got his power back. 

To prove it ortega leaps out of bed in one fluid motion as you scramble out from underneath it. He offers you a hand, which you take as he pulls you into a tight hug.

“I knew you could do it!” His laugh is happy and proud, arms wrapped tightly around you. You spare a moment in his embrace, safe in a way you rarely feel, but the clock is ticking.

“I thought you said we were in a hurry” You point out as you untangle yourself from him.

“Yeah, true, hey can I borrow your hoodie?” He pulls off the backless hospital shirt and gestures with it. “Would probably look suspicious.” 

You hate when he’s right.

“Fine, just don’t stretch it out.” You’re loath to lose one of your layers but you don’t have any other options. Besides, a shirtless Ortega isn’t something you can deal with right now. Not after that kiss.

“Thanks, I’ll owe you one.”

“More than one.” Several ones by your count.

“I’ll make it up to you.” He says with a wink, and you feel the heat creeping back into your cheeks. 

“We need to go.” You push him towards the door as he pulls your hoodie down over his head, several sizes too small for him. 

He looks back over his shoulder at you. “Race ya.” And he doesn’t wait for a reply before bounding down the hallway.

“Idiot.” You mumble, but you’re already chasing after him. Like always. 

[mrcompass]

Reiji vs Damian: A Character Comparison

Reiji and Damian share many parallels: both are powerful and ruthless major antagonists who appear at the end of a season, never to return. They abuse their power to mentally and physically torment their opponents and both possess mysterious pasts.

The objective is to determine to what extent Reiji and Damian are actually similar—first by detailing their battle styles, then their philosophy about Beyblade, and finally, what they are meant to represent.

Battle Style

Reiji's battle style revolves around his ability to impact his opponent mentally and send them into a spiral of fear and paranoia. As demonstrated by his battles, this fighting style is particularly successful against people who don't know the extent of Reiji's power, such as Hyoma and Yu, or younger kids who are more impressionable. Reiji usually begins by letting his opponent attack him and hides his true strength to give the illusion that he is not very strong. However, little by little, he attacks, chopping off pieces of the opposing Bey, effectively making it weaker. He then toys with them and eventually shows his true strength before destroying their Bey with his dark move.

Though it gives the impression that Reiji is a good strategist, this is not actually the case, since he always repeats this pattern. Even with his back against the wall, when he was battling Gingka, he wasn't willing or capable of changing his moves.

Damian's battle style is much more classic in the sense that it revolves around overwhelming power. There is no real effort to hide his strength from his opponent, as seen by the brutality of his battle with Julian. It definitely contrasts with the fight between Reiji and Hyoma that the audience called boring. Like Reiji's Poison Serpent, Kerbecs is shown to be able to endure a lot of damage, albeit its defense capabilities are much higher thanks to the Boost Mode. Though depending on the battle and the objective, his behavior adapts.

When he was battling Julian, Damian manipulated him into agreeing to a best-of-three match to be sure to get all the data on Perseus. He also let Julian use his special moves before using his own to make a fool out of him, but more importantly, to test Kerbecs.

When he battled Gingka, the goal was to get all the data on Pegasus. As a result, Damian was the one to use his special moves first to drive Gingka more and more into a corner so he would use all his strength. In addition, unlike with the fight with Julian, he didn’t seem to try to end it quickly—like when he says he is tired of Perseus’ right rotation.

Finally, during his battle with Kyoya, Damian tries to end it as quickly as possible because he had to defeat the other intruders, which is seen when he immediately activates Hades Drive.

Other than that, we see that he is capable of adapting his special move, Hades Gate: when dealing with Julian he finishes him and his team instantly. During his battles with Gingka and Kyoya, he creates something like a pocket dimension, and during the final acts of the World Championship final he uses Hades Gate to throw Kerbecs into the sky to stop Pegasus’s attack before it lands.

Though Damian seems much more adaptive than Reiji, he relies on brute strength the same way Reiji over-relies on his tactics. They both have a tendency to directly attack their opponent and restrain them. While Reiji targets the bey, Damian tortures the blader. The latter also doesn’t specifically seek to destroy Beys. In addition, those battle styles are different in the sense that they convey different personalities: Reiji hides his true strength just like he hides his true nature, Damian doesn’t, because he wants to show that he is the chosen one.

Beyblade Philosophy and Goals

Reiji and Damian both take a liking in breaking the mind of their opponent, and they display a certain degree of sadism, but it is much more present in Reiji. The definition of sadism, according to Collins Dictionary, is:

Sadism is a type of behaviour in which a person obtains pleasure from hurting other people and making them suffer physically or mentally.

This definition could technically apply to both. Reiji actively seeks to destroy his opponent's Bey and put them in a state of fear, in addition to destroying them mentally. He actually puts this above victory:

“Each time you attack, your Bey managed to drive something, some kind of poison, deep into Aries. It's all part of your plan to defeat me, isn't that the case?” — "You're wrong." — "Huh?" — "It's not so I can defeat you—it's so I can destroy your entire being."

For Reiji, destroying someone is actually something fun:

“This can't be the end of this. Entertain me more, pretty please. At this point there's no fun in breaking.” — "You leave me alone! You don't fight to win. You fight to break people!"

Reiji’s primary goal in battling is to make other people suffer, which is the reason why Doji used him in the first place. By doing such horrible things to Gingka's friends, he hopes that it would make him angry, which would help L-Drago absorb his power if he had to face him. As a result, for the Dark Nebula, Reiji is a tool—and seemingly loyal. "Seemingly" is important because Reiji’s opinion on the organization or Ryuga is never really explored. It is implied he was trained by Dark Nebula, or at least discovered and recruited by Doji, but Reiji is not someone particularly characterized by mindless loyalty. He obeys Doji, but his only goal and pleasure seem to be to destroy other people's Beys.

In addition, Reiji is primarily animated by his sadistic tendencies. I am not a psychologist and will not extend too much on the subject, but I believe it is not impossible that Reiji suffers from some kind of antisocial personality disorder. Some of the major symptoms (according to Harvard University) actually fit him well:

Deceitful

Impulsive

Aggressive or irritable

Reckless

Irresponsible

Remorseless

Damian’s philosophy and reason to Beyblade can be explained by two things:

His compatibility with the Arrangement System

His loyalty to Hades Inc.

Damian’s only reason to do Beyblading in the first place was because he is compatible with the system—he even says as much. However, this explanation was twisted into the narrative of him being the/a chosen one. From that, his behavior and motivation to humiliate other people can be explained:

“Oh yeah? What’s this arrangement, what’s the synchronization? Are you really proud to become stronger because of power given to you by someone else? Do you even have any fun with Beyblades?” — “Have fun? I don’t understand what that means. Do you do Beyblade because you enjoy it?” — “Of course I do. That’s the whole point. What do you do it for anyway?” — “Let me see… Because I was chosen to do this Beyblade business, I guess. Hey guy, 'arrangement' is a simple word, but that doesn’t mean that just anyone can handle the system. In other words, I really have been chosen by fate to do this.”

Because of this, Damian sees himself as inherently superior to all other Bladers. And for him, that allows him to do whatever he wants to his opponent. I’m not saying that he might not have pleasure doing it, or that his reasons are valid, but the torture he inflicts on others might actually be the result of his narcissism, god complex, and lack of empathy. Of course, all this can be attributed to the brainwashing effect of the Arrangement System. Though that doesn’t excuse Damian’s actions, nor does it justify them. Damian feels more like an entitled child playing with power he doesn’t fully understand than an actual sadist like Reiji.

It might seem out of place to analyze the psychology of a fictional character, especially one that is under mind control and didn’t have the highest number of appearances, but I believe it is not so difficult to imagine that Damian could suffer from Narcissistic Personality Disorder (NPD). The major symptoms include (according to Harvard University):

A grandiose sense of self-importance

A preoccupation with fantasies of success, power, beauty, or perfect love

A belief that they are "special" and can only be understood by other special people

A need for excessive admiration

A sense of entitlement

Exploitative behavior

A lack of empathy

Envy or belief others are envious of them

Arrogant, haughty behavior

This could also help explain why Damian seeks for his opponent to admit their weakness—because it validates the narrative about the arrangement, but it also makes him feel powerful and superior.

Damian is also characterized as very loyal to Ziggurat and Hades Inc:

“What do you think you’ll gain from it all? What’s the point? Why fight like this anyway?” — “A battle is something to be won, right? What other reason do I need than that?” — “With a power and a Bey that aren’t yours—that were given to you by someone else? This really isn’t your Bey battle at all, is it?” — “What do you mean 'my Bey battle? I don’t know what you’re on about. A Bey battle is a Bey battle. The only reason I’m here is to win this thing. Kerbecs is a Bey made to win. The Arrangement is something needed to win. I am here in order to win. There is no meaning other than that. My sole purpose is to complete my job by winning.”

He considers Beyblade a job to complete for his benefactor rather than a fun game. Even Reiji found fun in Beyblade, albeit in a very twisted way. As a result, we have two characters who exhibit sadistic traits—with Reiji’s being more intense. In Damian’s case, torturing others and breaking their mind is part of his battle style and serves as a way to gratify his ego by putting his opponent down, rather than just getting pleasure from it.

Representation and symbolism

Embodying the Dragon Emperor

Both characters share a certain connection with Ryuga that helps understand them better in the context of the series.

Reiji and Ryuga are both top bladers in the Dark Nebula. They're also the only characters in Metal Fusion to use “dark” special moves, in addition to being ruthless and fearsome. But this parallel is intentional. Ryuga owns L-Drago, whose beast is a Chinese dragon, while Reiji's Poison Serpent is represented by a cobra. These two avatars are physically similar—snake and dragon are often associated or even confused in mythology and religion.

Interestingly, in the Chinese zodiac, the snake comes right after the dragon. In the anime Juni Taisen, which features twelve warriors based on the zodiac animals, the characters representing the dragon and the snake are twin brothers. Their backstory episode is titled “In Like a Dragon, Out Like a Snake,” symbolizing something grand that ends in a diminished form. This idea of the snake being a smaller, less impressive version of the dragon is especially fitting in the case of Reiji and Ryuga. Reiji essentially embodies the more violent, sadistic traits of Ryuga. He projects the terror that Ryuga inspires. After his match with Hyoma, the atmosphere among Gingka’s team shifts.

Reiji also set the stage for Ryuga's battle with Hikaru, which happens immediately after his. The latter becomes terrified of the former; she shakes heavily when taking her launcher and imagines Ryuga in a monstrous form. Also, note that right after this episode called The Serpent's Terror, comes The Dragon's Punishment.

This is also after Reiji is defeated by Gingka, and Kyoya battles Ryuga, where we see a more human side of the dragon emperor.

In Damian's case, he never met nor battled with Ryuga and had little connection with him, unlike Reiji. However, when looking at their design, one can see that their clothing in terms of color and type of cloth (notably the white cape) is quite similar. Plus, both are narcissistic, use a bey with a unique mode change, and have avatars that look similar (the purple dragon and the three-headed purple dog). In MFB, the main villains often take on these characteristics, notably using the color white, having capes, a special beyblade, and using others to get stronger. However, Damian was not the main antagonist of Metal Masters in the anime, only in the manga (which might explain the design choice). From another point of view, it might work if you see Damian as a fake/tamed version of Ryuga. The former was completely submissive to his mastermind (Zigurat), whereas the relationship between Daidoji and Ryuga was in the opposite sense. Additionally, Damian is a blader who gained his strength through artificial enhancement. As such, he is considered a fake blader. By making him look similar to Ryuga, the audience might think of Dmaian as a threat on the same level as Ryuga, when in truth his strength is hollow and artificial. This contributes to the effect of deception surrounding Damian, making him seem more formidable than he actually is.

As a result, we can see that Reiji is more akin to Ryuga's shadow, projecting and embodying the fear that he inspires in battle. For Damian, his importance is exaggerated through his design similarities with Ryuga.

Fear vs Despair Both of these characters inflict severe mental damage on their opponents; however, the consequences and nature of this damage differ. They tie into the themes of fear and despair.

The American poet Emily Dickinson wrote a short poem called The Difference Between Despair and Fear:

The difference between Despair And Fear — is like the One Between the instant of a Wreck — And when the Wreck has been —

The Mind is smooth — no Motion — Contented as the Eye Upon the Forehead of a Bust — That knows — it cannot see —

For Dickinson, fear is the instant of the wreck—linked to anticipation and immediacy—while despair is what follows, when all is left in ruins.

Interestingly, she wrote that after despair the mind is paralyzed, comparing it to a statue. In the show, this is Reiji—fear—who “freezes” his opponents like Medusa. Though during his battle with Damian, Julian also became paralyzed at one point.

Reiji takes the most pleasure during the battle, in the moment, when he is actively destroying a Bey. Damian also uses the entire battle, but it is at the end—when it is over—that he humiliates his opponent. As we saw with Julian, the memory of his loss still haunted him. He acted defeated, saying “a broken sword can't be fixed.” He was plunged into a state of hopelessness.

Arguably, the same can be said for Hyoma, since he gave up professional Beyblading, though this is most likely due to trauma.

Another element that ties into this is how other characters react to them. Reiji disgusts and unnerves others. They call him by his second name (“Mizuchi”) in the Japanese version, as if to distance themselves from him—just as people instinctively avoid someone scary.

Damian is different in the sense that his design is not as unsettling as Reiji’s. He is small, almost child-coded. In addition, Gingka and Kyoya actually pity him—the former sees him as a victim. This could perhaps be attributed to Gingka maturing between the end of Metal Fusion and his battle with Damian.

In a way Reiji acts more like fear, while Damian embodies despair.

Symbolism of Sportsmanship Beyblade is considered a sport, and as such, it’s not unusual for it to carry messages about sportsmanship.

Reiji and Damian are characters who practice Beyblade for the wrong reasons—Reiji because he enjoys hurting others, and Damian because he was told to, and he’s compatible with the enhancement system.

For Reiji, he has “fun,” but his fun puts others in danger. Not only that, but he actively tries to mentally break them. Fun should not be one-sided. Respecting your opponent in any sport is a core principle. Reiji is defeated by Gingka because the latter isn’t afraid—and because he has genuine fun instead.

Damian is easier to understand. The Arrangement system is a metaphor for steroids or any illegal enhancement. Bladers in the MFB universe are treated as athletes (at least by Team Excalibur). In our world, anyone using something like the Arrangement—and found out—would likely be banned. Such enhancements are harmful in sports because they replace natural growth and effort with shortcuts, avoiding the challenge. Fittingly, Damian’s defeat comes at the hands of Kyoya—someone who constantly pushes his own abilities to the limit.

In a certain sense, Reiji was dangerous because he hurt people. Damian also hurt people—but he hurt Beyblade itself as a sport.

Conclusion In conclusion, we can see that Reiji and Damian are indeed similar in many ways. Both are strong, ruthless, sadistic enforcers of their respective organizations. However, they differ in battle style and philosophy. One hides until the right moment to reveal his true nature, while the other boldly unveils his power to prove he is the chosen one. These represent two opposing visions.

Their goals and ambitions are also different—Reiji has a twisted, sadistic vision of fun, while Damian aims to fulfill his role while simultaneously satisfying his ego.

Finally, they represent two different ideas: Reiji is the shadow of the Dragon Emperor, while Damian is his look-alike. Reiji symbolizes fear, while Damian embodies despair.

[faresong]

figuring out my gijinka designs ^_^

Hallownest draws from Japanese inspiration in my headcanons. With this in mind as applied to this AU, I believe (as a general rule) higher-class folks would end up with detailed, painted masks & additional accessories surrounding it (as seen with Lurien's butler contrasted against Quirrel's). Lower-class will still paint theirs, but cannot afford to buy new masks very often; this makes their mask feel much more permanent and personal—thus, most will engrave their masks instead.

Lurien's mask is an odd case in it being rather blank. While crafted specifically by the King's hand to fit him, it lacks any visible design—that is, until one attempts to use magic against him. Only then do the seals of protection glow and reveal the true pattern the King granted his dutiful Watcher, though the assailant likely won't live to share that fact. In another sense, however, Lurien's seemingly blank mask only further emphasizes his use as the King's right-hand. Only ever an extension of him, where only his king knows his true use. He is as Hallownest must see him, and nothing more.

...There are very few who know what lay beneath.

In any case, it is mentioned on the first sheet, but I will delve into more detail on masks' significance in others' cultures as well:

Deepnest occasionally uses masks, or their charms, to acknowledge the community which raised them with pride; as it contains a multitude of rich cultures within it (particularly drawn from East Asian inspiration, here) who are generally (presently) amicable with one another. It is easier to mark trade, as well as shift to other languages as a show of hospitality. Due to its winding passages, children will often get lost in exploration (an encouraged pastime), and are then escorted back to their people if need be. These charms are typically placed in their family's shrine once they've passed; carrying a charm that is not your own is seen as grave disrespect, even if the person in question is not dead. Each person is brought to the one we know as Mask Maker for their charm, drawn from their essence, and to take the charm is to act as if one claims agency over another person. Even parents rarely hold their child's charm.

As for the Uomas, granted a part of Unn's land, Monomon is the one who oversees these creatures. Recognizing the responsibility she is capable of handling, as well as her evident intelligence in her work with the Mosskin, Hallownest approached her as equals with intention to work a beneficial truce. Hesitantly, Monomon accepted their terms with the promise they would not further impose on Unn's land—still, the canyon would be safe travel for all persons, as a neutral ground. Hallownest gave her resources, and the King made her mask to show this allegiance. Though she rarely (properly) wears it, she will have it on her when working with Hallownest's scholars to show respect for them & expect respect in turn. Monomon is at peace co-existing with all surrounding areas; the only one she is wary of is Hallownest... it poses great threat, but she finds solace in knowing she has made herself a necessary pillar in the kingdom's technological development despite being a foreigner. She may use her position to open the minds of those who choose to study or collaborate with her—to see the people who surround them as societies in their own right, worth learning about despite Hallownest's imperialistic views. It is significantly easier to get through to scholars that have come from poorer backgrounds, but the environment she's cultivated does manage to steadily wear down the harsher beliefs ingrained in them.

After a few years spent with Quirrel, Monomon began incorporating some of his traditional dress for herself and encouraged him to do the same when he was to visit her (and, inevitably, when he lived in the Archive). She quite enjoys studying culture & its history, and would often ask Quirrel to indulge her questioning considering he was a first-generation immigrant to Hallownest. Once she manages to meet Herrah in-person, she does the same—with their meeting coinciding with the King's requests to pursue the Dreamer Project, she wanted to help preserve what she could of Deepnest should the plan fail. Kept not in Hallownest's texts, but her own... there was still much that Herrah preferred to keep to oral stories, but she did eventually learn to trust Monomon in this (despite her alliance with Hallownest).

The masks that are gifted by the King often have a slowing effect on the aging of their chosen person. Monomon was already given Unn's blessing (aging & enhancing magic) to help protect what remains in Her stead, but the mask still applies its effect to Quirrel once he'd 'stolen' it (and with it, a part of Monomon's own soul that'd been fused with it). The same applies with Lurien & each of the Five Knights, though no one else is really given the luxury... not even those of the Pale Court, except for one. Even she would come to see it as a curse, however, despite the cheer she presently puts forth.

A lot of poor communities in Hallownest tend to wear more earthly colors, whereas the nobles are given more variety in color/cloth. Many of them consider the land they inhabit carelessly, an idea which doesn't carry over to any other community that has existed much longer than Hallownest; most prefer warm, natural colors by contrast. Monomon specifically puts a spin on Hallownest's noble clothing in mixing it with the Mosskin's cloth (in this particular outfit, it is her skirt).

& As for the particulars of this 'human AU' (of sorts), here's a general listing: Herrah as mixed Syrian-Filipino; Monomon as Jamaican; Quirrel as Vietnamese; Lurien & his butler as Japanese; Hegemol as Korean.

Hm-hm... other than that, I don't think I have much else to talk about that is specific to this AU. It's mostly my excuse to draw the cast as humans (which is easier for me, haha). I'm open to questions, of course, but as this stands... I think I've said all I meant to say/clarify. Thank you for reading :D

[rainy-astrology]

ATEEZ Mingi Birth Chart Analysis

Based on my opinions and observations. Not a professional. May change later.

August 9th, 1999

Incheon, South Korea

4 pm. Not sure if exactly 4 or if there are minutes missing

☀️♌️🌙♋️ ⬆️♐️

These placements seem solid:

Leo sun in 8th - This placement is an interesting one, at least to me. Sun and 8th kind of contrast each other; Sun wants to shine, especially Leo sun being filled with bright energy, yet when placed in 8th it kind of darkens its shine. Mingi is likely a lot more serious and mellow in private, quite internalized. There's a lot of changes and transformation to his character throughout his life (which doesn't surprise me - ik he said he thought a lot about himself, his character and what he truly wanted when he was on hiatus).

Venus Virgo is also in 8th - This placement craves for deep intense bonds and can be easily jealous and possessive. He also has a Venus square Pluto, which adds more to the intense loyalty and possessiveness. Venus Virgo is already incredibly picky with who they choose to have as company (due to high standards), but once their trust and love is gained, they become very loyal and want to take care of their loved ones. Especially as a Leo too - Mingi really gives a lot of effort and care into people he truly cares about. This definitely explains his "moral loyalty" to Yunho lol.

Cancer moon in 7th - Cancer moon is gentle and emotional, often sentimental. Moon in 7th likes to be around company - being around people makes him feel happy. They long for deep emotional connections. They don't really like to do things alone, they often like to do things in groups or with a person they're very close with. This placement reminded me of how Mingi said he planned to do everything with Yunho since high school...

Uranus in 2nd - An odd relationship with finances...? Uranus is unpredictable and constantly changing, 2nd house is materialism and finances so Mingi may care about money a lot some days, while not caring much other days. Working an unconventional job (being an idol isn't the most traditional route)...From what I've read so far though, I don't really think he prioritizes money that highly. We all love money, but Mingi seems to prioritize connections and bonds much much higher than materialism. I wonder if affects his self worth as well since 2nd house also deals with self worth.

Jupiter in 4th - Usually indicates a positive and warm family and home. And if not, Mingi will try to build his own comfortable family and home.

Chiron in 11th - A wound concerning friendships and groups. A hint of loneliness here. Misunderstandings. I'm not sure how much Mingi has spoken about past friendships or other friendships in general (thanks to my bad memory lmao), but it would explain why he is especially attached to Yunho. Mingi's friends would leave him during lunch since he ate slow (which is kinda rude ngl that has always bothered me lol unless Mingi told them it was ok then fine), but Yunho always went out of his way to sit with him. In WANTEEZ ep 30, when they were sharing a few trainee stories, they talked about how Mingi was unintentionally a bit mean to the other members (e.g Yeo saying Mingi didn't bother to speak to him first, San still remembering the very blunt statement by Mingi about his dancing)

North node in 8th - It seems like Mingi should learn to ask for help in life. Maybe he has gone through a lot of heavy things alone. Sharing is the key lesson of this placement - sharing his concerns and troubles, sharing his heavy feelings, sharing love and care, even sharing physical things... He doesn't have to carry his burdens alone.

Sagittarius rising - Like all Sagittarius, Mingi longs for freedom in his life. He does not like to be tied down; he just wants to do what he wants and be himself without holding back. Wants to live honestly and happily.

Fixed Grand square - this pattern often presents many challenges in life. His is formed by squares of the fixed signs, which could indicate feeling stuck often. He may deal with a lot of persistent issues that he feels can not fix no matter how much he tries. He could be stuck with bad habits that can be hard to break out of.

I'm not so sure about these placements:

These are at 4 pm exact.

Any other time btwn 4-5 pm moves the planets into the previous house. E.g mars at 4 pm is in 11th, mars at 4:30 or so is in 10th.

Scorpio Mars in 11th - Mars in 11th gains energy from friendships, often good at networking, and is very supportive of others. It is also about workong hard for achievements and goals, which Mingi does care about.

Saturn in 5th - Reserved self expression, may want to focus on building useful and helpful skills rather than play around all the time. There are some delays to some of the themes of 5h.

Cancer Mercury in 8th - This is a very private placement. Cancer mercury already keeps things to themselves and mercury in 8th is the same. He may only open up if he truly feels he can trust a person 100%. Likes to dig deep into things.

Pluto in 12th - Overly self critical, some sense of shame on certain parts of himself

Overall, Mingi seems like such an all or nothing person. Ride or die fr. He wanna intertwine his soul with someone. Issues with loneliness...Lots of self revelation and transformation, questioning and improving his character...He is a lot more intense than I thought he would be...I figured he had some sort of Scorpio energy to him though and that's due to the 8th house placements. I almost guessed Scorpio rising for him once actually lol.

___

Other analysis:

MBTI | Enneagram

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Masterlist

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[wisteriagoesvroom]

Re: suits, there are hundreds of different types of suits, but the most common cuts are british, american and italian. I could see Lando (aka would love to see) most likely in an italian cut (slim tailoring on trousers and jacket, unstructured shoulders, light cloth (not colour but fabric) also looks very nice with an open collar and no tie...). Typical big brand names here are Zegna, Armani or Attolini, I personally love Kiton and Brioni as well, but just googling itlian cut suits should show some good results.

For Oscar, I would adore a (for once) properly tailored brutish cut suit (higher waistline for the trousers, more structure in the shoulders, tapered waist, thicker fabrics). Maybe even make it a proper three-piece bc ever since the wetsuit pics from Australia, I think we all agree that those curves need to be shown more often. Examples here are Ted Baker, Dunhill and ofc everything Savile row.

Tho if we keep with the Mclaren sponsors, Reiss does some great work as well. There's a double-breasted tuxedo jacket in this year's collection that I would love to see Lando in (then again tuxedos are a whole nother topic ...)

This got very long and is probably not very helpful but I love infodumping about fashion lol <3

i know you were self conscious about writing at length about this but all i have to say is: yes. here is some additional photographic evidence from my POV;

lando in snazzy italian tailoring, but to take the stylised vector a bit further:

exhibit a: asymmetric waistcoat with steampunk details

exhibit b: italian but with a fun pattern

exhibit c: open collar a step further, he could so rock a 70s suit. also just really need him to rock the gucci glasses with some shiny loafers like he’s sooooo got that vibe. im thinking how bruno mars and harry styles wear that kind of suiting sometimes

now to our elusive chanteuse f1 driver oscar jack. i feel like it’s, like what you described, about a classic style but with really fine details. good fabrics, simple cuts, plain colourways. below is pretty stylised but also this is rpf and it’s my playground and if we were claiming realism we should just put the rpf toys down full stop and i am not doing that!!

if taking a costume designer’s perspective too, there could be soooo much you could say with layering and pattern and contrast depending where we are in the story or plot. the idea of fic!oscar in a classic brit cut suit with tiny revealing details like a handkerchief (lando’s) or a button (a nod to a family member or a friend) is very dear to me.

the other option i like is a classic tux jacket with tails and crisp shirt and a a sky blue handkerchief, like idk that image also tickles me for some reason.

anyway so i had been thinking about a tailor AU- *loud scuffling noise as i try to put wayward au ideas back in their box*

p.s. oscar in dunhill... like u were cooking but u especially cooked w that one....

and tagging the people who might be interested in this conversation i invite y’all to weigh in!! @cx-boxbox @kichona-s and @jusst-you-race

[cringywhitedragon]

MHS:SC Concept: Cloudwalker Rathalos (Ratha)

A continuation for a short little idea mentioned in a prior post for Monster Hunter Stories: Stormcaller, this post is about the version of “Ratha” who would appear in this concept.

Cloudwalker Rathalos is a name given to a special form (subspecies?) of Rathalos found only within the mountainous subregion of the area where this concept takes place (Not where the starting location is as I have the village in mind be located within a thick rainforest or maybe a swampy region, somewhere that wouldn’t be super cold or hot but enough to contrast where the first two games are set in).

These Rathalos have specially adapted for life in these high up peaks as they are much faster and even capable of flying at much higher altitudes compared to their more common variants who prefer the lowlands with their much larger wingspans..

Cloudwalker Rathalos somewhat resemble in color that of a cross between a Silver and Azure Rathalos, lacking their species usual distinctive red coloration for a much more bluish grey that helps them to blend in with both the sky and the rocky terrain of their home. Their wings also have a somewhat distinctive pattern compared to that of a regular Rathalos.

Their naming comes mainly due to their ability to fly at such high altitudes that people have sometimes described them as “walking on clouds.”

Cloudwalker also rarely come near civilization, meaning that outside of Ratha, Cloudwalker Rathalos will not be an enemy encounter or an obtainable Monstie.

This variant of Rathalos has heavy ties to that of the legend of the Raincaller, a fabled Rider of legends who on the back of one of these Monsters as a Monstie helped to chase away the cursed rains that plagued these lands long ago. A legend that years later was said to repeat itself as the Raincaller never managed to fully “banish” the very thing that brought on these strange rainstorms to begin with.

This prophecy was said to have been foretold by a sage from the Rider Village that lives in the mountains that once the Cloudwalker retreat deeper into the mountains that the rains would make a return to flood the lands leading to the start of the story and how the the Protagonist gets their hands on Cloudwalker Ratha.

Ratha’s egg was found sometime after the Protagonist left their home village after being recruited to join a joint coalition of both Hunters and Riders setting out to investigate the Rainstorms after one happened around their village, leading to them having to face a Monster driven mad by the storm as well as members of their village growing mysteriously ill, including that of the chief.

The Rider, along with Navirou and a new Hunter-in-Training Companion who was paired with them as part of a collaboration effort soon get separated from the rest of the convoy on their way to the major Hunter settlement in that region, forcing them to go on foot solo through the mountains.

During the trek, they stumble upon an abandoned nest that seemingly had been destroyed. Most of the eggs are either missing or broken save for one single one.

Navirou mentions that he’s getting a strong odor from the egg, a sign that it’s still alive and whatever the Monster is that is inside of it must be quite powerful as the Protagonist picks it up, deciding to take it with them as it was very likely the monster inside would only die out here alone as the parents had long abandoned it.

Their Rookie Hunter companion is quite terrified at the idea of just taking the egg as our feline and Rider duo assure that it’s for the best and that this Monster would grow up to be quite a powerful Monstie.

Cue some traveling, our group gets ambushed by a wild Monster and rescued by a villager from the local Rider’s Village who agrees to bring them to safety so they can rest for the journey ahead.

So the three travel to the mountain Rider Village. Where during their stay the Protagonist ends up presenting the rescued egg to the Chief. After a brief glance, the Protagonist is almost instantly told to take the egg to the Sage that lives at the highest point of the village (This village was built on a cliff side and the Sage’s home is situated at the very top in a cave.)

Taking the egg to the Sage, the chief’s suspicions are confirmed with the egg being that of a Cloudwalker Rathalos which hadn’t been seen within the region in months. Afterwards, the Sage goes on to explain the prophecy of the Raincaller and how all of these recent events appear to be matching that of the legend.

Because of all the erratic behaving Monsters and unpredictable rainfall, the Protagonist is advised to remain in the village until the egg finally hatches just to be safe.

Cue some story missions for the villagers and finally the egg does hatch, revealing a little baby Cloudwalker. Navirou suggests calling him Ratha after two other people he had traveled with in the past who also had Rathalos that ended up doing pawsome things.

And well, the crew and now Cloudwalker Ratha continue their journey to catch up with the rest of their squadron and to find a way to stop the rainfalls.

[frisiunia]

Papyrus is autistic!

I believe that Papyrus from Undertale is autistic. And now, I'm going to prove that!!!

With arguments!

AND REASONS!

LETS GOOOOOOOOO!

Oh, and I confirm that Papyrus from Undermourning has ASD.

Before we start...

I just wanted to state that autism is the whole spectrum. Every person with autism is different from each other, just like neurotypical people are different from each other. People can't be more or less autistic and no one checks every single known symptom. Because they're many different symptoms and as I've said - it's the whole spectrum.

+Autism is not an illness. "Autism is a neurodevelopmental disorder marked by deficits in reciprocal social communication and the presence of restricted and repetitive patterns of behavior." (definition from: Wikipedia)

Reading social cues

So people with ASD tend to have difficulty with understanding some social situations and other people's emotions or completely misinterpret them. I want to also clear out that the austitic actually understand the basic emotions and how they look. Like smiling when you're happy, crying when you're sad, yelling when you're angry. But they can have problem with reading more complex ones.

However, worse understanding of social cues do not seem to aply to Papyrus that much BUT there is a reason I want to speak about it. You can get a feeling that Papyrus is more taught in this sphere rather than naturaly understanding things like this. You see, people with ASD can learn like normal people. So they can learn about social interactions like how to better understand emotions and react in certain moments.

For example, Papyrus understands that it's a nice thing to bring your friend a gift when you visit them. You can see it on the hang out with Undyne. But it feels more like Papyrus sees it as a rule rather than thinking if Undyne likes the gift. He just takes her word for it. On the hang out with Undyne, he is also able to notice the tension between Frisk and Undyne. But the way he reacts also feels like he learnt about this kind of situations and how he can deal with them.

Also after training with Alphys when he phones Frisk, you can see that Papyrus is aware that something is wrong with the doctor. He just doesn't says it outloud. It's even something that I have a problem with. I see that something is wrong with a person but I don't have courage to be straightforward about that because I'm not sure if I'm interpreting things correctly.

The situations where Papyrus actually seems to misinterpret social cues is when he's insulted. He always twists insults into something nice. It can be either because of very solid mentality that autistic people can have (in Papyrus case it's belief that he's the greatest and people would have no reason to insult him) or that he's actually aware that things others say aren't nice but he learnt that this is a way to deal with such situations. I personally think it's the first reason. Maybe it's because I myself tend to have very solid and hard to change beliefs.

Communication

So Papyrus is communicating very well, isn't he? And isn't autism a disorder that makes people unable to communicate properly?... Well, it's not like this. As I said, autism is the whole spectrum. And some symptoms can contrast with others. Some people with autism can have lower empathy and some can have higher empathy. Communicating is also one of those cases. Some people in spectrum may have difficulty with it but for example I'm communicating verbally very well. I even have very wider vocabulary (at least in my native language).

Actually, we can say that Papyrus has Asperger Syndrome which is a disorder in autism spectrum. I myself have Asperger Syndrome. Said syndrome is characterized by for example... very rich vocabulary. You can definetely say that Papyrus does use many different and fancy words. Just go through his dialogues in game!

You know what the autistic can be bad in? Lying. I personally never lie. I just find it one of the worst things that can be done. And Papyrus? He definetely dislike lying either. When he asks us about our clothes and we are being honest about it and won't change it later, he doesn't lie to Undyne and shows relief that he didn't have to lie to anyone. When we lie or tell the truth but change our armor, he lies to Undyne and visibly doesn't feel good about lying to his friend.

Hyperfixations and repeatability

Hyperfixations are very often in ASD. People with autism often obsess over very specific things.

Papyrus' hyperfixations are definetely puzzles and cooking spaghetti. Like, puzzles are the way he tries to capture Frisk with. He has bookshelf with complex tomes about puzzles creation. He's resposible for most of the puzzles we have to solve in Snowdin. About spaghetti, it's very obvious. This is the only thing Papyrus is cooking and you can see it's something he enjoys a lot even despite his food probably isn't too tasty...

Papyrus doesn't cook anything besides spaghetti and you know what autistic people often like? Repeatability. The autistic often stick to routine and plan their day. I myself like repeatablity and dislike unexpected changes. That's also what I have such solid beliefs that takes time to change and I believe Papyrus has the same. Now is about something else. First of all, Papyrus' clothes. Accoarding to Sans, Papyrus has been wearing the same clothes for months and didn't even take it off to shower. Sounds familiar... I MEAN-! I don't wear the same clothes for months, only for a few weeks and I take them off when I'm taking a shower. Papyrus' case is very extreme. Nonetheless, it proves my point.

We also can see his dislike to unexpected changes and unwillingness to try new things which are also often symptom of autism. I won't even explain it. I'll just put here parts of Papyrus' interview:

Stimming

There's not so many examples of it and the examples can be a little forced but I wanted to mention it anyway.

"Self-stimulatory behavior is the repetition of physical movements, sounds, words, moving objects, or other repetitive behaviors." (Wikipedia again!)

So stimming is used by people mostly to calm down but it's also very often symptom of ASD and also ADHD. For example, I can sometimes start moving back and forward without even noticing when I started doing it.

So does Papyrus stim? Well, here are my examples:

Stomping feet; Papyrus has animation where he does it. He repeatedly stomps his feet.

"Papyrus is rattling his bones."; it's one of narrator texts that can appear in Papyrus' battle which can also be read as stimming.

I understand if this argument was not very convincing. It was more an expansion than anything.

Childish?

Okay, okay Papyrus definetely does have some autistic traits but what if we're digging too deep into this? What if the point of his character was simply being childish? After all, he act like a child at times. He's gulliable as he proved with Flowey. He reads children picture books and he probably doesn't even read them by himself. Sans reads him bedtime stories. Besides books for children, Papyrus also has figures in his room and his bed looks like a bed child would sleep in...

No. Papyrus isn't childish. No, no, no, NO. It's often for autistic people to for example watch cartoons or sleep with plushies even when they're adult. Hell! Neurotypical people do that too.

Yes, Papyrus is naive. But people with ASD can often have problems with trust being little or too trusting.

So no. Papyrus is not childish. He's autistic. I hope I've been able to convince ya to this.

Thank you for reading<3

[dan-crimes]

I also love when VAs sound similar (or have a specific voice they do that sounds similar) and then really listening in to hear the differences

Voice patterns, tone shifts, random vocal inflections that are so specific to THEM as a voice actor that it's hard to mistake it as anyone else

I'm looking into two VAs rn bcuz I'm trying to figure out where an audio clips came from and it really has that cartoon vibe to it and the specific voice being used for that character(s) is one that I recognize but from potentially different VAs

So looking through their large array of voice work and seeing the DIFFERENCES of how they get casted based on their voice work (which they are BOTH impressive and have incredible range) it's clear one gets casted more often for a deeper, richer character to voice while the other is much more likely to get casted for their higher register but I'd say it's pretty even bcuz they BOTH still get casted for like. The Regular Dad character as well as getting casted for the Unhinged Sidekick character AND IT'S INTERESTING HEARING THE DIFFERENCE like the voice work they do COULD be used interchangeably but then those small unique vocal inflections that they both have individually would have shone through and caused for an entirely different preformance, not to mention the skills that either one of them LACKS that the other HAS

One of the VAs is definitely casted for LOUDER roles and the other is, even while some can be silly still, generally more subdued roles but they do have ONE voice that they do that CAN sound very similar

Honestly at this point I'm tempted to do a compare and contrast type video showing the Same Type of Roles they get casted in and the difference / similarities between their performances and at the end showing off the voice they do that sounds similar and dissecting the differences in them

Which THESE VOICE ACTORS NEED MORE VIDEOS MADE OF THEIR VOICE WORK

[voidthewanderer]

So Rings The Bell Of Love

→ Word Count: 3,284 → Warnings: Topic of death discussed → Characters: Arsenic, Ripper → Companion write to @romaniwasteland’s side of Ripper and Sweetjane’s marriage. I had a lot of fun with this one, really getting into Ripper’s mind with this; even with the slightly more different direction his mind went (understandably so). This is definitely one of those ‘shorts’ that wound up being a ‘oh god I can’t stop it here it feels too abrupt’ story and I love that for this. Reference for Ripper's suit here; think the very top one with the vest from the red one.

Scarred hands shook as they slowly made their way up the row of buttons. Silent swears were mouthed at each slipped finger; the fumbling getting worse the higher the hands raised. Eventually, more steady hands took over; the pale tan a stark contrast from the more olive ones that they helped. An exasperated sigh broke the silence; though the awkward feeling remained.

"Ya gotta relax," the source of the sigh spoke, hands pulling away as the buttons were finished. He fixed a partially tucked part of the lapel on Ripper's jacket before making him look in the mirror.

"Remember that when it's your turn," Ripper nearly snapped back, adjusting how the jacket sat on his shoulders for a moment. Immediately, he changed the subject, realizing what he'd said, "Th' hell didja find this suit anyway? This is some runway type shit."

It'd been a form fitting black suit with a velvet looking paisley rose pattern on it. The under vest was a silky maroon red, matching the button up beneath that. Ripper managed to tie the tie with much more ease, it being the same material as the jacket. God, he was thankful the undershirt was silk; the coolness from the fabric helped his stress aches.

"Same way ya found 'at petticoat ya brought Sweetjane. Me an' Cy were on a route, she saw th' red in a boutique. Honestly wanted t' keep it for my wedding, but I'm too tall for it," Arsenic paused for a moment, watching Ripper continue to fidget with the tie and kerchief, "Suits ya better, anyways."

Ripper didn't respond, more muttering to himself, "Shit… is this gonna be good enough? Like, fuck, she's gonna look so fuckin' gorgeous. An' I'm jus' gonna look like some… some… uomo pietoso next t' her…"

Glancing back to Arsenic, he could see the taller suck in on his cheek, noticing the visible teeth on the opposing side's tear out part slightly as he bit the inside of it. He knew Arsenic was never the talking type, but goddamn did he need somebody right now. He wished it was Crow, despite knowing they couldn't be in two places at once. They were helping Sweetjane get all prettied up, even more than she usually was; most likely having the same exact conversation.

"I ain't lettin' ya get cold feet."

"I'd never," shoulders dropped at the mere thought of it, "I jus'… I want this day t' be perfect. For her. Sweetjane deserves only th' best. She's had so much happen in her life…"

He knew he could never fix the pain from the past, but he still wanted to make new, better memories for her. With her.

He pulled the jacket closed, holding it in place for a moment. The maroon vest peeked out, feeling out of place. Ripper marveled at how new it looked, "Crow did a fantastic job at cleanin' it up… Fitting it too..."

Trying to not roll his eyes, Arsenic couldn't hold back the growl in his voice as he grabbed Ripper's wrist, "What's wrong?"

The fidgeting was starting to bother him. This wasn't the Ripper he knew. He figured that the other would be trying to charge headfirst into the wedding, desperate to see his bride in her dress, proud of being able to so publicly display his love of her.

"I told ya; this day needs to be perfect."

"It will be," the tanned ghoul spoke sharply, "I'll tell ya how it's gonna go down. You're gonna be standin' at th' altar; already tryin' t' not be a blubberin' idiot. An' you're gonna lose your shit once ya actually see 'er walkin' down 'at aisle. She'll be tryin' a lot harder t' not cry, not wantin' t' mess up th' makeup Crow's doin' an' probably failin' too. Everyone's gonna croon an' coo more'an usual at ya. Ya'll're gonna say your vows, exchange your rings, whatever ya planned on doin' up there. An' then th' celebration's gonna start. Everyone's gonna be dancin' an' singin… eatin'… Whatever th' fuck ya do at weddings."

He did put a slight emphasis on the eating part. Arsenic had normally been behind the scenes at weddings, never really leaving the kitchen; so he never really saw what went on during the reception. He'd planned out something specifically with both Ripper and Sweetjane's heritages in mind. And he sure as hell wasn't going to let Crow's work on the wedding cake go to waste either.

Ripper pursed his lips slightly, chest aching at his held breath, "That's not what I meant."

"Well? Ya need t' get it out now b'fore th' altar."

He gave a half shrug, not realizing that Arsenic was going to press it, "It's… th' idea? I guess… of weddings. Like, I know it's a celebration of us comin' t'gether, but… I dunno. Th' process jus' seems weird actually bein' in it. Would it be too late t' jus' elope?"

Now Arsenic couldn't hold back his laugh, "Marriage is marriage; doesn't matter if people see it or not. Where it is, who it's with. An' now? Suppose ya could'a jus' started callin' each other husband an' wife an' none'f us would'a thought any different. This ain't b'fore th' war; ain't no paperwork t' file or anythin'. None 'f 'at legal shit. 'S easier now more 'an ever."

Shit, that wasn't even a lie, "It's an entire day focusing on our public affection…"

"Oh, don't start; ya don't have a problem with that," Arsenic scoffed, "Both myself an' Crow have caught ya before. An' 'm sure others have too. Ya don't give two shits 'bout bein' public. Fuck, if it was possible, I'd be shocked if ya didn't have a kid on th' way, how attached ya are."

"What if somethin' happens that we didn't consider! Raiders, muties… anything!" He wanted to make a snide remark on the last comment. That was a sting he hated having brought up. That wasn't fair.

"An' now you're jus' pickin' straws. Ya can hear t' extra turrets runnin'. Wiseman made sure t' ask th' General for extra protection," he pulled Ripper to the doorway, pointing up to the glass, "Keith is right there, he'll see anythin' comin' way b'fore they get 'ere. None'f us gotta lift a finger 'at don't involve th' wedding t'day."

How the hell was he one step ahead? Part of him knew it probably had something to do with Crow; they just knew his nerves would act up; try to give the chef some simple guidance to respond. But of all people to have logical reasoning behind each answer, Arsenic wasn't his first choice. His responses didn't sound like Crow. Crow wasn't blunt like this. That was all Arsenic.

He opened his mouth, seeing Arsenic's brow line shifting in a raise, "Ya knew Wiseman was gonna want th' extra guns 'cause of th' Forged an' this still bein' a trade spot; people are gonna be stoppin' by." He'd made samples of the wedding spread for any potential travelers so they didn't get their hands in his very specific set up that he tried his hardest to make sure it followed any cultural set ups for the couple, "There's a section for th' Glowin' One t' not hurt Sweetjane, Cy, or Vi. Th' only thing bein' a threat t' your wedding right now is whatever this fuckin' hang up is."

All Ripper could do was sigh, watching the others setting up the pool house for a moment; even seeing his own son, Cody, helping with moving some of the tables around. This made him smile slightly, knowing that, despite his son not really showing any outward emotion, he was excited for this. Jones ribbed Cody with something, the duo laughing as they went to get the next table.

"Saw your little girl prancin' over t' where Sweetjane an' Crow are. Bet she's talkin' 'bout how excited she is."

Ripper headed back into the room, going to preen in the mirror; trying to avoid the conversation now. Maybe he could slick back what little bit of hair he had left… or would that look too weird still having the blond streak? The suit was too fancy for a newsboy cap; not that any of them in the settlement were black enough to match the suit in the first place. Something felt like it was missing…

Rather, he wanted something to feel like it was missing. Anything to make the conversation end…

Arsenic's slightly larger frame came up behind him, hands falling on his shoulders. He needed to bend over slightly to speak into his ear, "Think 'bout it like this; we're celebratin' you an' your family. Your little girl's gonna walk down that aisle b'fore Sweetjane with th' biggest grin on 'er face 'cause she's gonna see how happy you are. That her family's becoming one. An' your boy… 'e's gonna feel it too, y'know. 'M sure 'e already is."

"N-no, I get that… I do. I really do I'm just… scared. Maybe not for now. But the future…"

Arsenic's gaze flicked up to the mirror, finally getting a good look at Ripper's face. It hit him in that moment what all the fuss was about. He could see his age; the lighting accentuating his sunken sockets, making the bags under his eyes seem deeper. He always forgot that Ripper was the eldest of the three of them, having been four years older than him. He acted and performed like someone who was in their early twenties.

Sweetjane was nearly ten years younger than Ripper. Aging was such a touchy subject for ghouls; especially ghouls who dealt a lot with smoothskins. Arsenic watched Cyanide grow up and it was a weird feeling; he didn't exactly view her like a daughter, but it was still a familial connection. He couldn't possibly imagine it being his spouse the one aging before his eyes.

And that wasn't even to mention the fact that he was two centuries older than her physically.

"Rip…"

"Tommy…" Arsenic sucked in on his cheek again, his former name feeling so foreign, "You'll never have t' deal with Crow growin' old. An' I doubt you'll ever have t' deal with it comin' unnaturally; Crow doesn't really like wanderin'… not anymore. They gotta worry more about you. But Sweetjane?"

He loved going on his adventures with Sweetjane. But adventure spelled risk. And that terrified him. A clench at his heart refused to let up any time his mind wandered; the feeling worsening when he realized he would have to explain to his kids the same.

Ripper sighed, knowing that this was the problem, "She's eventually gonna leave, I-I know that. It won't be her fault… It's just… fucking life. That shit terrifies me."

"An' your mind's wanderin' t' it happenin' way too soon," Arsenic sighed.

"I don't think I can handle that…"

"It's not somethin' anybody's prepared for. Ya know that. An' I know I ain't th' right person t' talk to 'bout this." Arsenic had cut off his family by the time he was nineteen; he didn't have anybody to worry about until Crow came into his life thirteen years after, "Jus' know that it ain't happenin' for a long goddamn time. Ya ain't gonna let that happen an' ya know she ain't gonna let it happen. An', shit… maybe she'll wanna try an' go ghoul when she's older. Who knows."

Ripper only gave a half shrug, not wanting to continue the conversation. Her going ghoul wasn't his choice and it wasn't something he would bring up. A lot of people found being a ghoul a curse; he understood why. Outliving friends and family was a painful experience. It was something he knew all too well… Something they both knew.

He'd tried to find a relationship like this in the past. Finding a partner was easy enough; keeping them around was hard. In the early stages of the wastelands, being with a ghoul was taboo. It was fetishized; they felt drastically different from humans. The alleged risk of illness because "ghouls passed on their radiation". A lot of people still felt like ghouls were a new species and not just people. It made for things to just eventually get frustrating.

They'd be steady for a short while, but one day he'd wake up and the girl would be long gone. Sometimes they left notes, but most of the time they didn't. It was always the same; they never wanted to stay with him. If it wasn't that, it was a mix up during travel; a raider or gunner putting a bullet in their head. Eventually, he just gave up. He realized that if it hurt when he was calling them girlfriend, how much was it gonna hurt calling them wife. Eventually death would rear its ugly face and he'd be alone again.

"I want ya t' talk t' Crow when you're done with th' honeymoon. Alright?"

There was only a nod. Arsenic grabbed Ripper's shoulders, forcibly turning him to face him, "Say it."

"I will."

This made the other ease, letting Ripper's arms go. The older started to slouch, but Arsenic forced his shoulders back up, "Don't slouch. Shoulders back, chin up. Stop fuckin' with your hair. Ya look fine. She's gonna be so fuckin' beautiful walkin' down that aisle an' all those fears ya got goin' right now are gonna melt away."

The duo's eyes locked for a moment, Arsenic actually smiling at him. Ripper couldn't help but snort, "Fuck, 's easy t' tell ya used that smile t' hook Crow."

"Shut up." He gave Ripper a playful shove, "I'm sure you used that charisma ya seem t' be hidin' now t' get Sweetjane."

This raised a smile now, slightly rolling his eyes, "Duh. Pretty thing like her? Ya know I can't help it. S'ppose it was fate, if ya think about it."

Arsenic gave an idle hum, finally comfortable to focus on his own preening, "What'd'ya mean by that?"

It'd come to his realization that he'd never told Arsenic about how he met Sweetjane. The chef had been on a trade route when it all went down; his first interaction being a drunken encounter after he'd gotten back.

He gave him an abbreviated version while Arsenic got suited up. It garnered another chuckle, "Didn't think you'd believe in all 'f 'at."

"I mean, I'm skeptical, but here we are; getting married. I'm also open minded. Crow's int' th' same stuff an' believes in it, so I'm no stranger to th' idea of it. They got their card reads all th' time at fairs an' they always went on 'bout how true it was."

"Crow's also an open book an' just doesn't want to admit it," Arsenic chuckled, "But you? Whatever she did must'a hooked ya. Ya weren't easy t' read when we first met."

Ace of Hearts. A new beginning. Jack of Clubs. An honest and trustworthy friend.

Four of Hearts…

Congratulations on your marriage.

"Yeah… I'm gonna agree with Crow on this one… I believe in the cards."

All Arsenic could do was laugh, the smirk still playing on his lips, "Let's go get ya married."

***

Ripper barely had time to take in the setting before getting pulled up to the altar. Just as quickly as he'd been pulled up to the makeshift podium, he turned, finding that Arsenic was gone. How the hell did you lose someone who was six-foot-two with hair that added an additional almost two inches of height?

"Don't you worry," Wiseman's cool voice soothed Ripper, "We've everything all planned out and it's all right on time."

"I jus'… still can't believe this is happening."

"I can," the settlement leader mused, "Think it's why we were able to get this se up so fast."

The elder ghoul's yellowed eyes scanned the area. He saw the only Glowing One of the settlement, Talus, standing at his guard stand, facing the ceremony. A turret peeked just over the post; he wanted to watch, but didn't want to be too close. Wiseman nodded, "We do have a spot closer for him, if that's what you're thinking. But he admitted that his radiation can surge something fierce if he gets emotional, so he doesn't wanna hurt any of the smoothskins that'll be here; Sweetjane especially."

That gaze swept over to the chairs set up along the aisle, anybody not in the wedding having already been in their seats. It wasn't a big ceremony by any means; just the settlers of The Slog, Viorel, and the one he'd elected as his "plus one"… Edward Deegan. Ripper did have to hide his chuckle, especially when the boy gave him a wide smile and two thumbs up.

Up to the roof, he saw Keith looking over the group for a moment, eyes locking with the ghouls. He gave a warm smile and a nod heading to the opposite side of the roof to make sure everybody was in position.

Crow trotting up the aisle caught his attention, them standing up next to Ripper to take his hands. They smiled brightly at him, "Ready?"

"Nervous… but yeah," he paused for a moment, admiring Crow in their outfit, "Ya look great."

"Just wait till you see her," Crow chuffed, "I'm so proud of you, Joey."

He couldn't help but brush his finger along Crow's engagement ring, voice somewhat teasing, "Coming from them' one who got engaged first? I'll make sure Sweetjane throws the bouquet to you."

"Lemme finish the rings first," they playfully nudged him, "Lemme get into place, the ceremony's gonna start."

They went to their place, Wiseman raising a hand to signal everyone to quiet down. It didn't take long for the tears to well in Ripper's eyes; watching Amy practically skipping down the aisle, lining the aisles with dried hubflower petals before prancing up to hug her father. He lifted her up off the ground, spinning her around for a moment. She went to her assigned spot, trying to not wiggle about in her excitement.

When Ripper saw Arsenic turn the corner, Sweetjane in the most gorgeous tulle wedding wedding he'd ever seen; that was it for him. The tears rolled down his cheeks, him biting his lip as to not let out a happy sob. He glanced back at Crow for just a moment; seeing they were trying to not cry as well. They motioned for him to look back at her, trying to not laugh. His expression had said it all. Look how goddamn beautiful my wife is.

He looked back to his bride, glancing over to Arsenic. Despite the taller generally stoic, he could see he was fighting back too; though most likely because he saw Crow trying to not cry with the bride and groom.

Once at Ripper's side, he carefully handed Sweetjane off, taking his place on the side of the groomsmen. The ceremony felt like a blur. All he could do was focus on Sweetjane. How beautiful she was. How lucky he was.

He stumbled over his vows. First it was because he didn't even realize they were at that point, then it was just because he couldn't focus on getting the words out. He was terrified that he was going to drop the ring…

The kiss was the only part that felt like it went perfectly. It was what he was most waiting for, nearly shooting forward to lock lips with her, dipping her back slightly once he'd felt her arms around his shoulders. He didn't want it to end.

It was final. They were married. He was married. He'd found an absolute angel who seemed just for him.

His angel. His love.

His Tesoro.