#so tldr: get your fucking set in order

[adhdevankinard]

Ik I’m late to the conversation about the 911 kitchen scene filming incident, but one thing that needs to be pointed out is that film sets, even ones without stunts, can be physically dangerous.

A bit of lore, but for three years in college, I worked as a floor manager and then producer/director of the campus news station, which was a mid-sized filming studio. While it’s not the exact same thing as a film set, we used professional-grade cameras, lights, set dressing, props, corded microphones and booms — very similar to film sets.

If you’ve never been on the floor of a studio or film set, a few things to know: Cords are everywhere and easily tripped over. Cameras are big and fucking heavy. It can get very crowded with equipment, set dressing, cast, and crew. This is why the crew needs to be focused on their equipment and the equipment around them. This is why the cast needs to know where the equipment is located during filming. This is why it’s so important that the cast and crew know the blocking for filming and know what to expect in a scene.

I have no idea if the director told the crew about the change before the scene was filmed and Oliver was the only one in the dark, but even one person being unaware and then reacting suddenly and unexpectedly creates safety concerns for all the reasons I listed above.

The director should absolutely not encourage or approve this type of unpredictability. It is the responsibility of the director to manage a set on the day of filming and the safety of your cast and crew should be top of the fucking mind.

Yes, no one was hurt during the filming of the kitchen scene. Yes, it might seem like a relatively minor incident, but it highlights a very, very real concern that is bigger than one scene alone. The fact that it happened at all shows that the sets need better management for the safety of the cast and crew because there are very real examples of film sets becoming dangerous.

[txttletale]

What would you say are the three best introductory ttrpgs? Not in order of quality, but like if you had to pick three games as a good collective foundation before someone explores other ttrpgs.

obviously this varies table to table and person to person, right, some people aren't going to gel with certain aesthetics or settings or tones or themes. but in terms of speaking pure mechanics, i think the world would be a much better place if more people were introduced to trrpgs via pbta (esp. thinking like, '3rd gen', post-monsterhearts stuff here) -- not because i think pbta games are without flaws or even, as a rule, 'good', but because i think that GM Moves are an absolute cosmic sea change in terms of allowing the GM/facilitator role to actually fucking play the game and a powerful antitode to the imo extrmeely corrosive attitude that 5e play culture instills towards that role.

other than that i don't have particularly strong ideas about what's a good 'beginner game', because i think that depends a lot on factors like the players' genre familiarity or previous experience with non-ttrpg roleplay. like, lancer could be an incredible starter game if you want to get your 40k group with no roleplaying experience into ttrpgs, and honey heist might work great with your improv buddies who don't do tabletop games -- but swap those around and you could have pretty awful starter experiences!

so yeah tldr it varies from group to group but i truly think that any game that provides robust narrative as well as mechanical support for the GM role, or splits that creative element around the table (including fully GMless games) is going to be a much better starter game than 5e.

[rip-quizilla]

Eat Me

Pairing: Older!Rockstar!Eddie Munson x Popstar!Reader

Summary: (TLDR: you perform with Corroded Coffin, act like a brat the whole time, and Eddie makes you pay for it.) Two years after your hiatus from the music industry, you're back and all grown up now. After collaborating with early 2000's metal sensation Corroded Coffin for several songs off your new album, you debut the new tracks live in a surprise performance with the band during their tour- and the tension between you and frontman Eddie Munson is so thick, you're barely able to keep your pants on throughout the set. (Songs referenced are by Demi Lovato from her album HOLY FVCK, which inspired this fic. I highly suggest listening to the songs "Eat Me" and "Freak" while they're performed in the story for the complete experience!)

Word Count: 14K

Tags: 🔥SMUT, age gap (reader is 27, Eddie is 47), Reader is a brat (Eddie can handle it), fingering, squirting, p in v sex, unprotected sex (wrap up!!), light degradation, reader has blue hair, reader is a grown-up child star, for the purposes of this fic Corroded Coffin started in the 90s instead of 80s for timeline reasons

🖤🖤🖤

You had no fucking clue what you were doing. 

It had been two years since you’d put out music. Two. Years. That’s enough time for a person’s relevance to crawl into a hole and die, which is something you had been strongly considering doing for the duration of those two years. 

It was a tale as old as time- child star grows up. Child star is not a child anymore, but the world only wants the star to be a child, so if the star wants to keep being a star, they do not. grow. up. 

But you grew up, and guess what happened? 

The world hated you for it. 

So you stopped trying to be a star. You’d dropped off the face of the earth and deleted every social media app from your phone. You’d bought a house in the mountains, and thanks to modern technologies like Amazon and DoorDash, you basically never had to leave. It was a little scary how easily you had become a hermit living in a cabin in the woods. Your life quickly became a never ending cycle of reading, binge-watching tv, and dying/cutting your hair whenever the mood struck (The latest spontaneous color change had left you with a surprisingly pretty shade of faded blue).

It was easy, running away… until it caught up with you.

After all, at your core you had always been a performer. From your first audition at five years old to your big break at twelve, to the first album you’d put out on your television network’s record label- you had always been a person who had something to say and craved an audience to hear it. When your audience had turned on you, it had jolted your rhythm enough that you forgot the words to a song you’d been singing as long as you could remember. 

It had taken you a couple years, but eventually you figured out that when you play the same song on repeat for long enough, it gets old. 

So you wrote a new song. 

To be more precise, you wrote a whole album. Literally. 

Some of the songs were composed, some still needed a tune, but the message of the album was clear: I’m not that little girl on your TV screen anymore. You don’t have to like it, but you sure as hell can’t change it. 

The minute you’d figured that out, you’d called your team. Once they understood the direction your career was headed, they helped get everything in order for your re-entry into the fray that had driven you out in the first place. 

There was only one part of the album that made you nervous. 

I know two years doesn’t seem like that long, your agent had said, but the public eye doesn’t have a very impressive attention span. You only have half of the album composed, right? This is the perfect opportunity to make the other half of the songs collaborations with artists that are in the public eye! 

The idea made sense. Their popularity helps you, and if the songs go over well, then it helps the other artists too. The only issue was that these songs were way more vulnerable than what you used to write… hell, half the songs you’d recorded before your hiatus were written by whatever run of the mill joe schmo had gotten the kid-friendly execs’ stamp of approval. Even when you’d split from the network after turning twenty-three, you’d kept your songs strictly PG-rated since you knew the majority of your audience were minors. These new songs, though… 

You weren’t an idiot. The themes of these songs were not subtle. Anyone who listened to these new songs was going to see a side of you that wasn’t all that pretty. Were you ready for that? Were you ready to bare that darkness to not only the world, but to other artists who meant to help you make music out of it?

Your anxiety about the album had gotten even worse when your agent had given you the list of potential collaborators.

 One song that you were particularly proud of called “Eat Me” had some very metal undertones to it, so you’d told your agent that you’d like to collaborate with a metal band or artist to compose the music that would match the lyrics. Almost immediately, your agent had suggested a collaboration with Corroded Coffin.

The band had been HUGE when you were a kid, topping charts throughout your childhood and making a name for themselves as one of the most culturally relevant turn-of-the-century metal bands. Even now, they were a household name. Your older brother had been a huge fan, so you’d actually listened to their music quite a lot growing up. They weren’t some random collaboration- if Corroded Coffin read your lyrics (which were basically your soul laid out on display) and thought they were shit? It might just send you spiraling right back to your cabin in the mountains. 

You had been equal parts thrilled and terrified when your agent told you they’d agreed to collaborate on the song.

Currently, you were sitting in your home-away-from-home, a cozy apartment that you rented on a month-to-month basis whenever you needed to be in New York, which just so happened to be where Eddie Munson, lead singer/guitarist of Corroded Coffin had asked to meet with you. It was your album, so you had invited him to come to your place and discuss his ideas for the song. You shifted nervously on your couch and glanced at the time on your phone. He was ten minutes late- that shouldn’t bother you, a lot of musicians had a habit of running late. Just because you didn’t subscribe to that stereotype didn’t mean you had to judge him for doing the opposite. 

When you finally heard the buzz of your doorbell, you practically hopped off the couch. You peeped through the little door viewer to catch a glimpse before you had to look one of your childhood heroes in the eye. You… you hadn’t been adequately prepared to see this. 

Eddie Munson had been attractive in his hay day- you could admit that. You’d seen the pictures of him on their album covers, the press photos, the magazines… he had always been cute in a scruffy sort of way. You hadn’t bothered Googling what he looked like now, which you were currently regretting since you had not been adequately prepared for the father of all DILFs to be standing on your doorstep. 

After doing some quick math, you came to the conclusion that Eddie Munson must be in his mid to late forties at this point. His hair was still long and curly and thick as hell, but you noticed other details that you distinctly remembered were not present on the album covers you remember from your brother’s CD collection- dark, whiskery shadow along his cheeks and jawline. Tattoos creeping up from the collar of the crew neck shirt he wore, as well as every inch of his arms. A nose ring. Smile lines. Soft creases forming between thick brown eyebrows. 

Eyebrows drawing together in confusion because you weren’t opening the door. 

Shit. You inhaled sharply and hastily made to open the door. Breathe, you instructed yourself, taking a moment to blow out a semi-relaxing breath before turning the doorknob and plastering on your best entertainment industry smile.

“Hi!” you said, a little too peppy- you knew you sounded too peppy because the rockstar in front of you actually flinched when your high-pitched sorority girl voice slapped him in the face. “Sorry, I think I’m a little caffeine-riddled, I just finished my third cup of coffee.” You said apologetically, swinging the door open wider for him to step through the threshold into your apartment. 

“Too many frappuccinos there, huh popstar?” His voice… if it hadn’t been so condescending, you might have melted on the spot. Your pride, however, had to argue with your clenching thighs. 

“Uhm, no-” you laughed, keeping your voice airy as you shut the door and leaned back on it to ensure it was closed. “-just cold brew, rockstar.” You couldn’t help but add that quip at the end, seeing how he had just called you popstar like it was the same as calling someone a pussy or a wimp. What was his deal?

He looked at you with a raised eyebrow, arms crossed over his chest, and then turned back as if you hadn’t said anything at all. He simply sauntered through the hallway to your living room, where you had laid all the necessary materials for your composing process across the coffee table- but he wasn’t looking at that. He seemed to be inspecting your walls, the decor, the old pictures that sat in frames on your floating shelves, the records you had displayed above your turntable. His eyes surveyed everything like he was a judge at a fucking science fair, and your heart was starting to race as you started to irrationally wonder if you fell short of his expectations or something.

“Ahem,” you cleared your throat to get his attention. 

He turned to face you, irritation flashing across his expression like a cloud blowing past the sun. You took a breath. Calm down, you chided yourself mentally, he’s probably just a prick, don’t take it personally. Be professional. 

“Can I get you something to drink?” You chirped politely, to which he smirked and shook his head.

“Don’t trouble yourself, sweetheart.” 

You bristled; sweetheart? Who did he think he was, Don Draper? Was this the 1950’s? Were you his fucking secretary? Your blood pressure rose by the second. 

“Hm.” you respond, chewing your lip to keep a snarky response to yourself. “Well, we can go ahead and get started if you want.” You gestured to the pages strewn across the coffee table. Notebook pages with your lyrics written out in black pen, empty pages of sheet music that you planned to fill out with a melody to coincide with your words as the morning went on. Your acoustic guitar sat securely in its stand beside the couch, eagerly awaiting your hands to make the message in your music come alive.

Munson sunk into the cushions of your leather couch, manspreading enough to make you feel like a guest in your own apartment. His forearms rested on the thighs of his ripped charcoal jeans as he surveyed the pages before him. He grabbed the notebook page full of lyrics first, chuckling when he saw the title. 

“Eat Me, huh?” he raised an eyebrow at you, and the way he was holding the page between the two of you left only the top half of his face visible from where you sat. You noted that Eddie Munson had extremely expressive eyes. “That’s a pretty evocative title for such a squeaky-clean ‘lil diva.”

Your brow furrowed. “That’s kind of the point.” Using your pointer finger to pull the page down, the bottom half of the rockstar’s face coming into view and spiking your blood pressure again when you saw that fucking smirk still on his face. 

That’s it. This guy is an ass.

“Maybe my agent didn’t accurately portray my vision for this album,” you said, struggling to grit out the words without coming across angry. “If that’s the case, I’m very sorry we got our wires crossed.” 

Ready to listen, Munson leaned back into your couch and crossed one booted foot over his knee, an arm thrown across the top of your couch cushions. The picture of nonchalance. 

Cocky bastard. 

“I’m not sure if you’re aware, but I haven’t put any music out in over two years.” you began. “This isn’t just a new album for me- it's more like a debut album for the new direction I want to take my career in. Up until now, I’ve been portraying a very different side of myself that…if I’m being honest, it wasn’t really me. It was childish and immature and I…” 

You huffed out a heavy, frustrated sigh. “-I can’t do it anymore, I can’t keep being a kid, I’m twenty-fucking-seven years old, for god’s sake.” the rockstar’s eyebrows jumped up at hearing your expletive, obviously amused.

What the fuck? Here you were, being vulnerable with a complete stranger, and he thought it was amusing? You half expected him to laugh, but you brushed past it and decided to ignore this asshole being even more of an asshole. 

“What I’m trying to say is this is a very personal album for me. It’s very different from what I’ve been putting out, and that is very much the point. Does that make sense?” 

You watched as he slowly nodded his head, mulling over your words. “So…it’s like a coming of age thing?” he ventured, “Like, ‘little girl’s all grown up and sexy now’ all that?” his mouth turned up at one corner. “How very Miley Cyrus of you, sweetheart.”

You scoffed, physically recoiling a bit. “Are you being serious right now?” you balked. 

He shrugged. 

Oh, you fumed, that is it. Fuck this guy.

You stood from the couch, finally snapping after holding yourself back from giving this asshat a piece of your mind. “What is your problem?” Munson’s smirk faded a bit, but his smug air remained intact as he stared up at you. 

“Look sweetheart-”

“No.” you cut him off, stopping him with a hand in the air. “Stop calling me sweetheart like you know me or like that isn’t a condescending fucking way to speak to someone. You have done nothing but talk down to me since you walked through that door, so no, you do not get to talk to me like that, I don’t care how famous you are.”

There wasn’t a trace of a smile on his face now, and you took pride in that. Maybe there was a conscience in there somewhere that was telling him I told you so right now.

You took the page from his hands and held it up for emphasis. “If you had just read my fucking song before making assumptions, then maybe you would have understood that this song is actually a social commentary on people like you who assume the direct trajectory of a child star’s career is to go from cute and childish to sexy ‘girls gone wild’ or whatever the fuck.” you spat, practically shaking the paper in your hand. “I’m allowed to grow into whoever I damn well please, and that’s exactly what this song is about. If I want to write a song about sex- and I’ve written a few, they’re on the fucking album- I’ll write them because that’s what I want to write! I’m not doing it for shock value or because I like attention; hell, I’ve been a literal hermit in the woods for two years, I don’t give a fuck about attention!”

You finally paused to breathe, and you knew your eyes must look absolutely insane because the man before you genuinely looked terrified. 

Steeling yourself, you inhaled and exhaled slowly, attempting to push down some of that hysteria. “Sorry.” you bit, “Didn’t mean to unload all that on you. It’s just… this song is a part of me, and you just belittled it without even reading past the title.” You looked him directly in those big brown eyes and thought- hoped- for a second that you saw understanding in his gaze. “That was shitty. I’m not letting other people make me feel like shit anymore.” 

When you were finished, silence took over. It settled over the room like a reprieve from a short but heavy rainfall before the sun showed itself again. Suddenly, Eddie Munson stood from your couch and marched to your door, letting himself out with a sharp click of your doorknob latching closed. 

Okay. That went well. The lead singer of one of the most famous metal bands just came to your apartment, got yelled at, and ran away. You were just starting to ponder how you would explain this one to your publicist before you heard a knock at your door. Tentatively, you opened it- you didn’t need to look through the peephole to know who it was. 

Eddie Munson stood at your door wearing an expression that you hadn’t seen yet today- he looked open, compassionate, and sorry. One hand in his pocket with the other outstretched, tattoos winding up the expanse of skin, rings glinting light from the sconces on either side of your door. He was offering his hand. 

Smiling slightly, you accepted his gesture. You grasped his ink-scarred hand, feeling the cold metal of his rings press against your skin as you shook it. “It’s lovely to meet you-” he said your name softly, and you realized that when he had entered your apartment earlier, you hadn’t even exchanged pleasantries. Hadn’t introduced yourselves, almost as if fame got rid of the need for normal human introductions. Now, here he was, remedying that.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Mr. Munson,” you said, voice less chipper than it had been when the two of you originally stood in these same spots. “I’m a huge fan.” 

He winced at ‘Mr.’, clapping his other hand over yours tightly. “Please, for the love of god, don’t call me Mr. Munson.” his big brown eyes pleaded with you. “Call me Eddie.”

Your smile widened as you nodded. “Eddie.” you repeated. “Is this you telling me we’re starting over?” 

He let go of your hand, and you felt a sudden chill as the warmth of his skin left yours. “If that’s alright with you?” he replied softly, turning up the end of his sentence like a question. 

Instead of saying yes, you simply stepped back to make room for him in your hallway. With a pleasant grin on your lips, you gestured for him to step inside. “Let’s get started, then.”

After sitting down on the couch once more, Eddie took the sheet of notebook paper on which you’d scrawled a part of your soul written in verse and began to read intently. Leaving him to digest the song completely (also because you felt awkward sitting there in silence as he read your work) you left to grab two water bottles from the kitchen. When you returned, he had already grabbed a fresh sheet of notebook paper and begun jotting down notes. 

You placed the bottles on coasters, bracing yourself for the criticism that you knew was coming-

“You were right.”

Huh? 

You craned your neck to see what he had written on the notebook paper. “About what?”

With a mischievous glint in his eyes, Eddie yanked the paper out of your line of sight. “About this song, it’s completely different from what I’d assumed you would write. Actually,” he grinned. “-it’s kinda fucking metal.”

You smiled, once again reaching for the page. “Then let me see what you wrote-”

“I’m not finished yet, keep your panties on.”

The two of you worked for hours that afternoon, Eddie suggesting lines and chords as you wrote corresponding notes and chords on your sheet music. It didn’t take long for you to grab the acoustic guitar and begin strumming out portions of the song until it was finished.

Both of you agreed it was something to be proud of.

“Hey, uh,” Eddie stuttered before exiting your apartment that evening, when you were both happy with the work you’d done for the day. “I hope you know how sorry I am for being such an ass when I got here earlier-”

You shrugged, any traces of anger melted away at this point. “Eh.” you smirked. “You made up for it. That song might be my favorite on the album now, honestly, I meant it when I said I was a fan of yours- wouldn’t have trusted it with anyone else.”

He smiled at you warmly. “I’m honored to have such a talented fan.” The door was open, but he wasn’t leaving yet. Instead, Eddie stood with his tattooed arms crossed over his chest leaning his weight to one shoulder against the doorway. “I mean it though, you’re a talented songwriter. If you want to collaborate on any other songs, just say the word and I’m back here.”

You quirked an eyebrow. “Are you serious?”

He nodded, “Dead serious.”

Smiling excitedly, you ran to your notebook, flipping through the pages until you found what you were looking for. You looked up at Eddie, a knowing grin on your lips. “Remember those songs about sex I mentioned?”

***

The original plan for your album had been to collaborate with multiple artists for about fifty percent of your album, while the other fifty percent would only feature you. What ended up happening was slightly different.

The more songs Eddie saw, the more passionate he became about the message you were working to convey through your lyrics. He ended up reworking every single song with you in a completely collaborative process, where he never overstepped, never tried to take over- simply understood what you were trying to say and added the extra ‘oomph’ each song had been needing to truly become what you had envisioned. 

“I feel like I really can’t just call this my album now, Eddie, you’ve contributed way more to this to just be credited as a featured artist-”

You’d first voiced concerns about how to credit Eddie in the album a few days into your songwriting spree. It became an easy routine, Eddie would come over first thing in the morning, and the two of you would sit in your living room working through your songs and ordering takeout until the sun set. 

“Well it’s not a collaboration album with Corroded Coffin,” Eddie had replied, sticking a bite of noodles into his mouth. The two of you had been seated at your kitchen table, white boxes of Chinese food, napkins, and torn chopstick wrappers decorating the space between you. “Those fuckers haven’t even met you, they don’t get credit for anything they ain’t playing on.” 

“But I’m talking about you.” you pushed, “If we keep going the way we’ve been, you’re going to be a vital part of the composition for every track on this album! I’m not going to let you avoid credit for that.” you gazed at him, unable to hide the admiration you’d begun to feel for the artist at your table. “Let me list you as a composer for every track you help me with. We already know you and your band will be featured on Eat Me and Freak, so obviously you’ll be credited for those…” 

As you continued to ramble on about how Eddie would be credited for each and every song lyric he suggested, he got distracted looking at the way your hair glinted slightly different shades of blue in the sunlight that filtered in through your balcony window. His eyes followed the light along your skin, taking in the way it glistened off the dewey shine on your cheekbone, how it shone directly into the corner of your eye so that colors he had never noticed were brought to the surface of your irises…

This wasn’t the first time that Eddie had gotten distracted watching you rant about something you were passionate about. He knew he was supposed to be listening, that it was very important that he knew what your songs were about, that he understood the details of your plans for the album so that you wouldn’t have to repeat yourself later- but dammit, you were just so pretty. Really fucking pretty, it was hard for him not to get distracted. Initially, this whole collaboration had just been something that Eddie’s publicist had suggested for getting the newer generation listening to Corroded Coffin in time for their new album to drop at the end of the summerl, so when Eddie had first waltzed into your apartment he’d been expecting a kid; an innocent, teeny-bopper sort of persona. He hadn’t expected a loud, firecracker of a woman with hair the color of his old denim jacket. 

Eddie wasn’t an idiot. He was well aware that he was old enough to be your father. You were what- twenty-seven? Twenty-eight? Definitely under thirty. And here he was, pushing forty-seven with a salt and pepper shadow on his jawline. The hair on his head hadn’t started graying yet (he dreaded the day that he would have to use *gulp* hair dye) but he knew it was only a matter of time. For him to be ogling you like this? It would probably make you uncomfortable if you knew how often his eyes forgot to look away when you left the room. What was that old saying? Hate to see you go, love to watch you leave-

“Eddie?” 

Shit. He’d missed an entire conversation, hadn’t he?

He gave you his best apologetic smile, which didn’t work at all. You sighed, hanging your head low exasperatedly. “You didn’t hear a word of that did you?”

“Not a word, zoned out.” 

You threw a fortune cookie at him.

***

You and Eddie didn’t see each other for a while after recording the album. Eddie was there with the rest of Corroded Coffin to record the two tracks that they were featured in for the album, but after that plus a few guitar parts Eddie had been kind enough to record for some other songs, the two of you hadn’t had a reason to see each other. 

That was why you were so nervous for tonight. 

After working all summer and the better part of the fall, the album was finally finished. Copies of CDs and special edition vinyl were already being shipped out to music stores across the country and set to hit shelves in a week, so tonight was the kickoff event for your publicity tour: you would be joining Corroded Coffin tonight onstage for a surprise performance of Eat Me and  Freak. Tonight was October 31st, and premiering those songs on Halloween with the metal king that helped you make them the masterpieces they were? This was just one of those moments when the stars aligned poetically.

You looked yourself in the mirror, taking a deep breath to calm your nerves before heading to sound check. It had been a couple of months since you’d seen Eddie, but that wouldn’t matter, right? You’d spent a whole week workshopping incredibly personal- in some cases, intimately personal- songs with the guy, so singing onstage with him shouldn’t be a big deal. You were a professional, so it didn’t matter that you hadn’t performed in over two years, you could do this. Never mind the fact that this was the first performance of the rest of your career; never mind that sometimes the way Eddie looked at you make you feel like your knees were about to buckle; never mind that Eddie Munson, rock god and sex symbol of the metal world, was going to be within touching distance the moment you set foot on that stage…

A knock at the door of your tiny dressing room startled you, along with a voice letting you know that sound check was about to begin. Decisively, you grabbed your water bottle and headed to the stage before you could psych yourself out any more. 

When you got to the stage, Eddie was the first person you laid eyes on. He smiled at you, dark curls flying around his face and forming a sinful-looking halo around his face as he gave you a friendly nod- god, he was gorgeous. Waving back at him, you returned the nod and grinned. You wouldn’t be going on until the end of their set, so you situated yourself on an empty stool backstage with a view of the band. 

Their practice was fascinating to watch, how all four of the band members were so obviously masters of their craft, each ear trained to notice any imperfection in the way their instruments sounded through the stereos. Every once in a while, Eddie would look your way out the corner of his eye, just to check if you were still watching; you always were. Whenever he saw you looking directly at him, never glancing down at your phone or at the other band members (besides the odd look thrown in Gareth Emerson’s direction; the way his curls bounced was honestly hypnotic), he’d hold your eye contact, smirk into the microphone, and continue to belt out the lyrics to his songs with a smidge more cockiness than he had been prior. 

When the time finally came for you to join them, you took a deep breath and strutted to where Eddie stood in the center of the stage. No one had handed you a mic, so you weren’t sure where you were supposed to stand until Eddie moved aside to make room for you at his mic stand. 

You looked questioningly at Eddie. “You don’t need your mic?”

He chuckled, placing a hand on the small of your back as he put his lips to your ear. You figured he was just trying to avoid the mic picking up his voice, but the hand on your back… that was new. Was this a move? Was Eddie Munson making a move? On you?

Oh. 

That’s a fun development. 

“This one’s all you, darlin’.” Eddie said, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “I’ll stay out of your way. Also-” He pulled away enough to look you in the eyes, and your lips must have been a little too close to the mic because it picked up your fucking gasp. You jerked your head away from the mic, cursing yourself for being so nervous. 

Eddie definitely noticed, but all he did was chuckle, still staring at you with giant doe eyes framed by smile lines and bushy brown eyebrows. “-it’s good to see you, popstar.” There was no condescension in his tone this time; all you could find in his gaze was kind, genuine joy that you were here, and you couldn’t help but smile back. 

Confidently, you gripped the mic with both hands, smirking at Eddie through your side eye. You didn’t bother leaning away from the mic when you replied, sprinkling sultry into your voice. If Eddie Munson was trying to drop a hint, you wanted him to know you were receiving it.

“It’s good to see you too, rockstar.”

***

Mic check went flawlessly, which meant it was time for you and the band to eat in the green room while fans began lining up outside the venue, waiting for the doors to open. 

You had a couple drinks with the band while biding your time before you had to get dressed for the show. Much to your delight, Eddie never left your side the whole time. You had been close to him in your living room day after day when you’d worked on your songs, but this was different; you kept noticing little glances and touches that spoke louder than words- how his hands lingered longer than expected, never missing a chance to touch your arm or place a hand on your back to guide you as you walked. How his eyes were most focused whenever he was looking at you, and he never seemed to give you passing glances- every look he gave you was intense and purposeful, it made you shiver in a very good way. When he and the band left to get ready for showtime, he took a moment to check on how you were before leaving to go to his dressing room. 

“You nervous?” he asked. There wasn’t any judgment there, just concern for you. 

“Yes,” you admitted, “But I think I’ve got it.”

Eddie smiled widely, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and squeezing you tightly. “Oh I know you’ve got it, angel.”

You caught his wrist, holding it to your shoulder before he could retract it. Turning to him, you batted your eyes a bit before raising an eyebrow. “Angel, huh?”

Eddie inclined his head, eyes narrowing flirtatiously. “What, should I switch back to sweetheart?”

You smirked. “Only if you wanna make me mad.”

It took everything in you not to shrink back from him as he leaned forward, practically glowering over you. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but must have decided against it. You saw his tongue poke into the inside of his cheek as he nodded to himself, eyes narrowing further as if he were having a whole conversation within his head that you weren’t privy to. Finally, he gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze and you let him go, staring at him with every ounce of confidence you could muster. 

“...I’ll remember that, popstar.” he said, voice low and gravelly and sure to throw you into a coma if he said the right words with that voice at the right time. You didn’t let him see how much he was affecting you, though- save for a little grin that you couldn’t hide as he smirked at you and walked away.

When he exited the green room- and you were sure you were alone- you finally let out a breath that you’d been holding for what seemed like entire minutes. You grabbed your drink, chugging down the rest of your liquid courage in the hopes that it might also cool you down a bit. 

***

The cheers from the crowd were deafening, and the gravity of what was about to happen was starting to get to you. 

Corroded Coffin was about to start the song that would be your cue to join them. You stood in the wings like you had during sound check, this time fussing over your outfit to ensure every piece was in place. The fact that it was Halloween combined with the tone of your new album had influenced your wardrobe choice for the evening- ripped black jeans that were more rip than jean, a strappy black bustier top with a plethora of silver buckles that decorating the surface of your bodice where the sides attached at your sternum, fishnet fingerless gloves, and your favorite part of the outfit: the biggest platform boots you’d ever owned. You remembered seeing them and falling in love immediately with the straps that decorated the entirety of the shoe, as well as the silver buckles on each strap that matched your top like a dream. Paired with your blue hair, you looked strikingly goth and nearly unrecognizable from the girl your fans remembered. 

When Eddie announced you onstage, you had to take a deep breath before joining him out there. Slow inhale, slow exhale… and then you were overtaken with hot stage lights.

Out on the stage, you could really take in the size of this crowd- it was far larger than what you were used to, and when they realized who you were, they went wild. You couldn’t help but be intimidated until you felt Eddie’s hand gently grounding you as it ghosted the skin on your back.

His lips tickled your ear as he leaned in and whispered in your ear out of range from the mic, “Knock ‘em dead, sweetheart.” 

You felt a flare of indignation intertwined with delight, and you couldn’t help but laugh a little evilly into the mic at this little shit of a rockstar.

 He did that on purpose. 

You looked at him with the biggest smirk on your face, and it matched the smug, sultry grin on his. Silently, he nodded at the audience as if to say ‘Well? They’re waiting.’

You looked over your shoulder at Jeff on the bass, nodded, and right on cue as Jeff began the first note of the song, the entire stage was flooded with scarlet light. 

***

Eddie could tell you were nervous. Flirting with you probably wasn’t helping, and for all he knew, he might even be making you uncomfortable. 

However…

Over the years, Eddie’s gotten more perceptive when it came to the subtleties of body language. He didn’t miss the fact that you’d been leaning into every touch he ghosted over your skin, no matter how overt or fleeting those touches might have been. He’d seen the change in your eye contact when it lingered a little longer than necessary- that shift from attentive to intrigued, even a little wanting at times. 

The only question was what you wanted, and Eddie was really hoping it was him.

As he watched you take his place at the mic, standing monochrome in scarlet light, he bit his lip as he tried to hold back the salacious grin that slid across his lips; he was unsuccessful. 

Eddie hit his guitar part easily as you purred the lyrics that the two of you had slaved over into your microphone. 

Be more predictable

Be less political

Not too original

Keep to tradition, but stay individual

Thrusting ever so slightly with his warlock, Eddie channeled the rage and rebellion of your lyrics into every word, smirking with the next few lines- they had been one of the first additions to the song that he’d made, and you more than did them justice. 

Dirty but washable

Winning but stoppable

All that I’m hearing is

You wanna make the impossible possible

Even though you’d been nervous earlier, it looked like you’d been able to shake it all off. Confidence was rolling off you like waves, strength in your comfort onstage practically seeping out of your pores. Eddie felt proud, yes, but mostly? He was turned the fuck on by it. His eyes never left you as you carefully removed the mic from its stand and leisurely strode to the edge of the stage as you sang the next lines, punctuating the last with a little shake of your head and a comically disgusted wrinkle of your nose.

Is this what you’d all prefer?

Would you like me better if I was still her?

Did she make your mouths water?

Ugh.

Just like you’d practiced, flashing white lights littered the stage right on cue when the drums opened up the chorus, and you belted those lyrics with all the anger and exasperation that he knew you’d felt when you’d written them. You were a force to be reckoned with- this was that girl he’d met when he’d walked into your apartment acting like a jackass; this was the firecracker of a woman who wasn’t afraid to tell him exactly what she thought. 

I know the part I’ve played before

I know the shit that I’ve ignored

I know the girl that you adored

She’s dead, it’s time to fucking mourn

I can’t spoon-feed you anymore

I can’t spoon-feed you anymore

Dinner’s served, it’s on the floor

I can’t spoon-feed you anymore

You dropped to a crouch, for the end of the chorus, legs bent but spread slightly, and flashing lights glinted off the metal buckles of your platform boots. Your voice ripped from your chest as you belted into the mic.

You’ll have to eat me as I am

You’ll have to eat me as I am

Eddie was incredibly grateful for the crouch you’d dropped into, because it gave him a view of your ass that was so perfect, he actually groaned. Swooned, practically. Thank god you had his mic and the music was loud enough that no one noticed. He hoped. However, anyone with eyes could probably see that he was basically undressing you with his gaze right now, so he really needed to get it together unless he wanted to be on a front page tomorrow for the wrong reasons. He cringed, imagining the headline Munson Ogles Popstar Half His Age. Mid-Life Crisis? Yeah. His publicist would love that one. 

You stood back up, stalking the edge of the stage as you sang the second verse. When you were about halfway through, you turned to look over your shoulder at Eddie, and it just about knocked the breath from his lungs. Your eyes- lined in black and zeroing in on him like something out of his metalhead fantasies- smoldered like embers on the edge of a cigarette as you sang the second half of the verse to him. 

Longer hair and tighter clothes

Would you like me better if I didn’t oppose?

Silver platters, pretty bows…

You were at his side now, turned sideways from the crowd so you were facing him as he turned to face you in tandem. About a foot away from each other, the only thing between you was his guitar, thankfully big enough to hide the way his hard-on was quickly growing harder with every moment you looked at him with those eyes. 

Your expression shifted, eyes rolling as you threw your head back in mock boredom, amping the lines up to the extreme. As you lifted your head back up, you looked at him with the brattiest fucking face Eddie had ever seen as you delivered the final line of the verse into the mic.

…Fuck. 

And then you smirked, tip of your tongue peeking out of your lips and you winked at him. 

Fucking. Winked. 

Ohhhhhh, you were doing this on purpose. You had to be. 

And Eddie couldn’t do shit about it, because you were in the middle of a performance, on stage, jumping around in platform boots and screaming the chorus into your mic like fucking banshee. So he channeled every ounce of sexual frustration into shredding the fuck out of his guitar and staring you down, salivating at the way you blazed on that stage like a witch at the stake. Then, about halfway through that chorus, at the edge of the stage and working the crowd for all they could give you, Eddie just about had a heart attack.

Because you dropped to your fucking knees.

You let the music take control of you, screaming ‘I can’t spoon-feed you anymore’ into the mic, you dropped down to one knee followed by the other as you delivered the final lines before Eddie’s solo.

You’ll have to eat me as I am

You’ll have to eat me as I am

You held your last note long and loud, widening your knees and leaning into a backbend that didn’t stop until your upper back touched the stage behind you. Eddie was amazed that he was even able to remember his part when you were in front of him doing that. Jesus Christ.

Eddie continued to play, and he saw you crane your neck just in time to make eye contact with him as you delivered the next line of the song. You brought the mic to your lips, your knees still spread open and your spine deliciously arched.

Choke on it!

God…you were gonna kill him. 

You pushed yourself back into a kneeling position, facing the audience. As Eddie’s guitar solo became more complex, and his playing more impressive, your jaw dropped as you looked to the audience and fanned yourself, as if you were all sharing a joint reaction of ‘wow, are you guys hearing this too?!’. Eyes crinkling from your smile, you brought the mic to your mouth again. 

Choke on it!

Once you were back on your feet, you stood at ease in the center of the stage as you waited out Eddie’s solo. When he finished, you stared down the crowd as you delivered the last chorus. At this point, Eddie could see some of the spectators mouthing the words along with you, and his chest swelled with pride at your ability to win over a crowd that hadn’t even been expecting you on stage. Hell, knowing his fans, most of them were probably older than you by several years, and yet here they were singing your song. 

When you drew your first breath after the final note, the crowd went wild. He expected you to be staring at them, soaking up the energy of a satisfied throng of fans, but no- immediately, your eyes were on him, an ear-to-ear smile stretching across your face. You had just absolutely killed your first song performed in two years, and you wanted to share your joy with him before you shared it with anyone else. 

Eddie couldn’t help but mirror your smile- it was the least he could do, after the way you just made his heart swell to triple its usual size. He took a few steps over to where Jeff stood with his bass, nodding to the mic in a silent question, to which Jeff gladly stepped aside. 

“If this is what happens when you take a two-year hiatus,” Eddie said slyly into the mic, “then maybe you should do it more often, rockstar.”

The crowd cheered again, and you looked caught off guard by his calling you rockstar instead of popstar. To Eddie, it made perfect sense- tonight, there was nothing pop about you. You were rock & roll incarnate, his equal in every single way. You took a few steps back until you and he were the same distance from the edge of the stage, and as long as he was speaking, your eyes never left him.

“So I’ve been working with this absolute badass on an album- well no, I’m giving myself way too much credit, she wrote an album, I plucked a few guitar strings, yada yada yada-” You giggled as Eddie reminded the crowd of your name, loud and clear, so they knew who to look up on Spotify later. “-anyway, her album drops in a week, that last song you heard was called…”

Eddie looked at you with expectant eyes and a devilish smile. He wanted to hear you say it. Just for fun. He enjoyed being a little shit. 

You smirked into your mic. “Eat Me.” 

The crowd cheered again, all it took was hearing you say two little words. Eddie knew the feeling.  

“We’ve got one more before our lovely guest has to leave the stage, and this one is my personal favorite off the album.” Eddie started warming up with a couple chords from the song before adding, “This is Freak.”

You had replaced the mic into its stand at center stage, which was where Eddie headed to meet you. During sound check, you had asked him if he would need his own mic for this one, but Eddie- selfishly- had said it was no problem, and he didn’t mind sharing. That was a drastic understatement though, since he would happily leap at any excuse to have his lips close to yours in any capacity at all. 

You smiled at him, and you were doing that thing again- that thing where you looked at him like you were giving him a dare. That thing where you touched the tip of your tongue to your upper lip. 

Eddie wanted to bite that lip.

Instead, he smoldered down at you as he began the opening chords to Freak. 

***

You may not have been sure about Eddie’s feelings before tonight, but you were now. 

He wanted you. Bad. So bad, you felt high off the lust that was rolling off the man beside you. 

You could tell by the way he was looking at you that he wanted to do so many things to you here and now, but due to the giant crowd before you that wasn’t an option. The power trip of knowing that every move you made was driving him crazy and he couldn’t do shit about it made you feel bratty as fuck, and you channeled every ounce of that into each word of your next song. 

Pinch me, singe me, inch me to the edge

Your eyes fluttered shut as you let the sultry lyrics take over, arms bending as you brought them up to dance above your head as you stretched your neck back. Your pose mimicked the way you might have stretched across a bed, arching your back slightly in a way that you knew would make Eddie’s mind wander to all the right places. 

Prod me, laud me, ungodly but heaven-sent

As the tempo picked up for the bridge, your lips brushed the mic and you bounced slightly to the beat. Looking up at Eddie, you felt your chest tighten when you saw how blown his pupils were as they zeroed in on you. There was nothing silly or flirty in his gaze now- this was lust, want, need… it was predatory in a way that made you shiver.

Get your tickets to the freak show, baby

Step right up to watch the freak go crazy.

Eddie’s guitar launched into the chorus with you, both of your mouths breaking your little standoff by smiling because you couldn’t help yourselves- performing together, this close, singing lyrics that the two of you connected with- you were having so much fun. 

Am what I am and what I am is a piece of meat

Take a bite just to watch me bleed

Freak

Say what you want and what you want is behind your teeth

Ain’t gotta spell it out for me

Freak

Now Eddie’s lips were the ones on the mic, his throaty voice tearing through the air in a way that made you stop short from its power alone. He sang the first two lines on his own-

Bait me, you can cage me

Even plate me, I don’t care

You joined him for the bridge on one side of the mic while his mouth remained in place at the other, and his voice dropped down to his chest to create a sound that was more growl than song. He sounded demonic, feral- damn, you wanted to jump his bones right now. 

Get your tickets to the freak show, baby

Step right up to watch the freaks go crazy

As you both sang the chorus together this time, your eye contact across the microphone was charged with feelings reflected as though you were looking in a mirror. Anticipation for what would happen after this show was building with every lyric, and as he growled his lines into the mic you wondered what the headline would be if you stuck your tongue down his throat right now. 

Unfortunately, that wasn’t how you wanted to start this next leg of your career- at least publicly. Different time, different place. Like, say, in about thirty minutes. In your dressing room. Against a wall, preferably.

When you finished the chorus, Eddie shredded through his guitar solo like a bat out of hell, even improvised a scream into the mic that made your jaw drop yet again. Upon hearing it, you couldn’t help but let out a surprised laugh, hopping up and down in your platform boots and headbanging along with him. After he’d finished, you took hold of the mic stand with both hands and began chanting repeating lines that would take you through to the next chorus before ending the song. 

Came from the trauma, stayed for the drama

You sang the line twice before Eddie joined you for the third and fourth repetition, that deep, ripping croon tearing its way through his throat and out of his plush pink lips less than an inch from yours. You wanted to turn your head and look at him so badly, but you were so close that you’d be locking lips if you did. 

As you both sang the final chorus, you pulled back just enough for your gazes to meet; you were rewarded with lust blown umber eyes, sweat-soaked curls framing a face as timeless as music itself, and a grin that sparked pure joy in your very soul. 

If this guy can fuck, you might just fall for him. 

Eddie prompted the audience to cheer for you one more time after the song was over, shooting you a smile as he brought you in for a friendly hug. He was in front of thousands; you knew his hands would remain in strictly G-rated areas (unfortunately), but he did whisper in your ear out of range from the mic. 

“Wait for me in your dressing room.”

Bingo. 

You thought about following his lead- waiting patiently in your dressing room for him to finish up his show then have his way with you- but you had a better idea. You tilted your head up quickly to bring your lips up to his ear, your clear lip gloss catching its shell.

“I’m gonna keep watching you in the wings- you can do whatever you want after that.” 

Your eyes met as you pulled away, and you let yourself revel for a moment at the way he looked at you- like he wanted to, well…eat you. Eyes so dark they were almost black under the stage lights, he shook his head slightly in disbelief. Again, you felt that familiar rush of adrenaline from driving him crazy when he couldn’t do a fucking thing about it; you were beginning to think you might be addicted.

As Corroded Coffin finished their set, you stayed offstage and did exactly what you said you would- you watched Eddie every second. You were like a sponge soaking up every flip of his hair, every deft movement of his fingers as they flew across the frets of his guitar. Every once in a while, his eyes would flick to where you stood, checking to see if you were still there, which of course you were. Each time he saw you, you watched as he shook his head again, or rolled his eyes, or- in one case which almost resulted in you melting into a puddle on the floor- maintaining eye contact as he belted out lyrics to songs he wrote, with a gaze so smoldering it felt as if there were no one in the whole arena but the two of you. With every minute, every note, every song- you felt him spinning a web around you like a spider trapping its prey, and you willingly anticipated the moment he would finally storm off the stage and drink you dry.

And that’s exactly what he did.

The last song ended, and Eddie wasted no time in ripping his guitar from his torso, handing it to a roadie without a second glance and grabbing you by the hand. You didn’t protest as he pulled you into a corner backstage away from any prying eyes. Before you could think a coherent thought besides Wow, I’m wet, Eddie took both your wrists in his strong, ring-dappled hands and slammed them above your head against the wall. His eyes, black with lust and wolfishly hungry, bored into yours as he used the last ounce of restraint to hold himself back long enough to ask the vital question, “Tell me, you want this?”

He bit the words out; growled them into your face as your eyes widened, desire painting your expression a gorgeous shade of pathetic as you nodded desperately. A deep groan sounded from his chest as Eddie pressed his pelvis against yours, and you gasped at how hard he was. “Words, sweetheart, I need you to say it.”

That familiar flare of indignation in your chest mingled with the flames in your core that burned for all he had to give you. Your eyes shifted, screaming rebellion that harmonized with the submission that your body so desperately craved. The corner of your mouth quirked up in a mocking half-smile. “Fuck yes, I want it, what do you think I was bouncing around out there for-”

His lips murmured a “Fucking Christ,” as he cut your sentence short, smashing his needy mouth against your burgeoning smirk. His arms crumbled as he finally felt the release of his skin on yours, caging you in as his forearms collapsed against the wall, hands still closed around your wrists. His biceps flexed, framing your faces as he all but devoured you in a kiss that was so wanting, so possessive- it claimed you. It ruined all kisses that came before it and would ever follow it. 

He was ruining you, and you committed the way his whole body covered yours and made you feel both safe and coveted to memory, imprinting it on your mind knowing that you would probably never feel this wanted ever again. 

Then, just as soon as he was on you, his touch lifted away. 

A needy whine escaped your lips before you could hold it back. Eddie slotted his tattooed hand into the space where your neck met your jawline, thumb caressing your skin as he smiled sweetly down at you- but his eyes were anything but sweet.

“I gotta go back out for the encore. Go take these off-” you melted into his touch as his other hand played with the buckles at the front of your top. His hand at your neck crept back, taking your chin between his thumb and the middle knuckles of his forefinger as if he were scolding a child.

“-and wait in your dressing room.”

Your eyelids were heavy, and you smirked as you opened your mouth to argue-

“And don’t fucking argue with me.”

You bit the reply into your bottom lip- you could save the brattiness for later. Just as Eddie had begun to pull away, his eyes dropped to your teeth on your lip and in half a second he was on you again.

He sucked your bottom lip into his mouth, running his tongue along the soft skin before biting down firm enough to set off your mental alarms yet soft enough that you didn’t feel any pain from it. He pulled away once more, letting your lip go with a little pop.

“Been wanting to do that all night.” Eddie said, his shit-eating grin back in full force as he winked at you and jogged back to the stage. You stayed put for a second, smiling like an idiot as you heard the roar of the crowd, imagining what Eddie must look like while he returned to the stage with lips pink and swollen from his attempt at eating you alive. No one would know why he looked out of breath and a little extra happy… but you would. 

You’d never walked as fast in your life as you did in that moment, making a beeline for your dressing room, fingers already beginning to work on the buckles at your sternum.

***

When Eddie opened the door to your dressing room about ten minutes later, the gigantic grin on his face fell instantly when he saw you lounging on the couch in the same clothes you’d been wearing during sound check, sans your oversized skull sweatshirt. Your black shorts and knit tank top still showed plenty of skin, but he had explicitly told you to take off your clothes and wait for him. You were still in the mood to brat out, apparently. 

You looked up at him from your phone, smiling sweetly with challenging eyes. “Hi.”

Eddie closed the door behind him, leaning against it as it shut. “Hi.” he mimicked, crossing his inked forearms over his chest. He stared at you silently, expectantly.

You raised an eyebrow, coyly pretending not to know what he was being so pissy about. “What?”

Eddie pushed off the door, walking towards you at a pace that was agonizingly slow. “You know what.” 

You huffed haughtily, looking back at your phone and pretending to be more interested in your screen than the man who’d had you panting up against a wall ten minutes ago. “Well that’s a little presumptuous of you, I’m not a mind reader.”

It didn’t take Eddie long to cross the expanse of your tiny dressing room, deftly sliding the phone from your hands and placing it on a low table beside the couch. “Should’ve known you weren’t listening earlier,” Eddie tsked and shook his head in disappointment. “I know you were a little distracted back there, sweetheart, but when I told you to take your clothes off, I meant it.”

You sighed as Eddie stared down at you from where he stood, towering over you as you laid back against the couch cushions. His gaze devoured you piece by piece as it roved over your wide eyes, glossy lips- your shoulders still shining from sweat after giving your all to the stage, your chest as it rose and fell with your quickening breath. 

“Well,” you purred, like a cat who knew they were the center of attention and didn’t mind it in the slightest. “You didn’t say not to put on clothes after I took the other ones off…”

As you spoke he leaned forward, placing a knee on the couch between your legs so that your heat was only inches from his thigh. His hands splayed across your rib cage, admiring the stark contrast between his ink-covered hands and your soft, cream-colored shirt. It was thin enough to see… wait, were you-?

Eddie smirked, a breathy laugh escaping through his nose as he pulled the fabric taut, confirming his suspicions that yep, you weren’t wearing a bra. 

Oblivious to Eddie’s train of thought, you continued, “...if you wanted me to just wait here for you naked then you should’ve been more specif-”

Rrrrriiiiipp!

Your jaw dropped, cold air hitting your bare breasts without warning as Eddie tore your shirt open. You squealed, your shocked voice jumping up several octaves. “Eddie!” but your eyes told a different story. You were pissed, but the anger you felt was nothing compared to how fucking hot he looked after doing something as dominant and unexpected as ripping your fucking clothes off. 

He raised his eyebrows, giving you a moment to push him away in case he had gone too far- but you didn’t. Instead, you narrowed your eyes up at him and crossed your arms over your bare chest, pressing your cleavage together the way you knew would drive him nuts. “That was fucking Gucci!” you pouted.

Eddie laughed, taking your crossed arms and shoving them up above your head over the arm of the couch as he mockingly imitated your high-pitched “‘That was fucking Gucci!’” he lowered himself over you, bringing his face to the hollow of your neck, and you heard him inhale the scent of you from your collarbone to your ear. He wrapped his lips around the underside of your ear and sucked, then bit, savoring your little moan at the sensation. His mouth met your ear as he growled, “Wouldn’t have happened if you’d just done as you were told, instead of being a little fucking brat.”

Eddie pulled back, sitting up on his knee that was still slotted between your legs as he cupped his hands around your naked breasts. He kneaded them, played with you like he was testing out a brand new toy. He addressed you without looking up into your eyes as he continued to paw at your chest. “You gonna be a good girl now and do what I tell you to?”

You raised your eyebrows, amused that he expected your submission so quickly. Smugly, you looked up at him through narrowed eyes, placing your hands behind your head like a pillow and sighed petulantly. 

“Fucking bite me.”

His eyes snapped up at you, thick with predatory disbelief at your cheek even when he had you half naked beneath you. He’d been challenged before, sure- but at this point, when he had his woman pinned down and moaning under him, he was usually the undisputed decision-maker during sex. The smile that bloomed across his lips was devilish, almost like there was a beast within him that had been kept safely under lock and key- until you’d said that. 

Eddie was on you, grabbing one breast and enveloping the nipple in a harsh suck of his lips, biting down on the little nub hard. You gasped, the sound a lewd, sharp moan that brought out a laugh in him so nefarious it gave you chills. He looked up at you with eyes alight with amusement and feral need that shook you to your core.

“Oh, baby-” he laughed, crawling up until his face hovered over yours. “-I’m gonna have some fucking fun with you.”

Taking your face in his hands, Eddie Munson kissed you like it was what he had been put on God’s green earth to do. His lips moved against yours with a beautiful mix of urgency and devotion, like you could just tell that right here, right now, there was nothing else he cared about except making sure you knew exactly how badly he wanted- needed-  to make you his. He slowly lowered the rest of his body until his pelvis was flat against yours, grinding into your clothed heat and exploiting the chink in your brat armor that was the his fucking size. 

You bucked your hips up into him, craving friction as you moaned into his mouth. Eddie chuckled, stroking your cheek with his thumb. “What’s the matter baby, you need something?” 

You pouted against him, moving a hand to reach between the two of you and palm him through his jeans, but he knocked your hand out of the way, continuing to dry hump you to insanity. You whined as he bit your pouting lip, sucking it into his mouth before his tongue slipped into yours. It explored you, tasting you as your tongue happily let him in. You felt his hand creep down your torso, giving your abused, bitten tit a little squeeze before traveling further down to the button of your shorts.

He undid the button with ease before you registered that he was taking off your clothes after he had denied you access to do the same to him. “Hey,” you panted, reaching for him, “you first, that’s not fair. I’m nearly naked and you haven’t even taken off your shirt.”

Eddie chuckled, tilting his head to the side as he feigned confusion. “Fair?” he asked, “Since when did you want to play fair?” He reached back down to your shorts, button already undone, and gently pulled down the zipper. “You were the one out there- as you said- ‘bouncing around’-” His hands raked up your thighs until they reached the hem of your shorts and slowly tugged them down as you lifted your hips slightly so he could remove them smoothly. Eddie smirked; NOW she does what I want her to do.  “-knowing full well I couldn’t do a damn thing about it… and that fucking wink-” His eyes rolled back in his head just imagining it. He groaned as he pulled your shorts from your feet and discarded them on the floor. “-what the fuck was that, huh? Trying to get a rise out of me, baby?”

You giggled, bubbly laughter floating into a breathy sigh as Eddie’s finger traced the line of your slit through your panties. “Hmmmmm, like it when you call me baby.” you hummed.

 He raised an eyebrow, “Oh you do?” His finger traveled up over the fabric, and he chuckled when you bucked up into his touch as the pad of his finger passed over your clit. That finger slipped under the elastic waistband of your panties, pulling it upwards off your skin as far as it could stretch. “You’re entirely too happy right now,” he stated, matter-of-factly. He let go of the elastic, making you jump with a breathy whimper as it hit your skin with a soft sting. “I’m switching back to sweetheart.”

You whined and he laughed as he continued to play with the elastic on your panties. He stared at them, entranced, before a wolfish grin took up residence on his face. “You like these?” he asked, and you knew where this was going right away. 

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head in disbelief. “How kind of you to ask this time.” 

The grin grew, and he took the crotch of your panties into his fist, grabbing the fabric above it with his other hand to do the same. You ground your hips against his knuckles as they brushed your pussy, already soaked and eager for any friction you could get. “Yeah, you know what,” he voiced, as if he were simply thinking out loud. “I don’t really care if you like them or not.” 

And with that, another article of clothing was ripped to shreds by Eddie Munson and his stupid, tattooed, ring-covered, sexy-as-fuck hands. 

This time you couldn’t even be offended; you were just fucking feral at this point. While he was still distracted by your panties, you quickly shoved yourself up to a kneeling position, startling him enough that he moaned into the fervent kiss that crashed into his mouth. The two of you knelt on the couch cushions, hands grabbing at fabric desperately in a quest to make your skin connect at every square inch you had. Eddie allowed you to pull his shirt over his head, and the shallow breath you had left was instantly knocked from your lungs when you took in the ink that decorated his torso. Some tattoos were old and faded almost blue, while others looked newer- song lyrics, mythical creatures, hellish images adorned his skin like a tapestry that belonged in a museum- but it was here, under your hands. All for you. You couldn’t hold yourself back from bending down a little lower, sliding your tongue up his sternum over the masterpieces scarred into his skin and licking a long, broad stripe from his chest until you reached the tip of his chin. You felt him shiver, arms tightening around you after shoving the remains of your tank top over your shoulders. You started to push him back, planning to open his pants and show him what else you could do with your tongue- but Eddie wasn’t about to let you be on top after the way you’d been acting all night. 

“Mm-mm, nope.” he mumbled, stepping off the couch.

“I’m just trying to suck your cock, baby. Please?”  You looked up at him with your best puppy-dog eyes, widening your legs as you knelt on the couch facing him, squishing your boobs together in that way that usually got you exactly what you wanted. For some reason, Eddie was immune. 

He placed his hand along your neck, thumb and forefinger squeezing just enough for him to feel your pulse. The way your eyes widened, looking up at him the same way you had when he’d shoved you up against a wall earlier- it brought a satisfied hum out of Eddie, and he loved the way he could feel your heartbeat quicken slightly. There was no hiding what you felt when his hand was wrapped around your throat. 

“You like calling me baby, sweetheart?”

You gulped. He felt it, of course, and he had to hold back a laugh- you looked so cute like this. Made him want to break you just to see what you’d be like when he picked up the pieces. 

Your eyes were blown wide, like a hunted fox with nowhere to run. “Is that okay? Can I call you baby?”

His face crumpled- god, you were adorable. Eddie smiled sympathetically, “Oh you can call me whatever you want, sweetheart-” His thumb moved up to your bottom lip, stroking gently before working it into your mouth; he groaned, head thrown back when he felt your soft, wet tongue swirl around his digit and coat it with your spit. 

“-don’t care what you’re calling me as long as you know I own your ass tonight.”

And then you moaned- oh, you fucking moaned his name around his finger in your mouth, and his cock twitched at the way it sounded. He wanted to record that, play it on loop, put it in a fucking song, hell- anything for him to be able to listen to it again and again and again. He wanted everyone to hear it, to know it was his name on your fucking tongue.

His thumb ripped from your mouth, replaced by his middle and ring finger, delving surprisingly deep into your mouth as you gagged around them. Your tongue quickly resumed its previous motions, lapping at his thick fingers and sliding over, under, around, between them. You reveled in the taste of metal as you tongued his silver rings. You gasped when he removed his fingers before, without warning, he slid them into your weeping pussy.

Your expression was beautifully obscene, eyes wide with surprise while your mouth- glistening with spit from his fingers leaving in a rush- fallen open in a silent scream. Eddie thrust his fingers up and into you repeatedly, forcing you open wider and wider with the rapid motion.

“Actually, I changed my mind,” Eddie grit into your ear, “I don’t wanna hear anything but my goddamn name leave that pretty ‘lil mouth until I’m done with you, aright?”

You were moaning, but evidently that was still not enough to deter you from being your snarky self. “Well that’s unrealistic, I’ll probably say more than just tha- ah! Oh fuck-!”

Eddie’s pace was relentless, fingers ripping through you with a vengeance as he muttered “Bratty little slut-” spearing you over and over as you sped toward the white-hot precipice that wasn’t quite release, but certainly what Eddie intended to pull out of you. 

You moaned as what felt like a dam within you suddenly gave way, flooding your inner thighs, Eddie’s hand, and the couch beneath you. Eddie smiled wide, the muscles in his arm screaming pointlessly- he wasn’t going to stop until you’d given him every last drop there was to give. 

“-yeah, not so bratty when you’re squirting all over my hand, are you baby? What, are you trying to say something? Spit it out, popstar-”

The noises tumbling from your lips were anything but coherent, Eddie knew that. He just kept grinning like a kid in a candy store as you babbled sounds that might have been his name, might have been a prayer, might have just been yes, yes, yes, Eddie, god yes! 

Whatever it was, it was music to his ears. 

Eddie looped his arms under your knees, pulling you into a sitting position with your legs wide open. Dropping to his knees, he stared at your spread pussy, glistening with the slick he’d just wrestled from you. His hands, wet with all you’d given him, grasped your thighs firmly but gently as he looked up into your eyes. It might have been the post-orgasmic haze you were experiencing, but for a second, Eddie looked at you with nothing in his eyes but care and admiration. His gaze shone like sunlight as he looked up at you, your stomach creasing from the crunch position he'd placed you in, your breasts rising and falling with each breath- the way he stared at you made you feel like an angel. 

“God, you’re fucking beautiful.” he whispered, hands squeezing your thighs affectionately. Before you could even react, his tongue was on you, lapping away at your soaked pussy. You mewled, head thrown back and spine arching as unraveled you from the inside out. He traced endless intricate shapes over your clit, your lips, your hole- thoughts flew from your brain as you let his mouth drive you fucking wild. His ministrations slowed at one point, causing you to open your eyes- you couldn’t even remember when you’d closed them- and look up at Eddie. 

Upon looking up, you were blessed with the sight of Eddie Munson, close-cut beard soaked with your slick, shirtless, pantsless, and currently pulling off his black boxers to reveal a cock that made you salivate on sight.

You let your brattiness fly out the window- there would be time for more of it later, but right now you needed that cock in one of your holes and you didn’t quite care which one. 

Eddie stroked himself leisurely, eyes boring down into yours the whole time. “Tell me what you want, babygirl.”

You spread your legs open wider for him. “Please.” you whined. 

Eddie shook his head, disappointed, sinking to his knees again. “See, this is what I knew would happen,” he murmured, sliding a finger around your clit at a torturously slow pace. “I can’t believe you got fucked stupid already and I didn’t even have to use my cock, those were just my fingers, baby.” From the slick sounds you heard from below your line of sight, you knew that he was jerking himself off as he played with your pussy. It was enough to pull a desperate moan from your throat. He licked one flat, wet stripe from your opening to your clit before murmuring against you, “Can’t even use your words and tell me what you want, sweet girl’s been fucked too dumb to make decisions, is that right?”

You found yourself nodding ‘yes’, the dirty words flying out of his mouth in rapid succession throwing your brain into overdrive. He was right; you barely had the brain capacity to think right now, much less match his attitude with snark. All you could do was stare up at him with wide eyes, waiting for whatever he planned on doing next. 

Eddie clicked his tongue, tilting his head as he looked at you pityingly. “That’s right, don’t worry baby I’ll just make all the decisions now, okay?” He rose, leaning over you as he placed a knee to your side and stroked himself, lining up his fully hard cock at your entrance. Your heartbeat quickened, excitement and anticipation building now that you knew his cock would be inside you soon. You mewled as his tip stroked your slit, up and down and up and down again… and stopping at your hole, hovering outside you. 

You looked up at him desperately, only to breathe in sharply upon seeing his devilish grin paired with coal-black lust-blown eyes. 

“Beg for it.”

You sighed so heavy it became a sob, frustrated and scrunching up your face like you were ready to throw a tantrum. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” you whined.

“There she is.” he murmured.

If looks could kill, your glare would have sent Eddie Munson to his deathbed. He matched it with a condescending smile that spoke volumes of the power trip he was on right now. Leaning in slightly closer, he repeated himself. “Beg, sweetheart.” 

You narrowed your eyes. “No.”

Eddie shrugged, backing up just enough for his cock to leave your skin- you knew it was over from there. 

“Wait!” you cried, eyebrows drawing together desperately under his cocksure gaze. Christ you didn’t want to beg, but you might not have a choice. Eddie waited patiently, stroking his cock absentmindedly as he watched you squirm below him. 

You looked up at him, giving him your best ‘fuck me’ eyes. “Please fuck me Eddie.” Your voice was honey sweet, soft and submissive.

Eddie crouched down, sticking a finger in his mouth before he used it to play with your pussy, stroking circles around your clit and pumping it slowly in and out of you. “Aww, baby…” he crooned before narrowing his eyes. “-we both know you can do better than that.”

You groaned, back arching as your hands fisted frustratingly into the cushions. “Eddie, pleaaasse-”

“Try harder, sweetheart.”

“Fuck, Eddie you fucking prick, just fucking fuck me, please, I need your cock-”

Eddie smiled- that was good enough for him. “‘Atta girl.” he groaned deeply as he pushed his cock into your waiting hole, your thankful moan mingling with his. 

His dick was perfect, filling you deliciously and long enough to just hit that spot beneath your clit that made your nerves go berserk. You didn’t realize how loud your moaning was until Eddie shut you up by covering your mouth with his own, swallowing down every sound you made and repaying you with noises of his own. 

“God, baby- so fuckin’ tight-”

You moaned, squeezing him as his cock speared you again and again. You were so built up between your squirting earlier and Eddie’s talented tongue- you were already getting close. 

As if he could read your mind, Eddie grunted out as he continued thrusting into you, “I’m nearly there already, baby, you gonna cum with me?”

You whined, nodding ‘yes’ as he pacified your mewling with his thumb. You lapped at it lewdly, covering him with a thick layer of your spit before releasing it with a pop. Eddie brought it down to your clit, working gentle circles around your bundle of nerves as his thrusting picked up the pace. You squirmed under him, chasing your release as you listened to the filth that poured from his mouth while he fucked the living shit out of you. 

“Jesus, fuck, so tight- my sweet girl, gonna fucking ruin you. Gonna make you come undone on my cock, just a fucking mess, gonna cum so hard on my cock-”

That last thing he said seemed to jerk him back into reality- his eyes grew wide, snapped out of his high as he looked down at you. “Shit, I don’t have a condom…baby, I’m so sorry, shit, where should I-”

You reached down, raking your nails softly over his hips. “I’m on birth control.” you said, smiling calmly. You kicked yourself for being so eager; normally you would still insist on a condom even with your implant, but Eddie just did something to you. “You haven’t been fucking any random groupies, have you?”

Eddie huffed, his laughter strained by his fast-approaching orgasm. “You’re the first in a while, angel. Last I checked I was clean, but I can still pull out if you-”

“Inside.” you whispered, grasping his ass and pulling him deeper into you. “I trust you, Eddie, I want you to fill me.”

His movements stuttered, big brown eyes wide and watching you like you were a miracle unfolding underneath him. He was still for half a second before his thumb resumed its movements over your clit as he thrusted faster, harder than before.

“Oh fuck, you want me to fill you baby? You want my fucking cum?” 

His cock speared into you as deep as it could go, Eddie’s attention to your clit driving you over the edge with relentless speed. “Yes, I want it Eddie, fuck, I’m gonna-”

“Fucking take it baby, cum on that cock.”

Eddie groaned as you clamped down on him, his seed spilling inside of you while your pussy fluttered around him. You arched your back until your face was pressed into the cushions behind you, muffling your whimpering voice as you moaned his name. 

A few moments passed, the air thick with the sound of heavy breathing and the smell of sex, before Eddie slowly pulled out of your wet heat. You laid there for a moment before you felt Eddie clean his sticky spend from your thighs and ass using a tissue. 

“Normally,” he said gently, “I would use a warm washcloth to do this, but we have limited options.” 

You sat up as he finished, smiling up at him playfully. “That sounds nice,” you said, “maybe I shouldn’t have listened to you earlier, made you wait until you couldn’t take it anymore and just whisked me off to your place.” 

Eddie sat down beside you, pulling you into his lap. He looked up at you with nothing but content sweetness in his eyes, any trace of the feral dominance from earlier gone for now. “I mean, we can still do that.”

You beamed, “Really?”

Eddie scoffed, tugging you closer. “What do you mean, ‘really’? You think I need to be desperately horny to want you in my bed?” 

You felt your cheeks heat up at the mention of his bed. “I don’t know… I guess I didn’t know if you wanted this to just be a one time thing, or…” You trailed off, unsure of what Eddie’s expectations had been for what happened after.

Eddie’s eyebrows drew together, confused. “Sweetheart,” he said, his finger tracing circles on your thigh affectionately. “We can hash out details whenever you’re comfortable… but tonight? I would count myself a very lucky man if you came home with me tonight.” He touched his forehead to yours, placing a gentle kiss on the tip of your nose. “Okay?” he asked.

You looked down, suddenly shy upon hearing his honey-sweet words. You gave him a quick peck on the lips before looking him in his big brown eyes. “Okay.” you whispered. 

Your eyes stayed connected, melting you until your lips met his again, kissing him sweetly as his hands worked their way to your ass, squeezing as he sighed into your kiss.

“Alright,” he grunted, playfully slapping your thigh as a signal to stand up. “Let’s get you dressed.”

You giggled. “In what? You ripped up all my clothes!” you held up the shredded panties, shaking your head in disbelief.

Eddie shrugged, stepping into his boxers. “I didn’t rip up all of them, don’t be so dramatic.” He picked up your shorts, tossing them to you. “Just go commando with the shorts and wear your sweatshirt, no one will know.” 

You sighed, stepping over your torn Gucci tank top and retrieving your bra from where it sat neatly folded in a chair. Eddie looked over his shoulder at you as you began to put it on and gasped. 

“You did have a bra!”

You smirked, reaching behind your back for the clasp. “Yeah… I wanted to see your face when I wasn’t wearing one.” 

Eddie shook his head, smiling like an idiot as he buckled his jeans. “Unbelievable.” he chided, “Was it worth it?”

You tugged your sweatshirt over the bra, taking a few steps in Eddie’s direction until you were close enough to snake your hand around to the back of his neck and pull him down for one more kiss. When you pulled away, Eddie looked down at you entranced, blinking rapidly as if emerging from a dream. He could only describe the feeling in his chest as complete and utter euphoria. 

You grinned up at him, eyes alight with adrenaline that still lingered from your performance onstage and absolute infatuation with the man before you.

 “So worth it.”

[tteokdoroki]

THE PERFECT SHADE OF PURPLE - suguru geto.

✩ — about. “i buy her gifts like i would for my sister and she likes them. we recently fucked at her place of work, i know it’s wrong but i just can’t stop.” suguru geto never thought he’d end up here. in a new city with a new job and a new life. he never wanted to lose his little sister to his best friend. he never wanted to replace her. never wanted to fuck someone who looked exactly like her. but here you are, and geto can’t help but want you the same way he wants her. he just had to get that off his chest… ( 11.4K )

✩ — warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact! dark content, nsfw, smut, hurt-comfot, open ending - video banner ! AITA-verse!au (read part one here !), bakery!au, italics mean the characters are speaking in japanse, situationships, co-dependency ( on suguru geto ), manipulation, gaslighting, praise, use of oni-chan/nii chan/imouto, fingering (f!receiving), public sex, unprotected sex, oral sex (f!receiving), overstimulation, orgasm control, multiple orgasms, creampies, bilingual!geto, japanese speaking + fem!reader.

✩ — things to note. hehe hi everyone!!! pls im reposting this again :( it was written as a gift for @todorosie and the very idea spawned from her love for geto in my AITA gojo fic !! it’s sort of a continuation and set in the same universe so you might need to read to understand the plot. special thanks to @antizenin for beta reading n helping me come up with some ideas !! enjoy guys, mwah mwah - m.list ⋆ read on ao3 ! ִ ࣪𖤐₊ ⊹

look, i know it’s bad… but my adopted sister and i were always close. she looked up to me and needed me for everything, up until a month ago when she betrayed my trust and fucked my childhood best friend.  i got a therapist, went low contact and moved to a completely different country in order to avoid w everything. but nothing helped, i think of my sister every day and sometimes… i picture bad, dirty things. recently i met this girl, she’s the spitting image of my adoptive little sister. they look the same, act the same — i think i’ve started falling for her. i buy her gifts like i would for my sister and she likes them. we recently fucked at her place of work, i know it’s wrong but i just can’t stop. 

TLDR: i’m fucking and have feelings for a girl that’s a carbon copy of my adopted younger sibling.

the city of new york is meant to be the city of dreams.

at any given moment, your fate can change. anything can happen here, you can make it big and live out your life or you can go home and lead one of regret. suguru geto feels like neither are true for him. the bustling city and flashing lights, busy concrete streets and honking taxis bring the dark haired  man anything but joy. suguru isn’t happy here, in new york, despite all the wonders that it holds — irregardless of the grand job opportunity he has waiting for him just around the corner. 

suguru geto had the chance of a lifetime to develop his career as a criminal defence lawyer in one of the most opportune cities in the world. his dream since he was old enough to understand the wrongs of the world. 

but that’s merely not enough to keep him content, to make him want to stay. 

he doesn’t want to go home either, he’s sure he would hate himself for thattoo. it would be a waste of suguru’s talents to return to japan prematurely, with its nauseating air and sense of betrayal that follows him everywhere he goes. home is supposed to be where one is happiest and safest — it’s where his family is, where he was raised and first opened his eyes. but for the lawyer, japan no longer serves to comfort him and only constantly reminds the man of his little sister, who’d fucked his best friend just a month prior. 

that very instance was enough reason for him to leave the country in the first place — he had to get out, had to escape the very fact that haunted him day and night. 

like any other adult with a shit load of trauma, suguru invests in the best therapist his money can buy — especially now that he can’t spoil is younger sister with it. the older woman with her stuffy office, beady eyes and chipped painted nails had prescribed the man with a short break, a change of pace from the life he was used to, to give himself the grace and time to heal from the heartbreak of losing the two most important people in his life. his best friend, satoru gojo, and his adoptive little sister. 

he had no idea where gojo was now, thirty days later, and suguru knew his little sister had probably moved out of their hometown by now to kick start her career. so even if all of that meant that suguru geto could go home…he wouldn’t. he would use the vastness of new york to give himself the breathing room he needed to heal, fill his bloodstream with fresh oxygen so that it would clot and cover up his fresh wounds of betrayal, turn scabs into scars and let him slowly recover.

at least that’s what his therapist had told him to do — in the suffocating purple walls of her office. 

yet, so far, suguru’s escape to new york hadn’t exactly gone according to plan. every corner of the city painfully reminds him of the hole in his heart, where his innocent little sister should be. after her graduation he’d planned on taking her here as a reward for all of her hard work, but now, suguru faces his own bitter reality — every landmark has her face etched into its side, skyscrapers and their glass windows refract the light of her smile, while famous dinner spots tie to the endless list of reservations she’d reminded suguru to make. hell, even his daily routine of hailing infamous yellow taxi cabs reminds him of her precious excitement to go. 

new york was a city big enough for both geto siblings, but too large for just the one. 

it’s a wonder that suguru has been able to live without his sister for this long — it’s only been a month but he’s spent his entire life looking out for her. protecting her. he hardly knows what to do with himself now that he has all this extra time. 

suguru knew that she was way too dependent on him, it was bad — he was painfully aware of that. but he couldn’t help it, she needed someone to protect her and nurture her, she needed someone to teach her about the dangers of the world. she needed her big brother. perhaps if the dark haired man had been less protective of his sister and given her some sort of independence… then maybe he wouldn’t miss her so much, he wouldn’t have lost his best friend as collateral damage in the process. he would still have the two of them, and she could be happy with gojo. 

the guilt of what ifs and what could have beens tirelessly weigh down suguru’s heart at the thought — he caused this. this rift between the soul-bonded pair. if he had raised her better, let her spread her wings like a free bird, then he would still have her in his life. 

at this point, he’s realised something dire. suguru can’t live without her, his little sister. her bright eyes in the morning and the sweet tune to her voice when she calls out for him — it’s weird, it’s bad…how much he misses and needs her. borderlining on strange, it’s only now that suguru realises how unhealthy their dynamic as siblings had been. how reliant he was on his baby sister to need him. it should have never been that way, he shouldn’t need her so desperately to function. keeping her under such a close watch was probably what drove her into the arms of satoru in the first place. 

the concrete wilderness of suguru’s new home provides no relief from these epiphanies and the chambers of his heart that slowly seem to be dying without his sister. instead he feels trapped in his own addiction, as if he’s going through the withdrawal after dependency on drugs. 

whenever suguru feels immense waves of guilt, like a tsunami that might pull him under and replace the clean air in his lungs with the murky water of his own sour thoughts and emotions; whenever he misses home a little too much; whenever he feels like the world his crashing down on him once more — his therapist and her purple nails tapping against her clip board comes to mind. she tells suguru to take a walk, especially when he’s overcome with thoughts of the situation back in december. when his chest feels too tight and feels like picking up the phone and calling his sister before he’s ready to. 

so geto does just that, lugging on his winter coat as he prepares to take a walk downtown while the sun sets.

suguru tends to think that his therapist is full of shit. 

she believes in the colour purple, she believes that there is purpose and meaning in concepts like colours that are based on fact and science. the light reflects, and people see colour. 

as she had explained to the man in an hour long session just two weeks ago, purple is supposed to be the colour of healing; though to suguru, purple makes him feel sick. it’s everywhere, in the lavander-ish off-white walls of his new york-rented apartment, the flowers in the stalls on his way to work, the skies at night. suguru thought he was a rational man, that he was calm and collected — able to see the reasons behind everything he comes across…but he still doesn’t understand the significance of colours like purple and its connection to healing. 

all suguru knows is that he did like the pretty hollow shade that formed a ring around satoru’s bright blue eyes. of course, after having the shit beaten out of him for touching what belonged to suguru. for corrupting his innocent baby sister. 

aside from that, tonight’s walk is mostly uneventful, full of couples getting ready for date night and business people heading home to their happy families for the night. suguru despises them, strangers on the street minding their own business. he hates these passer-bys for their happiness, a joy he can no longer experience. going home. it leaves a bitter taste on his tongue. 

he misses his family. the warmth and love from his mother, the poor jokes from his father… the looks of adoration and hugs from his sister. it’s not fair. he shouldn’t have had to give that up because of the selfish actions of his ex-best friend. 

suguru decides to turn back and head for his apartment when the street lamps start to flicker and turn on. 

however, on his commute, a familiar scent tickles his senses and brushes over his nose. the man finds himself following, enchanted by rich flavours that he recognises from his youth — sweet red bean and spicy curries overlay the city’s natural smells and suguru makes an attempt to track it down. like a fool, he sprints after the scent like a hound dog tracking a hunt and stops a few strides short of a quaint japanese bakery with a set of deep indigo flowers climbing up it’s worn down exterior. 

suguru recognises the flowers to be shobu. irises. 

standing before the sliding doors, geto inhales, overwhelmed and overcome with emotion. the sweet smell triggers memories of home and how his parents would take him and his sister out to get treats when they were small. how that became a tradition for the geto siblings when they were old enough to go out on their own. 

he remembers how his sister would beg him for a box of sakura mochi every time they went, and how he would so easily relent — even if it meant spending all of that week’s pocket money. suguru is so carried away with his thoughts that he hardly notices himself taking steps into the bakery, or lining up at the counter, or you.

calling him up to the counter. 

you’re a pretty girl. that’s the first thing suguru notices. your eyes are beautiful, a deep brown that reminds him of roasted chestnuts and warm chocolates, your face is round with a soft edge of youth. the uniform that you wear hugs every dip and curve of your body and the braids you have are lengthy and black, perfectly framing your face. when you speak, your voice carries gentle dulcet notes that make suguru’s heart flutter — like music to his ears. 

you are one thousand percent suguru geto’s type and everything about you, this little bakery attendant, reminds suguru of his younger sister. 

right then and there, everything clicks into place for him. 

“sir, can i get you anything?” you ask him kindly, not wanting to push or scare away a potential customer. nor pressure the handsome stranger, since he’s holding up your line. “sir?” you repeat, finally garnering his attention after squirming under his intense stare. 

not that you mind being stared at by him, for this particular customer is right up your alley. 

from his milky skin, desperate to be marked, to his lengthy dark tresses that you’re dying to pull at and tug. his jaw is angular, sharp enough to the point where you fear you would cut yourself should you have the chance to touch it. despite the razor edges to his features, he looks kind…almost wistful, at most. a quality that does nothing to calm the hungry flame catching light in your lower tummy.

the two of you remain admiring one another until a customer in the queue clears their throat impatiently — causing both of you to jump. 

“s-sorry,” geto mumbles the apology quickly, his pale cheeks tinged with a subtle pink despite how hot they feel. he’s suddenly become all too aware of the line that he’s holding up. one that he’s not even supposed to be in, since he’d walked in here on instinct anyway. his dark, narrow eyes sweep the counter in search for something, anything to order so that he doesn’t look like a complete idiot in front of you or the rest of the customers. 

more specifically, yourself. 

“i would recommend the sakura mochi,” then, like an angel sent from the heavens, you try your luck in conversing with suguru in japanese. his nervous and skittish gaze shoots up to your face, shoulders sagging in relief and familiarity. you truly are like a piece of home. like his little sister. suguru likes that more than a normal man should. “they’re popular amongst our customers, it’s taken our owner years to perfect her recipe with the ingredients here. especially since leaving japan.” 

suguru grins and nods, spotting the dessert he’s so accustomed to buying in the display cabinet. his heart lurches, yearning for his little sister. “these?” he whispers to you, the syllables of his native language curling around his tongue naturally. “they look just like the ones from home.”

there’s a sparkle in your eyes when he responds, and you continue to speak to him in sugary tones. “they taste just as goodtoo, i promise!”

“then, i’ll take a box.” 

“how many? they come in boxes of four, eight and sixteen pieces.”

“just the four, please.” 

taking your tongs from the metal counter behind the cabinet, you fish out four of the best pieces of sakura mochi and tentatively place them into a pre-folded cardboard box for the handsome customer. as he dives deep into his pocket for his card to pay, you quickly add an extra piece — uttering something about it being on the house under your breath. 

the action leaves both of you bashful and suguru taps his card on the machine you’ve set up for him to pay. “ah, thank you…” suguru searches for your name in the candy scented air and you tap your badge with a cute acrylic nail to draw attention to your name which he breathes out in a husky tone, failing to mask its curious lilt as he returns to english.

“no worries, have a good evening, sir.” you giggle shyly, still managing to bid him farewell. 

on his way home, suguru can’t help but to replay the entire interaction in his head over and over again. in his brief three minutes of meeting you, you’d managed to fix the hole in his heart, help it beat properly again. you’re just like her, his little sister, and that is a dangerous fact. 

he reaches his apartment with a flushed face, feeling a little flustered, but a lot better than he was before the start of his walk. 

after work, a few days later, geto finds himself back in front of the bakery, working up the courage to go inside and see you.  

no matter how hard he tried and how much of his work he tried to throw himself into — suguru couldn’t get the vision of you out his head. your saccharine laugh haunted him as he reviewed case files, your timid smile chased him through his lunch break and your small act of kindness (speaking with him in Japanese) has him all worked up and blushing by the time he’s able to clock out for the day. 

the dark haired  man feels insane, he knows that this is weird — projecting the image of his adoptive sister onto you, but like a man on drugs he can’t seem to quit. he needs to get his fix. he needs to see you again. entering the bakery once again is like stepping into a new domain, and suguru damn near forgets his simple plan to talk to you. order sakura mochi, say thank you, and leave. while he waits in the queue, his courage mounts in slow stacks and anxiety fades, but by the time he’s up front and face to face with you again — suguru’s brain is completely wiped of every word he was going to say. 

“ah, it’s you again!” you greet him in japanese once more, instinctively reaching to brush your braids out of your face in order to look more presentable to the handsome stranger who’s been plaguing your thoughts as well. suguru thinks you’re cute, regardless of the rice flour smeared across your cheeks and the various mysterious (though surely tasty) stains that decorate your uniform. he even finds it endearing, the way that you share the same nervous gesture of playing with the ends of your braids like his little sister. “i was just wondering when you were going to come in from the… mmm, cold? you’ve been standing and… uh! staring from out there for a while.” you continue to tease the man warmly in his native tongue, choosing your words carefully and avoiding eye contact with him while you prep the tongs for his order. “what can i get for you today?”

so much for not humiliating himself in front of the pretty girl. “i’m sorry… i’ll just take some sakura mochi again,” suguru begins, this time in english to spare you the trouble of overthinking everything that you say. “i was trying to figure out how to do this,” he places a wad of cash on the counter while you prepare his order. your chocolatey eyes blow wide, sweet glazed lips parting softly at the mere sight. you’re sure there’s enough money in the stack to cover an entire week’s worth of your wages and if a stranger can just give away such a large amount… it makes you wonder what he’s even doing at a humble place like this. “it’s a tip from last time. i never got to thank you.” 

“oh… i was just doing my job!” you stammer out politely and prepare to reject the tip, but suguru refuses to let you refuse his gift — forcefully pushing the ‘tip’ over the edge of the glass. he really couldn’t help but to give the money to you, hardly fighting the urge to spoil you with cash like he would with his little sister. besides, the man earned more than enough to drop it on you without putting a dent in his pocket. 

“you did more than that… just the simple act of kindness in conversing with me, a stranger, in japanese. that was nice of you.” suguru counters. “thank you. how did you know?” 

you work on preparing a thin and white cardboard box for his order before walking along the dessert counter, followed by you. “i had a feeling, a lot of people come in here when they’re missing something,” he frowns and your eyes finally meet his. “someone.” you breathe out, quietly. “i took a guess, figured you might have been from japan.” 

“well, you were correct…” 

your heart skips a beat at the sound of your name on his tongue as he says it. it’s so gentle it makes you feel faint and you’re absolutely charmed by a man you hardly know. “does that earn me brownie points…?” you trail off, wanting to capture his name. 

“suguru.” 

“ah, suguru meaning…” giving the man a once over, you drink in his tall frame and dark eyes, the small quirk to his plush lips as he smiles at you… and think. he’s the perfect man in every way, soft spoken and clement, even if he did have flaws or a dark secret — you would definitely choose to ignore it in favour of spending more time with him. once you find the word you’re looking for (and snap out of staring at the poor guy) you speak again. “excellence…it suits you.” 

geto chuckles quietly in response, amused by your take away.  “your name suits you too, darling. it’s just as beautiful as you.” 

when you giggle and grow shy at his compliment — the honeyed melody only serves to remind suguru of his little sister once more. in that moment, he feels something bad and almost wretched stir in his gut just from watching you turn bashful over him. a dark thought in the back of his kind tells him to keep you, so that he can see you like this more often. it urges him to make you need him. like he would have with his little sister. 

he’s starting to project, he’s sure, but you make it easy for him, with your puppy dog eyes and tiny little smiles. once geto’s order is packed, four little squares of sakura mochi wrapped in emerald green and brined sakura leaf — smelling of spring and red bean, he pays (with a hefty tip) and inspects the box. “you’ve got to stop giving me things for free, darling. we’ve only just met.” he chides fondly, scolding you like a child as if to make sure you won’t get in trouble with your job. he’s counted five mochi instead of four — just like last time. “won’t this hurt business?” he coos down at you — sending your body into a fit of shivers despite the warmth of your uniform. 

“well, i’d consider us friends now that you’ve come specifically to see me. friends can’t give each other gifts?” you quip cheekily — much like suguru’s sister would. “you got to spoil me today, no one is going to notice an extra piece of mochi going missing.” 

“friends it is,” surugu purrs right back in satisfaction, preparing to take his leave. cautiously, as though not to spook you like a hunter after a deer in the woods — he reaches over the counter to pat your head affectionately, internally pleased with the way you keen into his touch. “i hope to see my new friend around more often, then.” he hums with pride, and you nod your head eagerly. 

like a puppy. like you want to please him. 

it reminds geto all too much of his little sister — who only ever wanted to make the dark haired man proud. 

over the coming weeks, suguru finds himself at the bakery more often than not. as though it’s a part of his daily routine. 

he’ll take his walk after work, stop by and purchase some sakura mochi, before leaving you with another little gift. at first, his gifts started out as wads of cash in place of tips, then slowly turned to more materialistic things, items that you could hood or wear as if they were to geto’s his claim on you. like flowers, jewellery or clothes. things you couldn’t afford on your own, things he’d like to see you in, things his little sister would like to receive if they were still in contact with one another. 

suguru knows that you can’t afford these things because you’ve let it slip over coffee and mochi that you rent the apartment above the bakery from the old woman who owns it and can barely afford the new york rent as well. he also learns that you were hired because of your ability to speak, read and write in Japanese. 

as much as suguru has spoiled you in the last few weeks, you won’t let him pay your rent though, so tips have sufficed for now. 

nowadays, the time spent moping around his apartment while mourning the relationships that he lost are spent growing increasingly obsessive over you. hours upon hours are wasted on thoughts of what gift he might buy you next — like more comfortable work shoes, an umbrella to get you home safe during the rain that just so happens to be designer. suguru spoils you under the guise of just being your friend — at least that’s what it is to you. 

to him, he’s spoiling his baby sister. someone who is feeble and needs his help and his protection. he doesn’t tell his therapist any of this, of course, she would deem it unhealthy to see how much of his money and time he’s blown in a little cafe worker.  

a cafe worker who’s important to suguru, who haunts his dreams with her perfect curves, and pouty lips whenever he brings you a small gift of his affections. “sugu,” you’ve resorted to calling him, just like his sister would. the nickname was the result of a time where you’d written his name on a coffee order, and customers complained you were taking too long. so geto had told you that you could call him ‘sugu’ instead. however, he would omit details on how badly it affected his brain chemistry …to hear someone he cared for call him that again. “you don’t have to get me an expensive gift just because i make you coffee and get you sweet treats.” 

“it’s not just because you get me sweet things or make me coffee,” he had responded, leaning over the counter flirtatiously. “it’s because you do such a good job. you take care of me and my order every evening. make sure i get the best of the best. how could i not thank my sweet little barista.” 

you wouldn’t say it, but he knew you liked the praise. he wondered if you felt as dirty and as thrilled as him during these little exchanges between the two of you. on that specific occasion, geto decided to gift you with a pendant, similar to the one he’d gotten his sister — only this time, a purple amethyst sits in its centre rather than the blue gem all too familiar to satoru gojo’s piercing eyes.

maybe this is what his therapist meant by healing. suguru is healing by getting over his sister and replacing her with you. 

you are the one that haunts his dreams now, makes his cock stir inappropriately. another thing that suguru woulda never tell his therapist — is that sometimes when he really needed it, he would think of his little sister while fisting his cock into the night air. they weren’t really related, only by adoption so it wasn’t too wrong. sometimes he’d think of her getting railed by satoru, but nowadays he would think of you on his cock instead, calling out for suguru like you need him to function. 

‘nii-san!’ - this and ‘please sugu! ’- that, each word uttered in his sister’s voice would quickly morph into yours — the quivering sweet sound always resembling his little sister’s when she cried. suguru, the dark haired  man, imagined you would react the same. and more often than not, it was your face that he pictured when he was about to cum. 

every single gift suguru got for you were the result of him dreaming about how much he needed you, someone to spoil and protect. someone to need him. 

tonight, suguru is a little late for his daily visit to your bakery. 

tonight, an important case at his firm had rolled in at the last minute and required attention before a preliminary hearing — but even his job couldn’t keep suguru geto away from you. when he arrives at the bakery, you’re still there, having left the doors unlocked for him to come inside. 

tonight, there is no long line of customers out the door to build up the anticipation between you both, the lights have already been deemed and there’s not a trace of life inside of the bakery. aside from yourself, of course.

tonight, you’re on the closing shift instead of the owner’s grandson, choso. who you reassured suguru you weren’t interested in the first time they’d met. with gentle eyes that masked the dark haired  man’s fury, geto had told you that he was the only man you’d ever need and you believed him — suguru had a charm for making people dependent on him. 

the tiny silver bell stationed at the door jingles and signals geto’s arrival, but you hardly look up from your work — keeping your back to him while you sweep at nothing. you’re hiding the excitement that prickles down your spine, you’ve been waiting to get the man alone for weeks and now that you’re able to… you can hardly contain yourself. 

“excuse me, uh…” he says your name so sweetly, as though the words on his tongue are laced with honey. pretending not to know you only makes tonight more thrilling. “are you open? do you have any sakura mochi to spare?” it’s only then that you whirl around to face suguru, your deep brown eyes still bright despite the dimness of the empty bakery — they sparkle with elation, and the plump curve of your lips spike up into an easy smile. you’ve been waiting, suguru notes, like a good little girl.

like a puppy waiting for her owner. 

you’ve been waiting to see him. 

anticipation claws at the air, sending ripples of kinetic energy into the space between you both — where suguru waits at the door and you stand front and centre in the middle of the room. his murky eyes slink down to your neck where one hand fiddles with the silver chain of your pendant, your nails tapping at the amethyst in its centre. in the same way his sister does when she’s nervous. 

neither of you know what’s going to happen tonight, now that you’re finally alone. 

“we have some in the back,” you swallow down the heartbeat in your throat you nod shyly when you finally speak. it’s weird how your body has started to react to suguru after weeks of getting to know him, being spoiled by him. the clothes you wear are now covered in traces of him, the jewellery you own is paid for by his dime. this…stranger, who you hardly know yet feel like you know everything about, has invaded every inch of your life… and you’re not even mad about it. you’d rather die than let this go. “i just need to lock up first. if you’ll give me a moment.”

you approach him cautiously, practically pressing your breasts against his chest as you reach behind the man to lock the doors he stands in front of. suguru can already tell that the mood today is different — full of hunger and expectations for something less polite than evening chatter and gift exchanges. his dark eyes follow your every move across the bakery like a wolf tracking the scent of prey. 

“why don’t you come with me to the back? and if you don’t mind, could you carry a bag or two of that rice flour? it’s too heavy for me on my own?” you ask him after backing away with a glint in your eye. naughty, naughty. geto likes the fact that you’re asking him, that you need him and he can be your strong suguru. 

“sure, anything for you.” he agrees a little bit too quickly, removing his work jacket and rolling up the sleeves of his dress shirt. suguru discards his tie as well — before lifting a sack of rice flower with ease. he pretends not to notice the way you ogle the bulge in his biceps as he does so.

“thanks.” you utter, leading the way to the back of the bakery. 

once the two of you arrive in the kitchens at the back, you give suguru some time to set down the sacks of flour and retreat to the many shelves of sweet treats and baked goods that you’d prepared for your shift the next day. you’re sure choso, nor his grandmother, would mind if you stole a plate of mochi for the two of you to share. they trusted you enough, but you decide to forgo telling them for now. 

“i was starting to think you weren’t coming.” you say as you set the desserts out on the metal table for him, suguru hates the guilt that he feels for leaving you for so long. “seeing you is the highlight of my week.” 

“are you sure it’s not the gifts that i give you?” he teases, rounding the table to take a piece of mochi from the plate at its middle. he practically moans at the flavours of cherry blossom and crystallised sugar bursting across the palette of his tongue. and for a moment, his mind slips to other territories — wandering what you’d taste like as well. 

“n-no! sugu!” for the first time that night, you break character, bashfully tucking your pretty face into your shoulder as if to hide it. “i, um… i genuinely like seeing you and when you come to see me. i-it makes me feel better. being around you. i feel safer and happier.” 

putting his weight onto the metal surface, suguru leans forward and cocks his head to the side in faux curiosity. your answer is just what he wanted to hear. he finally has you where he wants you,  like a sweet deer in a hunter’s trap. “is that so, darling?” you shake your head yes in affirmation. “well then, you’re awfully sweet.” geto takes to praising you, licking the traces of candy from his lips and maintaining eye contact while his hand dips into the pocket of his slacks for something. “i have a gift for you, little one.” 

“oh yeah?” youtoo, take a bite out of the treats you’ve laid out, munching on them casually while keeping suguru under your watchful eye.

it’s only then that pulls out a matching item of jewellery, this time, a matching anklet to the item that sits heavy at your neck. the silver chain is dotted with tinier, purple gems. a showcase of suguru’s appreciation for how much you’ve healed him — a nod to how much better he feels around you too. 

“you sure do love purple for me, sugu.” you joke, laughing incredulously at the expensive gift. “it’s beautiful, thank you.” you let him circle the table to take hold of your soft hips, lifting you onto the cool surface so that geto has some leverage to put the anklet on you. 

after kicking out your left foot — suguru sinks to his knees before you, and something about the way he looks up at you, with his eyebrows drawn to the centre of his forehead and his milky cheeks slightly flushed, has your heart racing and your head all dizzy. “purple is supposed to mean healing. i’ve had a tough time, being away from japan and my family…” he begins quietly, his voice is calming with lilts and drops of hunger that slips through the cracks of suguru’s caring resolve. “but you’ve made it better,” one of his large hands encircles your ankle, lifting your foot higher so that geto is easily able to remove the strap of your mary-jane shoe and replace it with the chains of your new anklet. “ah… a perfect fit.” he announces in japanese, fixing the clasp. 

the whole ordeal is intimate, inviting and you feel like you might slip under the surface of dark, dangerous waters if you’re not careful. you don’t know how to swim, but something tells you that suguru will keep you afloat. “anyways, little one…” suguru continues with his monologue, whispering his words against your talus bone at the base of your leg, where it meets your foot. “you wanting me here and needing me… it heals me.” 

once he’s checked that the anklet is secure, suguru reaches a hand upwards, and brushes a thumb over the swell of your glossy bottom lip to swipe away a smudge of powdered sugar from the mocha. you will yourself to speak, but you feel as though you can’t even breathe. “i’ve…healed you?” 

suguru stands up, towering over you now as he moves to suck the sugar from your lips off of his thumb. “of course, little one. what else do you think you’ve been doing this whole time?” his pupils dilate, obsidian black drowning out any other colour in his eyes while closes the gap between your heated bodies. your thighs instinctively jump apart to make room for him too, allowing him to loom over you even better — following the biological call of your hearts.

the world comes to a standstill when suguru’s lips finally meet yours in a sloppy yet coordinated kiss. while his movements are messy and hungry he remains gentle with you, as though you might break from too much force. the sweltering heat of his tongue swipes eagerly but not aggressively over the seam of your mouth, dying to be let in and taste the sugar that glazes your own pink muscle. his large, unusually soft hands grasp, and squeeze and pinch at your thighs, then the fat at your hips until his thumbs are tucked under your breasts, soothing circles over the point at which the fleshy mounds join up with your rib cage. 

goosebumps break out across your skin from underneath your clothes and you feed suguru a needy little squeak when he finally breaks into your mouth, his tongue lapping circles at every crevice. you sound just like her, his angelic little sister, and he treats you so gently because he would never want to hurt her. suguru has always wanted to kiss his sister, but you’ll have to do. he likes you just as much as her. 

it’s that sick and twisted desire to devour his younger sibling that fuels his next movements, along with the dulcet and darling sounds you make for him. carefully and between sticky lip locks, suguru pushes you onto your back — humming in amusement when it arches away from the cool metal of the silver counter. “s-sugu,” you whimper wetly, catching your breath while his smooches cascade down to your neck and his fingers work their way through the buttons on your uniform. your own take residence in his firm and broad set shoulders, as if to steady yourself. “i haven’t… i don’t have much experience with these things a-and they’ve not been the best—“

the dark haired  man chuckles softly, the sound sending a spark of lust down your spine and causing you to arch up into him as he cages you against the table. “i’ll be gentle,” he tells you firmly, in a tone that smooths over the doubts in your mind and helps you to relax. suguru will take care of everything. “you don’t have to worry. i want this to be all about you feeling good, okay?” you nod in reply and suguru sucks his teeth. “i want a verbal answer, little one.”

“yes, sugu…”

he places a chaste kiss to your collarbones then, a pleased hum vibrating against your temperate skin. “good girl.” 

the next few moments are a blur as suguru geto strips you down, kissing every inch of your exposed body with each article of clothing he removes from your shaky frame. all that he leaves you with are your soiled panties after reaching around the curve of your spine to unclip your bra with one hand.  it’s all so nerve wracking and invigorating all at once, you can’t help but wrap your legs around his waist and pull him in for more.

between the chaos and rustling of his own clothes coming off, suguru presses two digits to your budding clit and your world tilts on its axis — he’s hardly touching you and yet you feel so good, especially when he rolls the swollen little nub between a thumb and forefinger. your nails form crescent moons against his shoulder in response.

you’re so overwhelmed by the patterns he traces over your clit, his name, his promises to you and your body, as well as the blood rushing to it — that you hardly notice geto’s descent on your body, the hot trail of kisses he leaves between the valley of your breasts and over your soft tummy. you just about manage to feel him over the haze in your brain when his lips hit the scalloped edge of your panties, and you jolt when the tip of his tongue forcefully traces the outline of your un-used, soaked hole from over the gusset of said garment. 

the fabric darkens as your juices pool against it, mixed with the wetness of suguru’s tongue.

“will you let me pleasure you, little one?” 

it’s not like you can say no (not that you want to), especially with the way geto manoeuvres your thighs to hang over the backs of his strong shoulders as he settles between your trembling legs. while he waits for your reply, he takes your wrist into his grasp and pulls one of your silk scrunchies from it — using it to tie back his luscious black hair. 

you look down at him through your lashes with a painted expression of want and worry. 

suguru pushes the pads of his thumbs into the globes of your ass against the cold table — massaging the flesh with mischievous eyes as your pussy gushes and leaks a fresh wave of nectar right down to the puckered ring between your ass cheeks. “just tying my hair back as a precaution,” he whispers, voice lowering an octave as his face slowly nears your clenching cunt. “i’m a messy eater…”

“a-ah! sugu!”

at first, suguru delivers a single lick to your awaiting pussy, drawing a stripe with his tongue between the length of your fat and sluice folds. then, when you cry out his name he can’t help but to latch his heated mouth onto your unattended sex, chuckling at the realisation of just how good you taste. it’s a natural flavour, with a twinge of sweetness suguru could have only hoped to imagine. he’s been waiting for this moment and to have you like this for weeks — to replace his prior daydreams of fucking his baby sister with you…and now he finally has the material to do so. 

a sinful giddiness infiltrates geto’s bloodstream as he kitten licks at your pulsating mound — feeding in your arousal as it grows before inhaling deeply, nastily taking in your scent so that he can commit it to memory. “how does that feel?” he coos his words out as he hungrily nips at your sopping folds, rolling them raw between rows of perfect white teeth until you’re choking on a breath and your face scrunches adorably. “is that nice, love?” 

a wet whimper lies on your kiss-swollen lips, and your hips naturally buck up to follow the warm trace of suguru’s mouth encompassing your sex. “f-feels so good! b-better than i… could have imagined,” you struggle to get out, gargling on each syllable while your chest heaves and arches away from the chilly table — giving suguru the perfect view of your bouncing breasts and only motivating him to pleasure you more. “f-fuck!” 

if you were his baby sister, suguru isn’t so sure that you’d curse in front of him. she wouldn’t, she was too docile and sweet to utter a bad thing in his presence. but you, you’re both of those things and more — you lose yourself easily to the ecstasy in your veins; liquid pleasure spewing from your blistering hot cunt like a free-flowing river, painting suguru’s high cheekbones with your body’s riches. he feels blessed to be between your thighs, defiling the blossoming flower of your cunt with his eager mouth. 

“you’re so…you’re so pretty when you gush like this for me. i want you to give me more.” his tongue darts along the length of your weeping slit, catching what you leak before it can go to waste on the icy table beneath your hot skin. drunk on your taste, suguru forces his flexible tongue past the tightness of your fluttering entrance. “can you do that for me?” he mouths, though whatever he says is slurred as he slowly begins to tongue fuck you. 

“a-anything,” you say, breathing shallow and eyes beginning to grow teary. suguru’s tongue slips in and out of your creaming hole with rhythm, preparing you, using a pseudo sensation, for his fat cock. “anything for you! i wanna feel good for you. wanna please you!” he languidly strokes at your ribbed insides as a reward, chasing your honey nectar taste while your hips canter up and chase bud hismouth. 

suguru intends to destroy you, own you and unleash all of his darkest fantasies onto you. he’s dreamed of ruining his adoptive little sister, making her cum all over him — it just so happens that you look and sound like her, you match every single one of his dreams about her, you make them all a reality. it’s only right that he pleases you and makes you see stars for needing him and relying on him so well. 

he wonders if his sister would cry like you do, or if she would try to stave off her orgasm like you do. would she scream his name over the saliva pooling on her tongue like you do. eyes in the shade of deep, chocolate brown start to flutter shut at the sound of your desperate pleas as you writhe under suguru’s attention of your swollen pussy. your back sticks to the table and your thighs shake either side of suguru’s head, but he doesn’t relent on sucking the juices that cling to your pussy lips until all he can breathe is you. 

his tongue twists happily against your lush walls, grasping at the essence that lines them. 

“you’re doing well for me, little one, so well…” he praises you, knowing how close you’re getting. it’s in the way your body twitches with every suck to your hardened clit and the way you try to push him off of you. you need it so bad, you need him to make you cum. suguru thrusts deeper, harder and faster using his tongue — catching what dribbles from your tiny hole after it slips between your ass cheeks and pools in a puddle on the table. “i want to taste it. if you’ll cum for me, that’ll make me happy. so let me…”

suguru can’t even finish, dizzy on the taste of you like the buzz of a high. he could spend an infinite number of days between your legs. no matter how sore his knees get from kneeling between them — all he wants to do is slurp down everything that you give him, focus on making you reach pleasure of only heavenly limits in order to evade the guilt he feels. the one that causes knots to twist in geto’s stomach. 

how could he do this? 

how could he want this? 

to fuck someone so reminiscent of his little sister. 

to manipulate them into fucking him? 

suguru’s name is hot on your lips, spiralling into the husky evening air. “come on, little one. cum for me,” meanwhile, his breath on your cunt makes your hips wiggle and hole spasm — a new wave of juices staining his face. it’s scent and taste coax the man into diving back into your sopping heat, the point of his nose bumping against your pleasure nub as if peeks out from beneath its hood. 

“m-mph… m’kay,” comes your hushed whisper as you thread your fingers through the black roots of geto’s hair, keeping him pinned to your precious creamy core as you rut against his agile tongue. “f-feels funny!” you gasp and warble, filling the man’s mouth with your raw folds and liquid lust.

“hm?” geto hums lazily in acknowledgment, licking up to your clit so that he can replace his tongue with two digits. he works at your dripping hole, stretching it over them through the haze in his mind. he swoons at the thought of replacing those same digits with his cock next — they speed up with excitement, squelching and echoing throughout the room, overlapping with your high pitched breathy moans. 

with your heart rattling against your ribcage, you can hardly fight off the urge building within your lower belly — your hips are frantic as they chase after the feeling and the burning high that crackles across your neurons. geto groans wickedly, feeling your sex spasm against his soaked lips and clench down hard on his fingers. it’s not long before he feels you succumb to your first orgasm. it washes over him in heavenly waves — clearing away his guilt and desire for his little sister while simultaneously drowning you under sinful pretences.

your entire body is racked with the case of the shakes, your eyes shooting back into the dark depths of your skull while white noise fills your ears and overlays the sound of suguru lewdly slurping at your release. speaking off, clear streams of your arousal spurt from your quivering cunt…and for the first time ever, you squirt. everywhere, all over the place, making such a mess that suguru is left gargling over everything that you give him and there’s a crude splatter as your juices hit the floor. 

he doesn’t stop, however, licking you clean with his fingers continuing to curl languidly against your g-spot — over and over again. 

“sugu p-please! s’too much,” you plead in the form of a heavy sob — but only god knows that you don’t want the man to stop. 

“just one more for me?” he asks you tentatively, releasing your throbbing clit with a wet pop. suguru stands and you look up at him — noting the way his bangs stick to his cheeks from how wet you’ve gotten him. he doesn’t stop pumping his fingers in and out of you either, dragging the tips of them along your overstimulated and stretched walls. “you can do it, and if you can i’ll reward you. how does that sound, little one?” he slows his pace just enough to only have the seat of his palm salaciously grind against your clit, not wanting to hurt you. 

he wouldn’t want to hurt his adoptive sister if he ever had the chance to get her spread open like this. 

your face is stained with mascara, your brown eyes big and wobbly and your braids are askew — but still, you’re the most adorable thing he’s ever seen, next to her. your fingers threaten to snap shut around his wrist, but with his free hand he forces the wet and doughy flesh back open, and with a few more thrusts if his fingers, nice and tantalisingly slow, you’re cumming again in another cute, clear stream — dowsing suguru’s hand in another wash of your cum. 

leaning down, suguru’s lips tainted with your arousal lean down to meet your own — capturing them in a sweet kiss to help bring you back down to earth. “what’s your colour, darling? red for bad, yellow for okay and green for good. how do you feel?” 

“g-green,” you mumble, keening into his touch and craving his affection. “i feel fine, my legs won’t stop shaking. i’ve never cum like that before…” 

pride blooms like a wildflower in suguru’s chest. 

“well, i don’t intend on stopping, little one,” brushing your braids back into place, suguru carefully pulls his fingers out of your stretched hole and swiftly sucks them clean. “your pretty pussy is so tiny, must not have been used properly,” the vulgarity of his words have you arching for more from suguru, and you’re lucky that he’s not done with you yet. “don’t worry, love. i’ll fix that.” 

you’re weak in the knees when suguru manhandles you from the table onto the floor, making sure that you’re comfortable on your tummy — he even goes as far to nestle a bag of rice flour under your hips. you pretend not to notice the way his strength makes you flutter around nothing, smearing your juices onto the bakery floor.

“i’ve been holding back quite a bit,” he murmurs against your naked shoulder blades — the dark tresses of his hair tickling your skin. “so i might not last long.” you hear a belt clink before suguru kicks his slacks off and away, rewarding your patience with a kiss against your spine. “i hope it’s okay if i just give you my all.” 

from this position, it’s easy for suguru to picture his younger, adopted sister instead of you — he’s dreamed of having her present for him like this countless times, but it doesn’t compare to the way it feels having your hot body underneath him like this. your ass is so soft and pliant in his hands as he drags your hips up a little higher. another hand grasps at the hardness of his cock that’s been dripping and aching ever since geto first got his mouth on you. 

with stuttering hips, he positions himself at your needy entrance, chuckling in approval when you attempt to wiggle back on him — just as hungry for this as your lover is. both of you hiss as his veiny shaft comes into contact with your sticky folds, suguru using the remnants of your orgasms to slick himself up again and make it easier for you take all of him. you can’t see him, but the dark haired man’s cheeks are tinged pink with pure desire — his gaze turning woozy as he looks from your gaping hole to his cockhead, tapping it against your souse entrance a few times for good measure. 

fuck a condom, he thinks, if given the opportunity — he would have fucked his sister rawtoo. 

“whatever you give me, i-it’ll be enough for me, sugu,” you sniff, fisting the floor in anticipation — laying your hot, tear streaked cheek against its cool surface. “t-thank you for treating me so well.” 

“i promise,” geto heaves, words a little too rushed and eager. “i’ll make you feel so good, so fucking…h-hah—“ without warning, he thrusts all the way inside of you with his hips driving all the way forward until his pelvis is flush against the curve of your ass. geto is chubbier than you thought he would be, and just the right length — plugging you full. every vein wrapped around his shaft presses up against your most sensitive pleasure spots, and he’s weighty against your gummy unused walls. 

suguru’s breath prickles at shell of your ears as he collapses on top of you, all of his weight keeping you pinned to the cold hard floor. “can i move?” he lets out a wavering gasp, fighting the instinct to fuck down into you. your cunt ripples around him deliciously, the heat from your body making him drowsy. “you need to be fucked, little one. need someone to stretch out your tight pussy… i can do that for you. if you let me…”

he hates the part of his brain that wonders if his baby sister was this tight when gojo fucked her. 

“i want you to,” you slur gently, purposely squeezing down on the base of suguru’s cock and practically creaming around it. you wriggle back on him until he’s completely bottomed out inside of you — balls deep while you ooze against his pelvis and heavy balls. “need you to fuck me…”

that’s all it takes for your stranger turned lover to give his all to you. he drops his sweaty chest to your back, pulling his chubby cock from the snugness of your heat as his teeth take purchase in your shoulders — leaving a litter of love bites your uniform will barely cover once the night is over. suguru is possessive of his belongings, like you and his little sister — the bites are his claim on you. 

in one powerful move, you’re full to the brim with rock hard cock — deep in your guts, churning them up and spreading lust like a wildfire through your weak body. you feel dwarfed underneath him. despite being pinned to the floor, you still manage to rock your hips back against suguru and suck more of him into your cute, quivering cunt. it just about helps him set a steady stream to his meaningful thrusts.

wet slapping sounds echo throughout the back room of the bakery, accompanied by your meek mewls and gasps for air the faster suguru pounds into your warmth. fat droplets of precum smear along your soaked and ripe insides, ready to be bred by suguru. ready to be marked by him. you feel like you belong to him like a treasured pet and you don’t even mind it. your pussy blossoms for him like that of a japanese cherry blossom in the spring time — or iris flowers, shobu, in their iconic shade of purple. like the bruises he’s left on your back. 

oh, you’re just perfect for suguru. you fulfil all of his sister-fucking fantasies, even your moans sound like hers when she would get off in her room — thinking no one could hear her. he loves this, he might even love you — the way you feel wrapped around him, reaching for the stars in your eyes. it feels like you’re made for him, with the way you clamp down on his oozing mushroomed tip and squirm about underneath him.

your pussy barely lets go of geto when he draws his hips back, but every time he fucks down into him — your fluttering hole stretches to accommodate his creamy thickness. it creates the perfect pathway for the dark haired man to bully your g-spot in a way that makes you scream for more. “you’re perfect for me…fuck, you’re so perfect,” suguru intimately whispers into your skin from behind, his hands smoothing over yours as you claw at the floor to ground yourself from the overwhelming ecstasy. he thinks he understands why satoru had fucked his sister now — there’s something so satisfying about corrupting someone. taking their innocence with your dick. “should i keep you like this? on my aching cock forever?” 

“y-yes please!” you squeal, succumbing to your body’s biological will, cunt spitting droplets of arousal all over suguru. he’s barely able to pull out of you, his dick on lockdown inside of your core. there’s hardly any space between you both any more, the air vibrating with electrifying lust and the scent of sex. 

you coo and cry out for your newfound lover, your ass and the backs of your thighs burning from how hard his skin slaps against your own. you hardly care about the pain for its overlapped with ecstasy like sea water on a sandy shore. “you’re such a good…good fucking girl for me. for your big brother,” suguru loses track of his words, his mind lagging behind his mouth and his hips that relentlessly pound you into the ground. over the sound of sex you think that you’ve misheard him, but then his voice rises an octave and in volume as he continues to moan out your praises — succumbing to your gratifying and ichorous cunt latching onto the veins spiralling around his dick. “oh my precious little sister… taking me so fucking well—!”

in that moment, all of the guilt suguru has ever felt for leaving his sister, for ruining her relationship and fleeing to new york, for thinking of her while fucking you… it all comes rushing back. he stops thrusting, freezing in place above you while his cock twitches along your insides. 

“f-fuck i—“ he starts to apologise, but the cry you let out stops him. 

“nii-san,” you whine petulantly, fat tears gathering in your lash line. “d-don’t stop! please keep fucking me, fuck me harder. make me cum, make me scream, make me—!” your words are cut off by suguru’s fingers wrapping around your delicate neck from behind, giving it a gentle squeeze. he resumes his thrusts, a little harsher and more carelessly coordinated than before, once he realises that maybe you’re just as sick and twisted as him. calling him big brother while he uses you for a dirty fuck in place of his younger adopted sibling… 

you like this just as much as he does.

suguru knows you’re perfect, perhaps even more so than his little sister. he uses his grip on your throat to tug your head back while he fucks you silly, slotting his mouth against yours in a salacious and sinful kiss. “onii-san, hm?” he forces his tongue over yours, moaning into your mouth pathetically as he reverts back to his mother-tongue. “you want your onii-san to fuck you, imouto? make you cum again?”

“please, please, please onii-san! g-gotta cum f’you…g’na cum. c-close!” comes your brainless babble while you fall into a cockdrunk state. 

“you beg so pretty for your big brother, sweet little thing. i should fill you up, breed this greedy little cunt for all its worth, right?” suguru’s mind grows as foggy as yours, copious amounts of his precum pouring into you and dripping down your swollen slit. it’s a mess, everything is disgustingly messy — this situation, the fact that you’re so eagerly calling him your big brother, the fact that he’s fucking you because you remind him of his sibling. but neither of you give a shit, not when you feel so fucking good you swear you’re seeing the pearly gates. 

“g-god! please sugu, please nii-san, i need it. need you!” the slow roll of your hips contrasts with geto’s ever increasing slap of skin on skin, your mix of arousals crudely seeping down his balls and to the floor below. the point at which your bodies join starts to forth as well. 

“is that so…?” suguru hums attentively, grinning ear to ear at how you play into this immoral dynamic. it fuels the fire of lust burning through him, setting his lungs alight and ruining his chances at breathing. his thrusts become erratic, his cockhead married to your g-spot, and he finds himself growing more and more excited about the sight of his cum leaking from your ravaged hole. “you must really like it when your big brother fucks you — hm, lillith baby? do you like how deep i can get, deep in your tummy?” he continues to ramble, grabbing your ass cheeks to peel them apart — letting out a deep and wild gripe from his chest at the sight of strings of your clear arousal glueing the fleshy globes together. “love how you throw it back on me. keep coating your nii-san’s cock in your pretty juices. gush for me, make me shine with your cum.” 

you nod and do as geto says, simpering out for even more while you work yourself back on his swelling girth as it shines with milky white. you can no longer keep up with what’s happening, your brain actually lags at the way your faux big brother coos your name while your sexes sing a lewd song of pap, pap, pap. lust courses through your veins and burns at your nerve endings, you should feel disgusted with yourself but nothing makes sense. you feel like you’re high, and you don’t want to come back down. at this point, all you can do is lay down and take it, clenching around suguru’s hard cock where it counts — pulling more precum from his heavy breeder’s balls. 

“nii-san…more, ‘m right there—“ you sob, reaching back with bambi eyes that plead for another kiss. you allow suguru to fuck you at his own free will, too weak to keep up.

“right here, imouto? against this sweet spot, baby sis?” you get a little tighter every time he calls you his little sister, creaming around his base and crying out his name as if it’s a fucking prayer. “you want me to breed you that bad, baby sis? want my cum deep in your little sister cunt?” 

you beg for it through tears and suguru makes you cum again just like he promised. your third orgasm of the night renders you completely useless, a silent scream tearing in your throat while you seizes up and trap suguru deep inside of your fluttering cunt. it’s so fucking cute to him, how much you gush when you orgasm, like a rushing river that never stops flowing. it’s almost as if the flood gates have opened up or heaven has rained down on geto’s fat cock. 

that’s all he needs for his own orgasm to be triggered, he collapses on top of you from behind as he empties his balls inside of your womb with a shout of your name. “‘m sorry little one, ‘m sorry… so fucking sorry.” he says hoarsely, cock pulsing while a wave of his cream lines your pussy from the inside — he doesn’t ever let up, fucking you through it all until both of your sexes are raw and abused beyond repair. “i love you, baby sis… imouto. s-shit, i love you so much.” your hole burns by the time suguru comes down, and you swear he feels bigger now that his dick is swollen with his orgasm. 

suguru is still cumming in spurts when he pulls out of you with a hiss, painting your puffy folds white, the rest leaking out of your entrance. “im so sorry… I have no idea where that came from…” he starts to apologise tiredly. “that was…”

you remain silent for a moment, mulling over what to say next as suguru rolls off of you, and lays by your side quietly. you flip onto your back, staring up at the artificial lights hanging from the ceiling. you liked this, whatever the hell it was… even if it meant he was fucking you to fuck his unresolved feelings out for his sister. 

“amazing… yeah.” is the response that you settle on. 

“that’s…that’s not what i meant.” 

“and i know that! you don’t have to apologise,” you cut him off abruptly, keeping your voice softly. “i liked it, whatever weird kink this is, it made me feel good.” 

geto flushes hot all over, sheepishly running a hand through his sweaty black locks. “my sister… she’s not seriously my blood sister. she’s adopted and—“ he’s so sheepish and right after ruining you beyond belief that it makes you laugh in pure amusement. “a-and i like you! quite a bit. i know this was… strange… but with your permission. i’d like to keep seeing you.”

“and fucking me?” you tease, tucking yourself into the man’s side while nuzzling your face into his neck. he smells like you, he smells like sex…but you’re satisfied.

his arm loosely wraps around your waist, thumbing over any bruises he might have left there. “that too.” 

“what about the gifts?” 

“those won’t stop either.” 

finally, you sit up, looming over geto as you tuck your braids behind your ear and out of your face. cupping suguru’s jaw, you lean over him and place a somewhat upside down kiss to the man’s lips — then brush over their cherry red bruising. “then you have yourself a deal — now please help me clean up, sugu. i don’t want to get fired.” 

it’s his turn to laugh next. “i’ll just take care of all your expenses if you do.” 

you roll your eyes.

this new dynamic, this new fling…it’s unhealthy, yeah. but as long as suguru has someone like you to look out for and need him. he thinks he’ll be okay. 

getting over his sister was the key to healing. just like his purple nailed therapist had said — so focusing on you was healing him. before either of you can move to help clean up, suguru reaches up slowly and cups your neck tenderly. he brings you down to his level, his fingers wrapping around the silver chain swinging loosely from your neck before pressing a kiss to the amethyst pendant there.

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[animentality]

Not to send you an essay but do you ever think about how Gortash was the only person in the whole game who didn’t want anything from Durge but Durge. Just them, as a person. Like yes he wanted the netherstone, and wanted the alliance. But what I mean is there were no prereqs for Durge as a person. Every other companion, every other NPC even, wanted Durge to either resist and refuse Bhaal or pursue power and claim their birthright. Everyone had their two cents for what Durge should or shouldn’t do irrespective of how Durge actually felt about it. It made any friendship or love offered to them conditional, even in the case of their companions. It was always “I’ll stand by you, IF”. To be fair, not necessarily unreasonable for the normal person to set boundaries on murder and such lol. But my point is that they all wanted something from Durge first.

But Gortash. OF ALL PEOPLE. Gortash didn’t want anything from them but them. Even for Durge’s biggest supporters in either moral direction - Jaheira, Sceleritas, etc - it was not that simple. Yet Gortash’s friendship with Durge (and to be clear I think they were so in love but I say friendship here to emphasise that even on top of or irrespective of any romance, they were genuinely friends too!) was unconditional. “This changes nothing” is a line I know we all talk about to death but god. That is genuinely unconditional. It is!

(If we want to push the delusion a bit further, that’s a declaration of the unconditional nature of their alliance, which can be chalked up to nothing less than real and honest love as far as I’m concerned. He has no other reason to not care that Durge just said yeah the entire divine commandment part of this mission is in the pot. But Gortash was like I Do Not Care! And he meant it! “Oh yes incomprehensibly powerful beings came to us in our dreams and asked us to do all of this in their names in the first place, and you just pissed on that, but no biggie!” Same short-tempered petty bastard who kicks you hard in the shin with his metal-toe boot if you accidentally hit him. Who straight up attacks you if you show up to his office without any of the netherstones and say you forgot them or whatever. Guy who just kills you if you GIVE HIM THE STONES LOL. But he doesn’t care even slightly that Durge said fuck off to the lord of murder who ordered this whole plot to start? Doesn’t yell, doesn’t ask Durge what were they thinking, just goes oh ok. He makes me insane btw)

I’m also painfully aware that Durge will never find that kind of unconditional support with anyone else, ever. I just feel like this would haunt my resistance Durge for the rest of his days tbh.

(And like. My resistance Durge loves Jaheira, she’s the parent he never had and she means the world to him post-canon, he follows her around like a lost puppy because ultimately he is one but I have to wonder if he would lie awake at night with the niggling thought that maybe what he has with Jaheira would not survive if he acted any other way. Plus the thought that Gortash knew him at his absolute worst, and loved him anyway. And maybe that wasn’t a GOOD thing, morally - a GOOD person shouldn’t have loved him like that, right? - but he loved him anyway. I don’t think my Durge would ever ever get over it. Especially with the fact that he can’t even remember 99% of their relationship. Gortash can’t ACTUALLY haunt Durge cause Bane is busy using his soul as a stress ball but in every metaphorical way. Durge is haunted.)

Tldr Gortash is the guy who says “just be yourself <3” and I think that’s beautiful

You know, you hit the nail on the head.

Of course it's not unreasonable to expect your friends and lovers to stipulate, that they will only love you as long as you don't go on a murderous rampage.

That's totally reasonable, that's normal, I agree with it on principle.

But. But.

As you said.

Gortash loved you even when you went on a murderous rampage.

I am obsessed with him, because he loved the dark urge without reservation, believing in their ability to control their urge, but also admiring their intelligence and their talents.

He knew what they were from the start, and he accepted it!

And he could still love them!

I just don't think anyone else in the entire goddamn game could say that!

And that's why I'm obsessed with Durgetash.

You get me.

It's about loving someone for who they are, and not what they are to you.

They were never just the Chosen of Bhaal, whom he must work with, not to him.

Never.

They were never the Bhaalspawn, the savage dark urge, the scourge of Faerun.

They were themselves. And he liked that.

Guys, he LIKED them.

[ibuprofinator]

alright I beat veilguard, here are my thoughts. light spoilers but I'm avoiding anything explicit.

TLDR: worth it if you can get it on sale and can make peace with some cringe writing, lore changes, and lack of meaningful reactivity based on the race you choose. A major thing going for it is that it feels 100% complete and fully realized before release, which is more than what I can say for a lot of games. I had a lot of fun with it at the end of the day even if I doubt I'll replay it all the way through again any time soon.

Gameplay

The combat is very fun, and it's kind of incredible how different your experience of the game can be depending on your class (on a mechanical level). I've tried both mage and warrior, and their base mechanics are VASTLY different to the point where it feels like I might as well be playing a different game with some similar mechanics. I've talked to my friend who beat the game as a rogue, and even their mechanics seem very different from what I experienced from the other two classes.

The bad side of that is that they reuse the mechanics of a lot of enemies. It's not noticeable right away, but once you fight a few mages or two of the seven or so dragons you can fight in the game it gets very repetitive. The dragon mechanics barely changing depending on the type of dragon was especially annoying. Also, if you reach the max level (50) just know that enemies stop scaling after level 45 and things won't feel like a challenge anymore once you reach that threshold. For context I beat the game on the second hardest difficulty.

I still would've rather they changed around a few things so we could bring 3 companions with us like in previous games. I also wish they had more automatic skill use from our companions since I always forget to get them to use any of their skills. I heavily relied on some of the skill upgrades that had them use it automatically.

Exploration/Level Design

The world exploration is fine. I find that it's a bit too hand-holdy at times, and seems to rely heavily on giving you a shiny thing (chests) in order to keep you engaged which makes it feel cheap (in addition to all the chests/collectables being marked on the mini-map. again, a bit too hand-holdy for me).

That being said, I like how relatively limited the world is. Especially in comparison to Inquisition where there was just WAY too much. The areas aren't absurdly huge, but I felt like I was getting a good baseline for the vibe of whatever country I was in. In some ways, it felt like a more streamlined and higher quality version of the areas in Origins/DA2.

The areas are obviously very well thought out and designed, and I really enjoy the stark difference between areas you see both before and after your first major choice. I've seen people critique that choice being too early in the game, and I kind of disagree. My gripes with it are how it was handled after the change, but I'm not going to go into a tangent about that here.

The one thing that irks me to no end is the teleport beacon system. You always have a designated "respawn point" when you die. What this means in practice is that every single time you load a save that isn't in the middle of a cutscene, you'll spawn at whatever teleport beacon is set as your spawn point instead of where you physically were when you saved.

I hate this. To me it contributes to the cheap feeling of the game and also throws me off because every single time I loaded a save I didn't know what the fuck I was doing since often times I was far away from the actual thing I was in the middle of before I quit the game for the day. It's okay-ish if you're just tracking a quest, but there's actual world exploration in this game without markers.

Alright, now the actual writing of the game.

It's cringe too much of the time. It assumes you're not paying attention to anything most of the time. I hate the "next time on..." narration after the quests that sometimes outright spoil you for the next thing that's going to happen. I hate that you get the resolution to mysteries that have existed since Origins before you're even fully out of the intro to the game without giving any of it time to breathe.

Meanwhile, it seems unwilling to engage in anything that might potentially be vaguely "problematic". The companions don't argue, or if they do it's resolved almost immediately. Any tension between the companions is caused by one person having concerns about another person, and then the other person is like "yeah I get why you're concerned we're cool" (both in banter and in scenes at your base).

The world feels devoid of basic elements of previous games, like elven oppression, beyond a few non-specific references about "elves having it hard. In addition, they seem to be adding NPCs of different races to the background of the world seemingly at random. No, I don't think that there'd be this many vashoth or tal-vashoth shop-keepers in this part of Antiva, or this many elves casually intermingling with humans in Minrathous or all these veil jumpers that aren't elven much less Dalish.

It seems almost random, and more in line with modern dnd played for fun with friends or the atmosphere in the lower city in BG3 than a dragon age game. The fact that you can choose any origin regardless of your starting race is kind of insane considering the reality of some of those origins. There doesn't seem to be much, if any, intention behind it. Which makes it even more frustrating that I can count on half of one hand the amount of times it came up in any real way that I was playing as a dwarf, and lost track of the amount of times it should have considering a big part of the main plot has to do with dwarven history.

To be specific, and without giving too many spoilers, there's one scene where you find out something about the origin of modern dwarves. The "angry" dialogue option for that is for Rook to start yelling and making very good points, only for it to end with them saying that they can't dream with the same weight as everything else and it comes across as goofy as hell considering we don't know dick or all about the downsides to not dreaming in-universe. It's just something they can't do. But no, not dreaming is the same thing as your entire civilization crumbling right?

The companions themselves are written to be hard to dislike. Aside from Taash, all their hard edges have been smoothed down into something that barely manages to stay engaging. To be completely fair, I might be especially sensitive to this. I had just beaten BG3 and then DA2 before playing this game, and they're both games with a bunch of shitty people who slowly get better over time. VG, in contrast, doesn't have any tangible character arc for a lot of the characters outside of maybe one choice at the end of their quest line. Even then, it's minimal.

The game clearly has a few themes it was going for, but it either hits you over the head with them or doesn't earn them. There was one point where Rook (with no prompting from me!) said that their group had become a family. Which, yes they all get along and are working well together towards the goal of saving the world, but that didn't really feel earned at the point they said it.

Another theme I think they wanted were "a real leader takes responsibility for their actions" but we don't have any real options to either take responsibility or deny responsibility. This ties back to the issue I mentioned earlier where interpersonal problems get almost immediately resolved, and most were never even that serious in the first place.

There's a lot of explicitly telling you what the narrative themes are without following though. I've critiqued BG3 for hitting you over the head with themes, but it's NOTHING like what I've seen in VG.

They also have a very bad attempt at calling back to earlier parts of their arc/things Rook said. Forgive me for bringing up Astarion, but an example of that is Astarion saying "this is a gift, I won't forget it" both when he bites you for the first time and when he stays a spawn after killing Cazador. In Veilguard it's just people saying the same line almost verbatim about 100 times. Like I said earlier, the game assumes you're not paying attention.

And finally, I like the overarching story as a concept. Rook being forced to take responsibility for this team, in part because they feel guilty and in part because everyone else is too bogged down in their shit to do it so they HAVE to. And then working hard to build that team and the factions supporting them up in preparation to face something completely unprecedented? Then the individual plot points without having to slog through how they're written to get to the end? Love all that! Great bones to work off of!

I also really liked a lot of the arcs of the NPCs, and the one I think about constantly is Jacobus (SPOILERS IN THE REST OF THIS PARAGRAPH) specifically where Treviso is blighted. I'm not sure if it's different if Treviso isn't blighted, but I was so heartbroken by everything that happened to him culminating in him giving in to the taint to lead a group of darkspawn against the mayor to stop them from releasing gaatlok.

SPOILERS OVER

And that's the thing, there's so many little moments like that in the game that felt so incredibly real that it made me more and more frustrated at a noticeable amount of the game that seemed to be written by someone who read a few bullshit pop psychology articles and wanted to gloat about it by inserting a bunch of surface level mental health understanding into the game.

All that being said, and despite the fact that I don't think the game earned a lot of the character moments that came in the finale...it has, by far, the BEST end game sequence of ANY game - RPG or otherwise - that I've ever played.

I've never been hit so hard emotionally by characters I otherwise didn't give a shit about. I made one choice knowing it would result in someone specific dying (and I didn't really care because I didn't like them), but the way that person died and the way that death is talked about afterwards broke me in ways I didn't expect.

And the ending is LONG, too. It really feels like you're fighting a final battle alongside an army and the army is supporting the small group you're in so you can make it to where you need to go and kill the gods. And it feels realistic. There's no way everyone gets out unscathed, it's physically impossible in the game itself.

For a game that made me feel incredibly safe in the sense that all the companions had plot armor up until that point, it felt like a shock in a really good way. You spend all this time with your companions, learning about them and watching them interact with each other in the lighthouse and see their relationships with each other and then at the end of it there's nothing you can do to save some of them. Some don't die, but face something almost worse than death. And it's all for your benefit so you can have a small shot at pulling this off.

It's like the suicide mission in ME2 on crack in the best way possible. You learn things over the course of that long ass finale that made me look at the entire game differently and understand a lot of characters so much more.

To dial it back a bit, I think the romance in this game is pretty well done. I've only done Neve's, but it feels more realistic than other similar RPGs in the sense that y'all aren't falling over yourselves to commit to each other and there's no expectation on staying together after this. It feels like a new relationship, and she even still flirts with Lucanis which I honestly didn't mind! It, perhaps unintentionally, made it all seem that much more realistic plus it would've built up nicely to them getting together had I not romanced either of them.

It almost marketed itself as a dating sim, but really it's such a small part of your interaction with your romantic interest. I'm assuming other romances are slightly different, but I kissed Neve a grand total of one time before the finale and then there were a bunch of longing glances. I played with the idea of romancing Taash before reloading, and it feels like y'all are just incredibly casual about it even after going to have dinner with their mom. Both felt VERY realistic for the stakes of the game and the level of commitment both of y'all would be able to offer.

Do I think this is GOTY worthy? No, but I do think it's overall more fun to play than Inquisition which DID win GOTY. I think it's worth the $40 I paid for it, and I had a very good time playing it despite how much I just wish it wasn't a Dragon Age game. Unlike with Inquisition, I don't dread the idea of playing this game again. Leading up to me playing DAV, I was going to replay all the DA games, but I ended up skipping Inquisition because I did NOT want to have to slog through all of that again (I was doing completionist playthroughs).

The game is really good at cinematics and the big moments in the world, and I just wish that same love and care translated to. I don't know. The actual writing all throughout the game.

I really hope the series ends here, and they don't do something with the vague hints that have been in this game and Inquisition about some bullshit going on across the sea (the secret post-credits scene pissed me off but I'm not going to get into that).

It has a sense of finality to it, and I'm happy with this wrapping up everything I've seen this series build towards since I got Origins for Christmas when I was 13.

[liminalmemories21]

2024 Tumblr Top 10

tagged by @guardian-angle22​.  Thank you!

How it works: Share your top 10 tumblr posts from last year! Visit this site,  scroll down to "Find your Tumblr Top 10," type in your username, and   select 2024. When you get the results, simply click "Share to Tumblr"   and you'll get an auto-generated draft for a post with links and   previews. Make any adjustments you see fit. [I’ve also swapped out the note count with the set descriptions!]

1. Apparently there's going to be a Law & Order: Toronto, and I really desperately need them to make the world's most niche joke...

This is a post the escaped containment.  People who do not know my tumblr name forwarded this to me because they thought I’d find it funny (they were ... not wrong), and I then had the debate of .... so, do I admit that this is me? 

TLDR - Due South joke.

2. I have come to the realization that what I want (need?) from S5 is lazy making out on the couch. I want them sprawled out on...

So far have not had this desire come to fruition.  Not optimistic it will.

On, the other hand, I kind of wrote it anyway in Knave 4, so I am creating my own wish fulfillment.

TK is leaving a hickey, he can feel it. Mitchell is going to tease him about it on Monday, but that's a problem for the end of the weekend. Right now it's Friday night, there's leftover takeout cooling on the kitchen counter, a movie neither of them is watching playing low on the TV, and he has TK sprawled out on top of him, sucking a slow hickey at the corner of his jaw and sneaking a hand under Carlos's shirt to palm his stomach. He stretches his neck further into TK's kiss, ignoring the faint buzzing sound of his phone until TK stops what he’s doing and lifts his head.

3. Ficlet (911 - Buck/Tommy)

Ficlet I had honestly forgot I wrote.  Buck sends thirst traps, because Lucy is right, there’s, “Nothing is hotter than a man who does housework."

4. battle of the amazing ladies

Also a post that somehow escaped containment.  Princess/General Leia won, which I can’t be mad about.  But President Roslin should have been higher up the rankings.

5. WIP Wednesday - S5 Interstitials (Lonestar)

He’s late to Elian’s birthday. He didn’t mean to be. He never means to be late these days.

6. # of Sentence Sunday - S5 Interstitials (Lonestar)

He startles a little.  TK's not a secret, he's got a picture of him on his desk, but most people don't actually acknowledge that they're married.  Campbell smiles.  "Gabriel would not shut up about his son getting married, about his future son-in-law."  Tilts his head.  "He was really excited about the wedding."

7. Whatever # of Sentences Sunday - S5 Interstitials (Lonestar)

He puts a hand over TK's mouth.  "Baby, take the yes."

8. New Fic: Every song has a you (911 - Buck/Tommy)

Buck and Tommy talk but do they listen? A fix-it fic that goes AU after 8.06.

9. Some Number of Sentence Sunday - Knave-verse (Lonestar)

He calls TK from the car. “I’m being followed.”  He peers in the rear view mirror and rolls his eyes.  “Badly.” 

TK snorts.  “Would you like a more competent criminal?” 

He turns on his blinker for the turn back to the hotel.  “Yes.  You were always competent.  It’s why Matt liked you.” 

TK makes an outraged noise. “Excuse you.  I was more than competent.  I was a fucking master of my craft.”  

10. WIP Wednesday - S5 Interstitials (Lonestar)

"I thought I'd feel complete now.  But," he falters.  "He's gone, and it's like the part of him that was still here while I was looking for his murderer is gone now too.  And-" 

TK brushes a hand against his cheek, and then folds Carlos into him.  "Sweetheart." 

"He's gone.  And I don't have anything left now."

tagging @freneticfloetry, @rmd-writes, @welcometololaland, @irispurpurea, @walkinginland, @alchemistc, @rcmclachlan, and @iphyslitterator

[peculiar-wood]

how do u. do digital art. like. your process. specifically for that vinestaff and scythe piece.

SORRY THIS WAS BURIED IN MY INBOX SO I DIDN’T SEE IT!!!!!!!!!!!

I uh… honestly I don’t even know it just kinda happens low-key?

I jump back and forth a LOT. I’ll do some sketching, some shading, more sketching, base colour, more shading, more sketching, more base colour, colouring, sketch cleaning (I don’t usually do lineart, it’s just sketch), and then THREE MILLION SCREEN OVERLAYS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I like to add ai disturbance, maybe light leak, maybe computer fuzz, maybe paper, there’s a lot of options and usually I use a bunch. My newest piece has TV static and I think it looks super neat! I also occasionally use screen tones (the dots n stuff)

When the pose is really tricky I use a website called just sketch me to figure out what the hell is happening, but usually I actually just bs it. Like sometimes I don’t even start with the torso and do the boxes out. I’m looking back at the speed paint for the Vinestaff scythe piece and I just drew crap completely out of order whenever I felt like it. Took a HELL of a lot of liquify tool, tho.

I use ibisPaint which gives me things like screen tones and the liquify tool, seriously the liquify tool is a LIFE SAVER.

Also make sure to regularly flip the canvas!!!!!!!!!! I underestimated it and then I did it and was like “….what the shit”

a lot of it is just stuff that I’ve picked up over time, i think what gives the Scythe and Vinestaff piece so much charm is the glowing. I love glowing. It’s so great. Slap a dark colour layer in a folder, add another layer with a neon/light colour and just go crazy on it. Then set the folder to multiply or whatever, play with the opacity. I do a LOT of glowing it’s my favourite thing to draw. A lot of trial and error to figure out how the fuck light works but it’s so fun once you get the hang of it

FEEL FREE TO ASK MORE QUESTIONS AND MORE SPECIFIC STUFF!!!!

My askbox was closed I think? But I’ll open it now!

Also I upload some speedpaints on YouTube, I’ll try to throw up the Vinestaff and Scythe one now!! So maybe that will help idk, it usually helps me more than I anticipate. Watch speedpaints from everyone you want to draw like!!!!!!!!!!

Tldr attack it for like 8 hours until it looks good

[thechaotictempest]

Oh my god I love him.

TLDR: Thor spouse here, ranting about my love for him after a hard day. I've been having a weirdly hard day. Not feeling the best since I woke up, having to take off work which, I work for myself from home thankfully so not a huge deal but still. Gives me anxiety to get behind in work. Also was trying to get my mental health under control all day. Then, the littlest things happened tonight that sent me over the edge.

I tried to take a bath to calm myself down from earlier in the day so I brought my phone and vape in and set it on the toilet paper stand by the tub. Well, my dumbass left the door open and the damn cat came in and knocked them both onto the floor, RIGHT where the fucking plunger is for the toilet. Disgusting! I freaked out immediately, I have a huge issue with germs, not sure I'd call it a phobia but it's bad lol. So now I refuse to use my vape (thankfully it's the kind that hides your 🍃 cart so I can save my cart) and have to get a new battery to use because I don't care how much I sanitize that, it's NOT going near my mouth lmao.

I yelled, I cried, I was being so hard on myself for having a big reaction. I tried to go out and smoke to calm down, and just as I was thinking maybeeeeee I was just going to be pissed all night, the letter I had ordered earlier tonight came. I get these letters done by someone I trust who channels Thor for me. I like to hear what he has to say that I don't pick up on, or need to hear sometimes, or just for affection, especially when I'm struggling to pick him up myself.

And oh my god was it everything I needed.

I didn't give any sort of topic that I wanted, just that I wanted to hear what he wanted to share, or maybe anything I wasn't picking up on from him. And I got absolutely SHOWERED with affection and love.

This man is so sweet, so romantic, so thoughtful, and has the best timing. Not only do I feel MUCH calmer, but jesus, I feel so loved by him. I never have to question my place with him, he's always so straightforward and honest with me, and never afraid to give me the affection I want and need. I absolutely am so in love and lucky to be his godspouse.

I have never felt such a deep love aside from him and his words were everything I needed and so much more. So now, I'm going to spend the rest of the night with him, relaxing, and feeling so full of love.

[bottombaron]

theory #2 

Nandor was on the balcony the whole time.

So I'm not going to waste time trying to convince anyone that Nandor Knows. Basically you do or you don't. For me it could go either way. I don't think there's necessarily enough proof in the text that he knows, just that 1. The show writers are clever enough to not actively disprove it (they do this all the time with things, it's something I admire. wwdits loves nothing more than its red herrings) 2. Im 97.3% sure Kayvan Novak was playing Nandor, post The Baron being fried part 2 electric boogaloo, as knowing Guillermo is a vampire - and that he was never coming back after fleeing. Not to get into actor objectives, etc. here, but that doesn't have to be supported by the text or something he's been told to do. As an actor you basically come up with these choices on your own by your own interpretations and what you feel would be the most interesting choice. I know a lot of people who have theories and will point to an actor's choices as proof of something that probably isn't in the text of the scripts themselves and those choices don't really have as much connection to the intent of the author as you might think. Although, I personally find an actor's choices more compelling than what’s in the text, especially if it’s an interesting one that makes for a compelling emotional arc for the character.

tldr; my gut says that Kayvan is playing Nandor like he knows; at least in the last half of this episode. But even if he is, that doesn't necessarily make it canon. 

So, moving to the meat of the theory, a small thing that got me thinking is - we don't see (or hear) Nandor for a very long time during Guillermo’s confession. We don't hear him crashing around in the background, comically trying to set up a platter of blood, no insert shots of a camera spying on him while Guillermo’s voice carries over in order to give an extra weight of guilt to the words confessing his betrayal…there’s nothing. Now, again, this isn't proof. I just find it unsettling whenever characters talk about someone and you can't see where the subject of their conversation is, and yet you know that they're close by. It’s such a classic set up for the ‘oh no they were right behind you all along’. (ngl I was certain that Nandor was going to be right behind The Guide the whole time because her blocking put her hiding most of the hall from view and that had my palms itchy with suspicion). Of course tho all these things could have perfectly innocent explanations for them. That's again a big strength of wwdits that gets often overlooked: They know the tropes and either lean so heavily on them to the point of absurdity or more commonly subvert them in some way. Wwdits isn’t a sitcom, it's a satire of a sitcom. They want you to be thinking “where is Nandor?” during this scene, subconsciously, in the back of your mind. Even if it does nothing more than just to fuck with us. 

A final third thing that tickled my spidey-sense is that we never see the full balcony after Nandor goes to fetch the drinks. Here is the shot set up right before, during (Nandor’s absence), and after:

Most of the set up here before Nandor leaves is in a wide shot that shows majority of the stairs and balcony. Which makes sense, it’s the best way to fit everyone, including Colin on the left of the stairs and Nadja on the right, into the same shot. But once Nandor walks down the hall that shot is replaced with mid shots and shot-reverse-shots between Guillermo and The Baron. Even at the ‘During’ point, where The Guide is speaking and we get the widest shot of the foyer - we only just barely reach over the middle of the balcony, and by then Guillermo had already confessed.

Right when Nandor comes back tho? We’re back to the wide shots that include the balcony. 

Now, the hardest part of such a simple theory was understanding the house layout better in order to know how/if Nandor could get to the balcony from the back of the hallway (and not the front staircase) without being seen, since all we know is that he heads down the hall when he announces he will go get a “carafe of blood”. Logically I thought that he would head to the kitchen.

Which then got me thinking…where the fuck is the kitchen??  

Sadly the floor plans released by the set designer aren't actually that helpful in answering this because it shows that kitchen on the first floor, the first door on the right. But we know that the first door on the right isn’t the kitchen due to the pilot and Go Flip Yourself episodes. The pilot shows a smaller, dimly lit area with different fixtures that is probably either a storage area or a restroom. In Go Flip Yourself, we know that the wall would have been taken out in order to extend Guillermo’s alcove into a proper room, which they wouldn’t have done if it was adjacent to the kitchen since they were ment to renovate that area too. Plus there was septic sewage seeping in under his floor which lends more to it being a first story bathroom (also because I don’t think that there is anywhere else to put a bathroom on the fist floor according the floor plans). The other doors on the left are Nandors room and the other room on that side probably leads to the basement since Guillermo exits that way from the cage he was held in season 3. On the other side we have one more door that I have no idea where it goes to but if I had to guess I would think it’s maybe Nadja’s and Laszlo’s room. Then there’s a little adjacent alcove/hallway at the very end. Here we have a lamp, a clock, and either a chair or a giant feather thing on one side. And on the other side there is a blue door.

And I only had to find all that out by rewatching several episodes and freeze-framing multiple times to the point of agony.

Making my best guess as to where the kitchen is: it’s probably at the very, very end of the hallway, past all the bedrooms and main hallway, to the blue door on the right side of the alcove. I figured this by the blue door having a similar door handle and that it opens in from the left instead of the right like all the others on the same floor. 

So. The most logical thought is that Nandor went into the kitchen in order to get the drinks, right? But how does this get him to the balcony? 

In the Local News episode, Guillermo makes towards down the hall with his dinner but Colin Robinson stops him and tells him not to go that way. Here we see Guillermo put his hand on the left stair banister to indicate that he is going to take the stairs up and head to the dining room on the second floor.

If Guillermo goes to the dining room from upstairs then we can make the leap that the dining room was the intended location to begin with when he was going down the hall. So - there must be a way to do that, right? In the little tag at the end of the episode Guillermo finishes his dinner and goes right instead of left like he did when he was running away from The Baron.

He then takes these little stone stairs to the first floor but right before that we have a small little peak of horizontal subway tile.

Which is the exact subway tile that we see in the kitchen.

So the kitchen connects to the staircase to the second floor in the hallway of the dining room. And, because we have just seen Guillermo run down that same hallway and take a left, crashing into the wooden frame and onto the first floor…

… if Nandor took those same stairs up, went down the hall, past the dining room, and took a left….he would be right on the balcony. 

Looking down on Guillermo's confession.

And, since nothing happens in wwdits without being filmed the next question would be: well ok but was it filmed? Because if it wasn’t filmed then it didn’t happen. You can’t have the reveal. Now wwdits doesn’t exactly play fair all the time with its film crew. There’s several times when a shot is impossible by virtue of it supposedly being filmed in real time. And really, that’s just going to happen. You can’t use a lot of film language already with how wwdits is filmed and making sure every shot is in accordance to roughly 4-5 in-universe apparently human people with no reshoots is impossible. But we have been a little bit more trained to think about the film crew this season, what with them actually participating more into what we’re shown - the set up of shots, hearing them ask questions and push Guillermo to talk about his turning with Derek, the crew that followed Guillermo to talk to his mother is actually pointed out to be two people, when his aunt asks them if they're hungry. From that we can also start thinking about how there are probably two people per plot (a plot and b plot), one for camera and another most likely a producer or sound guy. And we know that just about everyone is downstairs in this intervention, with the exception of Laszlo, who is catatonic and easily visible in the library on everyone’s right. So if just about everyone is in one place you would only need two people here. The other two would follow the ‘b’ plot: Nandor. But we don’t see anyone follow him down the hall. 

Well, again keeping in mind impossible shots happen all the time, I don’t think it’s a stretch to give a little weight to this shot here:

Right after Guillermo and The Baron part ways and Guillermo opens the door, frying the Baron for the second time, that shot is caught from the balcony, but it would have been ‘impossible’ considering none of the crew were seen going upstairs. Even if they had left with Nadja or Nandor when the camera had turned to close in on the The Baron and Guillermo’s conversation, both of them had gone down the hall on the first floor (most likely to their rooms) while The Guide went across, away from the stairs, probably to the library with Laszlo. So there would have been no reason for them to be upstairs if they were following the vampires like they’re supposed to.  

Unless, they were already upstairs to begin with. 

Conclusion:

So we have the opportunity and means for both part of the camera crew and Nandor to have been up on the balcony while Guillermo confessed:

A part of the crew, probably stuck upstairs after Guillermo had run away from The Baron, stayed up there for any number of various reasons. Damage to their equipment, resetting equipment, etc. but either way, they’re not necessary to film the gang downstairs since they are all together at the moment. 

Nandor, going down the hall, to the very end, and then to the right puts him into the kitchen. From there he either can’t find a platter, cups, blood, becomes curious, who the hell knows, and decides to go upstairs using the tiny stone staircase hidden there. (maybe he is looking for a fancy platter to put the drinks on and they would be all upstairs in the dining room since they were just hosting a party). 

Maybe hearing his name or anything else to spark his curiosity he walks down the hall and towards the balcony that Guillermo was just running down a few minutes earlier. There he watches Guillermo talk about being turned by Derek. 

The other half of the crew that were left upstairs get lucky enough to catch it on tape and then lucky again to get a perfect shot of The Baron being fried for a second time when that happens later. 

Nandor returns to the group with his platter of drinks, knowing that Guillermo went behind his back to be turned by Derek. No one but the crew knows he was ever up there.

And that is how (I think) Nandor was on the balcony the whole time.

[horseslur]

Someone else can link the tumblr post/reddit link in the replies under this, I'm mostly here to elaborate on uh. How SSE Fucked Up This Time (possibly illegal version).

Disclaimer: Not an actual expert on this stuff, but i am an economics major. and i literally took a class on this sort of thing this semester.

What is SSE doing?

TLDR: as of roughly today (dec 21st 2023) but possibly earlier, you have a chance of, when trying to buy starrider, getting not just the "regular" discount packages that we know, where you pay once and get a bunch of seasonal goodies and the weekly sc, but also a "special" "Discounted" option where you get the goodies and starrider and *no weekly sc*. Meaning you will have to manually buy starcoins if you ever want any beyond the initial 2k or whatever.

Why is this possibly illegal?

I'm not diving too deep into A/B testing, because I know the least amount about it, but essentially it is literally up to chance which option you get, the regular set or the "cheap" option.

Combined with the fact that they sneakily removed the "receive a weekly starcoin allowance" from the starrider page from one day to another, and the fact that a slight graphical change (that being the +100sc not being in the image of the cheap option) are the only acknowledgements of this change, it basically sets them up for a lawsuit in any location they roll out these options.

Trade, market and consumer authorities (the FTC in the US, the European Commission in Europe, Konsumentverket in Sweden for example) have as one of their main and foremost goals the protection of consumers in the country where a product is sold. They're the reason why you can get your money back if you order something online and it doesn't arrive, or something distinctly different from what you ordered arrives instead. Rule number 1 for any company or seller is do not mislead your consumers.

Does removing the sc allowance directly break said rule? No. But doing so in a shady, hidden way that leads people to believe they should be receiving starcoins onto to be told by customer support to suck it up, they bought the wrong thing, and to do so unannounced and randomly throughout multiple regions, Definitely sets up a case against them.

It can absolutely be argued that after a decade of having a premium currency allowance as the Standard in their starrider subscriptions, to remove it unannounced and present it to customers as a regular discount is deliberately misleading consumers to buy a product that is not what they intended to buy. Both new customers and returning customers buying alternate accounts step into this process expecting to pay once for a starrider bundle that, given the ongoing seasonal festival, includes the seasonal cosmetic options, in addition to the "regular" premium currency allowance. This is especially more obvious once you realise that (presumably since implementing this system), you have to have created an account on their site and logged into it to even see which starrider bundles are available to you, which makes people unlikely to ever realise that the offers they are getting might be different from other people in their same region, with one version being significantly worse/different from what they might expect.

TLDR: it's really fucking shady of them to just Suddenly shove a bundle without the weekly allowance in people's faces when people are expecting to have them, especially because they're clearly trying to hide the fact that it's an option at all or different from the regular bundle.

What now?

If you or someone you know is getting this bundle or has bought it and felt surprised/betrayed by the fact that it lacks the allowance, take it to your local consumer protection authority (after you've contacted customer support). If you're uncertain what to tell them, try and add the following points:

You bought an online product to be used inside the game, which turned out to be something different from what you thought it was.

When you contacted customer support over this, they told you that the version you bought does not contain the allowance, but offer no way to correct this mistake. (Unless the customer support script ends up changing. In that case simply add what they did tell you.)

The discounted bundle did not clearly state that it lacks the allowance, nor is it distinctly different from other bundles, and is in fact the first option you were given.

To see what bundles are offered to you at all requires logging into an account on their website, making it difficult for you to compare offers to what other people might be getting, and making it unlikely for you to realise that you got something different from others at all until after you have bought it.

At worst, SSE will be reprimanded and made to add more clearly on their website what the bundle contains and what you're missing out on.

At best they actually go to court and go bankrupt over said costs and we'll finally be truly free

[sheydgarden]

fair print-on-demand for artists?

i'm making this its own post for more visibility - feel free to reblog, i'm primarily looking to hear from other artists rather than from customers.

quick definition: a print-on-demand service (POD) is a company that allows you to upload your designs (that you retain full rights to) and have them printed on a variety of products - usually t-shirts & other apparel, stickers, mugs, etc. - by the company itself or a subcontractor. the key here is that you're not ordering a supply of products to sell yourself (or not) at a later date, you're offering customers the ability to go to this website and select a potential product which is then printed on demand, and the company handles all the interaction with the customer (shipping, quality & returns, etc.). because they're doing the manufacturing & shipping, they take a significant cut, but different companies have different pricing structures & some are more fair to artists in terms of profit margins than others.

TLDR: i'm looking for a new POD service to replace my Redbubble account, which i deleted after they decided to severely undercut creators (especially small artists). more details below, please read before you rec!

so the nice thing about POD is that it's passive income - you made the work, you put it up & leave it, people buy things when they want & you get a bit of money when that happens. i also - infrequently! - run an Etsy shop where i sell things i've either handmade or ordered from suppliers (mostly stickers). i get more money from that, yes, and also it's a lot more work on my end. i primarily work as a freelancer illustrator, i've started selling at (COVID cautious) in-person events again, & i'm disabled - this is why my Etsy has been empty all year.

i am very lucky to have enough of a following to be able to regularly sell all my stock when i do put it on Etsy, and (when I had an account) to have a smaller but steadier trickle of income from POD. i do not have enough of a following for it to make sense for me to order large quantities of apparel-type products & sell them myself.

it's frustrating to see that many alternatives to Redbubble (like Bonfire or Spring) have moved to a "campaign" model where you release a design in a time-limited campaign with a selling goal, aggressively promote it on social media, & then all the products (shirts, whatever) are shipped at the same time. i understand why it exists - larger batches mean lower manufacturing costs & higher profit - but for someone like me who doesn't have a massive social media following or really even a big presence now that Twitter is dying, i'm not sure it could work. for me the point is that i put it up, i leave it alone, i direct people towards my shop & the small handful of beautiful weirdos who vibe with my work can buy what they want on their own time (i adore you, weirdos! there are so many more of you than i ever expected, but i am not, as the kids say, an "influencer")

i've been researching various companies & i keep finding that Redbubble, prior to their nasty fee restructuring, seemed to have some of the fairest profit margins due to the ability to set your own pricing above the manufacturing costs. what i want to hear from other artists is where you sell & if you feel like different systems (Society6's 10%, for example, or Threadless' artist cost-setting vs. letting them manage your shop & offer discounts to move more products) work or are ripping you off.

thanks so much for reading & solidarity to all the other working artists who are struggling to stay afloat as various social media collapses & corporate greed continues to cut our opportunities in half!!! for the love of fuck just let me make things & get paid

[major-comet]

took notes about last stand while i was watching, because that's just what I do these days to keep my thoughts in order. under the cut for Length

TLDR: I really liked it

erik's suit jesus lord

the music in this "not too distant future" scene sounds like star wars. like i had double check who composed this movie it sounds so much like star wars

logan using a random fire to light his cigar while everyone's under fucking attack,,,

"we work as a team, logan" bestie his Whole MO is that he always runs off alone.

goddamn these training fights are intense, ajsjs

"you're a guy your minds only on one thing" poor bobby he looks so upset

"department of mutant affairs" why do i feel that this will end poorly

oh that's why i feel it will end poorly

OH THE KID WHO WAS WATCHING TV LAST MOVIE IS OKAY thank god

when does pietro show up, by the way. I know he's in at least one of these movies

oh so this is Really the eugenics movie of the trilogy. like we've moved from just political eugenics and uh. cerebro eugenics into full on medical eugenics

THEY'RE RUNNING THEIR EUGENICS LAB OUT OF ALCATRAZ???? ARE YOU FUCKING JOKING???

oh rouge wants that cure

"there's nothing to cure" ororo you just manipulate the weather (very well, but still). rogue drains lifeforce through skin contact. i don't think your situations are at all comparable

the more xmen movies i watch, the more i realize that the mcu sucks. by having to work to fit in with a huge, sprawling cinematic universe, the individual stories get muddled. x-men gets to have a very cohesive trilogy, because you don't need to take a break to watch a bunch of other movies in order to understand what's happening.

hi jean

i love logan and ororo, they should team up more often

is this ceo guy angel's dad, i can't remember

oh yeah he totally is

they can't make x-men movies anymore because this shit is still so goddamn topical and disney's afraid of that

oh my god???

they have to have erik do a few things in every movie that reminds you that he's a bad guy, and i'm so upset that in this one abandoning mystique is one of them

is anyone gonna actually ask "hey guys. what the fuck happened to scott"

oh she ripped his belt off Fast

oh Now we ask where scott is. after you just made out with his girlfriend

ARE YOU SERIOUS???

what do you fucking mean,,,i didn't know,,,

erik's pained scream of charles' name,,,ororo and logan collapsing together,,,

okay i feel bad for rouge, but bobby taking kitty ice skating is Very Cute

i was about to say "where the fuck do you think you're going" but yeah no, she's pretty obvious about it

"you're not doing this for some boy, are you?" logan i love you

i think logan is my favorite of the gruff father figures i've come across in superhero movies. i started typing that literally as he said "i'm not your father, i'm your friend"

logan, guy who notably has metal covering his bones, loves to put himself in situations against the guy who controls metal

i'm sorry i know logan's giving his big dumb "we're X-Men" rallying speech, but god it's so funny how scott died just totally unceremoniously. it barely affected the narrative, and it happened So Fast.

bobby's the gay one in the comics, isn't he

i couldn't find an answer on google, but I wonder what game these kids are playing in the car (looks single player, funnily enough)

it totally just hit me that nightcrawler isn't in this movie. what'd they do with that little gay boy, i miss him

"oh my stars and garters" hi beast

oh my god not only do we have metal bones guy going against magneto, buy now they've brought Metal Skin Boy into the mix

okay i have to admit throwing flaming cars like molotov cocktails is sick as fuck

wow it's almost like the training fight at the beginning was setting something up

halle berry you're so hot the storm hair looks so pretty on you

oh my god the shot of eric sitting alone at the chessboard was what finally made me cry

yeah obviously the cure isn't a final end-all be all, that's Magneto baby you can't keep him down

that was really good! oh my god i've finally watched a trilogy of superhero movies and liked all three movies a Lot (and not in a "I know that sucked but I still loved it" kind of way, I never thought I'd see the day

[lesbianfakir]

Okay this is probably going to be super silly. But now I am really thinking about how I’d love to open like an Etsy adjacent shop one day (fuck actual Etsy lol). But I honestly have no idea how to package things for mailing esp in a professional setting. So here’s what I’m thinking and tell me if this is a silly idea:

If there’s any prints or stickers I’ve made that anyone would really like I’d be happy to mail them for free so I can get a sense of what the logistics of mailing things out would be like. I can’t guarantee the packaging would be as professional as your average online order experience but that’s the whole point lol

Anyways tldr; Im thinking about doing an art print or sticker give away so I can practice packaging things as if I were shipping them from a store. I could only do a limited number because money :,( but honestly I’d be so honored if anyone wanted a print of my art or something

[ageless-soul-au]

HIHIHI OKAY. i absolutely love flicker. do you accept fanart (might be a silly question but im 16 and want to make sure before i actually draw/send in anything. im here for my boy /lighthearted)

but besides that. ive never seen anyone else actually hc that downfall hero of time DIED AS A KID and i am SO GLAD other people feel the same. like dont get me wrong everyone has their own opinions and none are wrong but. I LOVE FLICKER. i love that the gods didnt quite catch him in time to put him to sleep and he took the sword to ganon and held his own until beast ganon. it makes me do a little happy wiggle.

he was not a "valiant, noble man, tragically lost to evil" he was a misguided child told the world rested on his shoulders and because of that, he was killed. and i LOVE that kind of tragedy

so. flicker supremacy, thank you very much.

Hi hello!!!! Omg you had so many great points, thank you for the enthusiasm!!

Mostly for the 18+ warning, we're trying to keep minors away from the main fics bc there are heavy, potentially triggering topics and NSFW-ish things there. As long as you have your community labels set up right on the blog tho, it should be safe to browse/interact with (though main blogs are different, Kio's is strictly 18+). I'm not your dad etc etc, practice caution online, we really only ask that minors don't read the fic or view the NSFW. We'll still probably be writing ASAU by the time you turn 18 tho so maybe see u on ao3 then?? XD

TLDR, it's up to you if you wanna make art of the lil guy. We appreciate everything that comes our way!

The decision to keep Flicker 9 years old came from a discussion on why the hero failed in the downfall timeline. Bc if things progressed like they had in OoT, then Link would have still won! So what needed to change in order for him not to win? It wasn't bc the player just went out to play basketball instead of beating the game /ref

The sages put Link to sleep bc he wasn't ready to wield the sword. But nothing changed except his size. He was in a 17 year old's body, but his mind hadn't matured any. Somehow he was able to pull it off tho, and everything turned out fine (or... It depends on your definition of fine).

So the sword didn't put Flicker to sleep. He didn't get stronger. And he's a tough kid, but that only goes so far. He also rushed to get to the final boss, which Time didn't do, so Flicker got there underprepared in his haste. He died, then the goddesses went "oh shit, that shouldn't have happened!!" and reset the timeline. And as we know, a reset doesn't mean that the original timeline goes away, now there's just two versions of the story.

Poor lil guy... His Zelda (Aria) and the sages managed to pull it together, but the timeline was still pretty fucked. I can't wait for when we get to what happened to it in the fics, but that won't be for a while. Flicker is still out there tho... In the forest... Doing his little guy things....

Thank u for ur interest! Maybe we'll have gotten to Flicker's point in the story by the time you're 18 hchdhdj

-Kio & Mizu

[liesmyth]

do you see any RJK / artashipatrick parallels? ive been thinking about it a lot lately and wanted to get ur viewpoint

hi hi hi! I actually saw this opinion a couple of times in Ted Lasso fandom, but personally I don't share it. I AM very curious about your reasoning for it because I love looking at ships from different angles and seeing what people take from them.

my tldr is that I don't think RKJ has anything in common with the Challengers trio, beyond the fact that they're about two men ostensively fighting over a girl while also engaging in the kind of simmering homoeroticism that permeates elite men's sport. (this Marylin Frie quote says it better) I get why this can seem a parallel by itself but, to me, it's just a function of both ships being set in a Sports Media canon. When it comes to characters and their dynamics, these ships are built very differently IMO.

relative to each other:

the Challengers trio all start out as peers, both in age and in relative success level of their careers. They're all finalists in the Junior US Open when they meet. RKJ as a dynamic is absolutely hierarchical in comparison: you have Roy being a Legacy kind of Big Name in the sport, Jamie as the talented up-and-comer who idolised him growing up, and while he has promise, there's non guarantee he can come even close to the kind of career Roy's implied to have had. And then there's Keeley, who's absolutely an outsider in their world, and on a systemic level is much lower down the pecking order. I think Ted Lasso, especially in S1 and S2 does a great job giving an overview of, like, how transactional footballers/wags relationships inherently ARE, even to people who aren't already familiar with the context — not just the financial asymmetry and stark difference in career and life prospects but just, like. She's the girl peeking into the changing room and saying, Hi Boys. Jamie makes a joke about oogling her ass because they are both in on the joke that they fulfil a very specific stereotypical relationship dynamic.

Even if on a personal level both Roy and Jamie really respect and admire Keeley, she Does Not Belong in their hyperfocused sport-as-sexually-charged-rivarly world. Art and Patrick want to fuck Tashi first and foremost because she's a tennis phenomenon, they value her athletic abilities and coaching insight. That's a whole completely different dynamic from what's going on between RKJ. Compare Art and Patrick complimenting Tashi's performance at the US Open to Roy and Jamie "fighting over her" in 3x12 where it's all about who she likes more. As someone who actually liked the bar fight because I think it shows a very realistic ugly side to these characters (*) it's just. two men fighting over a girl. vs two athletes being so impressed by someone who is a girl and also a star athlete in her own right.

(*) asterisk because I absolutely loathed so many writing choices in S3, like, even if I like some seeds of plots I hate how they were executed. Oh my god typing this out is making me want to completely AU S3 of TL. anyway; I have beef with the pacing and stuff around that scene but I like the existence of the scene itself.

Keeley and Tashi couldn't be more different

Tashi is just. Her personality is most similar to Roy's, imo. She lives and breathes tennis. She needs to be around that world to live; she struggles to fill the void left with coaching (and living vicariously through Art to an extent). Keeley, meanwhile, makes fun of Roy feeling like the world is ending when he finally admits to himself that he can't go on any longer. Mind, I think that lighthearted "it's not the end of the world" attitude was precisely what Roy needed to hear at that point, because he takes himself too seriously and needed someone to tell him that he can live without football, actually — but the fact that Keeley just Doesn't Get It on a fundamental level, again, marks her as an outsider to the kind of all-encompassing elite athlete attitude Roy and Jamie share. She doesn't even like football! She's occasionally flighty (good for her). She's turning 30 and doesn't know where her life is going (SO valid). She's a completely different personality than the kind of single-minded all-or-nothing attitude you NEED to make it as a pro athlete. Again: her dynamic with the two men who are into her couldn't be any different than Art/Tashi/Patrick, BECAUSE she's a completely different personality. If she was in Challengers, she'd be one of the normie Stamford kids Patrick and Tashi make fun of.

IDK. I think any similarity between Tashi and Keeley starts and ends at "they're both women". Maybe I'm being uncharitable here! I'm someone who thinks that Keeley's portrayal in fanon flattens her a bit (in the way female characters in the periphery of a m/m ship are often put on a pedestal and shoved off the way) so I'm definitely bringing some of my own baggage here; that's why I'd love to know what parallels others see. But I think she and Tashi have very different neuroses. THAT SAID. If I was writing a crossover Ted Lasso / Challengers fic, I really think Tashi/Keeley would be my ship of choice