#BUT THEN IT HIT ME ! i liked better their dynamic they have now the fated thing? LOVEE and una and aeggy are so !

[thedeadthree]

HMM.. una and aemond?? 👀

hi hi alyssa deariee ! i hope ur doing well love! ♡

send me an OC + an alternate love interest for them and i’ll tell you what i think of the idea

OHHHH YOU KNOW I HAVE HAD THIS ON THE BRAIN ONCE OR TWICE BELIEVE YOU MEE ! and in fact aemy almost WAS her love interest ! (in fact there's a scene in HIUH i have in mind where like... some like baelor or aemy even aeggy himself muses on her being VERY VERY a*emonds type? ofc he's like hehe giggling kicking feet bc she chose aeggy likely internally-ish but! still!) i see them as being quite alike in a few aspects (dragonriders of the cannibal and vhagar both of notoriety throughout the realm for being TERRIFYING, their knowledge of the histories and the desire to rise above their station/rule etc!) and respect each other highly! shes fascinated with the arcane and possesses a bit of an unhinged side ( a bit leg says <3 ) i think they would take a liking to each other swimmingly !

[hannieehaee]

18+ / mdi

content: loser!chan, afab reader, smut, oral (f receiving), penetrative sex, etc.

wc: 1420

a/n: my favorite chan is back<33

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4

masterlist

loser!chan who was now thoroughly and utterly addicted to you to the point where he couldn't function unless he had his daily dosage of you.

ever since that first encounter, chan knew that he would never get enough of you, but it wasn't until that fated day in which you finally took his virginity that chan knew that he was thoroughly fucked.

he couldn't think of anything but you. during any lulls in class, his mind would go straight to you and all the things the two of you could do together. when he woke up in the middle of the night, it was in a cold sweat as he awoke from a filthy dream about you. even in the moments you were in front of him, in the most innocent of circumstances, his mind would go straight to the gutter.

you had ruined former chan.

after that first time experiencing what it felt like to be with a pretty girl like you, chan had become instantly addicted to the feeling, now constantly seeking you out as much as possible.

he had become a bit of a pervert, in short terms.

instead of you seeking him out, knowing chan was too shy to do it on his own, the dynamic had shifted. now chan would text you asking to come over every other night. he'd occasionally beg you for nudes any time he you were too busy to see him. and the best worst of all had been a few days ago, when you'd caught him sniffing your panties after the two of you had slept together.

chan couldn't lie. he did become a depraved version of himself through the months in which he'd been fooling around with you. it had all just hit a peak when you took his virginity. he now understood why everyone around him was so obsessed with sex. and he believed himself to be insane for not having lost his virginity sooner. except he was thankful he hadn't, because that meant that he now had the most gorgeous girl to please and to please him in return.

at first you seemed surprised by the change, gasping whenever chan would try and take charge and jump you as soon as you stepped into the threshold of his dorm room. but you clearly seemed to enjoy it, feeding into it by teasing him or enticing him into fucking you faster and harder. you'd even left behind a few pairs of panties after having noticed that first missing pair.

~

"m-more, fuck. please ... p-push it back, i need it," he mumbled against your cunt, lazily licking at it from behind.

his arms were holding onto your hips, dragging them against his face as he ate you out.

this was yet another thing chan had recently grown infatuated with – eating you out.

whether it was day or night, chan would take any possible opportunity to get himself between your legs or bend you over in order to get his mouth on your cunt. these escapades would always result in the two of you fucking like animals on the bed, but nowadays chan always insisted in eating you out beforehand.

it was always quite a filthy sight, the way in which he'd still whine and beg for you, even when he didn't get any gratification from the act. crying against your cunt, he'd get more desperate by the minute, forcing you to arch your back more so he could get an even better angle to lick and suckle at you.

like now, as he manhandled you to his desired position in the same fashion of a petulant child, demanding things go his way. you aided him, grinding against his face, only causing him to groan against you yet again.

"cum for me?", he mumbled against you, "wanna taste it so bad ..." he pulled away for a moment, simply staring at your cunt, "its so pretty ... fuck, your cunt's so fucking good to me," he moaned before going back at it even more intensely this time.

it didn't take long for you to cum for him. with the combination of praise and his messy way of eating you out, it was impossible for you to hold back. the worst part was how he moaned and thanked you as he licked every drop of arousal coming out of you. the combination of praise and pleasure made the experience entirely blinding, eventually forcing you to drop on the bed in exhaustion.

he climbed over you, giving you a nasty kiss so you could taste yourself on his tongue.

after months of seeing each other, chan had perfected the art of those messy, wet kisses he loved to share with you so much. sometimes he'd even have to hold back from giving you short and sweet kisses while in public, knowing that his tongue might sneak into your mouth and create a scene of public indecency.

equally as depraved as him, you grabbed onto his hair and pushed his face against your own, moaning as you suckled on his tongue. you made out and felt each other up for some minutes until chan's hands grew too greedy, attempting to flip you over so that he could fuck you from behind.

this was yet another new development in your relationship.

having taken his virginity only some months back, you had shown chan every position you could think of, teaching him the ins and outs in order to optimize his pleasure. as time passed, he became more confident in his ability to fuck you, now often opting to fuck you rather than have you take full control (though he still went crazy any time you manhandled him and rode him all the way to oblivion)

positioning you, he ignored the thought of a condom altogether, having been informed by you that you had a iud and did not feel the need to ever use one with him. chan was yet to know what it was like to fuck with one, and he didn't ever want to find out.

he also learned that he enjoyed teasing you. this would usually take form in him rubbing the tip of his cock against your folds, making you whine and push back against him to get him to slide in.

rubbing himself against you, he hissed at the warmth he felt at barely dipping his tip in a tiny bit. you were always so wet and warm for him. only him. the thought made him push in with no warning, needing to feel the physical manifestation of how much you were his.

groaning at the feeling, he leaned forward, pressing up against your back as he fucked into you. the feeling of naked skin against naked skin was one of his favorite things. he couldn't help but fall in love with the intimacy of it.

"how do you feel s-so fucking good?" he groaned, pace of his hips going crazy against your ass.

"you, channie ... you do this to me. so good. such a good boy," you sighed.

even when he was in control, you managed to take it right back with just your words. your claims of ownership over him along with your praise were things he could no longer live without. he loved that you had been the only person to claim him. he was enamored with the fact.

"y-yeah? i think its you. you gorgeous, gorgeous girl. im yours? y'know what?", he leaned as close to your ear as he could, "you're all mine too."

whining at this, you tightened around him, making him lose his composure yet again. this had been the first time he had rebutted at your usual mumbles of him being your good boy. and he loved it. he loved knowing that even as he was your good boy, you were his pretty girl. his and no one could ever have you again.

continuing to hump against each other like wild animals in heat, your highs came to you at an almost equal speed, optimizing your orgasms all the better.

chan fell limp on the bed, being immediately dragged by you so you could lay by his side and cuddle him like you always did. your aftercare of him always made him cry inside. you took care of him so well, giving him all the affection a boy like him could ever hope for.

the usual i love you's were shared, falling into your slumber without having enough energy to even clean up.

[queenofapeacefuldawn]

SxF Crack Theory: The Identity Of [REDACTED]'s Father

Hear me out here.... but, maybe, Twilight's father could be Yuri's boss, aka, the SSS Lieutenant.

Now, this might be a crack/joke theory, but here is the evidence I have to back up my claim (yes, I'm presenting it because I'm just Like That):

(Warning: Manga spoilers ahead)

Exhibit A: Physical Characteristics

Here is a picture of Agent Twilight:

Here is a picture of Yuri's boss (who, from now in, will be referred to as YB, for my own convenience):

We can see that Twilight and YB have very similar facial characteristics: bluish-grey eyes, blond hair, and a similar face shape (nose, jaw).

We never see Twilight's father's full face: only the lower half, because he has presumably forgotten his face, along with his mother's (King of Emotional Repression™️), but we can see that his jawline and shape of his mouth are very similar to Adult Twilight.

Oh, and look at that- rather pronounced cheekbones, if I do say so myself. Where else did I see those? Hmmm

Exhibit B: Ambiguous Fate

During the War Arc, we're never told about [REDACTED]'s father's fate. We just know he never returns to his family: and the reason why he left for the very last time, was that, "Things have been heating up at the border. I need to take a little business trip." The fact that his, a (presumably) rather important man's, body was never recovered: nor were [REDACTED] or his mother informed of his death. Of course, his body could have been lost in the bombings, or the part of [REDACTED] finding out about his father's dead could have been omitted, but for most of the part, we're left to assume about his father's dead. And... this sounds familiar to another instance...

Like the instance of [REDACTED]'s friends. He (and we) assumed they'd died in the warehouse as children, but later we see that they're alive and in the army (only to die a second time, RIP), but this time, for their deaths to be confirmed: for [REDACTED] to only receive their dog tags after the failed campaign.

This may have been a setup: for Endo to reintroduce [REDACTED]'s father, later in the story, as YB.

Anyway, one thing I've learned after reading and watching so many books, comics, and TV shows: never assume a person's dead, not unless their body/proof of their death has been explicitly shown. This belief was only reinforced after [REDACTED]'s friends.

And, [REDACTED]'s father's last known place was around the Westalian-Ostanian border. He could have escaped in the crossfire, theoretically...

Exhibit C: Fatherly Nature (?)

We all love a good found-family dynamic in the workplace. It's there with WISE, it's there with Garden, and it's kinda there with the SSS.

My main argument about this stems from the chapter which focuses on Yuri's work.

We see YB continuously worry about Yuri's physical health, in panels like:

Obviously, this doesn't happen only in this chapter. Whenever Yuri's there, YB is also there, yelling at him to a) go to sleep, or b) STOP GETTING HIT BY BUSSES OH MY FUCKING GOD IT CAN'T HAPPEN SO MANY TIMES TO ONE PERSON-

And, of course, there's the Yuri Sick Fic chapter:

Not gonna lie, this point is extremely weak, if I brought this up in court I'd be laughed out of there-

Anyway, I just wanted to put this in.

If it does turn out that YB is [REDACTED]'s father then. Bestie. Buddy. How are you managing to be a better father-figure to some insolent kid who gets hit by busses than you were to your actual son, like 20 years ago. Maybe he learned along the way.

Exhibit D: Symbolism (???)

Oh, look, another point I'm pulling out of my ass! But whatever, you're reading it <3

During the War Arc, we see Twilight sustain two major injuries:

One, as a child, when his home is bombed:

And two, as an adult, in the army:

and these injuries are both to his left eye.

Of course, this has given rise to theories of him not being able to see his left eye, it being his blind spot, and Yor guarding his blind spot on missions, etc., etc., which I love bc ✨Twiyor✨

Getting back on point, if we look at YB, we see that he has injuries too... or rather, remnants of them, what with the scars he has...

which, are also on his left eye. Huh! Interesting... this might just be me, but could this be parallels to how similar he and his father were? Are? His father also wanted peace between Ostania and Westalis: but he taught his child that in a very harsh manner (by slapping him), but Twilight wants to teach Anya that in a kind manner. Whenever we see him teaching her, he never loses his cool with her (of course, he loses a lot of hope, but this man's a pessimist, what can we do).

Also shows how much kinder Twilight is, compared to his father.

---

Of course, these points are very weak, and it might just be that Endo reused some character designs for efficiency, but let me be, ok!! This is a crack theory!!! Let me be a clown!!!! AKDFJSJF

If I'm being honest, this post was inspired by a convo I'd had with my friend, around the time Chapter 86 was released. She was theorizing that [REDACTED]'s dad is the Shopkeeper, and I was theorizing it was this dude. Of course, our theorizing was sidetracked by Chapter 86, and a certain panel within it, but... WHATEVER.

So, what are your thoughts? Obviously, my own theory is very weak (for example, why would the SSS accept a Westalian citizen into their ranks? Why would he even join the SSS? Could he have defected? Abandoned his wife and kid?), but this was fun to think about, lol. What are your theories? I think the Shopkeeper-is-the-dad theory and the YB-is-his-dad theory are both cool, so, what do you think?

(Also, yeah, I know, his dad could very well be dead. I just refuse to believe it, bc I'm just Like That <3)

[seikkoi]

ᴀʀʀᴀɴɢᴇᴍᴇɴᴛ | t. stark & s. strange x f!reader

Step one: Work at one of the most successful research laboratories in the country. Step two: Don't fuck it up. Step two and a half: Do not fuck it up.

content/warnings: mildly dubious consent (sooo uncharacteristic of me), degradation, power dynamics, voyeurism, shy reader, org*sm denial, v*ginal fingering word count: 2.6k a/n: im having a small fixation on our favorite witchy doctor dont worry abt it

Shitshitshit!

You chastised yourself mentally over and over again, watching the bright blue numbers tick downwards. It might make sense to get up, scramble across the lab, fling your hand around the incubator and pull the plug. That’s what an amateur would do, but you’re an expert and know that will do fuck all for you now. Then again, an expert would have set the goddamned temperature correctly. 

You’d fallen asleep at your desk–a natural consequence of several late nights collecting data (or drowning in term papers and reports). In your half-awake state, right before your head hits the table, you set the temperature twenty degrees lower than it should be. Dreamland gave no clues to the impending doom awaiting you. Instead, you dreamt of a tropical paradise. Your sunny fantasia was inevitably interrupted by the persistent beep that echoed the labs walls.

The digits keep trickling down, and you rest your head in your heads. All you can do is wait for it to hit zero. Thousands of synthetic cultures–gone. That was two months of work down the drain, and your bosses expected a very long report, printed and neatly stapled by the end of this week. 

You were so fucking fired.

The numbers finally stop, the computer beeping tauntingly as if you needed verbal confirmation on how screwed you were. You could not even begin to imagine how you would explain this. You worked at one of the best laboratories in the world, there wasn’t room for rookies errors here. Especially not when they come from supposed wannabe professionals like you (and cost millions of dollars). Your first week some larger-than-life MIT grad used the wrong inventory system and was gone by noon. You weren’t any better, just some Ph.D candidate trying to boost her resume. 

The computer stops, and in its absence you pick up on the slight tick of the clock on the desk. The red analog reads 9:57 PM. Late, but not too late for your bosses to still be around. You’re nauseous with guilt, but you can’t imagine carrying it through the night, working with nothing through the rest of week just to get canned on Friday.

No, you’d accept your fate now.

If you were lucky, you’d only have to talk to one of them. 

You don’t have a preference for either. Stark had no issue showing dissatisfaction through his words, often sternly and without grace. The good part was that he was the same way with praise, although you rarely managed to earn that. Strange on the other hand was, well, strange. You barely interacted with him, but when you did you always left the conversation not sure if he despised you or merely tolerated your presence. It changed your working attitude from focusing on the science to scrambling for perfection to gain even the faintest ounce of approval. 

Obviously, not well enough if you were making Alaska-sized mistakes like this. Both were equally arrogant (unfortunately, well deserved) and you knew neither of them well enough to plead for your job. 

You make your way down the dim hallway, passing the empty offices and labs. More than one mental pep talk passes through your mind. The end of the hallway held your demise, a cracked open door holding an illuminating light and a pair of voices. 

All you could do was hope they weren’t too harsh.

Beyond the wooden door, you listen to two voices argue indiscriminately. 

“I suppose you think we should just give it away.” one says exasperatedly, and you figure this is Stark by the sarcasm laced in each syllable.

“No,” the other sighs, “but our shareholders will never agree to this price point.”

“The shareholders will agree to whatever we tell them to.”

“You’re right, to a point. Still, we need to be realistic in our expectation of returns.”

“We haven’t done all this work for realism. We did it for profit and you want to sell our hard work to the lowest bidder.”

You tapped your knuckles against the oak door, heart beating in your chest. You went through a couple of opening lines–promises about how this would never happen again and pleas for understanding. Logically, you knew neither were likely to be granted. The voices on the other side grant you entrance that you take nervously. Inside, Stark sits at the large desk in the middle of the room. Strange stands beside him, peering over papers that you presume sparked their conversation. 

At the sight of you, both men seem to soften their hardened expressions. Whatever nonsense flared their words a moment ago is gone, replaced by confusion by their junior researcher at their door this late. Strange glances at the timepiece on his wrist before you can say anything, scoffing and shaking his head. 

“Yes, [y/n]?”

The annoyance drips, clearly not amused by your poorly timed visit. You wring your fingers in front of your body. 

“Firstly, sirs, I want to apologize, there was a mistake with the incubator, and the cultures were destroyed.” 

You wish you sounded more confident, but instead your eyes dart between the men and the floor. Your omission tumbles out in a whiny tone, waiting on every syllable for their faces to turn and tell you how stupid you were and how much you cost them in time and resources. That’s not how it goes, however. 

Stark leans back in the leather desk chair, metal creaking as his arms are crossed in front of his body. He makes an annoyed face, sure, but not the angry scowl you were dreading. 

Strange’s reaction is even more peculiar, chuckling slightly and glancing back at Tony.

“Did the incubator make a mistake, or did you?” he says lightheartedly, a grin stretching on his face, yet the words create a swell in your throat. 

Tony seems to find it amusing as well, watching Strange stalk towards you. He stops in the middle of the office. You’re less than two yards away, trying not to tremble under his gaze. 

“I did, sir, I’m sorry. I’ll gather my things and leave.” you whispered, hanging your head in shame. 

Your feet are on autopilot, turning for the door until Strange speaks again.

“Oh, there’s no need for that.” he chuckles. “Right, Tony?”

You turn back to see him looking towards Stark, who hums in approval. Even more confused, you watch as Strange beckons you closer, and you obey on instinct. 

“I don’t think it’s a good look for a Ph.d candidate to have a termination from such a large company on her record.” Tony coos from his chair.

“No, not at all. That might just tarnish her future.” Strange adds.

Their eyes rake over you. Stephen beckons you forward again, and you comply once more. Clearly, they were mocking you before giving you the boot. The condescending drip in their voices leaves your skin hot with embarrassment.

“We wouldn’t want that for you, sweetheart.” Tony sits up as Strange guides you towards the desk, a large hand resting on your back. 

“I-I don’t understand.” you stammer. 

They both share another laugh at your confusion. Stephen stands behind you once you reach the desk. He nudges you forward until your hips are flush against the edge. There’s still separation, but not enough that you can’t sense his body right behind yours.

“I’m sure a smart girl like you knows how valuable you are to us,” Tony locks eyes with you as Strange twirls your hair in his fingers. The touch shocks you to turn back to him, only for Strange to push you back to face Tony. 

“Everyone makes mistakes, after all.”

Your eyes widen when Stephen presses his body into yours, easily towering over you. Heavy hands trail down your jean-covered hips, hot enough to burn your skin through the denim.

“We’re very understanding, I’m sure we can work something out.” Stephen’s voice purrs in your ear, warm breath tickling your throat.

The glittering look in Stark’s eye is all too familiar, watching Stephen’s hands get acquainted with every inch of your form. You shudder under his touch. The blood in your veins runs cold as you catch a wink between the two men–and suddenly, you understand.

“Wouldn’t want your career to end before it even starts now would we?” Tony taunts. 

Fingers tease along your side. Soon, they work their way under your shirt, grazing the skin of your midriff. 

Any lingering uncertainty is snuffed when Stephen presses further into you. The desk digs into your hips, trapping you between it and the tall doctor. 

“I can’t–we can’t–this isn’t–”

Each attempt at a full sentence fails under Tony's lustful gaze. It’s quite enjoyable watching you fail against Stephen. Recruitment always seemed to be just the prettiest research assistants. Who could blame them for finally getting an opportunity for a taste? 

Not to mention you did just cost them a small fortune with your little mistake. Contrary to your beliefs, though, they liked your work ethic (and you, for that matter). Letting go of such a helpful piece of eye candy simply wouldn’t do. That doesn’t mean that kindness is a guarantee. 

“No?” Tony hums. “Well, we could always let you go. We can give a shining recommendation, of course having to mention your little incompetencies.” 

Being blacklisted would kill you. All you wanted was to work in this field. Years of late nights and term papers down the drain was a far greater loss than a few synthetic cultures. 

“Please, you don’t have to do that.” you plead. Behind you, Strange’s beard scratches your throat. His hands travel further north, dancing on the hem of your bra. Goosebumps spread across your skin.

“Like I said, I’m sure we can all come to some sort of compromise.” Stephen’s voice drops low and heavy, enveloping on your covered breasts in his right hand. He squeezes gently, tweaking your nipple through the padded fabric.

“W-what if someone finds out–please, just–”

“Oh, don’t you worry, honey. We know how to be discreet.” Tony smirks.

Your eyes can never seem to leave Tony’s, watching his smile grow as your arousal does. It’s against your doing. Stephen completely surrounds you, touching any part of you he could reach. You gasp when the doctor’s idle hand finds your other nipple, rocking himself into you as you squirm. 

“I think she wants to keep her job, don’t you, honey?” Stephen chimes in.

You nod nervously. If this would save your career, so be it. People have slept with their bosses for less, right? And you certainly weren’t blind, both men were attractive in their own rights, able to pander through a catalog of women much smarter and much more their style. It begs the question why they were doing this all–crossing such a boundary with a goddamned graduate student. 

“Oh no, honey, we’ll need to hear you say it.” 

You barely blink, nor breath, all brain power zeroing in on Strange’s heat pressed into you. Tony raises an impatient eyebrow and you manage to answer out of the need to appease him and keep your job. 

“Yes, I’ll do whatever you want.”

The second the words leave you, Stephen’s hand disappears from your shirt to push you over the desk. You would’ve face planted straight into it had his palms not wrapped tightly around each of your wrists, yanking your arms. You try to sit up, uncomfortably pressed between Stephen Itchy wool suit pants and the wooden desk. Tony gleams down at you as the doctor keeps a firm hand splayed across your back, his right hand reaching around for the zipper of your jeans. 

In the next moment, you feel cool air bend around your bare legs. Before you can have anything even remotely resembling second thoughts, your lace panties are quickly pulled to your ankles as well. Warmth flushes across your cheeks, feeling Stephen’s hungry eyes and fingers on your exposed cunt–all while Tony’s eyes stay locked onto you, smile growing wider as your shame does. 

That became harder the second rough hands grab the supple flesh of your ass before a teasing finger slid across wet folds. You squirmed against Stephen’s hold on your wrists, trying desperately to look anywhere but at your boss as you bit back a soft gasp.

“I think our pretty little assistant is feeling a bit shy, Stephen.” Tony declares, reaching out to caress the side of your face not pressed into the surface. It sends butterflies up your spine at how gently he draws tight circles on the skin of your cheek, humming in satisfaction from how roughly Stephen roams over your body.

“Tsk, I hardly believe that, as wet as she is right now.” he murmurs, distracted by the mess you wish you weren’t making. 

You kept your lips pierced tightly between your teeth, lids squeezing shut when a long digit pushes into your aching walls. A deep groan from Strange echoes behind you. You hardly had time to eat, let alone maintain a social life. This meant it had been almost months since you’d slept with anyone–leaving needy and aching from the simplest touch. Even if it was your boss. 

You instinctively try to pull forward when a second finger is roughly added, and this time you can’t stop the whimper as you stretch around him.

“There it is–feels good doesn’t it? Don’t be shy, honey.” Tony’s voice sounds like smolding ice, freezing your nerves and setting your skin on fire. 

You almost hate yourself for how good this feels, Stephen pistoning in and out of your cunt until the sounds of your arousal against his fingers flood the office walls. All while Tony strokes your face like you're made of fine china. It’s far more than your body can handle, stomach already tightening with each pulse of the doctor’s fingers. 

“Go ahead, hon’, tell us how much you like it.”

Your face warms. From his touch or embarrassment, you’re not sure. You stammer under the heat, trying to look anywhere but Tony’s piercing eyes. 

Stephen’s hand comes down strong on your exposed ass, earning a loud cry from you as you strain against his hold. It shouldn’t make your head spin as much as it does.

“That wasn’t a request, answer him.” the doctor commands, gripping your wrists even tighter. When you take a second too long to muster a response, another strike falls on your opposite cheek. Your nerves are nearly disintegrated, still relishing good his finger feel stretching your cunt.

“It–it’s good, it feels–” you cry out once more when he spanks you again, taunting you for being too quiet. 

“It feels really good, sir.” you say louder, nearly shouting into the wood as your legs shake. 

Tony laughs above you, only worsening your shame. It’s an easily forgotten feeling–Stephen’s fingers curl inside you, testing each angle until he finds the one that makes you squirm. Soon enough, you forget where you are entirely, barely able to tell where your skin and theirs begin. Your high is far too close to care about the way Tony watches you, or how bruised your wrists will be after Stephen’s done with you. 

Just as your mind starts to split into two, it’s quickly interrupted. Stephen withdraws from your soaking cunt, leaning over you to press you impossibly further into the desk, unbuckling the leather belt at his waist. You jerk your head up at the ache between your legs, meeting Tony’s devilish smirk. Warm lips grace your ear, chuckling at your needy panting. 

“Aw, poor thing. Don’t think we’d let you off that easy–you’ll need to earn it.” Stephen whispers.  

As he sinks into you, you get the feeling this mistake will take quite some time to pay back. 

[macbethsymphony]

The Swordsman and the Blacksmith | Chapter 4

Roronoa Zoro x Reader

Chapter wc: 3k

Chapter rating: SFW

Content/Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Fem!Reader, Enemies to lovers, SLOW slow burn, Eventual smut

Summary: Your skills as a blacksmith have made you desirable to both the government and pirates. You know you have to leave this island if you want to escape your fate, but that doesn't make the choice of leaving any easier. Roronoa Zoro is intrigued by your skills as a blacksmith. Your work is like nothing he's ever seen before. Unfortunately, you're hot-headed and he's rude and you both definitely hate each other.

Chapters [1] [2] [3]

Masterlist

Slowly crossposting from AO3 Feel like binging the rest of it? it's all there!

Chapter 4: The promise

Your departure from the tranquil shores of your island had been hurried, leaving little time for prolonged goodbyes. Mary had embraced you tightly before you stepped onto the deck of the Thousand Sunny. Despite her attempts to mask her emotions with a smile, tears glistened in her eyes, betraying the sorrow she felt.

"You have to behave," Mary had admonished gently as Nami's announcement echoed through the air, signaling the ship was about to leave. "Try to be nice for once in your life."

“I will.” You had said understanding the weight of her words and the importance of fitting in with the other members of the crew.

"And try to reconcile with the swordsman too," she had added, her tone soft yet firm. The mention of Zoro had elicited a scowl from you, a testament to the unresolved tension between you and the rude swordsman.

"Promise me you'll try, (Y/n)," she had implored, her voice tinged with emotion.

“I promise.” You had reluctantly given your word, knowing that your promise held a significant meaning to Mary.

"Good," she had sighed, a hint of relief evident in her voice. "I'm going to miss you. You better write to me once in a while, alright?" With those parting words, she had enveloped you in a final embrace, clinging to you as if unwilling to let you go, before reluctantly releasing you to embark on your new journey.

The rhythmic clang of your hammer against the workbench you were building echoed in the air as a heavy sigh escaped your lips. The weight of your promise to Mary lingered heavily on your shoulders, a burden on your conscience that seemed to grow each passing day. Doubts crept into your mind about your ability to fulfill the pledge you had made. Day after day, the patience you had towards the swordsman grew closer to snapping.

But it really wasn’t all bad if you were honest. You had now been aboard the Thousand Sunny for over a week. The whirlwind of events still left your head spinning at times. But despite the abrupt and drastic changes that had overturned your life, you were slowly but steadily growing fond of the dynamic aboard the ship.

Your short temper had quickly become a well-known trait among the crew, but they had also discovered that it was mostly bark and little bite. They had grown accustomed to your scowls and variating moods, even finding amusement in them. Their laughter in the face of your irritation had become a familiar sound, a lighthearted teasing that somehow made you feel like you belonged.

One day, as you shared drinks, you couldn’t help but ask the girls what they all found so funny in the face of your outrage. The laughter had amplified, you hadn’t been able to help the tipsy smile hitting your lips at the infectious joy in front of you.

“It’s just…” Robin had started, laughter redoubling as she tried to explain.

“You look like an angry kitten when you scowl like that.” Nami had finished for her between two outbursts of laughter.

You’d blushed furiously, an indignant ‘No I don’t,’ muttered under your breath.

You smiled at the memory as you hammered a final nail in the workbench, marking it as completed. Franky had approached you the moment you’d stepped on the Sunny, different blueprints in hand for a forge, an excited smile on his lips at the multitude of ideas crossing his mind. He’d been so excited to build you the perfect workplace. The two of you had developed an easy friendship in the process, you were beyond grateful to the shipwright for the opportunity to continue your work.

“What’s got you smiling like that, (Y/n),” the man in question asked you, pulling you back to reality.

You turned to him, grin still touching your lips. “Just something Robin and Nami said the other day,” you replied, your voice laced with amusement.

Franky’s eyebrows rose, clearly curious. “Oh yeah? What was that?” he asked, setting down his tools and leaning in closer.

You chuckled shaking your head. “Apparently, I look like an angry kitten when I get all worked up.” You said rolling your eyes playfully.

Franky burst into laughter, the sound echoing on the walls of the small forge you were building together. “An angry kitten, huh? I can totally see it,” he exclaimed after a while.

You feigned an indignant expression. “I don’t look like a kitten, Franky”

He looked you over. “You’re not exactly threatening looking, (Y/n). A kitten is a pretty good descriptor if I can say so myself.” His big hand settled softly on your head ruffling your hair gently. “But hey, it’s all part of your charm (Y/n)!”

 You let out a scoff, the outrage clearly fake as happiness marked your features.

“You know I’m grateful to you right, Franky?” you spoke after a few seconds of silence.

“That so?” He said, moving to examine your work.

“Never in a million years would I have imagined you’d make this space for me on your ship.” You admitted.

Franky smiled, he knew you were not just speaking about the forge, but he also knew feelings were not your strong suit. “You can’t be serious,” he exclaimed. “There’s no way we’re letting your talent rot away on this ship.”

You smiled, hearing the unsaid in his words. You’re family now.

“Besides,” he continued after giving your work an approving nod. “Usopp and I are going to be pestering you with so many requests as soon as this is done.”

Sanji’s voice cut through the air, announcing that lunch was ready, interrupting the heartfelt moment.

The enticing aroma of Sanji’s cooking wafted through the air as you opened the door to the kitchen. Everyone was already there, the atmosphere buzzing with cheerfulness. Luffy, Usopp and Chopper eagerly occupied their seats, anticipation clear as they watched Sanji meticulously prepare their plates. Nearby Nami and Robin were engaged in an animated conversation, laughter contributing to the lively ambiance.

Taking your customary seat, you found yourself facing the brooding swordsman. His scowl at your presence darkened your mood, squashing the smile on your lips instantly. Your eyes dropped to the swords at his belt. It irked you beyond measure that such stunning swords belonged to such a brute. Ever since you’d noticed them, you’d been itching to see them, to hold them. To see for yourself the mastery of the craftsmanship behind these legendary blades. Hell, you’d tried to get him to show them to you every day now.

You gritted your teeth at the memory of your first attempt at broaching the subject. You’d been walking down the mountain path to their ship when you’d first asked him about them.

“Those are Wado Ichimonji and Shusui.” You had confidently stated.

He’d grunted in confirmation.

“And this one’s a cursed blade, right?” you had asked trying to make conversation.

“It is,” he had affirmed your suspicions.

“Please show them to me.” You’d earnestly requested.

“No,” had been his uncompromising reply.

And so had gone every other attempts you’d made as you clung to the hope that one day he might reconsider.

You opened your mouth, ready to ask him the question for the second time of the day.

“No” he cut you off before you could say anything.

“Fine,” you said bitterly. His stubbornness was as predictable as the rising sun.

The crew erupted into laughter at the refusal, a running gag that had become a source of amusement among them. Usopp, seizing the opportunity, rose from his seat, erasing the tally on the whiteboard before proudly inscribing the new score. "21-0," he announced with gusto. A small smile involuntarily returned to your lips, the crew's antics transforming irritation into amusement.

Yes, 21-0. That was the tally of how many times Zoro had steadfastly declined your request.

"Don’t mind the idiot, (Y/n)," Sanji chimed in, placing a plate before you. The delectable contents of the dish momentarily diverted your attention from the tension between you and the swordsman.

"That’s right!" Nami added, delight dancing in her eyes.

"I’m sure you’ll get to see them one day," Chopper offered encouragingly.

"Thanks, doc," you replied.

Luffy, ever the curious one, couldn't resist asking between mouthfuls, "Why do you wanna see Zoro’s swords so bad?"

As Luffy’s question hung in the air, you paused contemplating your response. The crew’s attention moved to you, waiting expectantly for your answer. In the corner of your eye, you saw Zoro shift almost imperceptibly in his seat.

“Well,” You began, choosing your words carefully. “I want to study them.” You couldn’t help the glint in your eyes, nor the excitement lacing your voice as you continued. “Wado Ichimonji and Shusui are legendary blades! I’ve read about those swords and the techniques used to create them so many times now but nothing would beat holding them in my hands to learn how they were made. And that third blade!” You point at Sandai Kitetsu animatedly “It’s a cursed blade! They’re so rare! You see, cursed blades choose their owners, only the strongests of swordsmen can wield them without consequences. I don’t know if the blade would let me hold it but if it did! Oh, the things I could learn!” you marveled.

Everyone looked at you with a dumbfounded look, your passion stunning them into silence. Zoro’s expression was unreadable as he looked you over. You felt a slight blush warming your cheeks at the crew’s reaction.

“Oi, you shitty swordsman,” Sanji said, breaking the silence. “Don’t be selfish and let (Y/n) look at your swords. You shouldn’t refuse a lady’s passion.” He kicked Zoro’s chair in annoyance.

“I already said no.” Zoro said, standing up abruptly. He looked down at you as though he was about to say something, but he decided against it.

 The crew exchanged glances, a collective sigh escaping their lips as Zoro stomped out of the room. Nami shook her head, muttering something about the swordsman being an idiot.

Usopp cleared his throat. “Well, that went as expected. I didn’t know you were so passionate about swords (Y/n)!” He said trying to lighten the mood.

“You know, (Y/n), if you really want to study Zoro’s swords, maybe you should try a gentler approach.” Robin suggested.

“What do you mean by that, Robin?” Chopper asked.

“Well, your first encounter was… rocky to say the least.” She answered giving you a knowing smile. You couldn’t help but shrink in your seat as you remembered your outrage that day. “Maybe trying to mend this instead of demanding something out of him would work better.” She explained.

She was right, you knew that. “I’ll… give it a try.” You said, hesitantly.

“That’s the spirit!” Franky said brightly. “Come on, (Y/n), we’ve got a forge to finish!”

You’d been working alongside Franky all afternoon, mulling over different scenarios on how to approach Zoro. The forge was almost done, tomorrow you’d most likely be able to give it a test run. You couldn’t help the excitement you felt at the thought of shaping hot steel into something new.

“Hey! (Y/n)! Where do you want to hang those?” Franky asked, pointing at the three swords you’d brought with you when you’d left your home.

You paused, considering the question. The swords held sentimental value to you, each one representing a different aspect of your journey and personal growth. Finding the perfect place to display them was important.

"I'm not sure yet," you replied, casting a thoughtful glance at the swords leaning against the doorway. "How about we leave the finishing touches for tomorrow? Once the forge is up and running, I'll have a better idea of where they should go."

Franky nodded in agreement, a grin spreading across his face. "Sounds like a plan.” He looked out at the horizon. The sun was slowly lowering in the sky. “How about we leave it here? Take it easy for the night.”

“Sure! Sounds good to me!” You answered, giving a satisfied look at the work you’d achieved today.

Franky had left before you, stating something about cola. You stayed behind for a few moments longer, trying to imagine how you’d make this space yours.

Zoro had been sitting on the deck sharpening his swords when you left the walls of your small forge. You’d been preparing a speech in your head for the past few hours, multiple scenarios thoroughly developed in your mind on how to approach him again. You’d settled on something you thought was… alright. As you eyed him, you pondered whether you should try that speech now or on another day. No time like the present, you thought walking up to him.

You cleared your throat, catching his attention.

He ignored you. You sighed.

“Look…I know we haven’t started this.” You started, gesturing at the two of you. “On the right foot.” You continued as you shifted your weight from foot to foot awkwardly. This was the closest to an apology you’d go.

He grunted noncommittally, still not looking at you. Irritation threatened to cloud your mind at the bastard’s stubbornness, but you persevered.

“But, one day, when you trust me.” You said. “I’d greatly appreciate it if you would let me have a look at Wado Ichimonji and Shusui. They’re amazing swords and I’d love to learn from their craftsmanship.” You blurted the rest of your speech as fast as possible, looking at him expectantly.

“No,” he said looking up at you with a glare.

The sliver of patience you’d had towards the swordsman shattered in you as you withstood his stare. You inwardly apologized to Mary as anger filled your eyes. Fuck the swordsman, fuck the promise.

“What?” You screeched indignantly, voice going up an octave. “Why not? I’m being fucking nice here.”

He scowled at that, looking past you. You followed his gaze. He was looking at one of your swords leaning against the door of your forge.

“You can’t be serious. You’re still hung up on that?” You snapped, sneering down at him.

He ignored you, quick movements of the whetstone resuming.

“Why are you so goddamned hell bent on holding Yokubari?” You asked.

“Why do you care, witch?” He retorted, his tone dripping with mockery. You seethed at the nickname coming out of his lips. You didn’t mind others using it but the way he’d always say it with such disdain just pissed you off so much.

You scoffed, crossing your arms defiantly. “Witch? Really, swordsman? How original.” You replied venom in your voice.

“It’s a sword, not a sacred relic. Let me hold it and I might reconsider.” He stated haughtily.

“It’s just a sword to you, huh? Are you stupid or something? I told you already, you’re too fucking weak to hold it.” You stated, index poking his forehead angrily as to make your point.

“The fuck you say?” Zoro’s temper flared. He suddenly stood up, whetstone clattering on the floor with his swords at the swift movement. He caught your collar in his fist. “Watch your mouth, witch.”

“Oh please! Spare me! I’m quaking in my boots.” You retorted throwing your hands in the air overstating the sarcasm dripping in the tone of your voice.  

“You really think you’re something, huh?” Zoro growled, grip tightening in fabric.

You snorted in disdain, your own hand grabbing his open shirt in defiance. “I think I’m more than you can handle swordsman.” You shot back looking up at him, refusing to back down. Rage crackled behind your eyes, dark spirals starting to form around the both of you as haki started to seep out of your hands.

The tension hung in the air, both of you locked in a battle of egos, unwilling to back down from each other. The crew scattered across the deck couldn’t help but glance in amusement at the brewing storm between the two of you.

Franky chuckled as he took a sip of cola. “She’s a firecracker this one.” He said to Robin who was sitting next to him reading a book.

“Isn’t she adorable?” She answered with a smile, eyes not looking up from the page she was on.

Chopper, with wide eyes, whispered with concern to Usopp, “Do you think they’re going to fight?”

Usopp shook his head, “Nah, I think it’s just their way of communicating.”

“Really?” Chopper asked incredulously.

“Aren’t they so funny?” Luffy said laughing at the impressive display of wills before him.

Sanji leaned against the railing, cigarette dangling from his lips. He smirked as he watched the confrontation before him. “(Y/n)-chwan is so beautiful when she gets angry.” He mused.

Brook standing nearby strummed a few notes on his guitar. “Ah, young love. Such a rare thing to see,” he said. “Not that I have eyes to see out of, yohohoho.”

Sanji raised a skeptical eyebrow at Brook. “I wouldn’t call it love, Brook. More like a clash of titans.” He replied, taking a drag out of his cigarette.

Brook shrugged, his bony shoulders rising nonchalantly. “Perhaps you’re right, Sanji. But there’s no denying the sparks flying,”  he said, hollow eyes twinkling with amusement.

“Alright! That’s enough you two!” Nami said abruptly, standing up from the table she’d been sitting at, when the argument got too heated. You both ignored her. She sighed, clearly annoyed as she stomped over separating the both of you with a hit to the head.

Your hand shot up to your skull, leaving his shirt alone. He did the same. When your gazes crossed again, you couldn’t help the anger filling you.

No, not anger.

Hate.

It was a strong word, an even stronger emotion, even for you. Yet, as Roronoa Zoro sneered down at you, hate was the only way to describe the feeling coursing through your veins.

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Masterlist

[md-confessions]

Oh boy, someone made another stupid take on CodeGold and me, being the only vocal sane CodeGold "fan" has to talk about it.

Just gonna say right now, Juzi and CodeGold are completely different. Don't compare the two. That's really all I had to say about that confession, it just riled me up so I'm gonna ramble here a bunch.

So, question here, am I a horrible person for shipping CodeGold in an AU where J isn't abusive to N. Not even a major personality shift, maybe one or two little things changed but plenty of people have done that to plenty of characters. And J herself doesn't exactly have much of one anyways due to her limited screen time so you have to fill in the gaps either way.

Am I a proshipper, because I enjoy a ship that's normally a proship in a non proship situation? If I condemn the fics where N is like "step on me mommy" to J, or condemn fics where J hits him and he continues to love her?

And I know someone will say "Making an entire AU for it doesn't justify it." Then what about personality swap AUs? One where N gets V's personality, V gets J's, and J gets N's. Then it'd basically be Envy, right? What's wrong with it then? If there's elements outside the CodeGold, is it justified?

And then that's the next question, why is CodeGold condemned while Envy isn't? V is still quite abusive to N, even if not as harshly and with better intentions. And the answer to this is probably "V has shown she's changing for the better" But J hasn't had a chance to show that. Outside ep 1, her only actual character moments were in ep 6 and 7 and she only insults N once with a pretty tame insult all things considered. Now I know, in the pilot J says she'd kill N. And to be honest, I don't blame anyone for using that one line as justification for shipping Envy and not CodeGold. Still, I'd like people to understand that V hurt N a lot too. And this is coming from someone who enjoys Nuziv and the occasional standalone Envy content.

Next thing up, why should me making slight changes to J's character to make shipping her with N not a proship be made invalid? Plenty of fics make small changes to the characters in order to tell the story they want to tell. Why should it be any different in this case? And I know people out there will say "Just make an OC." Right, so I should make an OC that looks exactly like J, acts like J 95% of the time, and take J's place in the story, rather than just change J ever so slightly. Makes sense to me, honestly not sure why I didn't think about doing that. I say that sarcastically but that's only because it's something that genuinely irks me. I apologize if I offend anyone by doing that.

The reason I bring this up is because while I wouldn't really label myself a CodeGold shipper nor fan, I still enjoy the occasional cute art or well written fic of it. But the only reason I like that art or the fics is because J isn't some abusive asshole and does actually like N. And often times, J is pretty well exactly like her canon counterpart, aside not saying she'd kill N. But I could never say that because the moment I do, I'm lumped in with all the Cyncest redditors, the Khan x Uzi people, and god forbid the idiots who think Nuzi is a proship and enjoy it because of that. All of those disgust me, and I feel me shipping CodeGold in a way in which it's not a proship should not condemn me to that fate.

I'm not saying CodeGold isn't a proship. If you just ship it directly with how canon is, it is a proship. No doubts about it. And there are some disgusting people out there who enjoy that dynamic, and I. Am. Not. One. Of. Those. People.

Generally things like this don't disgust me, but non-con and abusive relationships just...do not sit right with me. Incest is disgusting too, but it just doesn't affect me nearly in the same way. So being lumped in with those people despite how I ship CodeGold just...makes me feel dirty.

And the biggest thing, CodeGold is hardly part of who I am. I know most of you will probably know me from my J confessions and CodeGold confessions, but neither are even a particularly big part of my attachment to Murder Drones, ESPECIALLY CodeGold.

I like J, don't get me wrong. I think she's an endlessly fascinating character. But Uzi, N, V, Lizzy, Thad, Sam, and Emily are all characters I engage with as a fan far more than I do with J. And two of them are the camp kids from ep 4 that die.

Just please, don't throw people like me into the pits of Hell because of how other disgusting people ship something like this. This isn't like Cyn x N where it's a proship no matter how you do it. CodeGold is a proship due to the history between N and J, and history is something that can be changed. I mean, technically I guess you could make Cyn and N not related in an AU, but that feels a whole lot different than making some minor tweaks to J's character and her history with N. Maybe that sounds hypocritical, that's just what if feels like to me.

I have friends who also enjoy CodeGold, but have told me about CodeGold stuff they dislike. They dislike the "mommy step on me" stuff like I do, they dislike fics where N is abused by J but it's still CodeGold. They're good people. I know that's a rare thing from CodeGold shippers, many of them are idiots and terrible people. Like a certain someone who said Nuzi is toxic and yet ships CodeGold of all things. I'm sure you know who I'm talking about.

I'm not one of those idiots. I sometimes say questionable stuff, or do questionable things. But I'm not an idiot and I wouldn't consider myself a bad person. And I don't think I should be defined as such because I like CodeGold stuff where it's not abusive and thus not a proship, when I have so many other things that define me. I really should show that more by making confessions not related to J or CodeGold but the whole point behind me using anonymous and having a signature was because I knew talking about this stuff would get me lynched. Understandable though with my first confession because I was just plain fucking wrong with some of the shit I said. J isn't an abuser my ass, seriously. What was I thinking saying that?

and one last thing. You can still dislike CodeGold after this. That is perfectly reasonable. I just ask that we could be friends still if we met, or at the very least you don't just immediately block me and see me as a horrible person.

With that all said, I leave you all once again by wishing you all a good day, evening, or night. (also sorry for making you read through all that, admin. I hope it doesn't cause you too much stress)

-- TSM

⠀

[gretavanglimmers]

Jake Kiszka & Female Reader

Chapter One: Don't look at me like that...

Summary: As landlady of the Vagabond Blues, you make all the rules. But there's one you just can't seem to keep with the lead guitarist of your house band. He waits for you every night at closing time. Set in the backdrop of the 80s style Roadhouse bar, Jake is a bad influence. But could he be exactly what you need, too?

A/N: Lovely tumblr friends, I'm a long time lurker reader and now here I am, sharing with you my first fic. I sincerely hope that it tickles your pickles. It's had a once over with a fine tooth comb, but please forgive any errors. And if I'm missing a trigger warning please feel free to pop into my inbox and give me a boot up the bum. Other than that, enjoy!

Warnings: Physical violence/Blood/ DomSub dynamics/ Fingering/ Oral Female/ Spitting / Restraint / Penetrative vaginal sex

The smoky haze of another Saturday night hung in the air. Tammy Wynette on the jukebox and the scent of spilled bourbon on your fingers. Broken glass crunched beneath your feet, and Jake was waiting for you on his perch at the end of the bar.

"Not tonight, baby." You sighed, slinging a cloth over your shoulder as you addressed him the same way you did every other patron. "I got this mess to clean up before I can clock off."

He barely lifted his eyes up from the papers rolling between his thumbs. Throwing his cigarette up and catching it between deft lips. He flicked his lighter open on the edge of his hand and held it until the papers startled to sizzle.

"You say that every night, Cookie." He replied, knocking back a single shot of tequila as the bar emptied. "And every night I wind up with a new pair of panties in my glove box."

Trophies. Reminders that he'd had you pressed up against his steering wheel out in the dusty parking lot. You should have known better than to wear any, knowing that he would be fixing to take you home.

"'Aint it enough to sit in my company a while?" You asked, filling his shot glass before he could ask for another. "We barely get to talking while I'm serving drinks and you're up there playin'"

He took a long drag off his cigarette, embers burning to ash as he slammed a five dollar bill on the sticky bar top. Whenever he paid for his drinks, it meant he was trying to get into your good graces. You took the money and slid it into your bra strap, hitting him with a seductive smile that told him it was your little secret.

"That's not a tip, Cookie." He admonished, "You'll get that later."

Of course you would. As much as you enjoyed making him wait, him being there made all the 2am closing rituals more palatable. You would serve beers to drunks and shmucks all night, playing nice and flirting a little while Jake sat on stage with his band trying to be heard over the clamour of bar fights and card games. Sometimes catching his eye between songs and fisticuffs.

"Be a doll and lock up for me." You said, tossing him a set of keys.

Jake had always been a dark horse. Turning up with his guitar one day, the flyer you'd left in town asking for a house band to play at the Vagabond Blues tucked under his arm. He'd played a few riffs on a scuffed up old acoustic, the way his lips pouted and his hips moved when he played sealing your fate. You'd hired him on the spot. Thinking his uncommon way of playing would bring in the girls, but keep the regular old timers happy with their penchant for nostalgic rock.

He didn't say much. Kept himself to himself. Every now and then a little nugget of something funny slipping out, making you notice him in a room full of mini skirts and denim. Chestnut waves of long hair tucked behind his ear, eating up your resolve to keep sex out of your business practices.

"You better give me my five dollars back if you want me to perform extra duties." He teased, sliding off his bar stool into a puddle of Jack Daniels.

You were fairly certain he knew he'd get what he wanted. But you leaned over the bar all the same, winding fingers around the chains at his neck and reeling him in towards your lips. Close enough to kiss, but not quite.

"You'll get that later." You whispered, releasing him before he could get too worked up.

The wicked grin he gave as he crossed the room kept you watching him. His ass in those tight levi's was a spectacle in and of itself, causing you to bite down heavily on your lip as you shook your head in disbelief of how flawlessly pert and round it was.

A beautiful distraction from the saloon door flying open. Your heart sank as it often did when people didn't respect your closing time. Drunk and in search of that elusive last sip. You often wondered what they had to go back to if they never wanted to go home.

"Hey!" You called, waving the white dish rag in your hand high above your head. "We're closing, Benny. You know the rules!"

Jake caught him as he stumbled in. Closely flanked by his dithering girlfriend, who could barely walk in her blood red stiletto heels. Chewing gum as she tried to placate his attempts to reach the bar.

"I'm so sorry, Cookie!" She cried, looking windswept and dishevelled as she fell over the chairs and tables. "I done told him it was closing time!"

"I 'aint having it tonight, Savannah." You tutted, confident that Jake could handle it. "You let Jake put him outside, now."

"Yes Ma'am." She replied, inebriated but not enough to know when it was time to call it a night. "I really am sorry about this."

Jake had him by the scruff of his collar. Placating him softly, telling him he'd had enough. Easing him back towards the door as he tried to break free.

"You go on home now, Benny." You humoured, placing a defensive hand to your hip as you prepared for the inevitable fight.

Punches rolled into the air, each one dodged and caught. Curses and spit flying everywhere as Jake manhandled him to the ground. Glasses smashing as tables were flipped, the sound of girlish screams as Savannah tried to keep her little skirt from riding up as she hitched herself onto Jake's back.

"What the hell, Savannah? Get the fuck off of me!" He shrugged, with very little effort, as she fell back into an abandoned deck of playing cards.

You whipped your dish rag on the back of a bar stool and flipped open the bar flap. Striding across the floor through a menagerie of spilled drinks and broken glass. Hardened to the way people loved to brawl after a few too many drinks, this was an inconvenience more than anything else.

"Get him the fuck out." You lashed, grabbing the poor girl by the straps of her little halter neck top and helping her to her feet. "And if you can't keep your man on a tight leash, I don't wanna see either of you in here again until you can. You hear me, Savannah?!"

Benny didn't like that. His fist reeling upwards as Jake lifted him from the ground. Both hands aggressively on the ripped shirt of your offending regular, unable to stop it connecting with his jaw. A simmering bubble of anger about to spill over the edges of your calm demeanour.

"Damn it, Benny!" Jake cried, reeling back before striking a dull kick to his stomach in a pair of boots you knew would leave a mark. "You want a drink so bad?"

You watched as Jake spat blood and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Something visceral and instinctual in the way you settled back onto the edge of the foray. Savannah lingered in the open doorway, the way you looked at her enough to keep her there.

"Have a fucking drink, my friend." Jake said amusingly, using the edge of his boot to turn Benny's head towards the whiskey saturated floor board.

Jake looked over to where you were standing. Arms crossed and a pout that spoke a thousand words you wouldn't say until the door was bolted shut.

"Alright, that's enough." He moaned, picking Benny up off the floor, every ounce of fight in him gone. "If I let you go, you're not going to swing for me again are you?"

Benny shook his head, defeated. Staggering into the doorway where his equally unsteady girlfriend caught him. The two of them descending into the early hours rain, their voices pitched and argumentative.

Jake picked up the keys from the floor, taking the liberty of locking everything up precisely how you'd asked him to. You could see the blood dripping from his lip, a look of consternation as he kept his eyes on you. He shoved the last bolt across, like he was pissed off at the interruption. Staring at you as you waited for him to be done.

"Don't look at me like that." You warned, taking a step back as he approached.

"You know I'm dead inside until you touch me, don't you?" He replied poetically, backing you up against the locked door. "There's only you who can get my blood pumping again, Cookie. You know that."

His blood was all you could taste as he caged your body between his and the door behind you. Pressing you into a kiss that was warm and metallic. His tongue probing yours in desperate search for a release that had been building all night.

As if you ever had the strength to deny him. Or yourself. Telling yourself pretty stories about driving yourself home without letting him have so much as a taste of the lace between your thighs. Such fiction always made you feel better about your intentions, until they fell by the wayside.

"We can't keep doing this, Jake." You said, like you always did, an echo of something you knew would never manifest. "It's bad for business."

Where he'd cut his lip, you could see the blood pooling. He sucked on it as he towered over you. Rubbing the remains of his kiss across your lips with the pad of his thumb.

"You tell yourself that." He murmured against the shell of your ear. "Tell yourself you don't want this. Your wet little pussy tells me a different story."

She betrayed you, the thing between your legs. You couldn't silence her purring, even if you'd tried. Your head was a revolving door of wanting him and trying so hard to convince yourself that you didn't. Your heart ached for him, even when he was sat on that little stool with his guitar perched on his knee, playing the blues for a crowd that barely listened. But that was yours to keep. That didn't belong to him. The throb was all his, though. He'd claimed that the first night he'd waited for you after closing. You couldn't hide it. He knew the way he made you gush from his touch. You had no control over your actions when he awakened that part of you.

"You're bad." You whispered, clenching your eyes shut tight, letting him open the buttons of your daisy dukes. "So, so fucking bad for me."

You could feel the clammy touch of his palm against your stomach. Opening your eyes the moment he slipped it down behind the waist band of your panties. Rounding over your mound where his fingers hooked delicately into the waiting wetness of your slit. Making you moan into his open mouth.

"There she is, my sweet Cookie." He crooned, taking your earlobe between his teeth, tentatively sucking. "They named you well when they called you that."

It was just a silly little childhood nickname. When your real name had been too hard to pronounce, your little brother had resorted to calling you Cookie. And it had stuck, nothing more than a curse to you now as he desecrated it. Took all the innocence out of it and made it filthy.

"Shut up!" You growled, wrapping your hands around his wrist. "Just shut the fuck up for once, Jake..."

His air of mysterious quiet didn't extend to these moments. He liked to talk. A revelation which had come to you unbound the first time he'd ever talked you through it. Giving you a running commentary on his every move, letting you know precisely how hard you got him. Keeping you hanging off every sensual word.

But sometimes, just sometimes... you needed him to push through all the nagging doubts. To make you forget that you were breaking your one and only rule. That you'd made it part of Vagabond Blues lore. No fucking the other employees.

You clutched him tight, forcing lazy circles around your hard clit. Biting down on your lip, panting heavily as his fingertip brushed over the hood. His eyes were locked on yours. Silently speaking to you as he rolled over the peak of your throbbing bud. He couldn't shut up, even if there were no words coming out of his mouth, his gaze conveyed his pleasure.

"Not here...not here..." You simmered, knowing you were moments from casting off the panties you knew he would keep as a souvenir.

He held you against the door, his hand applying enough pressure to keep you locked where you stood. Fingers stilled on your clit, like he was gently punishing you for trying to stop his flow.

"Nobody else is coming through that door." He asserted, his mouth lingering at yours, eyes shifting from your begging stare down to your parted lips. "And if they tried to, I'd take on any man who came between me and this..."

Your eyes rolled back as he slid a single digit into your entrance. Curling up inside you just enough that his tip could reach the sweet spot that made you fold into a thousand pleading little pieces.

"Guitar fingers..." You hummed.

He liked it when you stroked his prowess as a guitarist. It made him roll his hips into you, his painfully hard cock pressed into your stomach. His arousal piqued, and you truly believed that nobody could tear down that door without having to get through his dominance first.

"Gonna play you like a Gibson." He giggled softly, pulling down your shorts, taking the panties with them as you stepped out. "Make you sing for me, Cookie."

He brought big, strong hands down the curve of your spine and rounded them off around your ass. He lifted you up, forcing your thighs to wrap around him. Your saturated core dampening his shirt as he carried you over to the little box stage at the side of the bar. Laying you down with careful intention, your legs hanging off the edge for him to manipulate.

"No, not like a Gibson." You said, inching up your t-shirt until it sat around your collar bone, tits spilling out. "Play me like your Harmonica..."

You caught sight of his jaw clenching. His throat flexed as he swallowed, considering your demand as he slipped off his shirt. Unbuckling his belt so that it fell to either side of his waist, just enough to free his buttons and zipper. You could see the tip of his penis sitting snuggly behind the waist band of his boxer shorts.

He stood back. Folded his arms around his chest and gazed at you with intensifying heat.

"You want me to tongue block on your pussy?" He raised an eyebrow, resting his line of sight on the bloom of your centre as you hooked your toes over the edge of the stage.

He'd never looked more rockstar. Shirtless with his jeans wide open, his hair shrouding the darkness of his wild expression as he tilted his head forward. Softly predatory. In anticipation of getting a taste, he wound a tight fist around the chains that hung around his neck, licking a stripe across the split in his lip.

"Do something," You begged. "Anything, before I come to my fucking senses."

He wouldn't let you. He stood over you, pulling down your thighs until your legs were resting in the crooks of his arms.

"This is mine. Say it..." He growled, spitting onto your slit and letting it drip.

You almost couldn't formulate a coherent sentence. "Yours."

He nodded, railing a hand up to cover your left breast. "And these?"

"Yours." You echoed, "All of it, yours."

You'd heard the expression before. Be careful what you wish for. Begging him to do anything might have been too wild a request. He squeezed tightly, letting your hard nipple feel the friction of his closed fist. You were never coming to your senses, never...

Above your head were the stationary instruments of the Vagabond Blues Band. A set of guitars leaning against stands, an acoustic drum set at the back and a menagerie of amps and wires. Jake had an almost demonic glaze over his face as he leaned forward, letting your cunt press against the fabric between your flesh and his.

"Ever since I met you, Cookie, you've made it hard for me to want anything else." He said, gently placing your arms up as he clamped his mouth around your aching nipple. "I know it's wrong, I know it's against the fucking rules. But you got me all kinds of fucked up..."

You didn't realise what he was doing at first. Distracted by his beautiful mouth sucking on your breasts. Watching his tongue make circles around the gooseflesh of your areolas. Biting into the curve of them, leaving his mark as you laid beneath him savagely moaning, unaware that his amp cable was being twisted around your wrists. It was only when you tried to break free that you had to struggle.

"I got you all kinds of fucked up, so now you're keeping me prisoner is that it?" You tried to wriggle free, but the sleek black cords were pulled tight.

"You want me to set you free?" He smirked, pulling down his boxers, letting his raging hard cock fall out from behind it. "Just say the word, sweet Cookie, and I'll set you free."

He pushed his jeans down just enough to move his tip closer. With your knees parted and on full display for him, he wrapped a cautious hand around his base and began slapping your wetness against the inside of your thighs as he tapped your slit with his cock.

"It's wrong to want you the way I do." You confessed, your voice on the verge of wilting.

He continued tapping away at your clit. "Yeah, it's wrong. But doesn't it feel fucking good?"

You could only nod. Words evaded you. Breathing heavier and heavier, your chest heaving with your arms restrained above you as he drummed away on your pussy with his violent cock.

"Seems I got the wrong instrument." He snickered, "You wanted the Harmonica, right?"

You let out the most simpering whimper. A sound which made him smile in utter abandonment of his brooding.

"Oh, that's my girl." He beamed, trailing a palm down the centre of your body. "Fucking music to my ears."

He sank to his knees. Holding your thighs apart, knowing the grim state of the floor after a Saturday night you knew it was a real sacrifice on his part. Grateful for his dedication, you let him rest your legs over his shoulders as he buried his face into your aching, wet and impossibly hot pussy.

You began sobbing. Begging. Crying out deliriously. Trying so hard to be good and not unravel right there on the flat of his tongue as he licked deliberate stripes up the length of your dripping slit. Driving you to the edges of what was tolerable as he slurped and swallowed your wetness. Like he'd done with your nipple already, he clamped his mouth around your throbbing clit and started rolling his tongue against it. Pulling it into his mouth with gentle suction, humming his own feral moans against it as he jerked himself off.

You could feel the vibration, the movement of his body as he reeled his fist up and down his shaft. Pulling the flesh back and forth, squeezing as he rounded off at the tip. You knew his style, his melody. And the more you pictured it the more you ached for penetration.

"Fuck me, Jake..." You cried, fighting against your restraints to rag his head back, to take a fist of his hair so that you could see your juice glisten on his mouth. "I need it, baby...please!"

The blood was rushing in your ears. Your own heart beat thrumming wildly over the din of your own voice rising. Breathless and helpless, your wrists bound and your thighs rubbing eagerly against his ears it felt like he was deliberately keeping it from you.

"Don't make me cum in your mouth, Jake." You simpered, "I want you inside me. I'm your fucking boss, Jake...listen to me!"

Down through the valley of your heaving breasts and laboured breath, his eyes flitted upwards. Resting his chin on your mound, covered in a sheen of your mess, he pulled his tongue out of your cunt and looked up at you.

"You 'aint my boss when we do this." He switched, rising from his knees to appraise you. "You can be my boss while ever I'm getting paid to play. But soon as that door closes, you're my girl."

He loosened the cables. Stretching over you, setting you free. Immediately you sat up, resting on your palms as you watched him step back.

"Where are you going?" You asked, feeling a sudden rush of vulnerability as he hitched up his jeans and walked across the room towards the door.

Heat flushed to your cheeks. You felt humiliated. If he left you there like that, there was going to be no way back. You could already feel it rising in your chest. The pain and the breaking of your heart that you hadn't known would come.

Your shorts and panties were right where he left them, in a heap by the door where he'd make you take them off. You watched him reach into the pile of denim and pull out your black lace thong.

"Spoils of war." He replied, shoving them into his back pocket. "You look so beautiful like that, by the way."

You were sitting on the edge of the stage, your hair messed up and your cheeks all rosy. Still feeling the throb of where his mouth had been. You let your t-shirt fall, pulling it down in an act of rising shame at what you'd done.

"Beautiful enough that you're going to leave me here like this?" You wondered.

His brow knitted together in confusion. "Leave?"

You shrugged. "You're leaving, 'aint ya? Pissed you off with my I'm your fucking boss bullshit?"

He feigned offence, placing a hand at his heart as if you'd placed a dagger right there in the centre of his chest. You couldn't help but smile bashfully, looking down at your bare thighs as he strode back towards you.

He chucked your chin with the back of his hand. Making you look back up, unable to stop yourself from meeting his impenetrable gaze.

"Why you worried, woman?" He asked, "Nothing I done ever worried you before."

"No but..." You huffed, trying to reclaim your balance. "Then you said I was your girl when we do this."

You had to be strong all the time. The Vagabond Blues couldn't be run by anyone with a weak stomach or a fear of getting hurt. You had to be ten steps ahead at all times, predicting the moods and behaviours of every single soul under that roof. It was a lonely place to be.

"I'm not leaving." He answered softly, kissing you with his broken lip. "I didn't fuck my girl, yet."

You let him sink his teeth into your jawline, letting out a deep sigh as he pushed your legs apart. Quick, shallow breaths exhaled as he pushed his jeans back down. Trying in vain to keep yourself calm. But it was no to avail, you could feel the room begin to spin as Jake pushed his tip against your grieving clit.

"I can't be..." You whispered, tethered to him as he slipped inside slowly. "You know I can't be your girl."

You felt the soft brush of his hair against your cheek as he shook his head.

"No, Jake. Look at me, I want you to see me." You breathed, making him fuck in slow, hard thrusts that made your tits bounce against his chest. "I'm not who you think I am. I'm not somebody you can just claim."

"I know." He moaned, clinging to your body like it pained him. "You gave yourself to me, remember?"

"I mean it, Jake." You said firmly. "I can't have authority around here if people know about us."

He placed his hand over your mouth. You tasted the salt of his sweat on your lips. You could have said it a thousand times over and the outcome would always remain the same. He would wait for you at the end of the night, and you would go to him.

"Can't you feel that?" He said, low and gravelly as he peered down to watch your pussy swallow him whole. "Can't you feel how good my cock stretches inside you? Just let it go, Cookie."

Pussy lips like ribbons against his shaft, he pulled his hand away so that you could take a look for yourself. Like poetry in motion he was, fucking you so deliciously slow and hard. Sliding in with gentle force before slamming his body against yours to the hilt. Edging you closer and closer to that sweet finish.

"That's it, beautiful." He encouraged, his breath hitting your tongue so warm and familiar as you writhed against him on the edge of the stage. "Cum on my cock, let me feel that juice drip on me. Just let it all go, you can do it."

When it washed over you it was like being reborn. You wailed into the rafters, letting it echo into the eerie silence of the empty bar. Jake shuddered when you calmed, feeling a little wetter than you had been a moment ago.

"I can't do it, Jake...I can't!"

You'd never let him see you cry before. And for some unfathomable reason, he felt it necessary to kiss the tears which spilled from your lashes.

"Yes you can." He replied, "You already are."

.

.

.

Chapter Two: Look what you made me do... *Coming Soon

@takenbythemadness @writingcold @velveteencatch @scoreofinfantryvines @edgingthedarkness @lyndz2names @jakesmustache @jazzyfigz @gvfmarge @thewritingbeforesunrise @itsafullmoon @shutupdevvie

[seventeenlovesthree]

Digi Dynamic Shipping Game

Send me two names among the following 12 and I’ll write a short analysis post about them:

Taichi Yagami | Yamato Ishida | Sora Takenouchi | Koushirou Izumi | Mimi Tachikawa | Jyou Kidou | Takeru Takaishi | Hikari Yagami | Daisuke Motomiya | Miyako Inoue | Iori Hida | Ken Ichijouji

Whether canon provides input on them or not.

Unfortunately I didn't make it before the end of Pride Month, but - while there are a lot of potentially queer ships in the subtext of the Digimon universe that fit the tone, there aren't as many of them that came this close to technically being confirmed as having a valid (canon) baseline as this one.

To ask if canon provides input on Daisuke and Ken - or Daiken, Kensuke, Daisuken, however you want to call them -, is, once again, like asking if water is wet; they're the most elaborated relationship in the entirety of Digimon Adventure 02, the majority of Ken's development is tied to his bond to Daisuke... If you want to read more about why I value their relationship so much, I definitely recommend this post here, because they're just... Endlessly fascinating to me.

The good-hearted goofball with self-esteem issues that lead him to play a role to impress others initially - meets a corrupted genius and literally slaps the darkness out of his system. They turn from fated rivals to fated partners, facing the powers of darkness together and eventually, they become better people in the process thanks to one another. Daisuke's entire priority system changes upon wanting to give Ken a chance, he not only becomes more honest and less defensive, but also lets his personal sense of courage and friendship shine through; Ken, who's initially reluctant to take the hand Daisuke is offering him due to all the guilt he feels, slowly but steadily becomes the kind and gentle soul that was always within him, because there is someone by his side who has his back. Always.

It's a beautiful story of two complementing souls, whose bond enables the first real Jogress evolution, despite the fact - or even because - they couldn't be any more different. It's a story of repentance, forgiveness, learning to befriend others despite your own trauma and differences - and the story of a romantic subtext that almost hits you in the face if you're not careful enough. There is a reason why the screenshot above exists - the most recent movie literally acknowledged that, even after all these years, the bond between Daiken has not vanished and has, instead, gained a somewhat (actively) flirtatious nuance. While it used to be Ken who blushed due to Daisuke's (oftentimes oblivious) bluntness, the same Ken is now forward enough to openly praise Daisuke in ways that make it impossible to overlook the potential implications here - well, for anybody who isn't Daisuke himself at least...

Whether I think why and how they’d work.

Given the circumstances that we're, unfortunately, not talking about a canonically confirmed ship, we just gotta pretend that there will be a day when Ken's attempts of asking Daisuke out will be answered in two potential ways: 1.) "Huh? YOU WERE FLIRTING WITH ME THE ENTIRE TIME????" or 2.) "Huh? I thought we were together this entire time anyway???" Because both of these would be somewhat plausible "Daisuk-esque" reactions in my opinion.

I thoroughly believe that these two would work out romantically in fantastic ways - even though it'd take a lot of work, but which relationship that intends to last doesn't? They both chose careers that require enormous amounts of time and energy - and very irregular working hours. Granted, the latter applies to the majority of the Chosen Children, but an aspiring chef of his own Ramen cart may only be able to see an aspiring police officer if the latter's break time allows him to grab a meal at a Ramen facility that is coincidentally very close by... Gate hopping may have made that a lot easier, but at this point, we don't even know if that is still a thing anymore.

I still maintain that, as much as they'd be married to their jobs, they both still have quite a romantic side to themselves once the curse is broken - so they would make time, just like they did throughout all these years. While their interests in general might also be quite different, they would always find a way to bond over their mutual love for sports, football in particular. Ken needs someone who pulls him out of his head - and Daisuke needs someone who grounds him, which, as The Beginning suggested, is (basically) exactly their dynamic. They always enjoy group gatherings with their friend groups, food tastings are always a reason for Daisuke to invite everybody over - especially to lure Ken away from work. And let's be real, I can also see them go on cheesy dates - that mostly consist of them doing sporting activities (any kind of ball sport, rollerskating, hiking) where Daisuke can (pretend to) be competitive and Ken knowingly plays along with the teasing, just so they have an excuse to be close. Because they'd be cheesy like that, oh Lord, they'd be so cheesy in the most wanna-be-bro way possible.

Whether I’d prefer them as platonic or romantic ship.

In a universe in which Miyaken doesn't become canon, there is literally no reason for Daiken not to be endgame - unless the writers actually had some guts and turned them into an official OT3 in The Beginning. Of course I can always enjoys them as just platonic life partners, bros 4 life, you don't even have to give it a label, as long as they remain as close as they are. Because they simply belong together, one way or another.

[666writingcafe]

A Reward: Diavolo/Simeon

Part Four of Special Bonus Content

Content Warning: name-calling, biting

Diavolo and Simeon are off in a corner, looking rather serious as they're whispering to each other. I know that they have a professional relationship resulting from a mutual desire to unite the three realms, but I didn't think they talked much beyond that.

Apparently, I was wrong.

The two of them approach me, stopping at the foot of the bed. Simeon looks like he's seconds away from bolting, but Diavolo rests a hand on his shoulder, making him stay in place.

And then it dawns on me.

"You're scared, aren't you?" I ask Simeon, who nods his head.

"It hit me all at once," he whispers. "It's one thing to think about doing this, but actually being presented with the opportunity is something else entirely. I mean, I know we're in the dream realm, but that doesn't mean there won't be real-world consequences, and I..." He trails off, swallowing nervously.

"He fears that he's about to fly too close to the sun, so to speak," Diavolo continues. "And he's not sure whether to risk the fall or not." That makes sense. Simeon's feelings towards me are intense, but at the end of the day, he's still an angel. He's been conditioned for thousands of years to not succumb to sin. If he follows through on any of the fantasies I saw, his life as he knows it is over. He no longer would be able to call the Celestial Realm his home.

"It also doesn't help that I was all gun-ho about it earlier." Simeon looks down in embarrassment. "I don't want to look like a chicken by backing out."

"Bro," Mammon pipes up. "None of us are gonna judge you if you change your mind, least of all MC. We might have chosen our fate for different reasons, but that doesn't mean it was an easy decision to make. I remember Lucifer and I going back and forth about it a buncha times before we even thought about our first move. So not knowing which direction you're gonna go in is completely normal."

"Didn't think Mammon had it in him to be insightful," Levi mutters, earning a hard jab from his brother.

"You know my position on this, but if you feel like you need to take a back seat or leave this dream entirely, then that's fine as well," Diavolo tells Simeon, making me raise an eyebrow in disapproval.

"Really?" I ask the prince. "We're playing into tropes now?"

"He's right." Simeon's statement surprises me. "If it weren't for the apple, then you wouldn't be here, and you're the best thing that has happened to me in a really long time." The next thing I know, the angel's straddling my lap.

"I hope you're ready, MC," he murmurs. "Because I plan on making the Celestial Realm seem like a cheap imitation of heaven by the time I'm done with you." Diavolo clears his throat, reminding Simeon of his presence. The angel merely smirks as he asks me,

"Think you can handle both of us, MC?"

"Well, only one way to find out."

The dynamic that quickly develops between Simeon and Diavolo is insane. With only brief glances, they're able to communicate in a way that rivals the twin telepathy of Beel and Belphie. Between the two of them, they're able to work me up in a matter of seconds.

"This isn't fair," I whine. The two men chuckle.

"Did you really expect us to take it easy on you?" Simeon whispers, grinning wickedly. "You should know better than that, MC."

"Perhaps they're not as smart as we thought they were," Diavolo adds in a teasing tone.

"Or maybe being fucked by multiple men has made them temporarily stupid." Simeon pinches my chin between two of his fingers. "Is that it, MC? Have all the thoughts in your pretty little head been wiped clean and replaced with the sole desire of receiving as much dick as you possibly can?" Diavolo tightly grips my thighs.

"Answer him," he hisses. I manage to stammer out a "yes".

"Well, I'll give you this: at least you're honest," Simeon responds. "I suppose if you want to act like a needy whore, then we have no choice but to treat you like one." He glances at Diavolo, who nods in agreement. The next thing I know, my back's pressed against the prince's chest, my wrists restrained by his hands. Simeon nearly towers over me as he begins stroking himself.

"Are you ready?" he asks me.

"For what?"

"This." With that, he begins pounding into me relentlessly. Diavolo, meanwhile, bites down on my neck and begins sucking. The combined sensations are making me rather lightheaded, but not necessarily in a bad way.

I feel like I'm in a state of pure euphoria.

Taglist: @lost-in-time-wanderer, @fuzztacular, @dianedancer18, @sweetbrier2908, @flare-love, @completelyshatteredbrokenmschf, @thunderlightning351, @l3v1chan, @anxious-chick

[gojoscloset]

“Hey! Are your requests still open? If not , feel free to ignore this one!I read your last geto angst , and I just loved it .Could you do a Geto X reader where reader killed herself because she couldn't bear being a sorcerer? And maybe the effect this has on Geto?

Again , feel free to ignore this, but if you end up doing it , then thank you!

- JuJu”

Requested Geto Suguru x reader angst!

Warnings: pure angst no fluff ! Mentions/implications of reader suicide! Grieving, nothing but sad stuff man! Also not proof read, literally did this at work

Ily thank you for requesting bby! Also readers! Please read notes at the end because I have questions on how tumblr works LOL please send help

“We’re thinking about going out for dango and maybe karaoke afterwards, wanna come?”

“Nah, I think I’m going to sit this one out”

“….you shouldn’t just lock yourself away in your room All the time. It’s not good for you, you know !!” Shoko waved a finger in a stern yet playful manner. Geto let out a breathy chuckle, a small smile following after, however the smile didn’t reach his eyes. Shoko noticed the unauthentic smile but said nothing as she didn’t want to pry, there was no need to. She already knew the reasons why Suguru would hide away in his room, they all knew.

“Yeah I know I know. But I've been really tired lately, you know I don’t do well in the heat.” He tugged at his collar in attempts to cool himself off.

“Well you’re more than welcome to join us if you change your mind!” Shoko playfully slapped him on his shoulder as she walked by “and respond to the group chat from time to time dummy, we miss you!” She gave him a knowing smile and was out the door in a flash seeming to be in a rush, Suguru simply waved and watched her figure flash out the entrance.

A warm breeze blew through the open window and into the now empty classroom. Geto stared out the window and listened as the cicadas' song rang around him, filling in the silence of the vacant room.

It was his first summer without you.

The first summer since your suicide.

Everyone took your death pretty hard, but it hit Suguru the hardest. It was evident to everyone that the dynamic the two of you had was a strong one, a special one, nearly as attached to the hip like Satoru. Whenever it wasn’t Satoru and Suguru it was Suguru and y/n. Whatever free time he had away from his best friend he would gladly give to you, no questions asked.

You brought out a softness in him that he thought he lost long ago, you were the sun that made him glow like the moon.Your kind demeanor and attitude was refreshing not only for him but for everyone you graced with your presence. You, unlike many others, still had life in your eyes and had faith in humanity. Despite the things life threw at you, including hurling you into the sorcerer lifestyle, you believed that things would change for the better eventually. Many called it Naivety. But you called it hope.

You could only imagine how much of a shock it was to everyone once they found out about your fate. It was very hard to believe that someone like you would do that to yourself, so much so Suguru refused to believe it was suicide and wanted to further investigate the situation. In his mind there was no way someone like you, the literal sun, would have suicidal ideologies.

But everything lined up, letters you left behind for certain friends and family members spoke of things only you would know.

Suguru experienced many deaths and losses but he was absolutely blindsided and crushed by yours.

Another gust of wind snapped him out of his trance. He walked to the window, closing it gently and locking it up before moving back to where he was seated. He looked around the classroom, bright orange rays of light seeped in and adorned the room.

“Golden hour” he whispered to himself

-

“Hell yeah it’s golden hour! Take a selfie with me!”

You flipped open your phone, going straight for the camera. You fixed your hair in the reflection of the screen before flipping it around and huddling closer to Suguru.

“What the hell is golden hour?” He looked into the camera as you took the photo, trying his best to comply with your wishes. The camera snapped and you flipped the phone around, immediately a face of disappointment replaced your happier one.

“ this would’ve been a cute picture if you didn’t look like that! Tch…men” You pointed at the photo, his face looked uninterested and confused. He leaned in to take a better look at the photo. You playfully glared at him the whole time he examined the selfie.

“What do you mean? that’s just my face”

You burst into laughter and shove him away.

“Shut up! You’re much cuter than.. that!” You flashed him the photo again and pointed at his side of the photo

“And golden hour dummy! You know, when the sun sets and everything is orangey and golden, hence the name golden hour. It makes your photos look really good…well… sometimes” You both laugh at the playful jab.

—

Suguru chuckled quietly to himself and looked at your old desk, tucked away in the corner of the classroom, still embellished with beautiful bows and wilted flowers that no one dared to throw away. Paper cranes from your best friends with lipstick stains scattered on the seat, blessings and goodbyes scribbled on the desk itself. No one believed in vandalizing school property but for you there was an exception.

He grabbed his items and quietly left the vicinity, which was something he dreaded the most because everything in the outside world brought him back to you, but nothing was the same. Golden hour wasn’t as bright and warm, the songs the birds sang seemed out of tune, ice cream didn’t taste sweet anymore even if it came in your favorite flavor.

Suguru wondered a lot about how things could have been different. Naturally as one of your best friends he took part of the blame, beating himself up for not being able to read the signs ahead of time. He wished he could have been more attentive when you complained about the lifestyle, or when you would go quiet after missions. The little things he didn’t pick up until after it was too late weighed him down like a pile of bricks were attached to his back. He stayed up night after night, losing sleep and even losing weight over the guilt and stress of not having you there with him.

On his worst nights he thought about meeting you sooner than expected. He always told himself it was in theory because he ‘would never actually do it’ but the thought was enticing on the harder days.

Today being one of them. But Suguru couldn’t do it, because that’s not what you would want. He knew you would want him to go out and live life happily like you once did, seeing the world through a colorful Lens, so he attempted to from time to time.

“What dango place are you guys at again?”

He texted the group chat and almost immediately was bombarded with responses from his companions who have not heard from him in what seemed like months.

Suguru placed a hand on your desk, careful not to smear or smudge any of the writing your loved ones left for you. “Remember when you said time heals all wounds?” He began speaking to you in hopes you could feel him and his energy wherever you were. I sadly don’t think that’s true. I miss you and golden hour isn’t the same nor as pretty without you. But I’m sure I’ll see you again soon” he smiled and gently tapped the desk with his knuckle as if to say goodbye

He made his way to the door and he swears sometimes before he leaves he could feel you in the room with him, even if it’s just for a few seconds.

Hope you liked it love thank you for requesting! Sorry it’s short, stuff like this makes me v v v sad LOL ❤️

Requests are currently closed because I want to push out a bunch of drabbles my brain has been thinking about lmaooo

Also question:

Was looking through my ooooold tumblr, terrible idea by the way and I noticed I got shadow banned really early into that account, what the heck did I do? Lol

Are there tips not to get SB ? What to avoid? Certain tags? Idk but please lmk if you know I’m still new to this technically LOL

Thanks in advance 🫶🏼

[level2janitor]

Diceless skills

the more i run and play RPGs, the more i start to be skeptical of dice. i like dice - i like rolling them, i think there's a whole lot of areas where they make a game better. but i'm skeptical about how they're the assumed default for how you resolve stuff.

ramble about ttrpg design under the cut

the way D&D handles skills is simple: you roll a die. if it's a big enough number (modified by the difficulty of the task & how good you are at it) you succeed. if not, you fail (usually meaning nothing happens). what this amounts to is a random chance to fail.

there's storygames that use more nuanced mechanics - no null result! rolling low is less 'total failure' and more that some twist happens. that can be more interesting. (i'm not familiar with a whole lot of storygames, so this is an oversimplification based on my limited knowledge, correct me if i'm wrong)

now these generally work fine for what those games are trying to do. they use uncertainty to generate drama: oh, shit, i failed the super-important deception check to convince the guards i'm a harmless merchant, now the situation escalates. perfectly good mechanic for your standard 5e campaign.

but that kind of stopped working as soon as i branched out into OSR games.

see, dice fill a very different role in an OSR game. these systems are designed with high lethality in mind - your fighter has 1d8 hit points, a sword deals 1d8 damage, you just die at 0HP. if you run them like 5e, you start killing PCs left at right and it can be very demoralizing.

the intended playstyle is, instead, that the players circumvent die rolls through cleverness - once combat starts, your fate is in the hands of the dice, so you make plans that avoid combat or swing the odds so far in your favor that the risk is worth it. so the dice still feel like they fill a good role, making combat deadly and unpredictable on purpose to set that dynamic.

this breaks down when you use the same logic for basic task resolution. most OSR games don't have skills, but i often see the misconception that you're supposed to use raw ability checks instead or the GM makes up a success chance on a d6. these fundamentally do the same thing as a traditional roll-to-win skill system: make luck a factor in basic task resolution.

the problem is OSR games have such high stakes in the form of very possible character death that involving luck in basic task resolution can be disproportionately punishing. "you failed the stealth check, roll initiative!" works alright in 4e or 5e where combat is the game, but in the OSR that's a line you very rarely want to cross.

(this is also why old-school D&D isn't my OSR of choice, since the thief just makes a bunch of tasks into die rolls with abysmally low success chances you'd never want to rely on)

instead the expectation is the GM is both generous and transparent with task resolution. most things should be a success or not doable; if something has notable consequences or is iffy enough to require a die roll, the GM should tell the player what is at stake before they commit to taking the action. (die rolls still have a place in terms of risk management but i feel they should be opt-in.)

this has worked pretty well in my games, but i missed skills as ways to differentiate PCs and allow specialization into different areas. it's a lever for customizing your character that i really like about D&D, helping two members of the same class feel distinct. so the best skill system i've found that still works well in this environment is this one borrowed from Joseph Manola:

Spending a skill slot on something means you are really good at that skill, and will always succeed at attempts to use it (emphasis mine) except under severely adverse conditions. If you have the Climbing skill, for example, you can automatically climb any normal surface you encounter, although doing so quickly or quietly might still require a Dexterity check.

it's a houserule i put into my Grave campaign for my home group and a core mechanic for iron halberd, and everywhere i've put it, it's run smooth as butter.

it feels like it slots into the OSR playstyle so, so much better than the old-D&D thief skills. die rolls are almost a punishment, so why bake them into the task resolution players use when playing as intended? the diceless skills are instead a reliable tool in your toolbox, and problem-solving with them should be rewarded.

i've also worked out what i think is the ideal number of skills for an average PC - two. less than that feels highly restrictive, while more than that feels like you have everything you really want for most PCs (thus devaluing PCs that spec into having more than two). i let players drop an attribute by 1 for an extra skill or vice versa, to allow for some PCs to be more skill-focused than others.

other variations on this idea include Dice Goblin's time, gear, skill system. i like this one because it's easy to houserule in a way for a player to double down on a skill - spending 2 skills on the same skill just lets that skill count for 2 requirements instead of 1.

overall they've been fun to use and players feel good using them. they do lose that drama aspect, but i find it easy enough to create tension in other ways in an OSR game. i might even try putting them in a non-OSR game because they've just worked really well.

[unlimitedhearts]

I’m dreading the third game of Spiderman might kill off Harry :/ either he’s goblin (solo or probably along with daddy-o) and dies a la Hero Sacrifice. Or kept comatose and in the end with grim results the decision is to pull the plug on him. idk I feel Harry’s fate is doom and gloom. But they could have killed Harry at the end of this sequel giving a strong motivation for Norman to be the Goblin and hatred for Spider-Man…yet they didn’t. idk rambling thoughts. What do you think?

Personally i can see both options. I saw someone in the tags of my last headcanon post say that it wouldnt make sense to save him from death in this game only to kill him in the next. On some level i get that, why wait when you could do it now?

I have two worst case scenarios in my head:

Harry wakes up from his coma w amnesia a la the third Tobey Maguire movie. Hes unaware of Pete being Spider-Man and Peter, thinking hes protecting Harry, wont tell him. This may cause a rift in their friendship when Harry finds out - or if Norman ends up going goblin and dies - Spider-Man is to blame in Harrys eyes and he'll go after him then. To me this is a tired trope of Harry getting an intense hatred for Spidey and wanting to kill him over his father. It always felt out of character for me and i truly TRULY hope they dont go this route.

Harry becomes the Kobold. In the comics, Kobold is essentially Harrys way of making the Green Goblin a good guy. If he still wants to fight by Peters side, he'll find a way to do it. Kobold would make a lot of sense to me personally, as it kind of continues their dynamic from this game. Then at the end theres a heros sacrifice to be made and Harry goes for it despite Peters protests. This would be lazy to me too though because he essential already did the heros sacrifice in this game. Seems like theyd just want us to have more time with him to love him even more, just to make losing him hurt worse. I wouldn't put it past an intrepid writer to think they could make it work, but it just seems lazy to me.

Actual best case scenario for me though? Harry wakes up as the g-serum is being injected. Hes against being his dads experiment all over again so he runs and finds Peter. Hes not aware of his pseudo-retirement, he just goes straight to the place thats always been his safe haven; Peters home. He asks Peter to hide him from his dad. Tries to explain everything but hes exhausted and frantic. Peter agrees and they take him into hiding.

Norman, ever the expert deflector, doesnt see this as a failing on his part. Hes convinced spider-man had something to do with his son escaping so he puts out a hit on him. Hes ready, willing, and able to capture and kill at least one of the two spider-men it doesnt matter. We see him pardon Wilson Fisk for this job, and when Fisk cant do it, he has to. Normans going to go Goblin. I know it, i can feel it in my bones.

Miles asks Peter to get back in action and he does. Fisk, plus potentially Otto again, plus this brand new villain in town is too much for any one person to handle. Heres where i see Harry becoming a "Guy In The Chair" for Peter like Ganke is for Miles. Two Guys in the Chair helping the spider-men is definitely better than one. I could also see Harrys goblin powers start to emerge but he keeps pushing them down. Last time he gave into power it didnt end well for anyone.

In an effort to not write out the entire plot of the game as i see fit (because itd be long and there are so many moving pieces and characters and IDEK WHERE THEYRE GONNA PUT SILK IN-), i think if Harry does take on the cowl he'll be doing so against his father. I think i see Harry becoming Goblin/Kobold to fight against Norman and ultimately try to help Peter/Miles. This is where i see Harry either accidentally killing Norman or Norman killing his son (and of course, blaming Spider-Man)

There is also room, in my mind, to bring back Venom a la Lethal Protector/Agent Venom. But tbh if they do, i would much rather Venom go to Eddie Brock or Flash Thompson. But thats just the separate Venom Fangirl Entity within me.

Ultimately my hope of course is that Harry not die and they dont go down that all too tired and hackneyed trope of Harry growing to hate Peter dor whatever reason. I truly TRULY hope they dont go that route it is just SO tired and lazy. I want them to stay close and loving. Whatever route they go with will be SO MUCH MORE IMPACTFUL if Harry Osborn lives and doesnt make a full 180 on his best friend for no good reason.

[farawaysoph-ie]

The Sunshine Court Incoherent Whatever (pt.1)

Okay. Okay.

I just finished The Sunshine Court and 1) Jean Moreau what have you done to me? 2) Jean Moreau what have(n't) they done to you?

I started this, then went and re-read tkm (bc the obsession was always latent and never gone), so I could compare both Neil and Jean pov and well, suffice to say I'm not okay and I feel too much.

Thank you Nora Sakavic, it was painful and amazing.

I have a long train ride so I might as well bring back my incoherent whatever after *checks the notes* 4 years :')

As always this will be so full of spoilers.

(Unrelated spoiler: the train ride wasn't enough)

Let's start with the general:

After loving Neil maybe too much the shift to Jean took awhile to adjust to but now I'm ready to fight at least three mafia families, every single hater (fictional or otherwise) and the FBI for him

Jeremy Knox was everything, but like everyone on here, what are you hiding Jeremy?? What's going on??

Cat and Laila, my beloved ™️ the care these two effortlessly gave made me cry

This whole book was a serious trigger for me, but I'm in too deep with this series, imagine me like that Simpsons meme, I did it for my new french son

Characters, thoughts:

I said before the Ravens were a cult, but I hadn't really understood that statement. Every time Jean spoke of them it hit deeper and deeper how messed up and unfair it all was.

Boy am I happy that Riko is dead, like I didn't really wish anyone the fate of being shot by an unfeeling older brother, until Jean's pov hit me like a high speed train.

Andrew spoke exactly one word in this, still was iconic and a scene stealer, how in character for him

I forgot how much I always want to slap Kevin Day when he's trying his best to be annoying, it's because I love him, I swear! (But seriously his relationship with Jean is so complex and well executed I will think about it for a very long while)

I didn't give much thought to Renee and Jean relationship in tkm, but it broke my heart here, it's when I started to actually tear up, I love them so much rainbows, a cool evening breeze. I can't.

"Tell me something"

"Where are you now?"

The whole dynamic of the Cat&Laila& sometimesJeremy's apartment

Cat teaching Jean how to cook + motorbike ride (open roads)

Laila taking him to shopping

Jeremy wanting to make Jean Moreau the Person his success story

Neil dragging Jean towards survival without giving him a choice, again and again: he sent Renee as gentle bait, closed a deal in his name with a mafia boss, promised him he would win against Riko in his name too, promised him again Riko was dead, ordered a hit on his rapist, offered to delay the talk with the FBI, linked his sister to his name, to survival and to what he deserved. I NEED more interactions between them, I am not above begging.

I have to get a better idea on the other Trojans, but for now the policule was cute, I need more Cody and less Lucas. Like I can understand where he was coming from? But he needs to shut up now, you made your mess man, now go play Exy like you were supposed to.

I miss the Foxes :'(

Wymack! I almost forgot everyone's favourite dad-coach: he showed up, brought alcohol, got more tired, delivered care to yet another traumatized child, spent a whole day on airplanes to bring him to Los Angeles, left him money for clothes&co. bc he's not doing this again, answered his call when he was having The Breakdown. Best dad-coach ever in the history of dad-coaches.

Plot things:

Jean at the beginning was so scared and in so much pain it took a while to get a clear picture of him as a person

Still loved all his salty comments and insults, he couldn't help himself

Renee sitting with him and caring with Abby and Wymack :')

Jean being afraid of going back and of not going back to Evermore, hating the ones that got to leave

The self harm and all the people in this that fought him to keep his hands from his neck, his scars, himself

"I am Jean Moreau. My place is at Evermore. I will endure."

Jean not believing in Wymack care, waiting for the act to end and the other shoe to drop

The disbelief at Kevin being away from the court and him admitting he went at knifepoint (and meaning it literally), sometimes this was a comedy

Wymack, Jean, and the burning of houses

Jean's opinion of the Foxes going from those mediocre fools to those mediocre madmen to the madmen that actually beat Riko Moriyama

Wymack putting Jean's phone in the freezer and hating computers

“That man is years overdue for a high-speed, head-on collision.” couldn't have said it better, but Neil was already on it at that point

"Jean knew better than to look for anger in his stare; the best Kevin could manage was bottomless guilt."

“It was my only chance,” Kevin said. “I knew you wouldn’t come with me.” “My place is at Evermore,” Jean agreed, “but you did not have to slit my throat on the way out.”

“Your blind loyalty to those clowns is exhausting.” “Some of them you like,” Kevin reminded him. “Don’t you dare,”

Nathaniel "Hello Jean" Wesninski vs Jean "Go away" Moreau

This whole conversation went very differently compared to tkm: like there Neil came, dropped a metaphorical bomb, glossed over the explanation and went away trying to convince Andrew they are something

Jean was ambushed by two of his most complicated acquaintances (???) and their "pet goalkeeper" (god I need Andrew's reaction to this "nickname", but I guess no one will ever say this to his face, Neil would be too busy fighting you at the suggestion to ever repeat it), had his worldwiew turned upside down with no chance of having a say in the matter, then was left alone with Kevin Day and the aftermath.

So yes two different conversation; also I kinda forgot of the deal about Neil and his smile

“Everyone who has tried to tame him has failed.”

All for the game: a summary

There was no getting away; there was only getting through.

Jean Moreau who (hasn't) hurt you, part some of too many

What really makes it messed up is that on one hand there was Riko and his mad cruelty and on the other there was an entire team of bystanders At Best: some people were an active part and then pretended, no sympathy for them; others decided to ignore the truth to survive and get what they wanted, which I can understand but I guess they still didn't have the decency to shut up when Jean got away. The anger that crawled through my skin when the smear campaign and the notebook/postcards/magnets thing happened. You should have stayed silent until the end you fucks.

“Do it, then. It wouldn’t take much; we all know I have brittle bones.”

Jeremy pov kinda gave you whiplash, with him waking up super early, helping homeless men, but then you start noticing all the things he avoids almost effortlessly and like, what are you hiding sunshine man??

What actually broke me about his povs was him noticing all these details about Jean, and then misinterpreting them, bc whatever he's been through Jean has had it 100 times worse and this doesn't even factor in Jeremy world. I'm pretty sure he'll get the whole truth in the end and I'm scared of what it'll do to him.

Also Jean being like Ravens always had to keep secrets and then spilling most of them almost unprompted, let's laugh in order not to cry

“He hasn’t played a clean game in years,” Kevin admitted, “but he knows how to follow orders. If you tell him to submit, he will.” “Literally the most awkward way you could’ve worded it,” Jeremy said.

This will keep coming back, Kevin please. (He 100% ships it, one of us)

The Foxes catching the too tired Trojans and Jeremy being like, you are all approved (I need the two teams to interact now)

Also the Trojans being like how are they still standing, Neil how are you still running??

Someone pointed out they wanted Neil to interact with Jeans closest teammates bc if he is a madman by Jean standards, what would normal people make of him? To which yes, but also guys consider this: Neil said to Cat and Laila that they were terrifying after the semifinal, he took a step back when Jeremy opened the door and silently invited him in. I need Neil and the floozies to interact so Neil can experience real fear.

Mafia bosses have nothing on wholesome people, the true weakness of one Neil Josten

Jean immediately hanging up on Jeremy will never not be funny

When you get to the title of the book and it's Jean insulting people <3

I will Never, NEVER, get over the "nineteen". Never.

I love Abby but when she told that bit about fighting back, It Hurt. She probably didn't really mean it and didn't know everything bc how are you supposed to keep fighting when you are fifteen, alone and forsaken in a place that is built to break you? As it has been pointed out, Neil had rebellion beaten into him by a mother that chose him and ran; Jean had a sister that he hoped to protect and parents that sold him away like property. Five months were actually a long time.

Dobson keeps being iconic, I don't know what to think about the I don't know how exy works bit: I mean I've been obsessing with this and still don't know how exy works (plz don't hate me), but at the same time it was such a power move and got Jean to talk

“Of course it’d be you, you tedious malcontent.” “Good morning to you, too.” Nathaniel held up an oversized bandage.

You see why I need more of their interactions, right?

Nathaniel was different; he always would be. He wasn’t a Raven, but he was, same as Jean. He was Jean’s misplaced forever partner, an unfulfilled promise Jean had stopped believing in years ago.

You can now be forever partners while you tear down your families :)

I think that I'm stuck on the two of them bc while Kevin broke a promise to save himself (to which no hate, when dealing with madmen like Riko you have to save yourself) and still couldn't, not completely, Neil was a promise made and broken by other people. Jean hates him bc they were supposed to share a destiny and all the misery, but I think very deep down he knows that if Nathaniel had come to the Nest they would still be nursing wounds and appeasing a tyrant. Neil is the one that stood against Riko when Kevin wanted to hide, the one that gave him courage by example, the one that dragged Jean away from the Ravens, both for selfish reasons (taking down Riko) and better ones (paying him back for saving his life a the Nest).

But still

“You are only here now because you are an abominable cockroach,”

Funny how Neil forgot to tell us about the breakdown about Kevin's tattoo, he was probably thinking about the match. Junkie.

The cheese drawer guys, ???

To this day I still can't decide what was more iconic: Kevin Day switching playing hand halfway through the game and pretty much scoring everything until the last second, Neil being so fast that it made up for him being a shitty defender, Andrew crossing the court to keep Neil from being murdered (I'm biased, but still iconic moments all of them)

Experiencing this match from Jean's pov was amazing writing, like the countdown of the last ten seconds, the Riko-Neil bit without volume but from a different angle (I didn't really realize everyone was able to see the King attempting murder live on TV, but hey perspective)

Run, Jean thought. He didn't know if he was thinking it at Andrew or Nathaniel. Run.

"That wasn't a miracle," Jean typed out. "That was the Foxes."

:')

When Jean found about Riko though :'(

The shudder that wracked his chest should have been revulsion, but it fell dangerously short. This didn't feel like joy or relief; it only felt like loss. [...] Who was he without them?"

I loved that he woke up to Renee and Neil though, the rainbow and the witness

Renee always hitting the point, this wonderful girl

"Maybe you're mourning the wreckage he made of your life. You're allowed to grieve what he took from you."

"It's impressive, isn't it? How easily these monsters die in the end."

Neil Abram Josten said I'm done letting monsters ruin my life and my people, he actually promised.

When he called him Neil guys, tears

Also I found peculiar that when thinking about the room he destroyed Jean calls it "Neil's dorm room", not Kevin's who he's known for actually longer. It's what makes me think that they have a chance at not being misplaced forever anymore.

Renee either hits you with hidden wisdom of the universe or with practical and brutal advice, and we love her for that

The two of them, the Two Of THEEEEEEEEM

Jean noticed how Andrew and Neil moved like they were caught in each other's gravity, in each other's space more than they were out of it, cigarette smoke and matching armbands and lingering looks when one fell out of orbit for too long.

Just leaving this here.

The airport bit :'(

"Men like Wymack didn't exist. They couldn't; they shouldn't."

Enter Jeremy Knox and his yo-yo in the middle of said airport. Flawless.

This man was put on Earth to test Jean, at least that's what he will keep thinking from here on

The rest of this book is Jean having conversations with people and not understanding them, bc he's been living for five (seven) years in a cult. It is an escalation pretty painful to watch, I think the Trojans are all of us :'(

Question: will Jean end up teaching Jeremy French? Will Jeremy learn by himself? I think I'd probably prefer the latter

Cat, the mess, the music, the tour, I love her so much

Jeremy "he's a little off" Knox, he was trying

Barkbark von Barkenstein

Jean Moreau and the real world (bubble tea? you have to shop for stuff? you sign things yourself? you leave campus? someone help this disoriented french bean)

"Something had gone horribly wrong at Evermore"

oh Jeremy

Watching Jeremy regret almost all his questions :'(

“Three fractured ribs. Sprained LCL. Twisted ankle. Broken nose. That’s most of it.” That’s most of it.

Laila, who pushed and got angry for Jean and didn't back down despite him lashing out, my beloved

You look like a Ken doll." + "This isn't blond."

"Not Grayson.[...] Please." that one made me sick, the writing made me feel even only a part of what Jean was feeling and it was enough to feel sick

The water :'(

Jean just leaving when confronted with Laila and Jeremy in swimsuits was very bi of him

Lucas coming in looking like a well know nightmare and the Ravens dropping like flies

I didn't ask.

It's not like I didn't know, right? But I still died inside

Zane and the betrayal

Jeremy didn’t let him get away with it. “That’s not the issue and you know it. I don’t want to crowd you.” “You are not them,” Jean said. “Kevin would not have sent me here if you were.”

Jean taking one look at the doctor sent by the coaches and going nope, Dobson will be definitely better

Jeremy seeing the nightmares and the scars and not being able to do much:(

A hand on his chin startled him into looking up. When he met Jean’s eyes, Jean only said, “Focus on what’s important.” “I am,” Jeremy said. Jean opened his mouth, closed it again, and let go of Jeremy without a word. Jeremy snagged his arm when he started to turn away. “Who did this to you?”

I'm sorry did he just

“It’s not about size, anyway.” “Defensive,” Jean said, tugging his glove straps with his teeth. Jeremy straightened in indignation. “I don’t have anything to be defensive about.” Jean lost his grip and bit his lip, and Jeremy hurried on before either of them could think too much about that double entendre.

“Say ‘yes, Jeremy’.” He had the distinct impression Jean wanted to roll his eyes. “Yes, Jeremy.” Jeremy forgot everything else he could have said in favor of staring. It was the first time he’d heard Jean say his name.

Are you seeing this? Yes? Good, let's go on

“If I ever make you uncomfortable or make you feel unsafe, will you promise to tell me? If you don’t trust me enough to tell me what’s wrong and why, at least trust me enough to tell me that something is wrong. I can’t fix things if I don’t know there’s a problem. As your captain and your partner, don’t I at least deserve the chance to not be a villain in your story?”

The pool bit :'( and after when they tell there are no pools at Evermore. Riko is so lucky to already be dead :)

You’re forcing us to hurt you without giving us any say in the matter.”

Watching Jean trying to navigate his interactions with the Trojans was painful, frustrating but also hopeful. This boy has been hurt so much and so often, he doesn't get what normal looks like anymore. But the Trojans don't let him get away with it (even if it breaks their heart and the coaches will probably get a lot of grey hair from this)

"Your safety and happiness will always be more important than our season.” “You are naïve.” “Maybe you’ll define success by how we do this season, but I’m not obligated to do the same. You are going to be my success story: Jean Moreau the person, not Jean Moreau of the perfect Court. You take care of one, and I’ll take care of the other.” “That is not how it works.” “Is there a rule against it?” “There is no merit to it. This is all I am.” Jeremy ignored that and asked again, “Is there a rule against it?”

Jeremy gay panicking and the photo of Renee

The floozy line!

Every time Jeremy goes "our coaches" or "our teammates" all I can think in my head is "someone will die" "of fun!!!!"

Jean wondering if the Trojans have something against recruiting tall players xD

“Thank you for worrying about them. You’re a good man, Jean Moreau.” “A ridiculous sentiment,” he said. “I mean it,”

This man didn't even second guess himself, he had to ask because he knew and it didn't even occur to him to be silent. Excuse me sir? Shut up you are a good man

“I assumed the Trojans were idiots,” Jean said. “Now I think you are all insane.” “It’s a step up,” Cody said. “I’ll take it.”

The practices, the scars pt2

“It is all I am, Coach.”

“We did not want outsiders at Evermore.” “Except Neil,” Cat said. “Neil was a special case,” Jean allowed.

#accurate

You’re hurting me.” “It has been toward for five years,” Jean said, looking past Jeremy at the scrimmage that was still going on without them. “It is not that easy to undo.” Jeremy frowned at him and echoed, “Five? You were only with the Ravens for three.” “I moved into Evermore two years before I enrolled,” Jean said, and hauled Jeremy to one side. The stray ball that had been coming for them ricocheted off his chest instead of Jeremy’s back, and Jean scooped it up on the rebound with a quick snap of his wrist. He hurled it across the court toward Cody one-handed before finally letting go of Jeremy. “I will try harder.”

The notebooks breakdown hurt so bad bc Cat and Laila being angry for him (they are all of us), Jeremy trying to mediate bc he's been there, he pushed and Jean broke and he doesn't want to hurt him, and Jean who confesses his secrets without meaning to, just to realize and panic. What a recipe for a disaster.

“How dare they blame you for anything after what they did to you. How dare you grieve them.” It hit like a sucker punch, but Jean’s frustrated rejoinder was worse: “They don’t know.”

They don't know, but they could guess. They could smell the blood. They joked about his brittle bones. He was sixteen. I'm not sorry for the mercy I don't have after finishing this book

Jeremy could only watch in wretched silence as Jean tried to walk himself back from the edge. He cast his phone aside in favor of catching Jean’s face in his hands, and the way Jean flinched at his touch was almost his undoing. “Hey,” he said quietly. “Hey. Jean. Look at me.” Jean refused, and Jeremy grasped desperately for anything that could bring Jean back to him. He seized on the only thing he could and threw Jean’s words back at him: “You are Jean Moreau. Your place is here with me, with us. I’m your captain. You’re my partner. We’re supposed to be doing this together, aren’t we? Stop leaving me behind. Look at me.” It wouldn’t work, but it did. Jean opened his eyes to meet Jeremy’s stare. “I told you not to ask me about him.”

I had seen the quote before reading but no one told me what followed ç.ç

He felt a tremor in Jean’s hands, and for a blinding moment he was sure Jean would lean into the safety of this silent confession. But Jean only sucked in a slow breath and said, “Now I am not safe with you, captain.” Letting go of Jean was the hardest thing Jeremy had ever done. Everything in him railed against this, and for a moment he regretted giving Jean a way out.

I was not crying, I swear.

“I’m sorry,” Jeremy said, because he didn’t have the strength for small talk or a softer approach right now. “Did Riko break your hand?”

That was one heavy conversation and it's just the start (Jeremy is Not Fine™️)

He is not used to having a voice, and he has never had power. I cannot promise he will ever talk to you.” “I will wait as long as it takes,” Jeremy said.

Still best boy

And maybe in many ways he still was, but a martyr could still be a monster when the cameras weren’t rolling.

Boy do I have news for you (do you think Jeremy will know that Riko didn't kill himself? Does it matter? I think not knowing this particular detail would be fine, I still don't really know how much this sunshine boy can take (more than I expected but still))

Did I mention that I really love the apartment trio? Cat and Laila agreeing to silence but still being angry (drag them girls, draaaaag them), the dinner and movie and Jean not getting up to leave

Did I mention Lucas is free to shut up and play? :) Because I get that you are angry, but 1) it's not your decision to make, we don't need your conspiracy theories 2) it's not Jean problem, he has enough of them leave him alone

“Ask him why he’s so sure the rumors are true. Ask him what his part in it was. If you’re going to believe him just because he’s blood, then at least make him tell you the truth.” “What’s that supposed to mean?” Lucas demanded.

And Jean still deciding not to lie, he may be an asshole but almost everyone he has known didn't deserve him

Also I don't know where Lucas got the audacity? You think there is something the justifies breaking a player's ribs?? What is wrong with you, you are part of the sunshine court

The dread when asking if Grayson was home

The bike ride :')

Now that they were settled, he expected an interrogation or a reason for this unscheduled trip out. When she failed to explain herself, Jean finally asked, “Why are we here?” “I love it here,” [...] “I don’t know. I just felt like some fresh air would do you good. There’s nothing like a ride to get you out of your head and into the moment, you know?” Jean considered that for a minute. “Thank you.”

Jean waited until he was out of earshot. “I don’t understand.” “Trust us,” Jeremy said tiredly. “Neither do we.”

Jean vs the Trojans, a summary

The monster shows up and it was a mess and Jean has never had a break, literally never

Which was extremely literal bc Lucas wanted to talk and then Neil shows up

I need a separate post for the last pages bc I started this 24 h ago and I want to do it justice. So part 2 coming.

Edit: I misspelled Jean's surname *facepalms and goes to hide*

[nihilnovisubsole]

phew! finally a weekend where i can set aside enough time to type up The Promised Endwalker Stream-of-Consciousness Post. i finished the base story... a month ago? but work has been busy, and i think tumblr benefits from me being quiet sometimes. anyway, what a ride. when you've been building up to the end of your arc for a decade, you want to hit it like an earthquake, and that's exactly what they did.

i think people love endwalker because it fires on all cylinders. it returns - in both story and vision - to the eorzea we love, and the dev team gets to show off everything they've learned. the dungeons and boss fights are dynamic and imaginative and colorful and bring the game's epic sense of scope to bear. the story callbacks are juicy. the music is orchestral again. we're back home, and we're saving the galaxy. what's better than this?

i love that we go to garlemald. i don't - i mean, you know, i don't like garlemald. i shouldn't have to qualify that. but it's hugely narratively satisfying to see the face of the enemy we've been fighting since the first few hours of ARR. you don't think about them when you're beating them up in castrum centri or ala mhigo. they're star wars bad guys. then you meet them on their own turf. you observe firsthand how they starve and cannibalize their own people to feed their obsession with state power and military strength. the wintry environment makes it seem all the more barren and desperate. my favorite part by far. i wish we'd spent more time there.

actually, on that note:

there is an argument that endwalker should've been two expacs. i've heard similar about stormblood - ala mhigo should've been the whole thing, and doma should've been either patch content or an expac of its own. the prevailing theory is that, after ARR, the devs are afraid of letting arcs run long. i can't speak to that, but i wouldn't have minded, that's for sure!

i won't pretend not to be biased. i've noted in many xiv posts that it hurries through its political plots to get to the magic stuff. i felt more conscious of it in heavensward and especially in stormblood. i made peace with it in endwalker. with dessert this good, who am i to complain? i can do small character drama on my own time. for now, the game wants royce to be a big damn shonen hero, and that can be fun, too.

speaking of characters, urianger and estinien have grown on me. this is the arc where, for me at least, the scions have congealed. they're all good, but with any large cast and custom player character, you tend to form the meatiest bonds with a few specific ones. i think royce appreciates urianger's cooler, more mature head. they're both so formal. he realizes she's someone he can confide in. i think she sees estinien as a gifted, but hotheaded whelp, which i find very funny. patience, child. stop sulking. do your breathing drills.

i love thancred's MGS sequence and in from the cold too. they're stressful, but i love that the team tried, you know what i mean? the fact that you can fight enemies in a pinch makes those duties way more bearable than some other games that experiment with stealth.

in from the cold as a whole, honestly. If You Know, You Know

all right, i can't avoid referencing spoilers anymore, sorry. there's a sense of classical tragedy to the whole elpis sequence. it's like watching macbeth or hamlet. you know how it's going to end, and you know you're powerless to stop it, but if they'd just made that different choice! but we had to leave eden. the warrior of light had to end up where they are to finish what elpis started. i don't do fate/destiny plots, but this? i'll take it.

i also knew what would happen going into ultima thule and still came away from it moved. it's strong writing. that's all there is to it. sure, the visuals are haunting, but the dialogue has to sell a gauntlet of difficult character moments, and it pulls it off. on the design side, there's some interesting intentional friction that forces you to linger in the zone and sit with its sense of despair. that part where you have to search the empty park for signs of life? oof

with the majority of the MSQ under my belt, i started sniffing around for what else there is to do ingame. i tried ninja. did terribly. i tried sage. did terribly too, but at least that gave me access to the healer role quests, which, ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°). the nier raids are gorgeous. i even did the controversial werlyt quests, and terncliff is so cute. i kind of wish we could have another story there!

what's next? i dunno! right now i'm burning through the hildibrand quests before i continue on with endwalker's patch story. the field operation stuff seems interesting to do after the MSQ, in a "hey, you saved the world, but we have more missions for you" way. i've also contracted Triple Triad Collector Disease, so that'll keep me busy for a long time.

all right. one last thing. Real Gamer Moments: i was in a mount-farming party recently, and i said that i sort of collected mounts, but only used the ishgardian chocobo. it's a roleplay thing - it's the chocobo royce took when she ran away from ishgard. one of the party members said "haurchefant would be proud of you." AUGH

[mint-yooxgi]

{4} - To Tempt Fate - Yandere!Trickster Deities!Ateez X Reader

Yandere AU & Trickster AU

Genre: Mature, Horror, Angst, Suspense

Pairing: Ateez X Reader (Slight focus on Wooyoung & San)

Words: 2,376

Warnings: Minor violence and broken bones mentioned. This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.

A/n: Here it is!! The next chapter!! This one sort of demonstrates a bit of the dynamics between the guys and gives hints about their plans for the OC in later chapter eheheh. I’m so excited for you all to see what I have planned. The story is really going to kick off next chapter, just you wait and see! As always, feedback is greatly appreciated! Enjoy~

Also, gentle reminder that I do not do tag lists.

Mini Masterlist - Part One - Part Two - Part Three

The sound of a harsh slap echoes throughout the room.

“Oh, please,” the male on his knees grins wildly, head twisted to the side as red begins to bloom on his cheek, “hit me more.”

“We all had a deal, Wooyoung,” sharp eyes narrow down at the trickster held in place by two of his brothers. “A deal which you broke.”

Wooyoung takes the time to spit some blood out of his mouth before turning his head back to stare up at a furious Hongjoong before him.

“Give me a break,” the younger male rolls his eyes. “I know any one of you would have done the exact same as me if given the chance. You’re probably cursing yourself for not doing it sooner.”

Another smack reverberates throughout the space, Wooyoung’s head now turned to the opposite side.

A maniacal laugh escapes the male on his knees, “You of all people should know not to trust in my words.”

“When it concerns us and her, we should be able to have faith you’ll at least restrain yourself for one fucking day.” Seonghwa spits, his arms crossed over his chest as he steps in beside Hongjoong.

Wooyoung huffs dryly, “Like you didn’t almost lunge at Leader when she hung up on him the first time, just to be the one to call her back.”

Seonghwa’s nostrils flare. “At least I can control myself.”

“When you get as close to her as I did today,” the corner of Wooyoung’s lips quirk upwards in a smug grin, “you won’t.”

The sound of bones shattering fills the room, a cry of pain leaving the younger male as he falls to the floor. The glare he sends a particular male that had been holding him in place by his one arm is deadly, pearlescent eyes flashing at deep purple.

“Yeosang, what the fuck?” Wooyoung shouts at the older male, cradling his now crushed hand to his chest.

“Someone had to punish you for touching her.” The male blinks, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “I was getting tired of waiting.”

“Yet, you fault me for being impatient.” Wooyoung clicks his tongue, a sharp look held within his gaze. Grimacing, the younger male begins to reset his bones as they begin to heal. “At least I’ve done something with her, which is more than any of you can say.”

“We’ll all get our chance.” Jongho states calmly, leaning against the side wall. “Everything is in place. Our plan won’t fail.”

“We spent enough time planning and making sure things run smoothly,” San huffs, backing away from his brother still sitting on the floor. “It better not fail.”

“It won’t.” Hongjoong hums, turning back around to face the wall of screens they have set up to monitor your whereabouts at all times. “This time around, there is no escape. There is no possible way for her to win these so called games. She has one option, and one option only. She’ll be in our arms soon enough.”

Jongho snorts out a laugh. “And you guys say I’m the sadistic one.”

“None of us need to spill blood in order to kill someone, Jongho.” Seonghwa replies, somewhat bluntly.

“Speak for yourself,” San’s jaw twitches in irritation before turning to the two other males who remain awfully quiet at the opposite side of the room. “What’s up with you two? Nervous about tomorrow?”

The one male simply quirks a brow in response, his shoulders relaxed even as he keeps his arms crossed in front of his chest. The other, who stand directly beside him, lets out a low sigh.

“Are you sure this is going to work? She’s a lot more perceptive than we anticipated.” Though his eyebrow ticks slightly upwards, he hides his minor worry well.

“Are you doubting your own abilities?” Hongjoong spares a brief glance back over his shoulder in the one male’s direction.

“No,” the male sighs. “Only her ability to believe. To trust us.”

“She will,” the other male, slightly taller than his pink haired brother, and sporting red streaks through his own black hair hums. “She doesn’t know all of our names yet, but she will.”

“A fact which we will use to any and every advantage that we can,” Hongjoong turns back to face them all. “I know we all long for the day we hear our names fall from her lips,” a pointed look is sent to Wooyoung as the male finally stands back to his feet, “but, only when she recognizes and acknowledges who we are while looking into our eyes will we be able to bond ourselves to her. If any of you dare try to upset the order we have agreed upon again, I will not be as forgiving.”

This time, there is no hiding the malice in Hongjoong’s gaze as his yellow eyes flash at Wooyoung.

“Yeah, yeah,” Wooyoung waves him off. “We all know you claimed first rights to do so over all of us a long time ago.”

“We didn’t nearly kill each other to establish order for nothing,” San reminds him, arms crossed firmly over his chest.

“You’re last for a reason, Wooyoung,” Jongho reminds him. “You have no one but yourself to blame for that.”

“Mingi cheated!” Wooyoung attempts to defend himself.

“We’re tricksters. It’s in our blood.” Said male rolls his eyes. “If you thought I would play fair just because you’re my brother, you’re delusional. Nothing is off limits when it comes to her.”

A sharp look is sent to him by Hongjoong, Yeosang, and Jongho.

“You know I don’t mean that,” Mingi rolls his eyes.

“We may all be fucked, but at least we can say we’ve never committed such vile acts as to force ourselves upon an unwilling participant.” Seonghwa nods, leaning back against the edge of the console table behind him.

“Exactly,” Mingi agrees. “I meant when it comes to us ensuring we get what we want. Even if it means fooling our idiot brothers in our own competitions.”

“Hey!” Both San and Wooyoung whine at the same time.

“I think that was a more of a general remark than anything,” Yunho chuckles, “but if you thought it was pointed, then by all means, take the blunt of the insult for us all.”

“We’ve already established that we should be able to trust one another when it comes to decisions and deals we make surrounding our beloved.” Yeosang states, rather pointedly. “In terms of how we go about creating and deciding orders of things, especially when there is competition involved concerning who gets to experience specific instances with her first, well… that’s free reign.”

“When we can’t come to a rational decision through discussion, that’s when our own competitions occur.” Hongjoong says, turning back to face the screens and resting his palms on the edge of the console table. He leans forward, golden eyes beginning to shine as they zero in on you walking through the maze again. The corner of his lips twitches upwards as he watches your image intently, fully displayed on the closest screen. “Certain things are unavoidable, like who gets to ‘compete’ with her starting tomorrow once her prep time is up. Other things, like name order, we fought for individually, and it was decided based upon who came out on top.”

“There’s always a chance that despite our established order, she goes against it.” The way Jongho’s eyes flick briefly to the screen you appear on when he says this does not go unnoticed by any.

“She won’t." Hongjoong hums, a crazed grin tugging at the corner of his lips. “I’ll make damn well sure of that.”

A brief silence settles over all of them as their eyes are drawn to you having come full circle through the maze. They can only watch as you finish connecting the final paths on your little map sketch, eyes twinkling with a sort of fondness that is more apparent in others than in some. However, what they do not expect, is for you to continue through the maze, looping through the proper path once more as if to familiarize yourself with it as much as possible.

You certainly are more thorough and perceptive than any of them could have ever anticipated. A fact which only makes them that much more excited for the games to truly begin.

Yes. They’re correct. You’ll make the perfect addition to their lives. The best part? They’ll be able to perfect your own at the same time.

“Prepare yourselves for tomorrow,” Hongjoong doesn’t even bother to spare them a glance from over his shoulder this time as his gaze remains transfixed on you. "We have work to do.”

The seven males around the room nod, some disappearing right away while others move to exit the room normally. One lingers, waiting for a specific brother to catch up with him as he leaves the room.

As soon as the door slams shut behind them, San is leaning into Wooyoung slightly. The way he eyes his brother is not subtle in the slightest, curiosity lingering in the way his black orbs flash beneath the artificial lights of the hallway.

“So,” he begins, noticing how Wooyoung simply quirks a brow in response. “What was it like?”

Wooyoung smirks. “What was what like, Sannie boy? Seeing her up close and personal for the first time? Hearing her speak to me? Having her finally look me in the eyes? Feeling the warmth of her breath on my lips? You have to be a little more specific than that.”

San smacks the male upside the head rather harshly.

“Ow! The fuck was that for?” Wooyoung rubs the tender spot, ire shining on his face.

“For rubbing it in.” San replies, somewhat grumpily. Then, after a moment of silence in which the elder purses his lips, he mumbles something under his breath.

“What was that?” Wooyoung quirks a brow in amusement, head turned slightly to see San now avoiding his gaze as a slight blush dusts the elder male’s cheeks.

“What did it feel like,” San spares a brief glance out of the corner of his eyes at his brother, blush deepening and becoming all the more apparent as it reaches the tips of his ears, “to finally feel her beneath your touch?”

Wooyoung pauses at the end of the hallway, stunned by his brother’s question. That is, until a subtle, tender smile is pulling at his lips as he raises his now fully healed hand before him. Almost longingly, the male stares down at his palm. Tingles erupt beneath the surface as he recalls the euphoria of having you within his grasp, even if only for a brief, fleeting moment.

“Indescribable.” Wooyoung admits, the word breathless and airy.

San, unsatisfied by Wooyoung’s answer, quirks a brow while huffing. “Try me.”

“You know, we’ve always prided ourselves on our control.” Wooyoung begins, still staring, transfixed, at his hand. “No matter how many of our sacrifices attempted to sway us, whether it be by seduction, bribery, violence, or through empty promises of fame and fortune, we’ve never given in. But her? Her?”

Wooyoung inhales sharply, his eyes fluttering shut for a brief moment. San just knows that the male is recalling the recent memory of having you so near to him right now.

“Just seeing her so close, even through the bushes, made me want to reveal myself every chance I could get. Holding her in my arms for that briefest of moments in time, I felt my whole body come alive.” Wooyoung finally lifts his gaze to meet his brother’s eyes, and what San sees shining there makes his breath hitch.

Never before have Wooyoung’s eyes been such a pure white. Always, there has been some murkiness to the pearlescent shade shining within his brother’s gaze. Yet, not this time. Almost as if it has been you that has brought out a completely different side to the man standing before him. A side that will always and forever be reserved only for you.

“Whatever you want to describe it as: electricity, fire, euphoric tingles…” Wooyoung goes on to describe, “I felt it all. Our souls were made for hers. Made to always be with her. All that’s left to do is allow them to resonate.”

“We all feel that pull,” San nods his agreement, a soft tugging of his lips upwards in understanding. “After learning about how interested she was in us, we were all drawn to her.”

“Believe me, after you touch her,” Wooyoung exhales a low breath, “it all gets so much worse.”

“'Worse’ how?” San quirks a brow.

“If you thought fighting the urge to run to her and be near her every waking second before was bad,” Wooyoung voices, somewhat knowingly. “Once you’ve established that physical connection, no matter how minor, that longing just grows into a want. A need to be near her all of the time. Right now, I can hardly prevent myself from shaking. From transporting myself back to her and holding her in my arms until I’ve gotten my fix, and even then, I don’t think it would ever be enough.”

“The mere thought of her is all consuming,” Wooyoung’s eyes glaze over, and San just knows the younger male is thinking of you right now. “So, you can only imagine what being in her presence, feeling her skin beneath your own, is like.”

San takes a moment to consider his brother’s words, nodding softly.

“Do you-“ he swallows, “do you think we’ll ever consume her thoughts again just as she consumes ours?”

Wooyoung sends a wistful look off in the direction he can only assume you’re in right now while still traversing the maze. Faintly, he smiles. “I sure hope so.”

San nods along with his brother, the two meeting gazes once more.

“So, prepare yourself for when you meet her,” Wooyoung claps his brother on the shoulder, a teasing grin tugging at the younger male’s lips. “Last thing we need is you slipping up. She certainly is a perceptive one, alright.”

Something within San’s pitch black eyes flash. “I will not fail.”

“No.” Wooyoung’s own eyes flash white. “We won’t.”

[thedomesticanthropologist]

A comment you said on your last post really hit me as a good point of development/angst, please take or leave as you'd like and apologies if I've mischaracterized your Tav at all, but still hope this helps turn some wheels. "As a Cleric of Ilmater Mira is no stranger to Suffering for the sake of Faith." Has Mira considered that Astarion suffered for nothing?

Ultimately Mira's suffering gets her a cool connection with a god and awesome powers. Would that not make Astarion bitter in that respect? To me it seems like Mira is constantly pushing back against Astarion with a lot of "why is he like this" and "you have to be better because it's the right thing to do." At what point does Astarion share his story with her about that boy he tried to spare from Cazador's wrath? I feel like with this dynamic, that would be something he'd bring up as proof that she just got lucky that her god gave a shit about her in particular. Like he did the right thing, was horrendously punished for it and as far as he's concerned, Ilmater was sitting around twiddling his godly thumbs.

I feel like that would be a good point to develop some better mutual understanding between the pair of them that would make Mira maybe not forgive Astarion in the Act 2 confession, but at least understand where he's coming from, rather than just pushing her worldview.

So! You gotta keep in mind that the story you're referring to isn't told to the player character until Act 3, well after his confession.

By the time he confesses, Astarion has (depending on how many cut scenes you've managed to snag/long rests etc) Only told you that he lured victims back to Cazador, and that Cazador is a monster.

He's told you about his scars, and how he pities the other 6 of his "siblings". Plus a few small anecdotes, but *none of them* about anything he's ever done for anyone else.

He has however:

- Been extremely racist towards the Gur based on being attacked by them, likely having been hired by Cazador based on how the story was told so Mira explained that you can't hold an entire race of people accountable for the actions of the few. Astarion said he absolutely can, and fuck you

- Assaults you in your sleep then begs for blood and if you do trust him enough to let him bite "I'll be as gentle as a babe! I only need a little" but u don't pass the checks he will murder you

- Tried to abandon the Tieflings to their fate and told Mira they should move on not because of the tadpole problem, but because killing goblins "would take hours" and he's too lazy to bother

- Repeatedly and loudly stated that he desires power over all else, but has NOT yet told her its because he's scared/desires to feel safe

- Asked to be left out of the Nere quest because he didn't want to ruin his nails and would prefer to move on. Mira said Nere isn't the point, the gnomes are and he was EXTREMELY racist towards deep gnomes in general. He has NOT yet explained to the PC / Mira why he is against digging through rock (the crypt for a year thing) by the time he does this

- Tells you if you get in the way of what he wants he will go through you if necessary (denying him the tadpoles) and to stay out of his way

- Snaps at you about how to deal with Yurgir if you try to figure out what's going on instead of immediately killing him, even if you plan on killing him, and also rails against PC loudly in many other instances as well

And much much more, I won't go on. The point is that by the time he confesses, you have no back story. You have nothing to go on. There is nothing to trust. And the ONE thing Mira and Astarion had together where she thought they were making headway, their physical relationship, has now just been revealed to be a huge scam from the start.

Not ONLY that, but he doesn't regret doing it. He is proud of his simple plan and upset that it fell apart (at least that's how he presents it) and does NOT apologize for trying to use her. He instead says because he fell in love and she is so incredible he feels he can trust her enough to confess his deception without fear of being kicked out of the party.

You must remember that while Astarion has reasons, he hasn't revealed them. And if you judge a man based on his words and actions, at the point of the confession scene, he's not got a lot going for him besides puppy dog eyes and a backstory of admittedly horrific slavery that has only been lightly touched on because he wants you to know Cazador is Bad, but he's not about to spill his guts on what really all happend to him yet.

TLDR: Faith is just about all Mira has to give at this point, and Astarion has made her suffer by gaining her trust through manipulation and then only messing up because HE caught feelings.

In other versions of the game, if you don't finish his quest, he breaks up with PC very cruelly.

If you make it to Act 3 with Caz and you don't make the right dialogue choices or pass the persuasion and instead just say you won't let him ascend, he says he hopes you die screaming.

This man is my fave, don't get me wrong. But without the knowledge of his entire character, when you go in blind or you play a character that you don't give High Insight to, you have to see that he is a very difficult person to navigate. Especially a Lawful Good Cleric of Ilmater who's life purpose is to help and alleviate suffering.

She feels called to him because of his suffering and she *does* have faith she can help, but that faith is majorly BLIND right now and it hurts to know the man who proved time and time again that he isn't trustworthy just confessed his love by explaining that he has been extra untrustworthy