#I believe) and again even if it WERE the case and it was a fluke or a rewrite or whatever

[demodraws0606]

What Cyberpunk DeadBoy Means and What it's Potentially Foreshadowing (aka very complicated analysis that makes a lot of sense and could happen depending on how colorpalet is feeling while writing the story)

Now I'm seeing so many people like running around wondering what this event could mean for the future for multiple reasons and like I've made like one post throwing my hat into the ring.

I've been frustrated with people's unwillingness to realise that this comm is prob foreshadowing because this is not the first time Colorpalet has hidden foreshadowing into comms weither subtely or not

Exemple's being :

-Akito's second comm foreshadowing his third event

-Lower's cover art literally foreshadowing what would happen to Mafuyu's phone in her event

-88 vocals being emurui and nenekasa foreshadowing the kind of dynamic the disbandement arc had with nenekasa wanting to move forward with emurui being scared of isolation

-Probably way better exemples that I forgot

I've seen people make Some assumptions which I don't agree with but there is one thing I think is true

There is 100 pourcent gonna be struggle between corporation/reality and WxS.

Purely because that's been WxS's entire theme since the beginning. They constantly bash you over the head with the theme of compromising with reality and the importance of dreams. In fact the pick of Maiki-P is not at all surprising as he basically has the same message WxS has just... well harsher.

The Big thing people have ignored however is by focusing on the lyrics, they've ignored something that's personally to me even more telling and that's the line distribution

We know for a fact colorpalet loves to mess around with line distribution, weither it's to make characters say lines that fit them or to kind of foreshadow their headspace.

Now something Big happens with the line distribution of Cyberpunk Deadboy that i've seen NO ONE notice and that's in the last chorus (that and also Tsukasa's lines which people have pointed out but it works less on it's own which is why I'm gonna analyse his lines afterwards).

This is the only time the chorus is like that, the others have a much more even distribution.

In fact the distribution choice makes it look like the rest of WxS is Talking to Rui.

It's even more evident considering the lines they chose to make WxS sing compared to only just Rui

Emu/Tsukasa/Nene saying kimi (you)

Rui saying boku (i)

Which honestly makes me think this is colorpalet foreshadowing some kind of issue reguarding specifically Rui. Remember Emu's second event ? The story of Rilley whose imagination was crippled by the industry to the point where he didn't really have any artistic vision until Emu's grandpa helped him.

In fact remember how the flashback that showcases that has Rilley working on a film

Now we get to Tsukasa's line which have been pointed out to be kind of sus but it's not just his lines.

Tsukasa refuses to sing with Rui (unless it's a line they all sing together but i consider those exceptions). In fact pretty much everyone has a duo line with each other except those two.

In fact in the section where Rui has duo lines with everybody, Tsukasa is the only one he doesnt sing with and the visuals make it clear that it's something that we're supposed to find strange

And then we of course have Tsukasa's solo lines

Tsukasa is the only one that say "fuzakeruna" outside of Rui (of course ignoring entire group WxS lines) and i've seen some people pointed out how it sounds like he's saying it in response to Rui's lines. Which I agree with.

Then we got his big boy solo lines

These lines will make more sense with my theory/analysis but right now if we go with the idea that WxS in the last chorus were speaking to Rui and Tsukasa in this comm refuses to sing with Rui then this implies those lines are Tsukasa speaking to Rui.

And this is where the insanity begins because people have pointed out a concerning trend with Ruikasa that I know some people use for shipping fuel but for me kinda feels more so like foreshadowing.

IGNORING all the ARG ass weirdness of the Fixer 2dmv, this choice to switch Ruikasa's colors have to mean something in my opinion outside of just wholesome shipping influence especially considering the two songs they do this are less than jovial.

What this kind of color switching signifies to me is that, Ruikasa somehow are/or will switch places.

And with that let me bring back Tsukasa's lines

These lines stand out because Tsukasa before remembering his dreams was extremely shallow only doing things for fame and probably the money that would come with it.

Now if you think about everything I've layed out I think you can gain a pretty clear picture.

Of Rui falling into the trap Rilley did, becoming jaded and losing the true motivation of his dream (or at least starting to have doubts). Becoming stuck with the struggle of managing dreams and reality.

Rui's costume even has a mask which can be a metaphor for his artistic voice and individuality being silenced .

Which now you get into the line distribution where WxS is implied to be talking to Rui.

And you get to Tsukasa, who is refusing to sing with Rui and in fact seems to be arguing with Rui if we really want to overthink it. In fact almost switching their roles from the main story.

Because Tsukasa has grown now and how else to show that growth than to switch Rui and Tsukasa's perspectives/roles.

Now how this would happen really depends since there are multiple ways they can go about it with the time they have.

There is obviously mystery dude dude (who i know now is sakaki) who still gives me bad vibes. However there is actually two way they can make mystery dude trigger this sort of plot :

-Mystery dude is malicious and actively manipulates/confronts Rui to make him rethink his worldview

-Mystery dude isn't malicious but instead is just jaded/has been through a lot of industry bullshit which ends up rubbing off on Rui accidentally

But you can even just not have mystery dude involved with this at all (which i doubt but still) because you know what loose plotpoint is still lingering over WxS, fucking Asahi

Rui still has not talked about Asahi to WxS, in fact Curtain Call ends on an explicit cliffhanger which is never really emotionally concluded (at least in Rui's own events, technically the arc ender did but there are still a lot of loose threads from that arc). Why would Colorpalet make Asahi come back after Rui graduates, they could've just had him disappear into the sunset but instead they hint at his potential comeback.

Unless Rui will be forced to again confront similar feelings he did during Curtain Call this time with possibly an added layer of whatever happens during WxS's freelance arc.

Anyways yeah this is overly complicated but then again colorpalet is not being easy with us so...yeah.

[littlelamy]

Rafe and Reader starting to have sex: request She’s only had sex with one guy (barely) and it always hurt when they tried and had to stop. she started associating sex with pain and was thefor tensing up and experiencing pain everytime and thought something was wrong with her body (unknown to her it was just mental because her ex did not make her feel emotionally safe) Maybe she’s so happy that she’s experiencing no pain at all with Rafe so she’s telling him to go harder etc, and he’s really trying to CONTROL HIMSELF because he’s afraid maybe he’ll bring back that pain (in case this is just a one time thing with no pain, since neither of them know it was mental for her, since Rafe is her second guy) so he’s trying with all his might to put her first and TELLING HER OFF that he’s not gonna be rough now even though he’s dying to manhandle her and he's dying when she’s trying to talk dirty to him and says the most filthy things for him to let go (girl’s happy she can finally have sex) but Rafe is SO SWEET (cus he’s afraid of hurting her) and does not back down

his hands are shaking. it’s the first time in his life he’s been afraid of fucking someone. not because he doubts himself—no, that’s never been an issue—but because you’re looking up at him with wide, teary eyes, whispering breathless little pleas that are making him want to snap, and he fucking can’t.

he won’t.

“rafe,” you whimper, voice a little broken, a little desperate, your fingers digging into his forearm like you’re hanging on for dear life. “please, i need—”

“i said no.” his voice is raw, wrecked already, and he hasn’t even done anything yet. his jaw clenches, muscles in his neck straining, because you’re moving under him, shifting your hips like you think it’ll make him listen. it won’t.

he’s been holding himself back since the second he sank inside you, wrapped in you so warm and tight he almost lost his mind. but his restraint is ironclad, because he knows what you’ve been through—knows what that fucker before him did, how he made you believe you were broken. rafe can still hear your voice from earlier, quiet and unsure, telling him it had always hurt before, that you thought there was something wrong with you.

and now? now you’re panting beneath him, trembling for a whole different reason, eyes glazed and lips parted as you pull at him, trying to drag him deeper.

“baby,” he grits out, pressing his forehead to yours. “you don’t get it. i can’t—i don't want to hurt you.”

“you won’t,” you breathe, hands framing his face, dragging him down until your lips brush his, your voice all honey and sin. “i feel so good, rafe. better than i ever have. i want you—i want all of you.”

he groans like he’s in pain, like you’re torturing him, and fuck, maybe you are, because your nails are raking up his back, your legs are locking around his waist, pulling him in when he’s trying to hold back.

“please,” you murmur, “i can take it.”

his control frays at the edges, snapping strand by strand as you tighten around him, as you push your hips up to meet him.

“you’re gonna kill me,” he rasps, teeth clenched, because his instincts are screaming at him to fuck you the way he knows you want him to—the way you keep begging for. but what if it’s too much? what if this is some fluke, some one-time thing, and he ruins it for you all over again?

but then you moan, soft and needy, breath warm against his lips as you whisper, “please, rafe, fuck me like you mean it.”

his body locks up. his vision goes white at the edges. and you must feel it, must sense the shift in him, because you smile, slow and wicked, hands dragging down his chest, lower, lower—

“you wanna be good for me?” he hisses, catching your wrists before you can push him over the edge. “then listen when i tell you i’m not gonna wreck you. not tonight.”

he watches the way your breath stutters, how your lips part in a tiny, frustrated sound, but he doesn’t care—he can’t.

“we have time,” he murmurs, softer now, brushing his nose against yours. “gonna take care of you first, yeah? show you how good it can be?”

and when you nod, even though you’re still pouting a little, he smiles, slow and sweet, before dipping down to kiss you breathless, taking his time, just like he promised.

notes: thank you for sending a request! 💗

taglist: @namelesslosers @maybanksangel @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @rafesheaven @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @rafesangelita @rafedaddy01 @bakugouswaif @skywalker0809 @vanessa-rafesgirl @evermorx89 @outerhills @ditzyzombiesblog @slavicangelmuah @alivinggirl @rafesgreasycurtainbangs @rafesbabygirlx @drewsephrry @lil-sparklqueen

[dollfacefantasy]

EVERYTHING IN ITS RIGHT PLACE ♡

pairing: yandere!chris redfield x fem!reader

summary: after jill goes missing, chris changes. a lot. you call it controlling, but he maintains it's necessary. the only thing you both agree on is that his devotion knows no bounds.

cw: nsfw (18+), dark fic, smut, dubcon, fingering, predator/prey (chase), kidnapping/captivity, yandere, toxic relationship

a/n: thank you to the person who requested this. it was pretty fun to write and new for me <3

kinktober slot: day 6 - yandere

You're breathing too loud, and you know it. The puffs of air blowing from your lips are too sharp. You need to quiet down. He wasn't that far behind, and there had been no one else in this parking garage. Even someone who couldn't track as well as him wouldn't struggle to find you. If you didn't soften your gasps, he was going to catch you, and then you would be his again.

You clamp your fingers over your lips to silence a cry begging to come out. You're shaking like the dead leaves you can hear his feet crunching over. They'd blown into the cement structure from the crisp fall wind whooshing around. You could tell by the sounds that he was getting closer. 

If you tried to run now, you'd be banking on the hope that you could be faster than him - a hope you weren't so confident in. Getting away from him the first time had been a fluke, you didn't think it would happen again so easily.

Chills erupt over your skin as you stay where you are, crouching behind a black corvette. You try so hard to think of what to do, but it was difficult when your thoughts were screaming about so many different things at once.

One of the main things playing in your psyche on repeat was If I hadn't broken up with him, none of this would've happened.

Of course, that wasn't true, but to your mind that craved freedom above all else in this moment, it seemed plausible.

You and Chris had been together for over a year. He started off normal as could be, and you thought you'd hit the jackpot. He was sweet and kind, hard-working and dedicated. He loved his friends and his job. Spent a lot of his time working out. Everything about him just seemed so ordinary, and that didn't change with the addition of you into his life.

He made room for you as if there'd been a hole in his existence shaped like your soul. 

The two of you went out on dates regularly, he was always there to support you when you needed a shoulder to cry on or a pair of strong arms to lift you up. Truly, he seemed too good to be true. Looking back, you want to say that wasn't the case. He had been good. His kind heart was genuine. It wasn't a mask to hide the darkness underneath. He'd just changed.

It was after his friend Jill had gone missing. Something flipped in Chris. In a way, it was reasonable. Losing a close friend would put a damper on anyone's demeanor. But the way Chris shifted ran deeper than that.

The differences in his personality didn't manifest only in regards to himself. They came out largely in how he treated you. After losing Jill, it seemed that he believed your life was his to control, your choices his to make. He knew what was best for you - he told you as much multiple times. He knew how to dress you so that guys wouldn't try anything. He knew when and where it was acceptable for you to leave the house without him. He knew it was no longer safe for you to drink or even to talk with friends who would suggest such a dangerous activity. Not his girl. You weren't going to be put in harm's way like that.

So you broke up with him. You couldn't take the sting of the Redfield branding iron you felt slowly being pressed to your skin. You wanted out. Unfortunately, breaking up with him was on the list of activities that were strictly prohibited.

You could remember that day like it was yesterday even though it had been multiple months ago.

He didn't let you leave the morning that you'd told him the news of your decision -  didn't even let you make it through the door. Instead he scooped you up like a rowdy puppy that tried to run out the front entryway when it was left ajar. He threw the bag you'd packed back in the closet and tied you to your shared bed.

That bedroom was where you spent most of your time after that. The binding to the corner was long enough that you could get out of bed and reach other parts of that room, but he wouldn't let you roam the house when you were still so insistent that you had to leave him. You only were allowed into the other rooms when he was there to supervise you and ensure your safety.

You tried your hardest to break free, but no amount of screaming and crying, begging and pleading, or kicking and hitting worked. With his size advantage, wrangling you back into submission came easy. That combined with the fact that he knew you. He knew the words to soothe you, the touches that lulled your mind back into a state of complacency.

Tonight was the first time you'd been out of that house in months. 

You'd been so sick for the past week. You weren't even sure how that was possible considering you never go anywhere, but something had managed to infect you. Over the last several days, your temperature shot up and stayed in the triple digits. Everything felt distant and fuzzy.

Chris had been diligently taking care of you, tending to your every need. He made sure you had a steady supply of water and tissues, spoon-fed you broth when you felt like you could eat. As much as he reassured you that this was what he was here for, you could tell the constant attention your condition required took a lot out of him.

Today had been the best day out of the last seven. It seemed like you finally were descending the mountain on the side of recovery. When he fell asleep a few hours ago, he was knocked out. If you needed to get up to use the bathroom or grab a drink, he'd lazily undo your bindings and trudge out to wherever you needed to go, but it was obvious the thought of returning to bed clouded his mind.

The benefit that came with this was that he wasn't so attentive to making sure the restraints were all that secure when he refastened them.

You managed to slip one wrist out and then the other. Your ankles came loose next. You sat there next to his unconscious form, trembling with the terror of the possibility in front of you. Your feet swung off the mattress and hit the ground. Every move was executed with precise caution, the most effort you'd put into anything in your life.

The journey out of the bedroom was easy. You stayed quiet through the rest of the house as well. The hard part came when you managed to get outside. 

You couldn't decide if you should take the car or not.

Walking on foot would be harder. Only clad in a tiny set of pajamas, it wouldn't be comfortable. The car would bring speed and warmth, but you also didn't put it past him to have some sort of tracking mechanism wired into it.

In the end, you had decided to forgo the vehicle. You pulled your coat that you grabbed before leaving tighter around your body and headed down the desolate suburban street.

Your heart pounded in your ears like a countdown to his appearance the whole time. At any second, you expected to hear the sound of his voice or feel his intense gaze upon you. But your surroundings remained quiet, nothing but the wind and occasional scuffle of small creatures lurking in the dark.

As you walked further away from his house and down through the neighborhood, you tried to figure out where to go. You didn't know how much time you'd have before he woke up, and when he did wake up, you had no clue what his exact reaction would be.

You attempted to not overthink that stuff and decided on going to your friend's apartment complex. It'd been months since you'd seen her. You only hoped she'd understand that you didn't have too much time for explaining.

Upon arriving there though, you realized your hopes were meaningless. You knocked on the door, and she answered in seconds, much too quick for someone who should've been asleep at this hour. Her phone was cradled between her shoulder and her ear, and just as the words of explanation were about to leave your mouth, you heard her say "Oh, here she is now... no problem, Chris. See you soon."

Your entire being exploded and came back together in a matter of seconds. Every impulse screamed at you to run, but she was gripping your arm and trying to pull you in her home. Your head was spinning, your fever had returned with a vengeance against you for getting out of bed and walking multiple miles.

It was all so much, especially since you hadn't talked to another human besides Chris in months. You resisted her leading you through the entryway, ignoring her words of concern. Apparently your boyfriend - if you could even call him that still - had explained away your presence over the past few months with stories of a break down. And now, for those who believed him, this was just another episode. Your recovery had been going so well, but everyone hits bumps in the road!

You tried to explain the truth, but it seemed futile. So you ran instead.

All of this still took too long though. By the time you made it down there, his car was screeching to a halt near the entryway.

You push away your memories in favor of paying attention to right now.

This wasn't over yet. You still had a chance. All you needed to do was make it out of here. If you did that, you could make it to a convenience store and call for help. His lies wouldn't work on strangers... would they?

You reassure yourself they wouldn't because it's the only choice you have. There's no other option besides hitching a ride, but you're not banking on that at this time of night in a suburban subdistrict.

Your back presses against the sleek metal of the cold, black corvette. Maybe you could hop the stone barrier edge of the garage and run through the bushes. Trying to sneak around other cars and slip away was another possibility. You try to go through the benefits and detractions of both in your mind, but your illness has your eyes growing heavy and your bones aching to stretch out and just rot.

The footsteps still continue to pound at a steady pace against the asphalt. Lowering yourself to the rough pavement, you peer beneath the car to gauge his location. It's hard to tell with how dark it is. The lighting in this garage wasn't good either. You scan the opposite side for his feet, but you don't find them.

It's only when you turn your head a little to look between the two front wheels that you catch him dashing at your position.

You startle at the sight and whip upright. Now that there's no time left to decide, you bolt for the nearest exit you can see. It feels like you're going fast, but his footsteps sound faster. A sob openly tumbles from your lips now. Everything feels hot. Your vision seems to be going dark at the edges.

Before you can stumble or make it to the opening though, a pair of strong arms wraps around your waist. They pull your body back against a broad chest. Your sob morphs into a scream, and your legs kick fruitlessly at the air in front of you.

"Shh shh shh. You're alright," his deep voice rumbles, "You need to calm down. You're already overworking yourself as is."

"I am not!" you shout in immediate defiance, "Let go of me!"

Your head falls back against his shoulder as hot tears stream down your cheeks. More cries and whimpers echo through the open space of the garage while you try to pry his arm from around your abdomen. Your fists pound on it and your fingers pry, but none of it amounts to anything.

"None of that," he tuts, "No crying or carrying on, or I won't wait until we get home to give you your punishment."

"Just let me go, Chris!" you beg. Your breaths grow ragged as more cries fill the space between them. "You can't do this to me!"

"I'm not doing anything, baby. What am I doing? Taking care of you while you're ill?" he asks. You're not sure if the innocence in his tone intends to mock you or if it's a genuine performance.

"I don't want to go back to the house!" you cry.

"Well, that's too bad, sweetheart. That's exactly where you're going. You need to rest," he says.

"I just need to be away from you!" you scream, loud enough for the shrill sound to bounce between the walls for seconds after.

Your protests dissolve into a harmony of wailing and yelling, every word tinged with anger and betrayal. You still try to peel him off, but your efforts become weaker as you realize how pointless they are.

As if to rub his strength in your face, Chris shifts you around in his grasp. He turns your body and scoops you up, cradling you against his chest. When he reaches his own car, he only uses one arm to hold you in place. You sob against his shoulder, letting your tears soak his collar rather than your cheeks.

His palm smooths up and down your back. "There you go, babydoll," he coos, "Poor thing. You got yourself all worked up. I can feel how high your fever is again."

He opens the driver's door and slides in with you. He starts to scoot your body into the passenger seat, but a sudden burst of energy overtakes your weakened self. You slap at his shoulders and try to shove him to the side to lunge back out the door.

Chris has always had sharp reflexes though. Most of your attacks don't even land, and the ones that do don't seem to affect him. He tightens his arms around your smaller frame and pins you against him. You hear the click of the doors locking, sealing your fate.

"Enough. You're gonna hurt yourself," he commands.

He keeps you nice and secure against him until you seem to have settled for the moment. Then, he tilts your head back so he can study your face.

His eyes sweep over your features while his hand swivels you by your chin.

"I'm really disappointed in you, you know?" he says, his voice much softer than it had been before.

You scowl at him. Like you would care about his fucking approval anymore. You try to shove him away again to crawl into your own seat, but he jerks your head and gets you to go still.

"Don't roll your eyes at me," he says. The firm voice was back.

"I didn't," you dispute, sounding much meeker.

"Don't back talk either," he says. He takes a pause before a frustrated sigh leaves him. "So ungrateful. My little brat. One day you'll learn."

Anger boils inside you again. You can't rein in your arguments.

"No I won't," you say and glare at him, your glossy eyes gleaming with fury, "The only thing I want to learn is how to actually get away from you!"

Rage simmers in his gaze now; though, it's much more muted than your own. His fingers dig into the plush of your cheeks. Not enough pressure to injure but the right amount to ache.

"You think you'd be so much better off on your own? Look at you. Stumbling around in the middle of the night, nothing on but this slutty little thing," he says. His fingers tug at the thin fabric of your shorts and top while his voice grows as cold as the wind outside.

You open your mouth to respond, but he continues speaking.

"I got you no problem tonight! Imagine if it hadn't been me! If it hadn't been someone who loves you! Someone who wants to keep you safe," he presses. It sounds like he's speaking to a soldier in the field rather than someone he claims to feel so tenderly about.

His hands have locked around your biceps during his speech. The pressure of his fingers against your weak skin feels strong enough to create phantom bruises. You squirm in his hold to try and alleviate the feeling.

"I don't care! None of this would've happened if you weren't so crazy in the first place," you whimper.

"I'm crazy? That's how you say thank you for the hours I take out of my life to provide for you. To care for you," he growls.

"I didn't ask you to do any of that!" you cry.

"You didn't need to," he says. 

He takes a deep breath, shutting his eyes and calming himself down for a moment. His fingers release their iron grip on your arms and soothe the skin with a few gentle rubs.

"I know you're not thinking straight because of your fever," he says. It sounds like he's speaking to both you and himself. "You've been so good for me lately... maybe punishment isn't what you need."

You stay silent and watch him, attempting to discern what would come next. Right now, escape wasn't the priority. You'd missed tonight's chance for that. Avoiding further reprimand took current precedent.

His hands massage the muscles he had been squeezing before they rise up to cup your face. You meet his gaze with trepidation in your own.

"I should've been paying more attention," he says, "It's not your fault you're acting out. My sweet little baby. Your head is probably hurting you so much, and I know you're feeling extra tired."

He brings the back of his hand to your forehead, tutting when he feels the heat emanating from there. You grit your teeth and fight the urge to actually roll your eyes. Part of you hated when he spoke like that. But an even bigger part of you hated the part that didn't.

"I should have known you'd be extra fussy. Especially since you're all pent up," he continues.

Your teary eyes flicker with curiosity but then narrow in response to that last statement.

The expression brings a smile to his face, as if something is cute. But to him, you suppose that's all you are. Most days you don't know what you want to believe - that Chris has truly lost it and considers all this a genuine kindness to you or if he's just as mentally in-tact as before, only without a care for your feelings. It's hard to tell which is more likely, and you can't say you have a strong preference for either.

One of his thumbs strokes back and forth across your wet cheek. "Don't give me that look, princess," he chides lovingly.

"I'm not being fussy," you say, the word rolling off your tongue with disgust, "And I'm not pent-up."

He chuckles and gives you a light bounce on his lap, your back bumping the bottom ridge of the steering wheel. "Now, what did I say about back talk?"

You make a sound close to a growl and glare at him. Your brain tries to formulate any words that wouldn't result in this kind of patronizing response, but none come to mind.

Originally, you had anticipated that if he caught you again, you'd be in for the punishment of a lifetime. But now, sitting here in his lap and staring into those brown eyes, you realize this is much more in tune with the Chris you've come to know over the last few months.

"You can act like you're not frustrated, baby, but I know you. I know how much you need some regular release," he teases.

"That's not why I'm upset!" you say, trying not to explode into a sobbing mess again. 

This was the point in your arguments where you usually broke down. He acted so confident in his assertions that you felt like the ground on which you stood to defend your own crumbled beneath you. It was easier to just give in sometimes, but that fact just agitated you even more.

More tears well in your eyes while the words rising in your throat start to tangle into an angry, ugly mess. But before you get the chance to burst, he jumps in, hushing and cooing.

"I know, honey. I know it's not the only reason. I'm sure you have some other things bothering you," he reassures, "But I'm just saying, it doesn't help that my poor, sick baby hasn't been able to cum in a week, hm?"

You want to scream in his face and claw his throat out, but instead, your forehead drops against his shoulder. You're so fucking tired in every possible way. You're tired from this illness beating down on every one of your cells. You're tired of the way he reduces all your feelings down to silly little complaints. And you're tired because you actually haven't been able to cum in a week, but that doesn't make him right or everything else invalid.

His question receives no answer, but that's good enough for him. With your head down, you can't see the smile spreading on his face. The only hint of his satisfaction you get is the hand rubbing up and down your back.

"It's ok. I'm here. There's no need to be upset. We all make mistakes, sweet baby,"  he whispers.

You want to tell him that this wasn't a mistake. That the first time you left wasn't a mistake either. The greatest mistake you'd ever made in your life was giving him your number in the first place. But what's the point? All of that will be watered down to feverish words that you don't really mean. 

Cynical numbness settles in your chest like a weight. For right now, you decide it would be in your best interest to just play along.

You nod and snake your arms around his body, pulling yourself closer.

"That's my good girl," he coos, "How bout I make you feel all better and then get you home and tucked in bed, warm and safe?"

You nod weakly, every word siphoning more of your energy away.

He pecks your heated forehead and slides his left hand down your body. His palm rubs over your side and hip, taking his time to reach the point of attraction. As much as you despise him, it still feels good in the moment. You take what you can get, in your constant stream of disappointments, you let him tending to you like this feel like a win.

His fingers tuck below the elastic band of your shorts. They slide down to your center, rubbing through the folds. He shifts you closer so you can rest against his chest.

"My poor baby," he croons for what feels like the billionth time, "You're so hot. We'll have to get you all cooled down at home."

You just nod again. For now, you'd just let your mind shut off while the pleasure coursed through your veins.

The tip of his middle finger twirls around your clit, circling the little bud to tease some arousal out of you. He knows just how to flick it, the perfect amount of pressure to get your toes curling.

Your legs tighten up a bit as the muted tingle blossoms into a deeper burn of desire. A little moan sounds from your mouth throughout the car. He smirks and slips his digits down through the collecting wetness.

With his fingers all slippery, he rubs them over your throbbing bundle of nerves. He works even more pretty noises out of you and amps up the feeling in your belly.

"This is just what you needed, I should've known," he whispers, "Your silly little head doesn't know what to do when it gets all frustrated. So many thoughts and no relief."

You whimper and bite your lip. Even though you're letting it happen, humiliation still has its barbs in your lungs. You turn your face against his shoulder, hiding the way it scrunches against the fabric of his shirt.

Oftentimes, he'd make you look at him again, but tonight, he allows the difference. His fingers keep toying with your clit, rubbing it in tight tiny circles.

"'m not gonna stick my fingers in you right now. Think that's too much for my sick baby," he informs you, as if you had asked for anymore.

This was fine. You can't remember the last time you actually craved more from Chris. He was so attentive nowadays, his presence and care often felt smothering.

You don't rock your hips or move at all beyond a few involuntary squirms. There wasn't really any room for it. Moaning was embarrassing enough, you didn't want your ass to accidentally honk the horn or something. That and he's doing more than enough to get you there by himself. You can already feel the start of your finish beginning to take root.

Your noises grow higher pitched, more muffled too because you press your face into his shoulder hard. The thick fabric of his sweater works well as a self-imposed gag.

"You're so cute," he coos, "My needy little baby. You're gonna sleep good tonight."

You whine in response. Your body tenses up in his lap as you suck in a few harsh breaths. The edge was right around the corner.

"Come on, sweetheart. Cum for me. You can do it," he whispers.

Your fingers clutch the fabric at his back so hard it's in danger of tearing. Now your hips buck a little as you reach the finish line. They jerk back and forth but press more into his stomach rather than the wheel behind you.

Tremors rack through you, making you quiver violently in his grasp. You cling to him for a sense of stability, and that brings him pleasure almost as great as any you're experiencing.

As you start to come down, you feel like your body is melting on top of his. He holds you there in his lap for a few minutes after, rubbing your back and kissing your head.

When he deems you calm enough, he boosts you up and situates you in the passenger's seat. He strokes your head before buckling you up.

"We'll get you a change of clothes before you go to bed. I know those pretty panties are soaked through," he says and pinches your cheek.

[babyangelsky]

Non is the hidden character and in this essay I will—

—endeavor to make a really good case for it.

This theory is predicated on the possibility of Non still being alive so for my purposes, I'm going to take that as fact. I'm taking a few liberties in places (to varying degrees of clownery) but that central point doesn't change.

This is a long one so get comfy. Okay? Okay.

As of episode 9, we can now be reasonably certain that none of the creepy shit the boys saw was of supernatural origin. They were hallucinations induced by the drug that New/Tan had them smoke in an attempt to get them to spill their secrets about what happened to Non.

Which brings me to Por.

We know two things about Por. One, that something—or someone—lured him out of the house and two, that he saw a ninth person on the house's CCTV.

Was the ninth person a hallucination? If he hadn't been lured out of the house, I'd say maybe. Since he was, let's assume he really did see someone for a second on the cameras.

Now, whoever it was didn't just get Por out of the house. He was specifically led down a predetermined path. When he gets outside and goes to the spot where he saw the figure, he looks down and sees a trail of blood.

He follows this trail and we all know what happens next. He gets deeper into the woods, away from the safety of the house, and starts to hear noises. He turns around, sees a hooded figure following him, and gets chased into a sharpened branch.

Even though New and Phi, although to a lesser extent, are the masterminds behind this little trip to the vacation house, at this moment they are both accounted for. New is playing jenga and getting high with Top and Fluke and Phi is up on the balcony having his dick bitten by Jin. They weren't the ones who lured Por and chased him.

Non did.

What, we're meant to believe that Por just happened to hallucinate a chase that happened to lead him right into a conveniently sharpened branch? And that of all the gin joints in all the cities in all the world, he just had to walk into mine the bad luck of encountering the one branch that was at the perfect height to impale him?

Which is, coincidentally enough, the exact death scenario that Non wrote in his script?

BE SERIOUS.

The only way Por meets this exact death is if Non was the one to kill him, and that leads me to the wire that ended up decapitating poor dead Uncle Dang. A wire which I truly don't think that was meant for him.

Let's follow this line of reasoning. We know that Top and Tee took the road when they went to get help for Por on the bike. This would ultimately fail as they got a flat tire and had to go back, having themselves a hallucination a piece along the way.

At that point, there was no wire stretched across the road. Once they got back to the house, no one would come outside again until morning when they heard Uncle Dang approach on his bike. The wire could've been strung up at any point after the boys got back.

Let's say that after ensuring Por got impaled, Non stuck around to see the aftermath and saw Tee and Top on the bike. Wouldn't it make more sense then for him to have strung up the wire to prevent anyone from leaving as opposed to stopping anyone from coming in?

Because if he is following his script then...

"But Leah," I hear you ask after having humored me thus far, "How would Non even know that the boys would be at the vacation house?"

This is where I sit back down at my vanity mirror in the dressing room at the circus and start taking some liberties.

For Non to have lived, someone had to help him. I mentioned yesterday that I was hopping on the Perth helped Non train and after giving it more thought, I'm doubling down. It's not only possible that Perth helped Non, he had to have done it, and not only because I want Non to be alive so very badly.

Why would Perth and his cheekbones be on the promotional poster for the finale (BESIDE NON I MIGHT ADD) if his character weren't important to the plot? Why would he be there if his only role was to massage Uncle Joe's shoulders?

Allow me to posit a Wild Ass Theory a la @respectthepetty :

If Perth's character helped Non and Known Criminal Keng escape Uncle Joe, that means the video where they were captured getting on a bus was authentic.

But because Uncle Joe and the mafia are still a threat, they can't just go chill somewhere. They have to go on the run and into hiding somewhere they won't be found.

Somewhere like a rarely visited vacation house in the middle of the forest with no contact with the outside world.

Or, alternatively, a creepy temple near that rarely visited vacation house.

Think about it. Non had already been to that house, he's familiar with it, he knows it's empty for long stretches of time and exactly how isolated it is. A terrified teenager fearing for his life is going to want to go somewhere familiar and that house (or the temple) is the perfect place to hide.

I don't think Non went to hide there with the intention, or the hope rather, that he'd get an opportunity for revenge one day. I think he just took advantage of a situation that fell into his lap.

The boys arrived in the afternoon and shit didn't start going down until later that night. That's plenty of time to sharpen a branch, lay down a blood trail, and put on his mask and cloak.

We know all the movie props and the camera and everything were still at the house so it stands to reason that Non had access to them. And we know he had access to the house because White found the knife that was used to cut Por's arms in the closet in the kitchen. The only way that knife could've gotten there is if Non put it there.

Not just any knife, by the way. It was Non's knife, the one that he brought to the house when they came to film and then used to cut Top.

I can't say with any certainty whether Non is acting on his own or with help, but I lean more toward him acting alone. Even if he escaped with Keng, it doesn't mean Keng is still with him all this time later and besides, I much prefer to imagine that ol' boy got eaten by a tiger.

One last thing. This isn't really part of my theory, more like support for it, but when Por is agonizing on the couch, he keeps saying sorry and trying to talk about what he and the boys did three years ago. It could just be a coincidence or deathbed guilt, but I don't think it is. I think Por knows exactly who killed him and that's why he kept apologizing and trying to confess.

In conclusion:

Hope you don't mind being tagged for the DFF round up @slayerkitty ! 🙏🏼

[crysta1ized]

a theory on ep11’s preview

firstly, if you’ve guessed/ theorized that non was still alive, you get 10 points!

if you also guessed that perth would help him (in that case, thanks to tee) you also get 10 points!

knowing that tee helped non escape, was definitely a plot twist. he basically lives at his uncle’s mercy, is forced to work for him and has to follow every single one of his orders so his father doesn’t die. which is a pretty shitty situation!

we saw previously that he showed guilt after non got busted for the fake accounts instead of him, but to help him escape from that very uncle? you’ll never fail to surprise me, tee!

after that, tee gives an envelope to non and tells him he’ll get him out of there.

now, what is in this envelope? my first thought was obviously money. but i also thought, what if it was a plane ticket? it’d be safer for non to get the hell out of bangkok (or even thailand) to be sure the uncle and his men could never get him. a one way flight, non leaving without looking back.

i think that with the help of perth, tee could’ve gathered enough money to pay a ticket. i mean, that would’ve benefited tee a whole lot too. non forever out of his hair, not causing any more problems. disappearing without a trace. his uncle thinking he got rid of the troublemaker.

but what happened to mr keng then?

firstly we have no idea of the extent of his injuries. we guessed that non’s were only bad enough to knock him out on the roof, but the uncle might as well have killed keng for good.

i mean, he was hit with a car, which is way worse than a few punches. in the best case scenario (for him, cause i want that bastard dead), he only got a few bruises, but the most logical one would be that his legs are broken, as well as a few ribs maybe (depending on how hard the car hit him).

if we assume he’s alive, like non (which i seriously doubt), i don’t think tee would’ve helped him at all. he’s already risking everything to save non, he wouldn’t try saving both, especially because keng doesn’t mean anything to him. he probably never even had a conversation with him.

so in my opinion, we won’t see the teacher ever again, unless he found another way to escape, such as being rescued by the police as his disappearance could’ve been noticed after some time.

now onto the fun part!

white is seen entering the arcade place, where we’ve already seen non & phee meeting up and making out at.

which means we’ll finally get teewhite whole’s backstory!

my depressing theory is that we’ll get a cute little montage of their love story, and they’ll show us how cute they are, with their little puppy love, opposites attract shit just to snatch it from us right after.

mark my words, they’ll make us love teewhite and after those little flashbacks with bright colors that distracted us for a moment, we’ll get back to our depressing and dark present.

4 possibilities after that:

best case scenario: while we get a contrast between the past and how in love they were and acted, nothing terrible happens. tee explains to the group what was revealed to the viewer in the flashbacks, that he ended up helping non and that he’s still alive. he righted his wrongs and while white is shaken up, he’s glad tee isn’t just a bully who guilt tripped a kid into money laundering, he did feel guilt and saved him from his uncle.

same as above, tee reveals everything to the group but white doesn’t forgive him. he feels betrayed and mad that tee hid that from him for so long. in white’s eyes, tee is no longer someone he can trust, or hide behind.

tee dies

white dies

while i believe those 2 last options can happen, i don’t think they’d happen at that moment. tee’s reveal scene will probably be at the beginning of the episode while the following one with phee & new may happen soon after, which is why those 2 options seem less likely to happen then.

new is clearly urging phee on to shoot.

but how? in the last scene of ep10, fluke is the one who has it and he clearly doesn’t want to let it go. he let white out of his grasp and is now pointing it at tee.

but fluke is clearly out of it, and is the one suffering the most from hallucinations, which made him shoot top even though his only principle was clearly to never act, to keep his hands clean of anything that could prevent him of becoming a doctor. too late now!

someone could take advantage of his delirious state and while he’s distracted, take the gun from him, like white, who’s on the ground, kinda behind fluke and now out of his sight. which is when phee could take the gun, as he’s the unofficial new leader and appears trustworthy as he just exposed new.

but who is phee pointing the gun at?

i think it’s most likely fluke. he’s clearly losing his mind and the hallucinations are making him aggressive, like top. which is why they may have to kill him before he kills someone else.

phee clearly wants to make the right decision, surely wants to kill him or just hurt him because fluke is an active threat. but tan just wants to see them all gone! he clearly has nothing to lose left, now that phee exposed him, this is his last chance to avenge his brother.

alternative theory:

phee might be pointing the gun at someone else.

according to how tee’s revelation ends, especially how non’s story ends, something might happen after that.

phee wouldn’t be pointing the gun at someone who didn’t deserve it, who wasn’t a threat to the group.

so why would it be tee? in my opinion, non escaped the country, end of story. but maybe something happened to him just before he could get out. then new would get mad at tee, blaming him. tee fights him. then he would represent a threat. or maybe the hallucinations come back and he gets violent.

then of course new would be happy to see phee shoot tee, who was the whole reason non even got involved with dangerous mafia shit in the first place.

the last scene is new, lighting a cigarette.

why would he be smoking in the middle of all this? like he has time to do that?

maybe it’s just a meaningless scene they’re throwing in the preview so they don’t have to spoil too much stuff.

but, still, new is the only one who's going through with his plan, and he wouldn’t waste time on lighting a cigarette! unless it’s truly chaos, and like we know, he smokes to de-stress.

creepily, when i saw the scene the first time, i thought ‘this is his last cigarette. they’re holding him at gunpoint and they allow him to smoke one last time before they pull the trigger’ because he’s clearly shivering. but that may be way too far as i don’t think any of them would shoot anyone in cold blood if they weren’t actively threatened.

but a more plausible theory would be that they’re forcing him to smoke. in the scene where new is urging phee on to shoot, phee looks at him ‘like, what the fuck?’ like he’s not liking new telling him what to do at all.

maybe then, phee doesn’t shoot anyone, not fluke, not tee, but instead turns on new and points the gun at him. maybe phee really doesn’t want any kind of revenge for non anymore as his brother became too violent for his liking. but phee wouldn’t shoot new.

he could however hold him at gunpoint, and force him to smoke one of the drugged cigarettes, one with an X. maybe so he isn’t an active threat to them anymore, urging them to kill each other and to cause more chaos. they’d be on equal ground as he’d start hallucinating too.

what do you think?

[smytherines]

Fuck it, here's an Owen Carvour dissertation

We don't have canon ages for Curt & Owen, but personally I headcanon Owen as being born in 1928, making him 29 when the banana incident happens. This leads to a lot of thoughts that are fascinating to me, because growing up in London during WWII could inform so much of his character.

Personally, I believe DMA's accent is much closer to Owen's natural accent. I think the Owen Carvour accent is something he puts on to make himself sound neutrally British while working abroad, because he grew up working class. RP is how most people (at least in the US) assume British people speak. This also works with the Texan agent mega headcanon, like they both have to put on an act to be spies, just like they have to put on an act with their relationship.

And class is really really important to how you conceptualize this character, because your experience of the war could be radically different depending on how much money you had. Food rationing began in 1940, which in this case would make Owen 12. Rationing isn't fully lifted until 1954.

At Elizabeth II's wedding in 1947, the palace made a big deal about how she was saving ration coupons for the material for her wedding- a full two years after WWII ended.

Here's WWII London:

This is the city Owen would've grown up in. This is a war zone. A city where food is tightly rationed, where sirens were constantly going off and you had to draw down the blackout curtains and go sleep in the tube station with bombs dropping constantly overhead:

If Owen were upper middle class, he might have had a shelter at home, some people did. But I imagine him sleeping in dark, cramped, noisy stations. And he learns to keep his cool. He starts to enjoy the danger because he has to to survive it.

Maybe he has lost loved ones to the bombings. Maybe one morning he comes home from the tube station and half of his house is in rubble on the ground. Maybe he's used to hand me down clothes and simple homemade toys and not having enough to eat. He's used to having nothing, having nobody. That's a headcanon a lot of folks have, and I think it makes a lot of sense for his character.

Even if Owen were one of the kids evacuated to the countryside, maybe that happens when he's 15 or so, it wasn't a Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe situation. For a lot of those kids they were leaving their parents behind in a war zone, sleeping in barns or basements, and most importantly working almost non-stop on British farms because all the regular farmhands were fighting.

I think, if this happened, Owen would be itching to go off and fight in the war. My personal headcanon is that he's an intelligent guy, and he figures out how to forge some basic paperwork to claim he is older than he actually is, so he can go fight in WWII.

But by some fluke he couldn't account for, he gets discovered. And because of his skill and his ability to keep his cool under interrogation, he gets recruited to MI6. A lot of MI6 operatives are upper class men, recruited young from the top schools. He mimicks them.

I think many years later, when he and Curt are escaping a Russian weapons facility, Owen loves Curt and trusts in his capabilities (maybe a bit too much- especially when he's been drinking), but he also feels frustrated that Curt is impulsive and cocky and thinks he is untouchable.

Because Curt didn't grow up the way Owen did. He didn't grow up waiting for the bottom to fall out over and over again. He's certainly got his own shit from adolescence, but he doesn't have that survival impulse hardwired into him the way Owen does. So Owen is careful and cautious for the both of them, trying to keep them both safe and alive.

I think about Owen being trapped in the rubble a lot. He would almost certainly be critically injured. Maybe he has PTSD from the WWII bombings, and he's just trapped in an exploded building, trapped with his own memories of childhood until he's almost feral from it.

This also, btw, is why the AU of Owen as Eurydice from Hadestown is so so poignant to me. Someone who grew up cold and hungry and turned their collar to the world, and then suddenly they fall in love and everything is sunlight all around them. All I've Ever Known is such an important owen!Eurydice song to me

I could keep going from here, but I'll stop for now. This isn't as neat and concise as I wanted to present these thoughts, but I can't stop thinking them

[themeraldee]

hello i am here to ramble about homelander's fertility (not because the g20 trailer dropped and i started feeling feelings and thinking thoughts what nooo). i'm never quite sure what i think the show's view is. are we meant to think ryan really is a fluke? could it be that hl's dna is just so v soaked that it doesn't work with other supes, only non-supes (sort of like bringing fresh blood into a royal lineage)? i'm not sure how many people we're meant to think he's slept with in the past - maeve for sure, i'm personally not 100% convinced stillwell let him go all the way until the end of s1 but then again they did have 20+ years of history so maybe they did, and there's that deleted scene where maeve says they broke up because he was sleeping around but it doesn't feel super character accurate to me and it is deleted so. nebulous canon. i mean, even as i type this i'm thinking up an angsty scenario where a much younger less jaded lab-fresh hl is seduced by a fan at a convention (let's be honest, she'd probably just have to gush and giggle a bit and his love starved ass would think they're soulmates) and he accidentally kills her during sex. so there are possibilities. but anyway to get back to my point. 😂 i've also wondered if vought just straight up lied to him that he was infertile, but this would seem a very silly thing to do as then he'd be less careful and more likely to have a kid. unless they were always planning for a ryan scenario where he'd get someone pregnant and they'd whisk her and the baby off to train to one day kill him without him ever knowing. but this doesn't seem to be the implication from what is said in the show. so if they really thought he was infertile, considering all the insane unethical science those scientists are involved in, that'd suggest ryan really is a fluke? otherwise how'd they get that wrong? i guess all this rambling is just to say i find that scenario even though it's the likeliest kinda boring and i prefer headcanoning there are just strange requirements for him to actually have a kid. such as the other person not being a supe. he'd hate that so it's more fun. 😂 by this headcanon maeve's eggs would've been useless to him even if he did get his hands on them, and i think that would've given her some satisfaction. even if surely vought would've figured this out if it was the case, the irony just feels fitting.

(oh the G20 trailer also totally didn't fuck me up at all...)

This is a great topic to discuss, I also find the way the show handles it strange. And I think they dropped the ball on it.

If your insanely powerful and dangerous science experiment suddenly produces an offspring you should be like... a little more worried? Vogelbaum's "nature is tenacious" explanation is strange. You've put so much work into creating Homelander. Surely you'd care more about him actually being fertile? Vought cared a lot about keeping him on a tight leash, they would have thought about how him possibly being fertile and having his own kid would change his priorities (and potentially loyalties) and rewire his brain. After how much work they put into keeping him docile and cooperative it seems crazy to me that they'd just brush it off.

Obviously they could've been freaking out in the background, which is why they hid Becca and whatnot but it just seems like very poor planning on their part.

Because if they genuinely believed he was infertile well then they did a shit job testing his fertility. Unless they knew he was fertile. And did something to try to sterilize him. However that turned out to either be not long lasting or not working at all.

I'm sure Maeve was on birth control when they were together just in case even if he told her that he was shooting blanks. It's not like she's gonna trust him with that 😆

However I do wonder how many other people he slept with. (I also choose to ignore the cheating allegations bcs it doesn't fit the way I view him, tho thinking about it if it was totally canon I could imagine him doing it as a desperate way to get Maeve jealous just to feel like she cares about him. While she took it as the easy way out.)

But I'm curious how much sex ed did Vought give him in the lab. If any 😆 I'm not sure about the timeline re: Homelander's debut, his and Maeve's relationship. But I think the idea of him getting easily swayed by a fan is fun. Especially if they never actually have sex and he accidentally kills her before they could get to it. That could put him off sex with non-supes for a little while (so no need to worry about him getting people pregnant) and then his actual first time would be with Maeve who again would be on birth control.

Then the next person in line is Becca. And that's the first time he actually had a chance to impregnate someone? And it took.

So maybe Ryan is less a fluke and more just Homelander not having had as much sex as we thought he would. Because he's not really been to exposed to most of it right. And seeing as he was out there already worshipped as something different than a human, something better, I imagine he didn't immediately go like. Hmm now that I'm free, it's time to finally fuck.

Also, I do like your non-supe theory! (The only other supe we know he had sex with was Stormfront but she could've also been on birth control.) I also adore the idea that for him to have kids it has to be with a human. Though at first infuriating I'm sure he would justify it all sorts. Like he's so godlike, other gods can't match him. He has to grace the lowly humans his presence to gift him another mini-him.

I think my final headcanon is that in the beginning, Homelander was sex-averse. After one bad encounter with a fan he realises that for him to feel good he has to lose control, which ends up in him killing somebody. Back then I like to believe that he cared about it a little. Or at least, he was spooked. Like 'oh no, oh no, oh no, Vought's gonna find out, they're gonna put me back in the bad room, they're gonna take away my freedom' kinda thing. Obviously since then he's gotten better at controlling his powers. But with Maeve then being his actual first time, somebody who can handle him is what ignites this need again and he's then constantly chasing that high, that pleasure. With how much I imagine sex was a part of their relationship as opposed to cute dates and hanging out, it's the only way he learned to love. Though that's off topic! But this is what I'm going with.

[respectthepetty]

I just wanted to post and say: Thank you got appreciating Mix! I don’t feel I see enough love for Mix, perhaps I’m looking in the wrong places. But I could read a full Book of Mix and why he is the Top tier Minx Mix!

Anon, even though Mix has only been in our faces for TWO YEARS, he has made his mark being in TWO Aof pieces, so he is a winner in my book.

And it doesn't hurt that I think he is gorgeous (Hidden Agenda's Nita! Is that you, player?!), so I appreciate him every time he is on my screen because he can act and looks like this. *bites knuckles*

ALL of GMMTV's actors are aesthetically pleasing. There is something for everyone in that bunch, but Minx Mix is part of the Pretty Boy Trinity.

Dunk & Phuwin are the other two members in case you were wondering.

You would think the only requirement for being in this group is to be pretty, but that's not it because, once again, that's all of GMMTV's roster. They are all pretty people.

The true standard for the Pretty Boy Trinity is to be so breathtakingly beautiful in a moment that catches the audience off guard hence leaving them in awe to wonder why they never realized until that moment just how fucking pretty that man truly is.

Like, for example, when someone is crying over his lifeless body in Cupid's Last Wish after trying to give him CPR to no avail, yet somehow, my brain can only see how pretty that lifeless body looks (in a non-creepy way). I'm sitting there just mesmerized by this man doing absolutely nothing but being pretty.

This isn't even about attraction. It's more of "now I understand why marble statues were made to capture *THIS*"

Which is why I think so many people are hoping to see him be the guy all the guys want in Only Friends, especially because those guys are being played by Force and First, so the Mix fans are loud and numerous, Anon.

And I'm among them. If you have to cast a guy whose characters has slept with both of those actors' characters, HE GOTTA BE PRETTY! But he can't just be normal pretty. No! He has to be so pretty that it makes it believable when all those characters' relationships after him are fucked because this one really pretty boy screwed them up so badly that they haven't been right since.

^This is THAT pretty boy^

If it can't be who I want (Fluke Gawin), then let it be someone we already know will compliment Cinematographer Rath's bomb ass lighting.

Let it be a Pretty Boy.

Let it be Minx Mix.

[ashprince-of-bel-air]

My Haarlep reacting to Tav visiting him whenever they can and even managing to free him request is so good! I love it especially Haarlep doesn't know how long it has been as time works differently in the House of Hope which makes sense 🤔, they had hoped it was Tav 🥺, they spoke with Tav & had a friendly embrace before leaving quickly 👍, their sanity slowly slips away from them 😰, Tav kept finding Haarlep's contract despite how hopeless it seems 🥺, their efforts paid off 🥹, Haarlep didn't want to leave them alone as much as being with Raphael is terrible 😔, Tav pleaded that they would see Haarlep if they escape 🥺, Haarlep believed their words & accepted it 🥹, Tav felt guilty for lying 😔, Tav have a soul contract with Raphael 😭, and they didn't think Haarlep deserve it so at least they're free to live as they wish 🥹 How did you manage to make it so bittersweet at the end ಥ⁠‿⁠ಥ Thank you so much for doing my request because I love it so much :) Just curious, but would it be too much if I were to request a happy ending for both of them? Only if you don't mind of course! Thanks!

If you want a happy ending then you can have one!

You had freed Haarlep from the grips of Raphael and the House Of Hope, the thought of your freedom was the only thing that was helping you hold onto your last shred of sanity. In any other life you would have let go, given in to the madness. Not this life though, you said that you would free yourself and find Haarlep in the outside world, it was mostly a lie when you had said it, not believing that you would actually find a way to free yourself, now it was the only thing driving you and maintaining your sanity.

The search for the Orphic hammer wasn’t supposed to take this long, it was supposed to be an in and out job, not how ever long it was taking you now. You had spent time on other matters first, that had hindered you, yet you did not know that the House Of Hope would drain your your sanity with each passing day.

Stumbling upon the hall of decoration was a fluke, you were wandering aimlessly when you had found it, it was as if the Gods themselves had guided you there. In the room was the Orphic hammer that you were searching for, more intriguing was the paper encased in glass at the centre of the room. You approached this piece and examined it, eyes going wide when you realised what this was, it was your soul contract. By stealing this or destroying it you could become free again, you were going to create a fuss stealing the hammer so you might as well take this as well.

The hammer was taken first and used to smash the case that encapsulated your contract, both in hand you made your way to whatever exit you could find, only to stumble upon Raphael and his wrath. The fight against him was all too tiring, especially so on your body that was almost ready to expire in this place. You had left a wake of flaming destruction behind you, you did not care how much you had destroyed this place, you were hanging onto the last shred of your sanity and wanted to escape.

After the fight with Raphael it felt like it was easier to navigate the halls, finding your own point of entry and means of escape came quickly to you, you were desperate to leave the Hells behind you, feeling yourself melt away in the transportation to the mortal world once again was a relief. Back on mortal soil in Baldur’s Gate you almost cried, relieved that you had escaped The House Of Hope. You had the hammer and contract in hand, your first action was to destroy the contract, ensuring that Raphael could not claim you, your next action was to find Haarlep.

Haarlep was not hard to find, they were nestled away in a tavern nearby, hoping that you would return through the portal to them. It was an emotional reunion, to finally see each other on terra firma, away from the stifling heat of the Hells. Neither knew what to do at first, watching the other in disbelief, it was only a moment until you dropped the hammer beside your feet and embraced Haarlep, the first real show of affection that Haarlep had ever felt. There was much more that you needed to accomplish but for now you were happy in Haarleps embrace.

[playingforever]

Do you think mono would ever noncon six? Perhaps in an obsessed crazy melty way? - retrospring ask [link]

[spotlight panning to me, as I am very severe and fingers steepled] [and my head is under a bag] Considering the fact that the whole time loop 🔁 operates on subjecting Six to torment without her consent — more or less personally orchestrating her constantly being abducted and rescued only to be abducted again... Yes, I do think that Mono has this capacity within him. In fact, I firmly believe it,,,

Usually I look to canon to gauge how much duress it would take for a character to cross another's boundaries so extremely... In Mono's case, he's able to get quite far in 'the ends justify the means', even before he has reached his apex of being the Thin Man — what he does to Monster Six is deeply upsetting. As I play it, I sure feel like I'm performing a sort of noncon... Persevering through a girl screaming and belligerently resisting me until the very end.

By contrast, I think actual rape, would be a lot more preferable for the both of them-!? (knows how this sounds, BUT HEAR ME OUT.) It'd just be a lot more direct... Not needing all the convoluted theatre of the environment around them. I think it'd be a pretty good breakthrough if Mono could lower himself enough from his position of Six's noble protector, to enact on her body for his own desires — and it'd be more digestible for Six to process her harm at the hands of her friend. I think the ending of the game leaves Six in turmoil, whiplashed about by the extreme poles of what Mono/Thin Man put her through. She likely, can't even really understand what Mono's intent even is. It might seem wantonly cruel with no goal. And only when alone does Mono perhaps, reflect on his own selfishness.

[waves hands...] Of course, this isn't me saying it wouldn't be intense, or alarming or upsetting etc... Just prefacing that I think it's both a logical escalation from their current dynamic (lol.) and that also it would be cathartic.

Now, let's get into the details. ( •̀ ω •́ )✧

Between the two... well, I do see Mono as closer to processing his feelings as 'a crush'... specificity of, Attracted To Six. I think he's able to identify, when Six is near, heart goes doki doki. Like to look at her, like to touch her. His reactions to her are not incidental; he knows he wouldn't feel this way about anyone else. There's a boyish simplicity to him... which, means I think he also understands, he gets Horny about her as well. He be seeing, ha panty, sometimes, as they're climbing ladders. Lingering gaze, on her bare legs. Compulsively keying into the location of her pussy. And so on. It's not something he shies away from feeling... She's a pretty girl, after all... [quietly stares, from the safe partition of my paper bag.]

As for Six... she is unable to have that kind of awareness for her feelings about Mono. Naturally kind of, doomful, listless girl... not one to think with romantic flourish. It probably feels like a fluke that they were even able to survive this long; keeping each other company is a bonus. It's not that she doesn't care about him — I do think he's able to make her feel things she never has before-!! Six would have her own moments of raw attraction as well, drawn to Mono as something distinctly familiar, in an otherwise hostile & unfamiliar world. Buuut I think she's also a bit wary of emotional intensity too ww, so she would be scared to feel doki doki... She can't quite linger on it, like Mono does.

Generally I think of it as... Six cannot consciously instigate, because she's so far from having expectations of affection (she can't even see herself as craving it...) Meanwhile, Mono is more capable of instigating, but is encumbered by self-hate and overly obsessing about being Six's protector. Mono's love language is like. Dragging Six around violently and bashing things with a pipe. He's, one-track-minded, so I think he's in this rut of seeing rescuing/protecting Six as the ultimate expression of what he can do for her. Fantasizing about kissing her is genuinely too self-indulgent... so he doesn't-!! Even if he would like to. Instead, I think he gets off on the extent his loyalty makes him sacrifice and enduring anything 'for Six's sake'. It's a problem lol.

NOW IMAGINE WE COULD GET PAST THAT BARRIER...!! (And I imagine this would be through the sheer power of looping and accruing 1000 little scant moments with Six. Basting in unmet desire.) Well then Mono could reach the Next Step of trying to Do Something-! Regardless of if it felt, selfish and awful and antithetical to what he is supposed to be doing... No, even so, the feelings just need to well up inside until he can't take it. I think he also needs to be poisoned by how passive and permissive Six is, and how much he's constantly directing her body... A part of him should understand, it's possible to get away with, Something, here...

The atmosphere varies... I could see it being stoic, severe, ahh the mindset of 'I will just Do It. Here I Go.' Harsh low breathing, forceful, crushing Six against his body, pinning her against a surface... (They're often in tight, enclosed spaces together, aren't they?) Or, something more plaintive, trying to shush her, apologetic, 'Please just let me...' petting her, trying to hold hands during, errr but also definitely keeping her restrained and not letting her wiggle away... I've also dwelled on, like a cowardly pathetic attempt at somno, like a kind of Bargaining emotion... scoot pants down, but still be in underwear, press tented boner between her legs... please god, I just want to kind of feel it, for 1 second. [TRYING TO NOT HUFF IN MY PAPER BAG...]

Emotions I envision at the start of such a thing are mostly, lowly, guilty... though I think it could escalate midway into some sort of, entitlement, arrogance, I do so much for you please just let me...!!! and so on. And then of course, her body feels good, to fuck. So there's satisfaction gained from the sheer act. Maybe a childish belief that it can't only feel so good for him. Surely, it feels good for her too... [mentally justifying actions] Six's reflex is to run from things — maybe she just needs him to be persistent. That's how it often is, between them... ⬅ わがまま！！

For Six, on the receiving end, I like it to be genuinely pretty scary and inscrutable, whatever he is initiating with her — like she's not even fully able to grasp the sensations, she can't think 'sex' or 'rape', even. It's more disorienting than that, like, Mono is acting on my body, Mono is forcing himself inside me. Feels like he's created an opening in her, he might as well be stabbing her — just that extreme, of a gap of understanding what is happening.

But ahhh I think, her own attraction and interest in Mono means her body rawly responds to things like his touch, scent... She's already keyed into his voice as a firm anchor, something she's meant to react to, so hearing him haggard, breathing, or babbling at her, slurring, anything would make her brain feel as though it's reverberating in her skull. Draws out unconscious feelings, desperation, aching — terrible awe that she's somehow made him do this? That she isn't running away from it, either? — all this happening internally/physically would make it all feel Crazier. Like oh, Mono's lost his mind, and ig me too. AhhHHH.

For how complicated it is for these two, baseline, I see things as even starting consensual ➡ descending into noncon, midway during interfacing. A consequence of having hazy memories of multiple timelines; a kind of ability to go from 0-1000 easily, with no warning... Alsoo, I kind of, stylistically(? ??) like to imagine they do not talk aloud very much, and have predominantly nonverbal interactions. But it means, they're both often floundering with their own internal perception of things, and unable to bridge a discussion about what the other is feeling or what is happening... or what the other wants. It takes a lot of pressure to reach that event horizon, I think... The great conflict at the end of the game is their discrepancy in perspective, after all.

All that said, I think the scariest rape potential is, well. Bagless Mono at the end of the game who has just usurped power from the Thin Man and is tormenting Monster Six. That guy, I think is like uniquely off his rocker, swangin his axe around and booming HEYYY at a cowering screeching girl. God help Six if he could, just channel enough power to resist being tossed into the abyss or something. I think he could fuck her to death. He really froightens me. She is right to drop him and turn and leave. Seriously get away from him before something bad happens. [laughing...]

[offbranddrpepsi]

In Bloom (Astra X Lifeweaver)

A thriving garden full of various flora, both natural and synthetic. A 'hardlight' fountain placed in the middle with live fish swimming in it. A little beacon in the sea of stars that she had just assumed was a place to rest before going back home. Of course, Astra was always weirdly lucky when it came to fate and this garden had been a temptation she fell for.

That is not why she kept coming back, however.

First she had met a woman draped in a blue and gold sari. She had yelled something Astra didn't manage to hear as she fled, telling no one of what she discovered. On her second visit she had met a man, a quite tall one with the strangest equipment and outfit that made him look like something out of a fairy tale. That time she stayed, his welcoming voice breaking through the astral plane, tempting her to physically manifest in this new world.

Lifeweaver he called himself, sticking to a code name in case Astra proved to be more malicious than she claimed to be. She didn't blame him as her entire organization did the same. That second day she sat for an hour, ready for conflict the entire time despite none coming, and she learned. Astra learned who this man was as well as the woman she had seen before and that they claimed to not be threats but were deeply concerned as who she was and how she got there. Astra told them little, stating she was a guardian of the stars who traveled often, investigating places that stood out such as this one. Lifeweaver, though cautious, seemed satisfied with this answer and went to ask more. Astra was at this moment called back to duty, distress on her home world, not even bidding him fair-well as she vanished into star dust.

Astra had swore the second meeting would be the last, considering the garden a fluke on the astral sea, just a little blip of sanctuary she had been treated to. She had even told Sage, a woman she saw as both cautious and knew believed in fate. Sage thought it harmless, she had only encountered two people who didn't seem to wish her harm, although she still cautioned Astra to stay alert and to not pull the threads of fate more than she already did. Of course Astra knew she hadn't really altered anything, she didn't give nor take information or items that could effect the delicate threads that held their worlds together as well as the fabric of the astral plane.

Another coasting through the astral plane proved that the little blip that was the garden was still there, despite the odds being against it, so Astra peaked in once again.

"I was hoping you'd come back," The welcoming voice was accompanied with a soft smile that seemed to almost overtake all the mans features. He bled warmth and comfort into the space around him, and Astra embraced it.

Their visits would last for hours, well into his world's night at times. Astra explained to him that she couldn't disclose anything regarding her work and her world, and that he shouldn't disclose too much either; but things still slipped through. Astra learned of their hard light, it both being similar to some of their own technology but so different. She learned of Lifeweaver's upbringing and how he was a prodigy but also scorned by his parents and community due to not being 'born right'. Astra related to him, though her community welcomed her warmly both for her sexuality and gender. It pained her to see his normally soft and gentle face turn to one of sorrow and pain at speaking of his youth, how she longed to show him the loved life she had lived. But thing weren't that simple, they were rather complicated and she couldn't just pull a random man across the entire astral sea. So she instead brought the love to him.

Astra shared with him her culture, telling him the stories of both Ghana and her world though she left out mentions of radiants. In turn Lifeweaver shared his own technology with her. It was marvelous! Something she had only seen radiants come close to preforming! From his tree of life to the little flower platform he loved to lift her up on, it was all so equally beautiful and whimsical. Days turned to week, weeks months, time seemed to slip away as they two visited each other more and more often.

Of course Astra's mind had wandered as had her heart, it was impossible not to when faced with someone so gentle, kind, and caring as Lifeweaver. His laugh started turned her red, the stories of him and Symmetra as chaotic roommates made her laugh harder than they should, before she had realized it she had started missing him while on her missions for Valorant and was longing for a home that wasn't her own.

"Would you like to leave the garden?" He had asked one day during fall, the leafs turning to vibrant oranges and yellows while the weather grew cold. "I could take you to the cafe i mentioned, the one Hana likes. We could make it a date!" His eyes nearly sparkled as much as her stars did at the mention of taking her on a date. In their time together he had never been so forward, never even hinted at the possibility he wanted more with her or felt the same butterflies she did. Of course, Astra had grown less observant with him than she had initially been. Her guard had fallen almost as quickly as she had so maybe thats why any inkling she was the eye of someone's affections had entirely gone amiss.

"You know every step I take here is another ripple I have to fix," she had told him countless times that she couldn't risk exploring his world. The garden seemed to be contained, a point in the astral sea of stars that was static and seemingly affected little by any pulling on the fabric that engulfed it. As such Astra was confident that this little square on his world was safe for her to inhabit and any steps beyond its boundaries could only lead to disaster if not more work for her that would keep the two apart.

"Sorry," that glowing face of his darkened, head bowing in shame. Astra knew better than to embrace him, but her will strained as her heart swelled, for a moment she even considered taking him up on his offer. "It is easy to forget you aren't from here and are bound by different rules than we are, especially after so long."

Astra could barely hide a stray tear as she said her goodbyes that night, returning to her own world just as day broke. She still had not told anyone but Sage of her adventures, and even the resident healer was oblivious to just how far things had gone. Astra was sure Sage would reprimand her, being gentle once she had learned of where her heart lied but still firm much like her mother once was. But Valorant did had the ability to world hop reliably, at least after a few ventures to Omega, maybe she could talk to Killjoy on a theoretical level. Get the little engineer to work on some prototype that would both benefit them and herself.

Astra decided to pay yet another visit before deciding on basically manipulating Killjoy for her own selfish wants, and she was awe struck by what she was greeted with. A small woman, maybe even an older girl, scurried out of the garden as she materialized. Her brown hair and pink cat head phones seeming familiar to someone Lifeweaver had told her about. Maybe a teammate or friend of his blessed with access to his private garden.

"Astra! You're early, over here!" The voice she oh so loved to hear call her alias, and the one she wished would say her name one day, called from behind her. A small gazebo had been constructed, painted a deep gold that seemed to match her arm and adorned with glittering lights like a canopy of stars. Sat under it was a table and chairs constructed from deep wood with carvings of flowers and vines. Her heart nearly stopped at just how magical it looked. And there, stood behind one of the chairs, was Lifeweaver. He had none of the equipment he normally did, all unnecessary gear seemingly placed away. Lifeweaver wore what appeared to be a more formal outfit, a Suea Phraratchathan to be more exact. It was a deep but vibrant shade of magenta that seemed to fade into violet at its edges. Embroidery of gold ran up its seams as well as covered the outfit in a pattern she couldn't place. At his waist was a blue sash with light pink details that seemed almost painted on. As she stood in silence, eyes tracing over him countless times, she realized he was dressed as she appeared in her astral form, each gold thread a star and brush like stroke of color reflecting her.

A large smile broke out across her face followed by her nearly dropping to her knees, hands coming up to cover her reddening face, "Chaleee! What is all this now?" returning to her carefree self she looked down dramatically at her own outfit. "You got me under dressed looking like a fool!" Despite her playful words she was amazed and flattered more than she had ever been, more than she would possibly ever be. No one had ever gone this far for her, yeah she had been on dates and given gifts but nothing compared to the display and man before her. She half wished she was in some white, gold, and pink dress that mirrored his usual clothes; something to show she reciprocated and appreciated he gesture. But Astra could soar across space, not time, and her usual clothes would have to do.

Lifeweaver's cheeks turned a pleasant shade of pink before he nearly keeled over laughing, a sound so pleasant to her ears she wished she could hear it more, "You could never be under dressed Astra, as i've said you are the peak of style compared to most of us."

Approaching the man and table, Astra noticed the assortment of sweets and drinks delicately placed around it. "What IS all this?" She asked as she looked around, avoiding staring at Lifeweaver to long. It was so much, enough for several people not just the two of them and it seemed so luxurious. Was this what it was like taking Chamber up on his offers of dinner? Was this what it was like to be spoiled?

"You couldn't come to the cafe so I brought it to you," He held his arms out like a showman trying to display his latest act, a nervous smile painting his face. "Hana and Toki helped pick stuff out and get it here while Satya helped me with the gazebo, chairs, and clothes." Astra held back a small laugh at the image of the slightly older woman picking over everything, making sure it stayed perfect but also organic. Satya was someone she wished she could talk to more, the woman being more composed and order loving than herself but still sounding like an absolutely wonderful woman and dear friend to Lifeweaver.

Another moment of silence passed as Astra clearly awed and looked over everything, Lifeweaver looking both bashful and proud as he explained how everything was done and what all the food was.

"So, do you like it?" an unfamiliar anxiety laced his words as he spoke, the normally confident man retreating into a small and fragile one. Astra could only stare for a moment before she wrapped him in an almost bone breaking hug. A laugh bubbled out of Lifeweaver as he returned the hug, his arms just as warm and comforting as Astra had imagined.

"Like it? I love it! Thank you! I'll have to take a tart back for Klara or at least a picture." Astra was sure one misplaced tart wouldn't break the entirety of the astral plane, tarts rarely decide fate or keep the threads of time and space from tearing. "I'll have to bring you something from back home next time Lifeweaver, it has to be special to match this though."

"Niran." He spoke quickly as Astra pulled back from the hug, his face more pink than his flowers.

"Niran?"

"My name," his features shifted from pink to red. "I would prefer that you use it if you'd like, it sounds nice when you say it."

Astra couldn't stop the smile of pure love that covered her features, the last boundary she had set when they met crumbling away the moment the words left his mouth. "Then you can call me Efia, Niran." A pleased smile over took Niran before he ushered her into a seat, the sun already starting to set, and began explaining each treat more in depth as well as filling the air with more memories and stories he had yet to share. In this moment Astra had decided she would suggest a study into independent world hopping to Killjoy in hopes that one day she could bring Niran to her corner of the astral sea.

[unitedbydevils]

Match Review: Paris Saint-Germain Féminine 3-1 Manchester United Women

It was heartbreak in Paris on Wednesday night as Manchester United fell to defeat against the French giants in the Parc des Princes, and a 4-2 aggregate defeat over the two legs meant PSG qualified for this year's Champions League at the Red Devils' expense.

United were underdogs coming into the first leg at home, having never played a Champions League match or even a qualifier game before. Still, optimism reigns supreme and United have steadily grown in stature over the past few years to the point of now being a reliable contender for the WSL title and in cup competitions.

Chawinga is proving to be a real asset for PSG already, and threatened United's goal within the first few minutes; outpacing the centre-back pairing of Turner and Le Tissier only to be met by a brave Mary Earps on the edge of her box who, once rounded, gave Maya Le Tissier time to block the finish before the goal line.

PSG made the breakthrough in the 17th minute via Lieke Martens, but for her good finish it was Chawinga's driving running and tenacity which took so many of United's defenders out of the picture.

Ella Toone rightly looked sick after missing a great chance to equalise in the first half following a good counter attack alongside newcomer Geyse, but otherwise United looked fairly tame going forward - something uncharacteristic given the quality amongst Geyse, Galton, Toone and Malard.

The second half started immediately different, with a much more clinical United build up in the attack opening PSG up. Smart dribbling down the right from Geyse, a tidy low ball in, and Lisa Naalsund slotted home into the top corner. Game on... or so fans thought.

PSG immediately ran to the other end and equalised through Martens, with Tabitha Chawinga yet again causing mayhem for United's backline. In Paris, Canadian international Jayde Riviere was at RB, with usual choice Hannah Blundell at LB, but whoever had been in that slot was getting smoked by Chawinga's elite pace. It felt like Bale vs Maicon all over again, and I'd LOVE to see Chawinga come up against the departed Ona Batlle for a real test of skill, mettle, and character.

Toone missed another chance to even things up after a great run from Galton and smart defensive drawing from Geyse, but unlike the earlier effort this one she hit well and it was a good save by Kiedryznek to deny her.

PSG's third goal came from right midfielder Sandy Baltimore, who bullied past Blundell to round on Earps and the near post before lifting a cross-cum-shot high and just into the far corner. A fluke goal, maybe, but intentional or not it was a beautiful finish.

The game wasn't without controversy, with Leah Galton scoring a header from a beautiful, lofted pass by captain Katie Zelem with shades of Michael Carrick to it. United - especially Galton - felt they were back in the tie, but an injury to keeper Katarzyna Kiedrzynek seemed to at first rule out the goal, only for the refereeing team to then adjudge the goal as offside. Replays show that Galton was VERY comfortably onside, and she jumped entirely fairly for the header - potentially with no contact if we can believe the TV replays. A disappointing decision against United that could have perhaps turned the tie, but this is what Aston Villa manager Carla Ward alluded to after the WSL opener - refereeing teams need to be full time employed to guarantee their dedication to the role, focus on the game and the laws, and to progress their skills. In this case, however, I think it's fair to say that the much debated VAR would have also been very helpful and would have easily ruled in United's favour.

It isn't all doom and gloom though. As mentioned in the last review, United have done us proud. This is our first foray into Europe, and hopefully not our last. There's a good blend of experience and youth, and players are still gelling in terms of synergy. No Gabby George hurt us at left-back, a poor refereeing decision potentially altered the game, but importantly lets not forget that PSG are a good team too. United were the underdogs. I've lauded Chawinga a lot but the team as a whole is a good unit that are well drilled and tactically responsive. They have weaknesses, like all teams, and the fact United exposed them is a good sign of the progress the team has made. On another day, perhaps United at 3-2 can go on to equalise and sneak through the tie. Fine margins. It just wasn't our day. We go again on Sunday away to Everton. It'd be nice to give them a bit of a snotting to get the defeat out of our system...

[gear-project]

Can Baiken or Nagoriyuki kill Raven?

Hmm~~ THAT'S IN INTERESTING QUESTION!

Especially now that we know some elements of Supernaturally-influenced weapons can harm Gears. (Like Nagoriyuki's sword.)

Gear Cells were formed in the Backyard, after all. Applied Magic Science.

Immortality is a facet of abilities that Demihumans are known to possess... and they are by their very nature beings that exist beyond the Backyard's ID system... so they literally exist beyond the rules that the Backyard has pre-established!

Still, in the case of most Youkai... Youkai by themselves cannot BE KILLED... rather, you would have to "kill" the "story" or "Legend" behind the Youkai in order for them to experience death.

The mythology that keeps an immortal alive, so to speak.

It's probably different and unique for every different circumstance, Raven or Sharon not the least of which.

What we know IS certain is that Raven died as a Knight of the Crusades (the original 1200 A.D. Crusades against Jerusalem in Israel)... but that didn't stop him from coming back to life.

So... something "about his life" or "about his story" is what is keeping Raven alive.

Was it his unsatisfying death? Not likely... if that were true everyone who died an unfair death would still be alive!

Raven has already proven that his multiple deaths are not just some circumstantial fluke as well... meaning it wasn't just a one-time thing.

But... can something spiritually enhanced supersede the requirements that keep Raven alive?

Again, it's experimental to say the least...

For Baiken's part... she was horrified enough to learn that slashing I-No would not kill her. And Raven's circumstances aren't much different... even if she fights Raven in Xrd, her sword alone doesn't have that kind of power.

If Baiken were to fight Raven now with her "current" mindset, it's hard to say if that would make a difference... no longer a sword of vengeance, but a sword of regret...

As she said herself, her sword is now meant to "cut people free"... but if that means what she says it does... would that truly mean "freedom" for someone like Raven, who considers DEATH his own sense of FREEDOM?

Perhaps in Raven's case, it is not his own will that keeps him alive, but the will of his people... or the will of those who believed in him that is what keeps him bound to the realm of the living?

Or perhaps further... perhaps it is simply something Raven has yet to understand ABOUT himself that he cannot yet grasp on his own terms...

Perhaps just talking with someone like Baiken might dislodge a truth or two? But would that end in death?

Again, hard to say either way... but until we know the exact reasons and cause for Raven's existence... much like Happy Chaos, we can't come to ANY conclusions!

[the-exhausted-xexandaler]

“Why is this happening now of all times?” Asked Gregorionus, third in line for the throne of the Third Ring of Hell. He asked this at the woman who had just now summoned him, a woman in a pure white robe with a circlet over her greying but still lush hair. Wrinkles from aging couldn’t stop Gregorionus from recognizing that face. It was one that no matter how much time goes by he would never be able to forget. “How have you managed to summon me Francisca?”

“I believe I told you all those years ago to call me Fanny if we ever had the pleasure of meeting again.” The old woman said in a clear yet slightly crackly voice. The fire in her eyes made it clear that while this summoning was a fluke, the result was desired. The smile across her lips and the grimace across Gregorionus’ showed who was really enjoying this situation.

Gergorionus sighed. “If I recall correctly, you tried to sell me off to the Duke of… what’s that nation called again? It’s been 342 years since I was last in this world.”

“Oh my has time really flown that quickly since we last met? Why to me it feels like only 50 years ago when were in heated and romantic passion off the coast of Rubel. Oh that was the nation in question by the way.” Fanny said as she held a hand against her face in remembrance.

“I have learned since then that time dilates a bit differently between this realm and my own. Speak now what you want with me.” Gregorionus was making it very clear how he just wanted to get this situation over with. He didn’t want to spend any more time than necessary around this woman.

A hint Fanny was all to happy to ignore. “Oh don’t be like that Gregory. It’s been even longer for you to see me than it has been for me to see you. How fairs you my dear? Still in that barmy school of yours?” The school in question being Hells Peaks Provate Academy. “Oh, would you like some tea? Maybe some scones? Rudolph, please let the chef know that I have very important company today.”

“Yes your highness.” Spoke a young man dressed as a butler, but in a clear violet suit. He exited the chamber that his mistress and guest were in.

“Now then Gregory, I’m certain that we have much to catch up about.” Fanny said, summoning a plush chair to sit on and a large round table before her. Looking behind himself, Gregorionus noticed that there was a much larger chair behind him as well. A chair he willingly sat on.

I may not like Francisca, but I’m not about to disrespect a contract.

He thought as he pulled the chair as far forwards as the summoning circle would allow his body to be away from it. “So you’re Queen I presume now. I thought you hated Prince Heralds guts for burning your village, so why did you marry him?” He asked, noticing clearly the upgraded furnishings and how the one called Rudolph called her ‘your majesty.’ There was only three reasons she’d be called that.

One was she the queen. It is unusual because of the aforementioned bad blood between her and the Crown Prince of the time, but anything can happen in half a century.

Second is that she’s delusional. Much more likely, but the violet tuxedo is not something that a commoner could just acquire whenever they wanted to. Dyes in this realm are quite expensive, so anyone without the financial means to purchase not just it but make at least one entire suit out of dyed fabric wouldn’t be able to.

The third option is the most rediculous. It’s impossible to think that would be the case, so why would I ev-

“Oh? The monarchy was abolished after I ripped that rotten mans heart out of his chest and fed it to the swans. This nation is no longer the Warrior Nation of Rubel, but the Great Holy Nation of Rubelionus. And I am the Holy Mother of this Sacred Land.”

… So about that third option… yeah it was if she started a Theocracy by overthrowing or founding her own nation. We can see which option… specifically which violent option… she seems to have gone with.

Gregorionus was stunned, but shook it off and pinched his nose, all the while wondering how he seems to attract crazies. “What does a Holy Woman of any degree have business summoning a literal demon? Isn’t that sort of against the very idea of being ‘pure’ like the teachings of Altrain dictate?”

“How can you recall the name of a religion that you don’t even believe in but can’t remember the name of the nation we had hot steamy-“

“I make make sure to keep track of any religion that wants me dead. Why and how did you summon a being of darkness if you are now aligned with the light?” Gregorionus asked beginning to feel frustrated with the old woman’s apparently still thriving libido.

“Ahem. Yes well, this nation does not follow the words of Altranism, but instead that of the ‘Book of Balance’. It’s just a little something that I started up maybe 5 or so years after you left.” Fanny started in glee before continuing, “It teaches that all beings be they of the light or the darkness are made equally. Mo matter what race or class or creed, we all are born, nurtured and raised in one way or another. Wolves have their packs and flowers have different medical uses depending on how they are cared for and collected, but they are still living, breathing creatures all the same.”

Gregorionus wasn’t about to over look that phrasing. “Why do I feel like I know how this religious order started… I have to ask… You finished the ‘Golem Development Unit’ didn’t you?”

“Hohoho~ As quick on the pick up as ever I see. 350 years and you’ve still got that devilishly keen wit about you. Though I personally call it ‘The Peace Smithy’ nowadays. A bit better of a ring isn’t it?”

This woman really does like to agitate.

Gregorionus knows Francisca. Knows her mind. 50 years may have passed for her, so there are bound to be a few changed, but fundamentally this woman is a profit seeker. Great at getting on the good side of her target and then making herself out to be a hero.

“Your Majesty, your tea is ready.” announced Rudolph as he walked a cart into the room. Wait looking closer at it… isn’t this cart moving on its own? He isn’t pushing it.

“Why thank you Rudolph. You’re always such a sweet boy. I forgot to ask, but how is your sister doing? Has her recovery been going well?” Francisca asked in a slightly worried tone.

But Rudolph just smiled. “Your Majesty is to kind. Louraine is doing much better after you restored that battle golem into a medical golem. It’s been helping her with her physical recovery slowly but surely and she should be back to active duty soon.”

Francisca smiled softly. “Oh that’s brilliant. I look forwards to seeing our dear vice commander vack on her feet with that beautiful spearmanship of hers.”

“I will be sure to pass on the message to Louraine when I check on her this evening.” Rudolph said pridefully. Someone seems to really love their sister.

“That’ll be all Rudolph. I’ll let you know if I have anything else for you.” Fanny said as Rudolph let himself out leaving the cart of tasty morsels before she returned her attention to Gregorionus. “Care for a scone? They go excellent when you dip them into this tea before taking the bite.”

“I’d rather you tell me why you’ve called me here. I know you Francisca. You wouldn’t just sacrifice people to shoot the breeze with an old flame. You want something from me.”

Fanny just laughed at this. “Come now. Isn’t it fine to just want to get reacquainted with an old friend? Not everything has ro be about profits you know~”

“So says the woman setting up a robot uprising.” Gregorionus said bluntly.

“‘Robot’? Is that a new sort of golem you’ve been developing for one of your school projects. I’d be happy to help you with the blueprints if you wish. Not to boast, but I have become a bit of an authority in Golem Crafting and Repurposing.” Fanny asked attempting to hide that dangerous glimmer in her eye.

Gregorionus began to recount something. One of those ‘tropes’ that his young friend Becky kept going on about from TV. The ‘Mad Scientist’. A trope that very much fit Francisca alongside ‘Puppet Master’ and ‘Lawful Evil’.

This woman is starting to seriously remind me how much I hated dealing with her.

“Enough trying to pry information out of me Francisca. I have limited time in this world and you are wasting it. So I will ask only once more.

Why have you summoned me Francisca Hilarian?”

A smile froze on Fannys face. Seconds go by as Gregorionus starts to realize what may be going on here. “I see. This was a trap all along wasn’t it?”

“Trap is a strong word Gregory. I prefer the phrase ‘rekindling an old flame’.”

Gregorionus scoffs. “I don’t have time for this nonsense. If you truly wish to speak with me then you can come to my realm instead next time. But we are done here.” He says as his body starts to waver and blur.

Fanny just laughed. “Hohoho. My dear, do you honestly think you can escape that easily? I’ve spent years preparing this room for this moment. To get you here so we can get back together. Studying every word of every cult even remotely related to demon kind. You cannot escape so easily.” Fanny says, turning slightly manic.

“Are you sure about that?” For the first time since entering the room, Gregorionus smirked as he continued to fade away must to the shock of Francisca.

“W-what? Wait this isn’t right! Y-you should be trapped here! Why are you still disappearing?!?” She began to shout madly.

Finally it was Gregorionus’ turn to laugh. “Haha! I’ve said it before. It’s been 342 years since I was last in this realm, and while you may have spent over half a century researching everything in your realm, I’ve had much longer to learn, grow and develope. I am far to strong for you to keep me bound in this realm now. And besides…” he turned to look Francisca sharply in the eyes. “This isn’t even my doing~” he said playfully.

Fanny was stunned. “What do you mean? You mean someone else is summoning you? But that’s impossible! We’re in the middle of a summoning right now! Y-you can’t just leave!!!” She shrieked.

“One of these days when you finally die and your soul is finally in hell, you might get to meet my charge. A girl who makes impossible things seem like a daily occurrence without even realizing the significance of it. To be entirely honest I’m surprised that she was able to do this too. But that’s Becky for you. Rewriting text books on common sense just because she can. But I’m not going to let that day come so easily.” Gregorionus stated as he threw some sort of energy at Francisca’s chest before his body nearly vanished without a trace.

Fanny lept out of her chair. “No wait!” She screamed as she reached out to grab him, but her hand just passed through the empty space there. Only accompanied by one last statement.

“May we never have the displeasure of meeting again Francisca. Mwahahaha!”

.

..

…

(Five hours later)

A knock comes from the door. “Your Majesty. It’s nearly time for supper, and none of us have heard from you in hours. Is everything alright in there?” Called Rudolph from the other side of the door.

No response.

“Y-your Majesty. I’m sorry for the impropriety, but I’m coming in now.”

Rudolph unlocked the door and opened it, releaving a room of shattered mirrors and porcelain, torn books and crushed furniture. It had looked as though a storm had blown through the room. And in the middle of it stood a woman.

Long blond hair. Slim figure. Pure white robes and a golden circlet atop her head.

“That bastard.” The woman said under her breath in a clear and beautiful tone. The woman in question is the only woman who had been in the room since lunch when she was calling over what she called an ‘old friend’. “Of all the things that rotten son of a bitch could do! Eternal Youth!!!” She steamed in rage, disregarding the young man in the room with her now.

“Y-your Majesty? T-that is you right? Is everything alright?” Rudolph asked as he slowly approached the woman carefully.

Yes, this was her majesty Francisca Hilarian, the Holy Mother of the Book of Balance religion, restored to youth and cursed with eternal life so that Gregorionus would never be forced to see her again.

Fanny took a deep breath and began smoothing out her clothes. “Alright you dumb old demon. If that’s how you want to play this game…” she looked sharply at the summoning circle that should have confined her beloved here with her for eternity, a fire burning in her eyes and a wicked smile playing across her lips.

“I’ll show you why you can never escape a woman in love~”

It’s a bit awkward that you managed to actually summon a demon; almost as awkward as that demon being your ex spouse.

[hypervoxel]

I would like to know about your Vox headcanons

Thank you, I love you

Who he was in life doesn't matter. He's shed that identity and the baggage that came with it. It's who he is now that's important. He's reborn, remade, renamed. Vox is the future and he hates to look back at the past.

But. Still, we all come from somewhere. (Do we use content warnings here? Vague mentions of suicide, ableism, sexism, sexual assault, standard Hazbin Hotel things I feel like.)

1) Vox was nobody. Unknown, unloved. He rotted away until watching TV was the only activity he was capable of. When his vision faded and even that distraction was no longer available to him, he ended his own life.

2) Vox was well known and well respected as a televangelist. (He, like many early televangelist preachers, got his start in radio. Just a fun little ironic fact about televangelism here.) He was Charismatic, preaching prosperity gospel and faith healing. He was a liar. He knew he was a liar. But people believed in him, and that (and the money they tithed to him) was what mattered.

2a) tbh all of these headcanons are centered on the idea that Vox was disabled in life. He is deeply ashamed of this (he hates his body) and pretends to be able bodied, and in this case he pretends that his own faith healed his disabilities. He knows it's not true, that every moment standing unassisted in front of the cameras will come back at him, that he'll be exhausted and in pain once the film is no longer rolling. But sometimes in the glow of the studio lights, caught in the religious ecstasy of his own sermon, Vox almost believes himself that he is healed.

Still, his own belief doesn't get him into Heaven.

3) Vox is a cameraman or some other 'behind the scenes' job. He dreams about bigger things, but he never succeeds in getting them.

3a) Vox knows the kind of things that go on behind closed doors in the industry. He does not participate, but he does nothing to stop it either. This is why he's in Hell.

3b) Vox knows intimately what happens behind closed doors. He gets on his knees for his boss and hopes the favors might be enough to get him into the positions he covets. It is not. Instead, it gets him whispers about his scandalous preferences, the kind of rumors that would ruin his career before it's even begun.

3c) Vox evades these rumors with a marriage of convenience. And a little blackmail, because his new wife's unborn child is not his, and they both know it. And their boss, who has been abusing multiple employees, knows it. The boss's wife, however, doesn't know anything. And if he wants to keep it that way, well... Vox gets a better job. Not the one he really wants, but enough to satisfy him for a time.

(Vox's wife becomes a stay at home mother. It's not the kind of career she dreamed for herself. She resents her husband for using her for his own gain. Resents all of the men in their company, the ones who harassed her, the ones who enabled it, and the many who did nothing to stop it. Vox is always kind to her. Always protective, once he decides that she's his. His condensing kindness makes nothing better.)

3d) many things go wrong too close together. Vox kills his boss in a fit of rage.

The man was a rapist and deserved it. But by some divine intervention, some meaningless fluke, they never meet in Hell. Maybe the man went to confession, admitted his cheating to his wife (when he could no longer hide it from her), apologized. Maybe it was a reward for a painful death, a consultation prize to go to heaven because your last moments were full of suffering. Maybe none of it mattered. Maybe sin isn't real. Maybe his actions were never a sin. Vox doesn't know the reason, but he's never been able to find him in Hell to kill him again.

But none of it mattered, because no matter how he arrives, the ending is the same. Why, Vox thinks, would anyone bother trying to be good. Why, when you can do anything you want and get up there. Why does he belong here, for generally being a good person. He never went out of his way to hurt people (unless they deserved it)! Sure, he wasn't perfect, but no one is. He tried, he thinks, that should count!

Well, fuck that, Vox decides. He's here now. There was no changing his eternal fate. He might as well embrace it.

[bornonthesavage]

Tell Me "Don't", So I Can Crawl Back In Part 2

Part 1 Part 3

Eddie Munson was having a crisis. No, maybe that was too strong a word. This was just a minor existential examination of everything he’d ever known. Because up until today, it had been a known truth of the universe that all jocks were irredeemable assholes whose sole purpose in life was to make Eddies worse. And for the most part, that was still what he believed. Except, now there was big, glaring dent in this truth. A big, glaring dent in the form of Steve Harrington.

When he’d looked up and seen that stupid, handsome face, he’d immediately known he was about to have a bad time. Would probably have his papers stomped on, maybe a few books ripped. So one can forgive Eddie his momentary lack of brain function when Steve actually got down and started to help. And then he apologized. Like, actually apologized. And he seemed sincere. Which had completely knocked the wind out of Eddie’s sails. He’d been so prepared to say something scathing, to mock him and then hightail it out of there before he got his ass kicked.

But then, to make it worse, Steve knew about Dungeons and Dragons. And he babysat. He babysat nerdy kids who played Dungeons and Dragons, and he offered that information up like it was nothing. Like it didn’t rock Eddie to his very fucking core. And then, of course, he delivered the killing blow in the form of a genuine smile. Like he was made of fucking sunshine.

Goddamn it. Eddie had done such a good job at keeping his horrible, ill-advised crushes on straight boys under control. Because sure, he’d looked at Steve before. It was impossible not to, when he looked like freaking Apollo, all golden tanned and built like a dream. Being that Eddie was the only queer guy he knew of in Hawkins, it wasn’t like he had any choice but to have crushes on straight guys. Pickings were slim, and Eddie was starving.

So yes, he’d snuck a look at Steve in the past. Either in the halls, or as he jogged around the track field, or on one memorable occasion when he’d accidentally stumbled into a swim meet and caught an eyeful of tight little swim trunks. But that was fine. Looking was fine.

Only, now he’d talked to him. And Steve was no longer just a hot, mean jock. Because he hadn’t seemed mean at all. He’d seemed pretty nice, actually. Maybe that was what happened, when a person lost everything that had once made them what they were. Now, Steve had to reinvent what he was. Well, if that was the case, he was off to a pretty good start. Maybe Eddie could give him a few pointers. Take him under his wing. Maybe Steve would---

No. No! He was not going to go down that rabbit hole. That was dangerous. What he needed to do was stay far away from Steve Harrington. That pretty boy was nothing but trouble, and Eddie had more than enough of that in his life as it was.

He dragged his pillow up and pressed it over his face before screaming into it. This was ridiculous. He couldn’t actually be this weak. One nice smile sent his way, and he was ready to drop all his carefully crafted walls. It was pathetic.

Eddie rolled off his bed and climbed to his feet. This was fine. It wasn’t like Steve was ever going to talk to him again. Today had been a total fluke. From now on he could go back to sneaking glances across crowded rooms. So really, there was no need to dwell on this. He repeated that sentiment as he made his way out of his room and to the kitchen, where he proceeded to make the worlds loudest bowl of cereal. And the thing was, he didn’t even realize how hard he was slamming the cabinets until Wayne looked up from the tv.

“Eds, what on Gods green earth has gotten you so worked up?”

He huffed. “Nothing. It’s nothing.”

Wayne gave him a look. “Now I know that ain’t true. The only time you slam shit is when you’ve gotten yourself all worked up about something. So, spill.”

Eddie growled and shoved the milk roughly back into the fridge. “It’s just… Gah!” He scooped up a too big bite of cereal and shoveled into his mouth. “Stupid boys! And their stupid smiles!”

Wayne, of course, knew about Eddie. Had know for years. But they didn’t talk about it. Not beyond the initial talk they’d had, when Wayne had assured him that he would love and support Eddie no matter what. And then, after that, the very awkward and horrible discussion about safe sex. Which wasn’t an issue for Eddie, considering he was a virgin.

“Well,” Wayne said slowly. “I can’t say I relate. But, yeah. I understand the sentiment.”

Eddie shook his head and glared into his bowl. “He thinks he can just smile at me, and I’ll forget about what a douche bag he was.”

Wayne hummed. “No, you don’t want to be getting mixed up with that sort.”

“Exactly!” Eddie cried, pointing his spoon at his uncle. “Exactly.”

Without another word, he turned and scampered back into his room. Once he was safely tucked into his cocoon of blankets, he let himself ruminate on the problem of Steve. Because really, what sort of name was that. Steve. Just a boring old name. The kind of name Eddie imagined a mailman to have.

Steve could be a mailman, if he wanted to. He’d look good, in those khaki shorts. Eddie could picture him, biceps bulging as he hefted a large package to Eddie’s door. Maybe he’d be hot and would need to come inside to cool down. And once inside, maybe he’d feel the need to deliver a different sort of package… No! Shit, no no no.

Eddie clamped his teeth down on his spoon hard enough to hurt. This was ridiculous. Harrington didn’t deserve a starring role in his fantasies. It wasn’t like he’d done anything great. So what, he’d picked up a few papers. Big deal. No, it was imperative that Eddie put Steve out of his mind completely.

That became an issue the very next day. Eddie was situated at the head of the lunch table, just like always. His pack of merry freaks lined the table, already talking over each other about one thing or another. Gareth and Jeff had their head bowed together, discussing something to do with D&D. Josie and Mic were arguing over something that had happened in history class, while Grant and Todd discussed a movie they’d gone to see over the past weekend. Eddie grinned as he observed his friends. This was his domain, and there was peace.

At least there was, until out of the corner of his eyes, Eddie spotted an approaching enemy. And okay, maybe it was a bit much to call Steve an enemy. Before yesterday, sure. But now… Steve was an anomaly. An anomaly that was rapidly approaching their table with a tray in hand. Eddie sat frozen, his eyes wide, all the way up until Steve stopped beside him. The rest of the table seemed to have noticed him as well, as they’d fallen silent. Steve smiled down at Eddie as if he weren’t doing the strangest thing that had ever happened at Hawkins High.

“Hey Eddie, what’s up?”

He could physically feel his brain reeling, searching in his files for what the appropriate response to this situation was. All he could come up with was a garbled “Wha?”

Steve didn’t seem phased. “I said, what’s up? How’re you doing?”’

Eddie blinked rapidly. “Uh, yeah man. I’m fine. Did you… need something?”

“Oh, actually.” Steve reached around into his back pocket and pulled out a folded black square of cloth. A very familiar one, at that. He’d honestly thought he’d lost it. But to see it now, held out in Steve Harrington’s hand, was almost too much. Eddie choked.

“You dropped this yesterday, and I wanted to give it back. Wasn’t sure if it had any significant meaning to you.”

Yeah, you could say that. Eddie reached out slowly, almost afraid Steve was about to rip his hand away and call him out. Tell the whole school what a black hanky meant, and what that made Eddie. But that didn’t happen. Steve allowed the cloth to slip through his fingers, all the while wearing that same casual grin.

“Oh, um. Thanks dude.”

“It’s no problem,” Steve said with a shrug.

Eddie expected him to leave, now that he’d done his daily good deed or whatever. But he didn’t. Steve continued to stand beside him, looking infuriatingly normal. As if this wasn’t so, so weird. Then, to make matters even more bizarre, he turned his smile on the rest of the table.

“Hey guys.”

It took monumental effort, but Eddie finally managed to drag his eyes away from Steve and back to his friends. It was actually pretty funny, the way they all wore matching expression of astoundment and confusion. Their faces looked the way Eddie felt on the inside. Nobody gave a response. When Steve still didn’t leave, Eddie cleared his throat.

“Uh, was there something else you needed?”

Steve’s expression shifted then, turning almost bashful. Eddie despised how cute he found it. “Actually, yeah. I was sort of wondering if I could sit with you?”

The silence that rang, following that statement, was loud. Out of the corner of his eye, Eddie could see his friends begin to shift with distrust. Because yeah, this was really bizarre. At least Eddie had some context, given their encounter yesterday. But had Steve really fallen so low, so desperate for friends, that he was willing to slum it with the freaks?

The awkwardness seemed to finally catch up with Steve, as he began to ramble. “It’s just, I was late to the cafeteria, so my usual table is taken. And, I mean, I guess I could go eat outside or in the library, but that seems like a level of lame I’d rather not fall to. So I saw you, and remembered I had to return your bandana. And then I saw you had extra chairs and figured I’d ask. But if not it’s fine, I can go—”

“No!”

Eddie wanted to clamp a hand over his own stupid mouth. Did he have to sound so loud and eager? Fuck, he really was pathetic. But at least Steve wasn’t much better, with the way he was staring down at Eddie with those big, brown eyes.

“I just mean, no, it’s fine. You can sit with us.” Eddie explained. His shin received a hard kick from under the table, but he ignored it. “If his highness wishes to dine with the peasants, who am I to deny him?”

Steve rolled his eyes. “I already told you, I’m not a king anymore.”

“Ah!” Eddie cried, leaping to his feet. “A fallen heir. How tragic. Well, I always have room in my court for a weary traveler.”

What the fuck was he doing? He should be telling Steve to go away, to leave them alone. There was no way this was going to be a good thing for his newfound straight boy crush. And yet his mouth seemed to have a mind of its own, that filthy traitor. And it was worse, when Steve lit up like Eddie had just told him today was second Christmas. Because oh no. Now Eddie wanted to see that again. He wanted to please Steve Harrington.

“Oh, cool. Thanks. I can sit down at the end, if you want.”

Yeah, that would be good. Put some distance between them. Of course, his stupid fucking mouth had other ideas. “No, it’s fine. Just pull a chair up next to me.”

Fuck! That wasn’t what he’d meant to say! God dammit. But it was too late, because Steve was already beaming like a kid at Disneyland. Eddie watched as he set his tray down, then walked to a nearby table and stole a chair to drag over. He shot a panicked glance at his friends, and found that they were all looking at him like he’s lost his mind. Gareth’s face very clearly said “What the hell are you doing?” Eddie sent him a desperate shrug.

Steve plopped down right beside Eddie. Which was so stupid, because there definitely wasn’t enough room at the head of the table for two people. It forced them to sit practically pressed against each other, with Steve’s warm thigh lining up perfectly with Eddie’s leg. Steve didn’t even seem to notice. He just cast a guileless smile around to the rest of the gang.

“So, what’s up?”

Based on all the blank faces, that seemed to be what everyone else was thinking. Jeff was the first that seemed to recover, as he cast a look between Steve and Eddie. “Uh, yeah, we’re kind of wondering the same thing.”

Steve ripped open a bag of chips and threw a few into his mouth. “Oh, shit, sorry. Did Eddie not tell you? We sort of started talking yesterday when I accidentally ran into him. We shared some minor bonding over my slight knowledge of Dungeons and Dragons, so we’re pretty much friends now.”

They were? What the fuck? This was news to him!  The rest of the group was looking at Eddie now though, and he was really not prepared to unpack all this with an audience. He waved his hands.

“All of you, as you were. Stop gawking like heathens, just because we have a bit of fresh meat at the table.”

There were several shouts of indignation, but Eddie silenced them with a look. They would discuss this later, but not here. It wasn’t like Eddie was opposed to making a scene. Oh no, he engaged in a good bit of table theater at least once per week. But in this instance, he had no idea what to make of this new development. It was unnerving, and Eddie needed time to poke at it before he made any moves. Surely Steve had some ulterior motives. Whatever they were, Eddie would find them.

Reluctantly, the rest of the group went back to their conversations. Which left Eddie with Steve, who was looking at him with an amused curl to his mouth.

“What?”

“That was pretty impressive.”

“What was?”

Steve rolled his eyes. What a bitch. “How you got them all to listen to you. I could use a few pointers. Maybe then I could get the middle schoolers I look after to actually do what I say for once.”

Eddie grinned wide, showing off all his teeth. “It’s all in the presentation, Stevie boy. If you hold yourself like you’re the one in charge, everyone else will listen.”

“Yeah, that makes sense,” Steve said, chewing slowly. “That’s kind of what I used to do. It works better on people our age, though. Middle schoolers can see through an act like nobody’s business.”

“Well then, Stevie boy, make sure it’s not an act.”

Steve huffed. “That’s easier said than done. Especially when I have no clue what I’m doing most of the time. Fake it till you make it only works when you have at least a tiny bit of a plan. I’m just out here wandering through the dark.”

Well shit, that sounded awfully close to vulnerability. “Careful, Steve, you don’t want to go around admitting that sort of thing where predators might hear you.”

Steve quirked an eyebrow up. “What, like you?”

Huh. Nobody, ever, in their right mind had referred to Eddie as a predator. No, he figured he belonged somewhere in the small mammal category. Like a gopher, or maybe a mink. You could probably make a real nice fur coat out of him.

“Buddy boy, out of the two of us, I think you fall more in line with the predators.”

Steve hummed and popped a grape into his mouth. Eddie watched, transfixed, as Steve rolled the fruit around in his mouth. First to one cheek, then the other, before letting it pop back to the front of his teeth. What the fuck? Just eat the damn thing!

“I feel like I’m more of a golden retriever,” he eventually said. “Does that count as a predator?”

Eddie snorted. “No, it doesn’t. But I’m not so sure about a golden retriever. You’re too bitchy for that. Maybe a different breed.”

“And which breed would that be?” Steve asked, tilting his head.

“Don’t know. Can’t say I know you all that well.”

Steve narrowed his eyes, as though considering. “That’s fair. Tell you what, once we hang out a little more, you let me know which breed of dog you think I am. Okay?”

Eddie knew he should object, tell him to go find someone else to bother. But he was, in fact, a weak, weak man. And here Steve Harrington was, saying he wanted to hang out. And he was supposed to, what? Tell him no? Have restraint? Self-respect? It was overrated. Especially when compared with the opportunity to sit in the presence of a very pretty boy. So, Eddie found himself nodding his head, meeting Steve’s eye.

“Alright Harrington. You’ve got a deal.”

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