#I hope all my rambling above is easy to follow!

[shimmeringembers]

Star Stringed Web

My iterator OC! I finally made a design I like.

Star Stringed Web is an old gen 1 iterator. She’s not the first one ever, but she’s definitely not new— I’d say she was built a bit before Moon. Web served two purposes, finding the Triple Affirmative and also mass producing parts for other iterators. Her can takes up most of the space within her retaining wall, leaving little room for ground structures. There’s a larger than average amount of railways leading in/out of her superstructure to deliver parts to far off projects.

Web’s local group consists of two other iterators (not currently named or designed) that were built loooong after her. She appreciates their company, but also wishes the two of them would stop flooding her inbox with game invites and photos of every creature they see through their overseers.

Web is aware of the growing slugcat colony making their home on her grounds. She’s fine with them being there, as they don’t cause structural damage like the scavengers do, but would rather the colony keep out of her main systems.

Web somewhat tolerates the little beast crawling through her can. No matter what she does, Lightbulb won’t leave. She could zap them to death, but she considers that needlessly cruel. She counts herself lucky that she’d been build with the machinery necessary to craft more neuron flies, as the Little Prion seems to favor eating those.

[ellethespaceunicorn]

Some Things You Just Can't Refuse

Title: Some Things You Just Can't Refuse

Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors - DNI

Pairing: Dom!Clark Kent x Sub!Reader

Word Count: 4.7K+

Summary: A collection of first times with Clark Kent, and one last time.

Warnings: dacryphilia, unprotected p-in-v sex (wrap it up babes), creampie, spit kink (for like two seconds), Reader being a brat

A/N: This has been a plot bunny that sat in my Google Docs while all my other works got attention. Did I really just write a 5+1? Unbeta’d, we die like people who tried their best. 

Dividers by: @firefly-graphics

Support/Reblog banner by me

Cover Art by me

My Masterlist 

Clark Kent was a simple man, for the most part. He had preferences, sure. But he knew what he liked, and went for those things more often than not. One of his preferences was a certain kind of woman. 

And you were that kind of woman. His Sunflower.

The perfect combination of submissive and strong-willed. What others may call bratty, Clark would call “a little feisty” and he wouldn’t change it for the world.

And that is where Clark was anything but simple. He was your Dominant, you were his submissive. He loved you, he provided for you, and he kept you safe. He kissed the ground you walked on, he broke you, and he put you back together.

The first time you met Clark Kent was in the break room of the Daily Planet. 

You were an intern for the summer, just working to get some credits toward your journalism degree. You weren’t all that interested in going to warzones and reporting on drug lords and shit. You wanted to tell stories about starving artists and activism. You wanted to surprise people with your ability to capture the essence of someone’s emotion and relate it to the reader’s own experiences.

While doing your writing at work, while you were supposed to be doing whatever Lois Lane threw at you this morning, you decided to take a break to recharge. Since energy drinks gave you the jitters, you opted for a warm-ish mug of hours-old coffee.

As you reached up to the cabinet to get a mug, you watched as a hand appears above you to grab the handles of two mugs. You turned, following the hand, to see who reached over you. Eyes blue like the Atlantic Ocean behind a pair of plain black rectangular frames looked back at you. You can’t help but smile at him as he beamed, bright enough to illuminate your entire day.

And your writer’s brain was getting way ahead of itself already. Who the hell was this mountain of a man? I wonder what his lips taste like. Should that tie go with that shirt? Fuck, did he just ask me something?

“I’m sorry, what?” You shook yourself out of your thoughts.

“I asked if you wanted the black or the flower mug. I was gonna offer the flower. But I’d rather not assume you didn’t wanna just take the plain one. So, I’m gonna stop talking and let you answer.” 

Fuck, he’s cute when he rambles.

“Sunflowers are my favorite.” He offered the mug and your fingers touch and you’re glad that you are the only two in the break room.

“Clark,” he says, as he poured himself some coffee, “Clark Kent.”

You gave your name and he put out a hand to shake yours. With your hand in his, you notice how it engulfed your own. You thought to yourself about that hand around your throat. Just lightly squeezing the sides of your neck, as a warning.

“Nice to meet you. I hope Lois has been easy on you. She can be a little…much.” He said it in a way that lead you to believe he’s been on the demanding end of Lois more than once.

“Eh, she’s alright. I mean, Ms. Lane is just fine.” You tried to cover your disdain for Lois. In reality, you saw her as a ‘Pick-Me’, but you tried to give her the benefit of the doubt.

“Yeah, sure she is. I dated her, so I know her pretty well. Not that I should be saying anything. But, don’t let her try and get in your head. She’ll use whatever she can to get a scoop, whether in the field or the workplace. She’s a great journalist, but-” You cut him off, not wanting to take part in putting down another woman.

“I think I get the hint. Watch my back around her.” You assure him you understood as you poured your coffee and put in some cream and sugar.

“Yeah, sorry. I shouldn’t talk about her behind her back. That was rude of me. My mother would be disappointed in me for that.” He looked into his mug, and you saw that he was not proud of himself for putting down his ex.

“It’s all good, Clark. I can tell you didn’t mean anything by it. Emotions are tricky, ya know?” You don’t know why you wanted to give him an ‘out’, but you did.

“That, they are. I better get back. See ya around,” He gave a cute little wave and exited the room.

The first time Clark Kent called you Sunflower happened about a month after your first meeting. 

The two of you ended up together on a test run for Perry to see how you go about working with other reporters. He probably just wanted to see if I could share a byline.

You could tell that Lois saw a tenacity in you that reminded her of her younger self. While that was great, you wanted to be seen for your ability to get people to talk to you without making them feel like they were in an interview. Just a conversation between people.

When you asked Clark to work on the assignment with you, he jumped at the opportunity. In truth, he wanted the chance to see you at work. He’d listen to Lois talk about how you just saw things differently. Almost like she was jealous, but she would never admit to that.

“So I was thinking we could go to Gotham. Before you say anything, I know it’s dangerous there but we’ll be going during the day. And I finally got the go-ahead from Wayne Enterprises to shadow one of their board members. A Day in the Life kind of piece. What do you think?” You rambled out, arms crossed as you leaned against Clark’s desk.

“I think I can get you an exclusive with Bruce Wayne if you wanted.” He stated nonchalantly.

“I would owe you big time. Wait, how the hell do you know Wayne? What, were you boy scouts together or something?”

“We just end up at a lot of the same places.” Clark offers no other explanation.

“Right,” you nodded at him, not letting it go, “So, I run point on this and you back me up?”

“Sounds perfect. You’ll do great, just know he will try and flirt with you so don’t make it easy for him, Sunflower.” The nickname caused heat to rise to your face, remembering that first time you met him.

“Sure, like the most eligible bachelor in Gotham who can buy whatever he wanted would look at me twice?” You weren’t being down on yourself too much, more like you were being realistic. The man had dated supermodels and heiresses, not chubby junior reporters.

“Without sounding unprofessional, trust me when I say Bruce will look at you more than twice. You say the word and I’ll set him straight.” Was that flirtatious? No way.

“Um, if you say so, Clark,” you tried to laugh it off and walk away but Clark caught your wrist, your eyes locked with his and you felt…something. 

“I do say so, Sunflower,” he lowered his hand from around your wrist, “Just prepare to shut him down more than once. He’s, uh, persistent.”

“You trying to save me for yourself, huh?” You couldn’t help yourself. If he denies it, you could say you were joking. If he confirms it, then…

He simply smiled and tilted his head, neither confirming nor denying. 

During your interview with Bruce Wayne, you were surprised that he indeed did flirt with you as Clark said he would. You managed to steer the conversation back to Wanye Enterprises each time he would stray to learn more about you. You would give him a detail here and a tidbit there, but you kept it professional. Clark was there to take notes, letting you take the lead. He was impressed by you. You kept Bruce flirting with you to get him to spill details about new things he was working on for Gotham.

The first time you kissed Clark Kent was three months into your internship. 

Lois had taken a shine to you, loving what few pieces you were able to get past the intern pool and into an issue. You figured it would be in your best interest to go to her with any journalistic questions you had. You may not like her very much, but she was still a Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist and you would be an idiot not to take a few pointers from her.

There was one thing you didn’t talk to her about, and that was the massive crush you had on her ex. It just seemed too messy, and honestly, you didn’t need her permission to do anything. 

That’s why you accepted Clark’s invitation to make you dinner. Frankly, you weren't surprised he asked you. You had been flirting with each other, exchanging glances and smiles across the office. Spending hours a night talking on the phone and texting back and forth naturally lead you here.

Armed with a bottle of wine and all the courage you could muster, you make it to Clark’s apartment just as he is finishing dinner. He answers the door in jeans and a grey long-sleeved henley, looking so comfortable and so different without a tie on. He thanked you for the wine, took your wrist to pull you behind him, and shut the door with a socked foot.

Pouring you both a glass, he congratulated you for completing half of your internship. It completely slipped your mind that you had reached this milestone, but he remembered. And that was saying a lot. You clinked your glasses together and took a sip of the pinot noir. 

“This is going to go great with dinner. Thank you again for picking up some. I can’t believe I forgot to,” Clark bantered, setting his wine glass down to check on the pork tenderloin and roasted potatoes.

“You were too busy trying to impress me,” You insisted, smiling when he gives you a stern look.

“Watch it, Sunflower,” is all you hear and you shifted from one foot to the other to hide your search for friction. You barely had two sips of wine in your system before this man had you feeling drunk.

“Time to let the pork rest while the potatoes finish up. Should be done in a bit,” Clark picked up his wine glass, settling his other hand on your lower back to guide you to the island counter. He didn’t expect it when a shiver ran up your spine and caused you to giggle, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t like it.

You sat and chatted during dinner like you’ve known each other for ages and it just felt very comfortable. He told you about his mom, growing up in Smallville, and how he came to work at the Daily Planet. You spoke about your schooling and how you’d one day like to write for the Planet and publish a book of short stories. He was stuck on your every word and it made you feel important to have his undivided attention.

After dinner, you retired to the living room to watch some tv. It was more just on as background noise as you conversed with each other. When you both reached for the wine bottle at the same, you both laugh and then look at each other. And it was all you could do not to melt into a puddle as those blue eyes stare longingly at you.

Clark reached up and took off his glasses before tossing them on the coffee table. Fuck. But, he does nothing more. For what seems like minutes, you sat in silence just staring into each other’s eyes until you speak up. 

“Clark, please?” You whined, growing more frustrated with every second.

“Use your words. Tell me what you need, Sunflower.” The way he said it had you shifting in your seat.

“I need you to kiss me, please?” You pleaded, the little crack in your voice not missed by Clark.

He cupped your face with one large paw, his touch so soft that you leaned into it to feel his warmth. His thumb moved over to wipe across your lips, followed swiftly by his lips.

Your lips met and you felt the warmth radiating from him. You could taste the sweetness of the wine on his tongue as he begged for entry. You let him in, moaning into his mouth. Clark grunted in return and pulled away to rest your foreheads together.

“I have wanted that for far too long, Sunflower,” Clark groaned, licking his lips.

“Me too,” you whisper, scooting closer to Clark to lace your fingers together, “Can we do it again?”

Instead of answering you, he pulled you into his lap and attacked your mouth with fervor.

The first time you tell Clark Kent you love him is exactly two months after your first kiss.

It was completely by accident, but no less true. 

Clark invited you over for dinner and a movie. The two of you were in the middle of watching 10 Things I Hate About You. Patrick was dancing on the bleachers and singing to Kat. The most romantic scene in the movie apart from the poetry scene.

“Ya know, if we went to high school together and you sang ‘Can’t Take My Eyes Off You’ to me in front of the whole school, I would have melted,” you say, stuffing popcorn into your face, “But then, I already love you, so you wouldn’t have to do the whole singing thing.”

Clark’s head whipped around so fast that you can feel the wind coming off of him. “What did you just say, Sunflower?”

You look to Clark and you realized what you had said at the same moment and your eyes went wide. “I think I just confessed love during a ‘90s romcom.”

“Yeah, I think you did,” Clark looked at you with that look in his eyes, “Good thing I love you, too.” He says nonchalantly, trying to not freak you out, and went back to watching the movie.

“Clark, I love you.” You wanted to feel the words on your tongue again.

“I love you too, Sunflower.” Hearing the words come from him was like a cozy embrace that coated the night in warmth.

The first time you had sex with Clark Kent was at the end of your internship.

Clark wanted to wait- 

No, he didn’t want to wait, but he chose to wait until your internship was over and you were offered an actual job at the Daily Planet to not seem like he was cruising for tail in the intern pool. 

Little did you know, but Clark had it all planned out. Candlelit dinner, romantic music, wine, and chocolates. The whole nine yards. But you didn’t get to experience that version of lovemaking. 

At the same time Clark was lighting candles, he heard your heartbeat spike across town. He sped away to your location, without putting on his suit. He flew above the city before he found you being held up at gunpoint in an alleyway and his blood boiled. He watched you comply with your attacker and hand over your purse before flying down behind the man quietly. The man had no idea what hit him when Clark flicked his temple and the assailant falls over unconscious.

He didn’t even think to keep his identity secret anymore. He steps over the man to get to you and check you over for injuries, both external and internal. When he sees nothing, he questions you, “Are you alright, Sunflower?”

You look almost through him because there he is in a sweater and dark-wash jeans, glasses slightly askew. You step back an inch as he reaches out to you. He can see it in your eyes that you are piecing together little moments. 

How he got across town in what seemed like seconds. How he never got sick. How it felt like he was always hiding something. This is what he was hiding from you. For your safety? For his?

“There were so many times I wanted to tell you I was Superman, I just didn’t know how. Do you forgive me, Sunflower?” Clark’s pleading ultramarine eyes burned into yours. 

“I mean, I guess this is as good a time as any to tell me. I have so many questions. Of which, you will answer all of them, Clark. But, all I need to know right now is how the hell you found me?” Your breathing was starting to speed up again and you tried to calm down but given the circumstances, you were acting pretty normal.

“I kind of, know your heartbeat. I can hear it at all times. Wherever you are, I can hear you,” Clark makes an odd face and then forces out an embarrassed laugh, “Now that I say that out loud, it sounds weird.”

“Yeah, it’s a little weird. But it’s also super romantic, too,” you reach to Clark and pull him to you, “What’s my heart sound like now?”

“Sounds like you’re excited,” he let his hand drag down your body, “Smells like it too. Now, why would that be?”

“I mean, I did just find out my boyfriend is a superhero. That’s sorta hot. Sorta, I mean, he hasn’t taken me flying yet.”

“Brat! How hard is it to ask for what you want?” He picked up your purse from the unconscious attacker and handed it to you. When it is secured around your shoulder, Clark picked you up and you wrap your legs around his hips. “Hold on, Sunflower.” He took off so fast that the world blurred around you.

As he got closer to his apartment, he slowed down and flew a bit higher near the clouds. He rolled over onto his back so that you are straddling him. His hands found each other behind his head as he floated above Metropolis, all attention directed at you. Your eyes wandered around the city as you adjusted your seating which stirred his arousal.

Clark tried to adjust himself under you without you noticing but instead, you took the opportunity to grind your clothed sexes together. The groan that escaped Clark’s mouth is enough to spur you on to continue your ministrations. His eyes are already rolling back in his head and you feel quite proud of yourself. You reached under Clark’s sweater and ran your fingers through his chest hair as you continue to work your hips over him.

“Clark?”

“Yes, Sunflower?” He opened his eyes, pupils were blown wide with lust, breathing becoming unstable.

“Take me to your place so we can get more comfortable?” You flirted with him, wrapping your arms around his neck and shimmying up his body.

“Yes, Ma’am.” He grabbed under your thighs to have you wrap your legs around him once more and began to descend to the balcony of his apartment. He let you inside first but is quickly behind you following you into his bedroom as you start to shed your layers.

You spun around and gave Clark a show of your skin becoming visible in the moonlight. When you are fully undressed, you knelt in front of him with your head down and your hands on your thighs. 

He walked over to you and kissed the top of your head. He listened for your heartbeat, and it was steady, if not a little heightened. You were awaiting instruction, as far as he could tell.

“Sunflower, I want you to pick a safe word.” He stood behind you and undressed down to his underwear.

“Unicorn is my safe word.”

“Good girl,” Clark caressed your shoulders and squeezed them, “Are you okay with calling me Sir?”

“Yes, Sir.” Your heart rate evened out, Clark noticed. You’re happy. He beamed down at you.

“Good girl, now turn around and take out Sir’s dick.” 

You turned around and reach up to Clark’s boxer briefs, cupping him over the fabric before hooking your fingers into the waistband and pulling the underwear down and off. His length sprung up to bounce in front of your face and you lick your lips in anticipation but don’t go any further without direction.

“Such a good girl, Sunflower,” he grabbed your chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting your face up to meet his eyes, “Come lay down so Sir can taste you. I can already smell how wet you are.”

You took his hands as he helped you up. Clark pulled you close to his body, your back against his chest. He attacked your neck, nipping and sucking marks that would show in the morning. His length on your hip has you testing your limits. 

As if reading your mind, Clark reached down and cupped your netherlips. You instinctively clamped your thighs around his hand and he used a foot to kick your legs apart. With one hand exploring your cunt, the other slides around your throat as a warning.

“Don’t ever block me from my pussy, Sunflower. This belongs to Sir now, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, Sir, it belongs to you.” You were sure Clark could feel you clench around nothing and you didn’t care. You wanted him to know he was doing everything right.

“Good girl,” He dipped a finger into your wetness and pulled it back out to wipe across your bottom lip, “We’re both gonna taste your sweet honey.” He used the hand around your throat to turn you around so he could claim your lips.

You tasted yourself as his tongue invaded you, whimpering into his mouth. His answering groans had you trembling. He walked you backward until your legs hit the edge and he pushed you down. Leaning over, he knelt and pushed your thighs back as far as they would go, marveling at your glistening slit.

With the flat of his tongue, he licked from your entrance to your neglected nub, pausing to suck on it lightly. He ate with the hunger of a man starved. He steeled his tongue, probing your core and tasting you from within. He made out with your pussy, pulling back to spit on it which drew moans from you and had you squeezing your breasts in response.

Clark was good at this, not that you were surprised because of how good of a kisser he was, but fuck! The way he fingered your pussy, making sure to curve his fingers to hit that sensitive bundle of nerves inside was heavenly. 

When he sped up his fingers and pushed down on your lower stomach, you gasped and realized he understood the assignment. He was rewarded with you squirting over his hands and chest.

“Such a good girl for me, Sunflower,” he said, before sucking your juices off of his fingers and moving your limp body up the bed, “Now, you’re going to be an extra good girl and take Sir’s dick.”

That was all the warning you received before Clark was pushing in, stretching you wide over his thick hardness. With every inch, he would pull out and press in an inch more than the last thrust. He made sure to stretch you slowly, keeping your tightness while allowing you to get used to his girth. 

“That’s right, Sunflower, open those sweet petals for Sir,” Clark soothes your whines as he fucks into you, “I promise I’ll make it all better when you let me all…the way…in.” He punctuated his words with jolts from his hips. 

When he is finally seated inside you, he pauses. The sudden stop has you reaching for Clark and moving your hips to gain friction.

“Look at you trying to fuck yourself on my cock,” he leaned over you and watched as tears flow from your eyes, “These tears are gorgeous, but use your words. Tell me what you want.”

“Sir, please,” you whined, looking into his eyes, “Need you to fuck me, please.” 

The smile on Clark’s face is brilliant, he’s got you right where he wants you. He kissed your face, stopping to wipe away your tears with his tongue. Pulling back, he secured your legs around his hips before he leaned down to wrap one hand around both of your wrists, holding them above your head.

When Clark fucked you, he paid attention to every aspect of your body. He looked into your eyes. He kissed and nipped at your neck. He pinched and teased your nipples. He rubbed your clit while he pounded inside you. 

Clark just did it better than any of your partners before. Maybe because you allowed yourself to be vulnerable around him? Or maybe because he was just…better. It didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was that you were with him and he was inside you and you were all his.

You lost track of how many times you came, but Clark remembers every time. He committed them to memory, seeing you arch your back and feeling your walls flutter around him. He could tell by the sheen of sweat on your body and the way your body is vibrating that you were beyond spent. Possibly even a bit overstimulated. Perfect.

“You ready for my cum, Sunflower?” He licked his thumb and pressed on your clit as you keen, “Do you think you can hold on for me for just a bit longer?” 

“Yes, Sir,” you moan as he slid his hands to your hips.

“There’s my good girl,” he groaned and began his assault on your pussy. At this angle, he can stimulate both your hooded center and your G-spot. A punishing pace that set you ablaze. While you held onto his biceps, you looked into his eyes. Where there used to be blue irises, only dark pupils remained. His curly hair was a sweaty mess on his forehead. He was barely a man now, more like an animal rutting into you.

Before long, his hips stutter in their onslaught. Breathing erratically, he squeezed your hips so hard you knew there would be bruises tomorrow. He moved to kiss your neck and latched onto your shoulder with his teeth as you feel every twitch of him releasing inside you. You know there will be bite marks in your shoulder for days but you don’t care.

Clark’s teeth left you, followed closely by his tongue soothing your almost-broken skin. Sometimes, he didn’t know his strength. And it was a close one this time. He was still inside you semi-hard before he decided to pull out slowly causing you to whine at the sudden feeling of emptiness.

He moved from the bed for a moment. You closed your eyes for a millisecond before you feel warm wetness between your legs.

“Just cleaning you up, Sunflower,” He wipes your delicate folds softly and throws the towel in the clothes hamper before crawling in bed beside you, “You go right to sleep, you deserve it.”

The last time you refer to yourself as Clark’s girlfriend is a year and a half into your relationship.

Clark proposes to you over dinner in the house you bought together. He bought the ring after you talked about marriage just two weeks ago. Well, technically, Bruce helped him buy the ring. As in, Bruce bought the jewelers store and had them design the perfect ring for you. 

A smoky quartz center with marquise and pear-shaped citrine petals around it. You had mentioned more than once that you didn’t want a diamond engagement ring, you wanted something that matched your style.

Clark presented the ring to you on one knee, ever the traditionalist. You said yes, of course.

This man was your life, your hope, and your future. You looked forward to every minute of every hour of every day with him. 

He is your light in the darkness, and you are his Sunflower.

A/N: Yes, the title is from "Sunflower" by Post Malone/Swae Lee. Yes, the song was for a Spider-Man movie. So, what? It's a good song.

**Tag List**

@brattymum96 @ambinxe @avengersfan25 @kebabgirl67

@astheskycries @enchantedbytomandhenry

Let me know if you wanna be added and for what plz  😁 Also if you want to be removed from tags, lemme know!

[angellayercake]

Oh well @sakuraspoke if you insist on me rambling about Terzo who am I to refuse? ☺️

We know from some interview snippets about him that by the time he becomes papa he is bitter and he hates himself and he is somewhat of a recluse which is clearly a massive contradiction to the caring, entertaining, silly, sexy charmer we see on stage. That man seems a lot more in keeping with the description we see from Bishop Necropolitus Cracoviensis who describes Terzo during his time as a Cardinal. As being a visionary who cares for his flock and revels in sin.

So how did he get here and how does that relate to this song?

I think we can all agree that his hopes for what he would achieve during his reign as Papa were squashed very quickly. He clearly put up a fight and was starting to gain momentum by the end where perhaps he thought it might be possible (hence why he was dragged off stage, humiliated and murdered) but we can see that nothing really went to plan and this is what probably sent him down the spiral of depression and self hatred.

But to bring it all back to 'We'll never have sex'. He created a very specific persona that was very likable and charming and I have no doubt that those are aspects of his personality and he had no lack of partners within the Ministry and without. But they ONLY wanted the Charming Papa™ and when his darker side would reveal itself, his self loathing and dissatisfaction they would run for the hills, if they even stayed long enough to see it. Because he is Papa right? Sex god leader of the Satanic Church, champion of the female orgasm, he is above wanting to be loved or cared for.

He is lonely, depressed, hopeless and desperate for some connection. So he keeps up the facade, keeps accepting the one night stands and casual propositions just to stave off the loneliness for a night or two until he just can't anymore. He closes himself off and comes to terms with the fact that no one will ever want just him.

This is all my standard headcanon for him in general and most of my fics unless otherwise stated but this also leads specifically into banchetto so I will put that under a read more in case anyone doesn't care about that bit 😁

This is basically where he is emotionally at the beginning of Banchetto underneath the hurt about his removal from his position and his brothers interference etc.

So why does he do what he does to poor reader? Well I think personally he has forgotten how to relate to people romantically other than sex. He hasn't had a traditional 'relationship' for many many years probably since he was a very young man and first learned about falling in love and heartbreak.

When he realises that reader is attracted to him he also finds her a distraction from wallowing in his depression and even though he had grown to hate no strings sex he falls back on that easy seduction to give him that taste of connection he craves. That is until he realises how much he hurt her by playing with her and that's when he realises

1. He may have found someone who really does care for HIM not what they can get from Papa. She has seen him at his worst. Complete rock bottom and still she cares?

2. He is beginning to care for her too. He looks forward to seeing her everyday and the light she brings into his life. He wakes up earlier so he can be up as soon as she arrives and he wracks his brains for question after question so he can justify following her around as she works. It's only when she disappears for that week after he cornered her that he realises this though.

And this is why they are taking it so slowly (aside from the fact she really does have a job to do which he tends to forget and at this point has completely forgotten). She has picked up on the fact that this is unfamiliar territory for him and really there is no need to rush right? What could possibly bring their happy little domestic bubble to be popped??? 😈

On that note I will leave it there. If you have got this far I love you 😚😚

[ratboyy-withtheexistentialdread]

Nevermore Chapter 97

Spoilers ahead, lads. Skedaddle if you don't fast pass. EDIT I guess I’ve said too much in this post and need to pull it back a little. So imma gonna edit it so it doesn’t say too much about this chapter.

Alright, first my reaction cause HOLY HELL those last few panels really got me like

I really had to put my phone down and talk myself through them. Now, lets talk about what I gained from this chapter and the infamous Annabel Lee. I've noticed, at least in the comment section, the fandom really doesn't care for Annabel's character and its difficult to know where the animosity has come from. Tumblr obviously loves her but us heathens support women's rights and wrongs (Don't we gents?) Many call her a sociopath or what’s happens in the last few panels. Annabel is indeed ruthless, calculating and stone cold but she obviously cares. She cares for Lenore above everything. It can be easy to see this as obsession as we really haven't seen her care about much else or even herself. But one comment on the Webtoon brought up a very valid point which I've also picked up on.

Annabel and Lenore in life were very isolated and broken people when they met one another. Annabel, broken and then rebuilt into a prim and proper lady. Lenore, broken physically and mentally and closed off from the world.

Meeting each other saved them. They were no longer alone. There was an understanding between them at least that we know of.

Their differences though is what divides them in death.

Annabel played games, and masked her true self around her father and family connections. She now makes games of situations to retain what little control she had in life over a society she knew she could never break the rules of. A Game that was always rigged against her.

Lenore rebelled against society. She fled the estate to escape a suitor, was bound to the attic and ostracized by her family, she then faked her death and posed as man to court Annabel, the one person who cared for her.

Lenore wants to break the rules of the deans Death Game. Annabel wants to follow them.

It’s all they’ve ever known.

Before it was only them that mattered. Now Lenore has so much more to fight for and Annabel still only has Lenore. Both are right in their own way of playing the game but it pains the other to witness.

Annabel, I’m sure is aware that the Deans are not all they seem to be and won’t simply allow the students to turn the tables on them if they played how Lenore wants to.

And playing Annabel’s way means the callous death of many many people that do deserve another chance at life.

Now. I do have to agree with Annabel in the sense that Lenore forgets

This is a Death Game

Right now the “villainous” characters show their true face with pride and the “hero’s” are charming and true but as we get down to the wire, it’s going to get grey. There are no good or bad at the end of these games, only survival.

Could Annabel show some restraint and more tact when speaking strategy and making plans with Lenore? Absolutely. She’s little too giddy about sweeping some pieces off the board.

Lenore also needs to stop being so naive. She saw first hand what exactly the Deans are capable of in Dreamland, it put the fear of god in her.

In fairness to both characters though they and we are still missing big pieces of what happened between them and what their causes of death were. Which could hold big aspects of their characterization.

Maybe Lenore was originally very callous about others. In life, aside from Theo and Annabel, we’ve never really seen her interact with others. Perhaps this is the Lenore Annabel speaks of.

Anyway, I’m rambling. In conclusion, I’m a bit disappointed in Nevermores comment section. I enjoy Annabel’s character although some parts do worry me a bit but I have hope Red and Flynn have plans to curve this to a satisfying reason and conclusion.

That cliffhanger, boy howdy, what the fuck is Lenore gonna do…

[ocaroon]

i decided to revisit my rain world anthro designs, but give a bit more charm to them. i went into this hoping to use it as a creative exercise, but above all, as an outlet and way of healing

ive had this idea for well over a year, and got to starting it a bit less than a week ago. it simply revolved around the idea of the slugcats having more rain world-centric clothing. as simple as the idea was, it turned out to be more complex and some of the ideas i had didnt even make the cut unfortunately :c

sorry in advance for the "boring" pose each of them have - it was mainly for reference purposes to make it easy to follow

COMMENTARY BELOW CUT TO AVOID LONGPOST :D ! v

let the rambling ensue...

monk and survivor have matching clothes because they are youths from their community in outer expanse. their cloaks are made from the pelts of yeeks and the insides are woven with leaves from outer expanse's big, looming fauna. the necklace monk has has one blue lizard scale that was shed from a lizard they tamed

hunter dons a red lizard head and pelt, with the latter held together around their body with a red lizard tooth. alongside that, they have a king vulture mask. both of their headgear are able to sit on them comfortably because of grapple worm parts being used as a fastening material. i think they wear these to send a message and because they're proud of their achievements

gourmand, alongside monk and survivor, has leaves sewn into their caramel lizard cloak. the neckpiece is made from lilypucks after they ate them for the food quest. it is not attached to the cloak and goes around their whole neck, similar to a lei. this is my least favorite design and is the most likely to get an overhaul because i think it could be more intricate. let me know what you think

artificer, obviously, has the chieftain scavenger mask, though they tied the explosive spear fabric to it to hold it in place. similarly, the scavenger pelt and snail shell are also held together with the red fabric. the snail shell is used as a pouch to hold more bombs, though it cannot hold spears

spearmaster was an interesting character and was the most difficult for me, alongside gourmand. i decided to go with a leviathan skin (blubber?). spearmaster's ties to being a purposed organism made me think this would be fitting. since they're on a specific mission for the iterators, them having access to otherwise "unkillable" creatures for clothing kind of felt right. the leviathan's skin is durable, which is just what they need for the amount of trekking they must do. the miros vulture feathers were trophies they got themselves.

rivulet's was fun! when i started this project a year ago, i had monk, survivor, and rivulet's ideas down. all i wanted was a jetfish scarf, and i added a monster kelp cloak on top of it. the monster kelp helps keep their wet skin hydrated

saint's cloak is made from popcorn plants and woven with discarded scavenger fur that they found, to help insulate and keep them warm. they have a lantern necklace. the more fun idea to explore was the earmuffs, which are repurposed spore puffs infused with fire power. very silly indeed

thank you for coming to my ted talk. heres a more accurate hunter hat but i couldnt decide to be frank

feel free to ask questions..i like talking about my ideas but im shy ._ .

[psychovigilantewrites]

It's Been Awhile

Pairing: Jason Todd/Reader

Word Count: 5,500

Rating: Explicit, there is sex, R18

Summary: Reader visits Jason after some time.

Masterlist | Ao3

A/N: Hey guys! It's been awhile, hasn't it. Sorry it's not a Red Who update, but I promise I have not abandoned it yet.

I am extremely rusty, because I haven't been reading nor writing much lately. I have a full time job now, and I'm on my way to paving my career. I still think of you guys a lot, though. So thank you so much for sticking with me till now. To the new followers, you won't see much activity here, but I will return from time to time to post or scroll or check up on things.

I'm so rusty that a 5000 word count felt so long to me. I remember when I was churning like, 12k word count within a week. Lol, I would love to try that out again. Anyway, enough rambling. I hope you all enjoy! This is the most I've written in a while.

You kicked an empty beer can aside and heard its metallic clink against the brick wall as you walked down the narrow alley.

From all the years you spent in alleyways, you got used to the smell and the suspicious puddles. It was dimly lit, the only light source coming from the apartment windows above you. You stopped below the fire escape and jumped, hands grasping the end of the metal ladder to pull it down so you could climb up.

You counted the floors. Four, seven… twelfth. You stopped a floor below your target so you could carefully creep up to the thirteenth. You peeked through your target’s opened window carefully. His apartment was brightly lit and clean. You noticed all the surfaces like the coffee table at the centre of the living room, and the small dining table at the far side of the apartment near the main entrance, were clear of any clutter or stains. The light grey sofa near the window where you were at looked new, with fluffed cushions arranged on the seats along with a beige throw blanket.

Your target had his bare back facing you, standing at the kitchen where he was putting away the dishes in the overhead cabinet. He was shirtless, so you could see the muscles of his back ripple and flex when he reached above his head. You climbed through the window silently and entered his apartment.

“Hello there-” you started, but immediately ducked to avoid the flying mug aimed at you but missing and crashed into pieces behind you. “Wow, rude.”

“Christ,” Jason swore when he realised who you were. “What the fuck? You scared the shit outta me.”

You grinned at him. “Not my fault you’re losing your touch. You really didn’t hear me?”

“I was never able to hear you, you know that,” he scowled and crossed his arms while walking towards you. “Take off your shoes, you’re dragging dirt all over my house.”

“Not until you clean up the glass.”

“Fine,” he rolled his eyes, grabbing a broom to sweep away the shards.

You sat down on his sofa. An awkward silence passed.

“So,” you looked around his apartment. It was familiar because you’ve been there so many times before, but he had obviously done some rearranging and bought new furniture. There were definitely more books on his shelf now. “It’s been a while.”

“Yeah.”

“Around… six months?”

“Without any messages or phone calls,” he frowned, looking at the floor that was now clean and clear.

“Jason,” you groaned, “You know I couldn’t.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he sighed, putting aside the dustpan. “It’s just- it was hard not knowing whether you were safe or not.”

“You think undercover has been easy for me too?” you demanded.

“I know it hasn’t- look, I don’t want to argue,” he admitted. He sat down on the sofa next to you. You felt the sofa dip at his weight. “I’ve been undercover too. I know how hard it is. I was just worried.”

You looked at him. His thick eyebrows were pulled down in a frown, his icy blue eyes staring at you intensely. He had a bruise that was healing on the upper corner of his left cheekbone, and a fresh new cut on his lower lip.

“You’re my best friend. You’re the only one I’ve known the longest. Not knowing whether you were dead or alive does things to a person,” he stressed.

“Well, I’m here now. Alive. And demanding you get me some liquor,” you winked.

He raised his eyebrows in surprise, but complied. “Since when did you start drinking casually?”

You hesitated. “Since Elisa.”

“I have whiskey, bourbon, gin, tequila and beer,” he listed the contents of his liquor cabinet.

“Gin, soda and lime, please,” you ordered. Jason immediately got to work, making you your cocktail. “Bring the bottle here as well. I might want a top up.”

He raised an eyebrow as he served you and put the bottle of gin down on the coffee table.

“Aww, you even put a little lime wedge. Cute,” you teased and sipped. “Yep, I was right. Did you always used to make your drinks this weak?”

“You never complained before,” he replied, watching you pour a little more gin in your glass. “The drinks in Cuba must be strong.”

You paused, lips still on the rim of the cup. Silence fell again, before you shrugged. “I’ve taken quite a liking to rum.”

You dug through the sling bag pouch you had across your body and took out a packet of cigarettes and a lighter.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Jason protested.

“Uh, I’m lightshing a shigarette,” you answered with the cigarette already on your lips.

“One, no smoking in my house,” he snatched the cigarette from you and threw it on the table, “ Two, did Elisa smoke too?”

“She didn’t and then she did,” you scowled, “How long have you quit?”

“Four months,” he said, “I use these now. It’s helped a lot. I suggest you do the same.”

He took out a bright pink cylindrical metal tube with a straw-like tip from the pocket of his sweatpants and sucked the end. He exhaled a thick cloud of white mist that smelled of-

You burst into laughter.

“What?” he huffed.

“I’m sorry, but right now I’m just imagining bumping into you in a dark alleyway, all big and muscly, with your leather jacket and combat boots, and suddenly you smell like- what’s that, watermelon?”

“Yeah, so what?” he pouted, “I don’t even have the urge to smoke anymore.”

“You’re right, that’s good,” you smiled, “I’m proud of you.”

“Whatever,” he rolled his eyes, “So, what are you doing here? You back for good?”

“Officially, my role in the mission has ended,” you explained, “But I might have to go back from time to time… And…”

“You’re leaving again?” he guessed solemnly.

You pursed his lips and looked at him. “How much do you know about what I was doing?”

“Not much,” he began, “Just that you were undercover in Cuba, leading some sort of coup?”

“Not exactly leading a coup,” you corrected, “I was hired by a private organisation to infiltrate and, uh, get rid of corrupted leaders internally, and replace them with clean people so that the citizens can have a chance at improving the country.”

“So… American intervention to reestablish democracy and change regimes?” Jason smirked, “Like Cuba in the sixties? Bolivia, Ghana, Angola, and my personal favourite, Iraq?”

“It’s not like that,” you defended, “And not American. Not CIA. Not United Nations. Jason, these people are real. They have no other agenda but to give people freedom. We’re made of many countries and nationalities- mostly third world whose countries have been ravished by colonialism and intervention. Think Che Guevara, but bigger. Richer. Way richer. More organized. They’ve been recruiting ex-agents and spies, people who can’t be blackmailed or bribed with money. People who care about change.”

“So that’s what you’ve been doing?” he realised, “Been playing Spy Kids with communists.”

“We’re not calling ourselves that,” you argued, “And we’re not going for the communist revolution. We want to go for a more organic change.”

“Why are you telling me all this?” he sighed in defeat.

“Because… I want you to come with me next,” you positioned your body to fully face him, crossing your legs on the sofa.

“What?” he asked incredulously, “And what, abandon Gotham?”

“Gotham doesn’t need people like you and me, Jay,” you whispered, “It needs Batman, and Nightwing, and Robin, and all of them. Gotham needs hope. People like us don’t belong here.”

“People like us?”

“You know what I mean,” you said sternly, “Our skills are needed and appreciated elsewhere.”

Another moment of silence of you and Jason just glaring at each other. You saw the way Jason’s eyes examined your expression, your body language. He knew you were completely serious about this.

You broke eye contact and took a few sips of your drink, feeling the contradictory refreshment and burn.

“Just think about it. You have time. I’m on a decently long break before going to the next mission,” you leaned back against the cushion and closed your eyes, “Mmm, I want to go to a nice spa. Get some new clothes. Watch movies. Source for some cool gadgets from Bruce. Spend some time with the family.”

“For how long?”

“A couple of months.”

You heard Jason sigh again. That’s how it was with Jason. Just constant sighing.

“Fine, I’ll think about it.”

You opened your eyes and looked at him. “Really?”

He was looking down into his own cocktail. “I don’t think I can go another six months not knowing what the fuck you’re doing, where you are, whether you’re dead or alive. So, yes. I’ll fuckin’ think about it.”

You felt bad. From the moment you told him you were leaving to go undercover, from the moment you went silent, you felt immensely guilty for leaving him. It was your first time without contact with him, and hell, it was difficult for you too. He was your first friend, your first family. Your life would not have been your life without Jason Todd.

“Hey,” you said softly, reaching out to his face to make him look at you. “I missed you.”

He simply stared. He looked like he was struggling to say something, or struggling to stop himself from saying something.

Then, he looked away. “So, how was it?”

“Pretty fucking cool,” you admitted, relaxing back into your usual self. “I felt like I was in a movie. Being undercover without anyone knowing sucks ass, though. Couldn’t be myself. Couldn’t do whatever I wanted to do, say whatever I wanted to say. Fuck, it was so hard. That’s when the drinking started.”

He chuckled. “Liar.”

“Excuse me?” you turned to him.

“Liar,” he stated, “That’s not how the drinking started. Something happened.”

“A lot of things happen when you’re undercover, Jason,” you snapped.

“I’m just saying,” he smirked, “You may have gotten used to lying to everyone around you. But you can’t lie to me.”

You hated how right he was.

“Put on some tunes,” you demanded, “Like I said, I couldn’t be myself. So tonight, I am going to drink and I am going to do whatever I want, and say whatever I want.”

“And as always, I’m the victim,” he groaned.

“Hush, you love it,” you giggled.

Jason stood up, grumbling. “Just take off your damn shoes.”

You complied, kicking off your boots and placed them away against a wall. Jason had always been so neat and tidy, so you respected that whenever you were in his space. He was extremely particular about hygiene as well. You were used to having your shoes off in his house, to him sanitizing his hands whenever he took off his gloves, to him always wiping surfaces with isopropyl alcohol.

He was always so well groomed too, and you never needed to worry about toiletries whenever you stayed at his. Whatever you needed, or hell, didn’t need, he had them. You remembered when you were teens and you were complaining about acne. He taught you all about skincare, haircare. About shaving versus waxing. About scrubbing between your toes and behind your ears when you shower.

And Jason showered every single day, since he was always engaged in physical activities.

And because of that, Jason always smelled so fucking good.

You caught a whiff of the scent you were so familiar with when he sat back down next to you after turning on the speakers and grabbing two bags of chips. He smelled like the cologne he wore, which was a deep pine scent with undertones of chocolate and sage. It mixed well with the refreshing raspberry of his shampoo.

“You met Grayson yet?” he ran his fingers through his hair.

“Mmm?” you mumbled, still lost in his scent. “No. You’re the first.”

“Good,” he grumbled back.

“Didn’t want to make you jealous or anything,” you giggled, poking his cheek.

He swatted away your hand, but a small smile played on his lips. “Dunno what you’re talking about.”

You wanted to retort, but let it go and took another big gulp from your glass. You topped the ice with some more gin and squeezed the lime in. Talking about Jason’s weird competitive streak with Dick would always end up with Jason sulking. You felt a little tipsy already.

“Hmm,” you hummed. And then, you had a brilliant idea. You stood up and you took your tight black t-shirt off, leaving you in your black bra.

“Why are you stripping?” Jason raised his voice.

“It’s summer, and it’s hot,” you shrugged, sitting back down closer to him. He was also shirtless, and you felt the heat radiating off his skin. “And it’s not like you haven’t seen me naked before.”

“It’s different when you’re bleeding from a stab wound and I’m pouring vodka on it,” he retorted.

“Whatever,” you scoffed, “ And you know what? This place was a smoking area before I left. And I told you that tonight, I’m going to be doing whatever I want. So.”

You reached forward to your pack of cigarettes Jason threw on the coffee table, but he grabbed your hand.

“Nuh-uh. No.”

You glanced at his grip on your wrist and back up at him. “You really want to do this, Todd?”

His expression changed to some sort of smug look that he always had when presented with a challenge. “Let’s see whether Cuba made you rusty, then.”

You smirked at him. And then, you swung your other fist towards his face, but he blocked your punch with the palm of his free hand.

You lifted yourself off the couch and used your body weight and momentum to catch him off his balance. It worked, he was on the floor, but he was so strong and it was difficult to free your arms from his grip.

So, you played dirty.

You carefully kneed his groin. Gently. You didn’t want to actually hurt him. Just to discombobulate him.

Jason swore, and his grip on you loosened just a teeny tiny bit. But that was all you needed to release yourself by twisting his arm to an angle that forced him to turn his body face down to the floor.

You continued twisting.

“Ow, ow, ow!” He complained.

“Do you yield?” You breathed.

“Yes! I yield, holy shit,” he whined.

You released him and greeted him with a shit eating grin when he propped himself back up. You had always been the better fighter. Even though Jason was bigger and stronger, you were more lithe, fast, and flexible. You used momentum, anatomical range of motion, and precise techniques in your martial art. That’s why you were always silent and could sneak up on him. That’s why you used to be the stealthy assassin, while Jason favoured loud guns and explosives.

“You know you will lose, yet you always challenge me,” you pointed out, “That’s why I think you’re a brat.”

“Like a spoiled kid?” he said, “Since when?”

“Not in that context,” you rolled your eyes. “Like, in bed.”

“Huh?” Jason sat down and looked up at you with genuine confusion. You joined him on the sofa again. This time, he didn’t stop you from lighting your cigarette. You inhaled. You exhaled.

“You know, like you have the dominant and the submissive,” you started to explain, “A brat is under the submissive category.”

“The hell?” he protested, “I am not submissive.”

“Maybe at first,” you smirked slyly, slowly closing the gap between you and him. “That’s what a brat is. You like to fight. You’re stubborn. You like to say no. But ultimately, you want to betamed.”

To make a point, you crawled towards him and boldly straddled his waist.

“Wh-what- what the fuck are you doing?” Jason sputtered, a blush creeping onto his cheeks.

“That’s why you like to fight me, right?” you continued, resting one palm flat on his bare chest, your other on his shoulder while you held your cigarette. “You want me to make you submit.”

You blew smoke onto his face.

“Stop that,” he gripped the side of your arms, “Did Cuba make you flirty too?”

“I always flirt with you.”

“Not like this,” he shook his head. “What, did Elisa have to seduce men? Women?”

“Unfortunately, no,” you pouted, “Elisa had to keep things strictly professional between all her assets.”

The truth was you couldn’t stop thinking about him.

“So, it’s been a while,” he stated.

“It’s been a while,” you agreed. “How about you? Any women? Men?”

“Please,” he scoffed, “Just Grayson being an ass.”

“So, it’s been a while for you, too,” you teased.

“But I’m not a perv like you,” he huffed.

“We can change that,” you leaned in closer, watching the way he had subtly wet his lips, thinking you wouldn’t notice.

“Stop,” he repeated, “You’re drunk.”

“Not drunk enough to make you yield.”

“I don’t want you to do anything you’re going to regret in the morning,” he pressed.

“Why would you think I’m going to regret anything?” You asked.

“Because you’ve never done this before,” he frowned, “This is coming out of nowhere.”

You’ve been pining for him ever since you hit puberty.

“Do you think you’re going to regret it in the morning?”

He looked away from your intense, questioning gaze. “I don’t know. Maybe. I don’t want to ruin our friendship.”

That was the reason you gave yourself for so long. You didn’t want to tell Jason how you felt because you were scared he wouldn’t see you the same anymore. Or that he would feel self-conscious around you. That he would reject you. That because of your selfish feelings, your relationship would be ruined.

You put out the cigarette in your glass.

“When I was Elisa Martinez,” you began slowly, “I couldn’t be myself, obviously. I couldn’t drink my favourite drink, or watch my favourite shows. You know how deep undercover is like, right? The complete erasure of your identity. Your history. I know some people who actually started to believe their cover story, to the point where they forgot who they really were.”

You paused to make sure you wouldn’t regret whatever you were going to say next.

“Elisa Martinez didn’t know Jason Todd. She never grew up with him. She never… fell in love with him…”

You noticed Jason’s eyes widened, and his grip on you tightened ever so slightly.

“And it was horrible, Jason,” you expressed, “I felt so lonely. So one day when I was alone in my apartment in Havana, I told myself that I wouldn’t be one of those people who gets lost in their cover identities. Unsure and confused about who they were. I vowed that when I got back here, I would truly be myself. No more hiding my feelings or my beliefs. No more stopping myself from getting what I wanted. Because I didn’t realise how having your own identity was a privilege that people took for granted.”

His eyes softened, but he still looked unsure of how to respond.

“So no,” you stated firmly, “I won’t regret it in the morning. Even if you don’t feel the same way, and you don’t want anything to do with me after this, I will not regret telling you how I feel. Because six months of struggling with identities was enough.”

Still straddling him, you crossed your arms to make a point.

“Uh,” he cleared his throat. He let go of his grip on you and ran his hand through his hair again. A habit that you noticed he did when he was either stressed or nervous. “Wow. I mean. I didn’t expect that at all.”

“I know it seems like it’s coming out of nowhere, but I’ve felt like this for years,” you confessed.

And that Jason did what you didn’t expect him to do. He reached out to cup your face, and then smiled at you.

You learned that Jason had many types of smiles. The smile that was really more threatening than it was comforting. The smile that meant he had a devious idea in his head. The smile that didn’t reach his eyes, when he was shaking hands with someone he didn’t like. The smile when he found something funny. The smile when he was thinking of the past.

And the smile that he only reserved for you.

It wasn’t just the upturned corner of his lips that made the smile. It was also the softness of his eyes, the relaxing of his brows. And the actual smile was just a brief moment, followed by his gaze into your eyes. He smiled like that at you during the first time you successfully threw a punch. And that time when you won first place at the science fair. Sometimes he would smile like that when you went on about history, and geopolitics, and the latest episode of your favourite show.

“Me too,” he simply said.

And there it was. The last time you felt this happy was when Lady Shiva told you she had nothing left to teach you.

“But you’re wrong about one thing,” Jason broke you out of your bliss.

“Huh?”

Suddenly he grabbed your hips tightly and threw you off of him, onto the empty space of the sofa. You gasped in surprise at the sudden movement, and before you knew it, he was on top of you, holding you down. He put his face above yours, lips only inches away that you could feel his hot breath.

“I am not a brat.”

And then he kissed you.

His cut lip grazed yours softly at first before sucking in your bottom lip with force. He broke off the kiss and grinned at you.

You narrowed your eyes at him.

And before he knew it, you had flipped him over, causing him to land on his back onto the floor with a loud thud.

Your knee was at his crotch again, a silent threat for him to stay still.

But you knew what had Jason blushing was your hand around his throat.

“Tsk, tsk, Jay,” you whispered in his ear, making a point to softly brush your lips on his lobe. “Don’t be naughty. You know you can’t take me.”

“I- wha-” he sputtered, and then tried to move.

“Nuh uh,” you warned, putting more pressure on his crotch with your knee, “Stay still.”

He continued to look at you in surprise, or confusion, or wonder. You weren’t sure.

What you were sure about was that you felt his cock begin to harden against you.

You chuckled softly to yourself. The truth was, you made it all up just to antagonize him. You didn’t really think he was a brat at first. In fact, all of your previous fantasies were of him dominating you, choking you, pounding into you while your hands were tied to the bed posts. Now that you knew he was into this, though, you didn’t mind. Not one bit.

“I’m going to get up. But you,” you squeezed his neck a little tighter, “You stay like this and do what I say, okay?”

You felt him gulp under your grip and then he nodded.

You stood up and put your hands on your hips. Looking down at him, you appreciated the view.

His hard chest was going up and down fast as he was panting. You saw a flush grow from his neck to his cheeks. Your gaze went down his abs, to his crotch, where you saw the outline of his hard cock and a small dark spot at the tip.

“Take off your pants for me,” you commanded.

He just stared at you.

You raised an eyebrow. “Do I need to threaten you?”

You gently stepped on his cock with your toes.

“Okay, okay!” he hurriedly slid off his sweatpants, revealing his hard on.

You never saw his cock before. You sort of knew it would be large based on the outlines whenever he wore sweatpants or boxers. But, wow.

He was perfectly long, and perfectly thick, and perfectly uncut. Though, his foreskin was now stretched back, revealing his head that was red and pulsating, desperate to be touched.

“Hey, my eyes are up here,” he grinned, his confidence and smug attitude back.

You sat back down on the couch and crossed your legs, making him confused.

“Well?” you prompted, “Start stroking.”

“What?” he asked, “Down here?”

“Mhmm,” you hummed, “Go on.”

He slowly reached for his cock and gave it a squeeze, eliciting a small moan from his lips. You bit your lips at the sound and the sight.

Fuck, he was so hot. You had dreamed of watching him jerk himself off for so long, and now there he was, sprawled on the floor at your feet.

He started to really stroke himself now, his eyes fluttered close and his mouth parted in heavy breaths.

“Fuck,” he gasped.

You saw that his cock was now slick and wet with his precum. You wanted to taste it so bad. You wanted him to shove his cock down your throat and mercilessly fuck your face until you gagged and cried.

Not today. He will have his turn some other time.

“Okay, stop,” you said in a sing-song voice.

“Wh-what? No,” he refused, still fucking his fist.

“Baby,” you stood up, “I said stop.”

He groaned and opened his eyes, his arm stilling around his dick.

You proceeded to take off your jeans, and your bra, causing your breasts to fall. Exposed to him for the first time, Jason was actually smacking his lips.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful. I want to touch you,” he whined and moved to get up.

“No,” you denied, “Stay down there for me.”

You walked over to his head, placed your feet on either side, and then dropped to your knees so you were hovering your pussy right above his lips.

“This is fine too,” he mumbled, hands going straight to your ass, kneading them. Then, he took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of your arousal.

“Mmm, you smell divine,” he whined.

That did it. You just knew that you were drenched.

He started to mouth you through the fabric, kissing your folds, nibbling on them.

“Please, take them off,” he begged.

You complied, only because you couldn’t stand not being touched. The moment you returned to your position, Jason attacked you with his mouth.

“Fuck!” you gasped.

It was as if he was making out with your pussy. Wet lips on wet lips, he licked you everywhere, from between your folds, to your opening, to your clit. It was like he was starved for you. Hungry for you. All the while, the sound of wetness and his muffled moans filled the room.

“Jason,” you sighed. You felt the familiar warmth spread at the base of your core.

He knew what you wanted. You felt him focus on your clit with his tongue, and then a finger entering you slowly.

You let out a high pitch whine when he started finger fucking you while ravishing your clit at the same time.

A second finger.

He was hitting the right spot, so deep inside you. You had thought about this as well. Whenever you saw his fingers on a trigger, or that time when he was making pizza dough and kneading. You imagined his thick, calloused fingers inside you, fucking you the way he was right now.

He quickened his pace and added more pressure to your clit.

You knew he knew you were close. You could feel it. Your body was tense, and you knew you were tightening around his fingers. You gripped his hair with both your hands, because you just needed to hold onto something.

And then you were coming.

You didn’t know you were screaming until you felt a gush of wetness between your legs, splashing everywhere.

Jason fucking Todd made you squirt.

“Holy shit, I’m so sorry,” you apologised. You stood up too quickly and didn’t realise your legs were jelly, so you ended up tripping onto the wet floor next to him.

“That was so hot, don’t be sorry,” he looked at you incredulously. His face was glistening with your juices.

And fuck, was that a sight to behold.

You couldn’t help but grab him by the neck and pull him in for a kiss. You tasted yourself on him.

He crawled on top of you, sucking your lips, pushing his tongue into your mouth. One hand roamed your body while the other propped him up above you. He squeezed your breasts and your nipples, and went down to your waist, between your legs. He gripped your thigh from below and pushed it up so you were spread open.

He hooked your leg on his shoulder.

And without warning, he pushed his cock into your wet, sensitive pussy.

“Fuck!” you screamed as he bottomed inside you.

He filled you up so perfectly, that you never wanted to be empty ever again. He stretched you out so beautifully, that you thought your walls would just be molded into shape specifically for his cock.

“Hnngh,” he groaned, “You feel so fucking good. So fucking tight.”

You felt him thrust deep inside you, reaching all the spots that made you writhe in pleasure. He began pounding you hard, wet slaps made even wetter as you leaked all over his cock.

You weren’t gasping for air. It was so intense that you couldn’t breathe. Your mouth was opened in a silent scream until you actually had to remind yourself to inhale.

There were no words that you could form in that moment. Just absolutely filthy, vulgar sounds that rang through his apartment.

Through teary eyes, you watched him above you.

He was panting, breathing hard. You weren’t sure whether the moisture on his face was from sweat or your juices earlier. His dark hair had fallen down to poke his eyes, his brows pulled down in a frown. His chest had beads of sweat dripping, trickling down to his abs.

He moved his hips with precise and sharp movements. Every thrust into you was accompanied by gasps and whispers of words you couldn’t hear.

“You look so fucking beautiful,” he praised breathily, “I want to watch you come again.”

It wouldn’t take too long.

You were already feeling like you were going to unravel. The heat pooling again, even more intense than your previous orgasm.

Jason increased his pace, and then reached down to your pussy to thumb your clit.

You screamed.

It was like a wave that pulled you down and released you. You felt your body tighten and your walls clench and unclench. You felt hot liquid release from your core, just like waves crashing.

Before you knew it, you felt empty. Jason had pulled out and jerked himself off over you.

He came long and hard in a loud groan. White ribbons of cum shot out of his pulsating cock, reaching all the way to your face.

He collapsed next to you on the floor, huffing and panting.

You felt drowsy all of a sudden, but so fucking relaxed.

“Wow,” you breathed.

“Mmm,” he mumbled, “Can’t move. Can’t think. Shhh.”

You giggled and scooted closer to him, pressing yourself onto his sweaty, sticky skin and rested your head on his chest.

You felt his heartbeat drum against his ribcage.

He rested his arm on your head and played with your hair.

“I can’t believe our first time was on the floor,” he complained.

“I think it describes us perfectly,” you closed your eyes and smiled.

He kissed the top of your head. After a beat, he asked, “Will you tell me what happened in Cuba?”

“One day,” you told him, “I need time to process it as well.”

“Fair enough,” he responded, “So, uh. Are we like, official then?”

“If you want to be.”

“Do you want to be?”

“I do,” you admitted, “I’ve been pining for you for a long time.”

“Me too,” he confessed, “We should have done this sooner.”

“I don’t think so,” you thought, “I think right now is the perfect time. We figured ourselves first, we explored what we wanted to do. We found our reason. Well, I did, at least.”

“So you’re really serious about this then?” he asked, “Fully committed?”

“One hundred percent,” you stated, “I think that we can make real change. Slow change. But change nonetheless.”

“Okay, then,” he sighed.

“Okay?”

“Okay, I’m in,” he said, “I can’t promise you that I will stay for the cause. I can’t promise you that I will even believe in it. But I can’t do the silence again. You have no idea how difficult it was for me, these past six months.”

You frowned. You wondered what happened. You will ask another time.

“But I can promise you that you will always have me,” he continued, “I don’t know what this is, and what these missions need you-or us- to do, but you will always have my support.”

You felt deeply moved. “Thank you,” you whispered.

You didn’t have to worry about your identity anymore. About being confused, about being corrupted by the roles you had to play.

Because as long as Jason was there, you were you.

[netherworldpost]

Hi! I followed you for a long time with alot of "jeez someday I hope that can be me some day" fervor and now I am starting my own small goth shop. Do you have any tips on reaching the alternative audience? or tips on general about running a shop I'm nervous.

1a. Protect your cash flow

This is to say constantly question "does this shiny envelope packaging pack in make people love my shop more or is it a money drain?" This is not a simple answer.

It is an answer you'll ask yourself all the time.

The answer is going to shift. Fun unboxing videos? Great for social media posts. Great to get attention. Great fun. Expensive to produce. Worth it? Constantly check.

I really want to stress this: I am not saying "do not do it" -- I am saying "do what makes sense."

In the business-to-business world (you're a business, other businesses are going to sell to you), one of the most effective/common sales tactics is "take this thing you do and make it fun."

Your product is fun.

Your product is quality.

Your packaging etc.'s primary task is to get your product to your customer efficiently (easy to read address labels) and safely (stuff does not break).

1b. Protect your cash flow part two

Evil Supply Co. was the original shop. It experimented with everything -- color changing cereal spoons (launched), temporary tattoos (launched), umbrellas (did not launch), plates and bowls and towels and toothbrushes and shower curtains (did not launch). So much more.

It was primarily a stationery company.

The experimenting was incredibly fun, I regret nothing, and it cost me giant truck loads of cash. That's why Netherworld Post is focusing far more tightly.

2. Can't meet budget? Reduce scope.

When you're talking to designers or web hosts or whatever, and they say "We want $$$" and you say "I have $," reduce your scope down. This fits into the above, you're noticing a theme maybe.

This is a business. It has to make money to continue, it has to make profit to pay you to continue, it has to compensate you for your time to continue.

OR

It is a hobby.

And it doesn't have to do any of those things, it just has to scratch that itch that made you pursue it. It can still sell stuff, it can be a shop, it can be open when you want and closed when you want.

There is no moral, ethical, social value difference between a business and a hobby.

Do what fits into your goals, and if your goals shift, change your shop to accommodate.

3. Have fun

Your biggest competitor by a factor of 1:100 is other shops:folks posting your work without attribution or links.

You've seen the videos where someone is saying "Oh you're so pretty, you're so cute? No, YOU are so pretty, YOU are so cute." That's small business life.

There is enough for us all. Just have fun.

4a. Reaching people

Post stuff. Works in progress, memes, rambles, whatever makes you "you". Pepper in shop links and email sign up links occasionally.

Just be you.

If you don't know who you are, well, that's what you should post.

There is this idea that there is a "brand" that you have to build, and you're going to get (if you aren't getting them already) a million targeted ads to help you build this brand.

"I sell stuff. It has a price range of $X. It is high quality! Or it is cheap quality and priced accordingly! It can be found at xyz dot com. It will get to you in Z days/weeks." = 99% of branding.

The other 1% is "when you think of me, you think of X." Such as, when you think of Netherworld Post, you think of atty's antics and Fang's amused exasperation and Halloween and spooky things and mail and ghosts and mermaids, etc.

4b. Decide your social media bandwith and stick to it

There are ten billion social networks.

It's common to feel like you have to be on them all 24/7. Attempting to reach this is going to burn you out and use up limited resources, it is far more effective to have an email list (this is independent of all networks) + the networks you, as a person, enjoy using and focusing there.

See #3 above. Fits here too.

5. Keep going when things are hard or convert this into a hobby You're making this shop for a reason.

That reason is more important than money, otherwise you wouldn't be doing it.

Building a shop is infinitely harder than playing video games and reading books and watching movies and dancing -- every hour you are working on your shop is an hour you're not playing video games about dancing books.

If you say "this sucks," convert it to a hobby. See #2.

The reason I'm building Netherworld Post instead of doing other business things that would make much more money is because I love it. It feeds a part of me. It makes me more "me" to run this shop than to not run this shop.

The minute that changes, I'm converting it to a hobby. Keep the door open when I want to play, close the door it when I'm tired, re-open after I rest.

If you want more money in your life, get a second job.

If you want money doing THIS -- take every problem as it lunges at your heart, take that tender in your black painted talons, look at the problem carefully, then tear it apart until you have the answers.

You are going to be doing this constantly.

It should be part of the fun.

If it's not, make this a hobby.

There is no inherent value in having it as a business.

The value is this project is it should make you more you.

Every single problem you are going to face -- every single question you are going to ask -- every single opportunity, every issue -- listen to me, everything -- has at LEAST one industry built on solving it.

Not company. Industry.

Keep going until you find someone or something that fixes it for your budget and scope.

6. You do not work for other people

You mention you've been around for awhile following me, so maybe you've seen my...

...occasional ...lack... of delicacy...

...when dealing with people who have a confusion about who is running this blog (them vs. me)

People are going to say "you should lower your prices, you should post more X, you should post less Y, you shouldn't post about Z person/ business/ entity/ thing because of Reasons."

Critiques and criticism can be valid.

They are not directives that need be followed.

There are consequences for not following them (people may leave).

There are consequences for following them when you disagree with them (your shop may feel less like your shop and more like someone else's).

This is not license to be a jerk.

It means that this is your shop and it has to make you more "you" and if it doesn't then it isn't your shop it is a pain in the ass job that pays you far less than you should be paid.

It's like dating as the most confident person in the world.

"This is who I am. Am I compatible with you? IF SO we will drink root beer and dance badly to old cartoons and dress up in silly costumes and be absurd. IF NOT then I wish you well, and the instant you are gone, I will never think of you again."

I ask no one to change who they are when they follow my blog or read my rambles or shop in my stores.

I do not change who I am for the people who follow my blog or read my rambles or shop in my stores.

You must adopt this attitude too.

Or it's not your shop.

It belongs to people you don't know who make you uncomfortable.

Which is the exact description of the world's worst paying job or second job. Which is the exact opposite of why you are building your shop.

[extravagantwolf]

A snow-covered grief. Story beneath the cut. TW for animal death, grief, and murder.

The soft exhale creates a puff of white. It fades gently into the white abyss as if it never was there to begin with. Closing her eyes does not part the image of white from her eyes. A lingering constant, ebbing at her, and refusing to leave even when her voice cracks to plead, “Please go.”

So many cats seem to come and go, flickering in and out brutally and cruelly. No matter how many times she screams, begs, or yowls, there’s never a budge in the sky nor a miracle. Her worn and callused paws can only carry her across barren ground, picking up burrs as walks, to the graves she built to take their place.

Crude is the only word she can think of whenever her eyes lay on the snow-covered mound of rocks with the roots of a mangy tree sprawling across its surface. A family grave should be more dignified, but she found herself wallowing in despair. The only sign that this can be considered a “proper” grave is the broken pillar sitting in front of it. Each day, she tells herself to wake up with conviction. Pride, maybe, too. It’s all she can do for them now.

Belief is not something she can give anymore. Uttering prayers never helped ease the agony of loss. Perhaps they are frolicking in the sky above and watching her with their myriad of emotions. It isn’t that she hopes they aren’t in a beautiful world of full bellies and warm pelts. She wants to believe death is as wondrous as the nursery tales told; where stars fleck their pelts and they are honored warriors serving the Moon.

“But why? Why let everything be taken from us?” she asks, to which she receives no answer. She never expects one. StarClan does not follow her pawsteps, and she has come to accept such realities. Aspenstar often rambled that her warrior name was a gift from the stars. Hence why suddenly she took an interest in her doings. When the mural of the left behind was discovered, it only furthered Aspenstar’s silly rhetoric.

Another breath touches the frigid air and becomes another lost sight. Sitting down, her paws whine about the sting of the cold. How ironic it complains when they can’t anymore. Her head tilts to the side, lingering on another grave made only a year ago on a starless night. But tonight, the stars gleam and watch the living from their haven. If she could ask them to come down and answer one thing, it would be a simple question on the surface.

“Did I do enough?” she murmurs as she outstretches a paw and brushes away the snow from where a nameplate should sit. Every time she attempts, she throws it off of the cliff and storms back to camp. No cat asks her what happened now. They all know of her self-made graveyard below. Some attempt to comfort her, but it feels hollow. She knows – well, for most cats here – they do mean what they say. Yet the ostracizing will always linger.

Perhaps that is why she got along with Chikoritabreak. Cats often whispered about his past too, and they were not secretive about their distaste. Jokes about kittypets, twolegs, and all that comes with them was nothing but normalcy too. Even though he was Aspenstar’s apprentice, that did not silence the meowing. Specklefire, while careful, still spread such rhetoric on occasion. She thinks she did too unknowingly. Those words were bred into her.

It’s far too easy to turn someone into an outcast. Easier yet is when no cat realizes they are. Now… It’s too late to ask any cat about the whys. Bleakchest might be shunned, but she cannot bring herself to turn her back to her. Revenge wasn’t the answer, she knows that, but what if she was there that night? What if she was staring down Chikoritabreak, her dear friend, and heard him confess to the crime of killing Specklefire? To the crime of killing…

“Stars, I wonder if you enjoy my misery,” she bitterly chuckles. Her shoulders crash in, leaving her head to fall and linger on the pathetic and wilted plant trying to grow. Doesn’t it know that few ground-dwelling plants can survive on cold and wretched nights? Is it a fool too? “You want something you can’t have, you miserable thing.”

Unsheathing her claws, her paw wraps around the pitiful sprout. It would be so easy to pluck it from the ground and toss the weed away. Whisk its legacy into nothing more than a forgotten memory. Yet her heart knows better, and it sheathes her claws for her. “You’ll be forgotten if I keep waiting and dawdling and failing and…” The rambling trails away as her eyes steady onto the brilliant moon hanging above. White clouds her vision, but even then she can see Silverpelt gleams brilliantly without cease.

No cat can lose their way whenever Silverpelt stands above them, or so Specklefire said. Perhaps a few nights of work will forge passion. Seoli said not to stay up too late, to get some sleep for once in her life, but apparently she’ll be able to sleep endlessly when death comes for her. For now, if only to appease her heart, she’ll ponder a mural again. Think from the angles of these cats only she knew and saw. Imagine a beauty that can carry their legacy far into the future.

“And maybe…” She chuckles with a lop-sided smile. “Maybe it’ll be something so wonderful you’ll descend from the stars.”

[justsomerandomfanfic]

do you have any advice on doing matchups for people? i wanna open them up for my followers, but i’m nervous for my first time! 😫😫 yours always seem so perfect for the people you do them for!!

I would love to help, so hopefully my advice does help! <3 I totally understand the nerves, but it's amazing that you want to do matchups for your followers. Here are a few tips that might help you get started: (There is more information under the cut!)

I would start with making a request rules sheet (if you have not already), in which, you can write what you do or do not allow/what people should add to their matchup request that can be helpful in the matchup process; ie. physical features, personal likes/dislikes, hobbies, etc.

Out of all the information people give me, I take characteristics and hobbies into account. If someone asks for a matchup for Star Wars for example, and they like to read and/or kind of have a bubbly personality, I would probably match them with Luke Skywalker; usually when I am reading their request, whatever character from their chosen show/movie pops in my head first, is usually who I choose for them. If that makes sense. (For some reason, some characters just click!) :)

I usually follow my gut, or what feels right for that person. Sometimes it is difficult to match someone with a character, especially if it's a large fandom they have chosen. That's why I narrow the information that I want to just physical traits, personality, and hobbies. Sometimes, it can be stressful if there is too much information given, it can get to a point where you don't know what to use; in my opinion.

Really, it all depends on what the person sends you. As said above, I use the things that stand out to me the most, whether that be their favorite color or where they like to go on the weekend, I usually just write something cute featuring those things, to make it more personable.

Lastly, I write it out in bullet points, each around a sentence or two. For me, I start the first one or two points with how they meet, before doing the next three points featuring their likes or hobbies. And I usually write in either the requestor's pov, or both the requestor's and the match/love interest. I also ask myself questions, and answer them in my matchups. (You can organize yours in any way that you find easy, comfortable, and fun for you.)

For example, I have this down below;

First Point: How did they meet? Where are they when they meet? If this place plays music, what are they listening to? When at what point in the fandom do they meet? Post or pre events? Was it love at first sight? Was there some tension? Enemies to lovers? Or had they been friends since childhood?

Second Point: What are they both doing? Are they interacting? Is there anyone else around them? Friends? What's the situation? What are their thoughts on one another? What made them want to start dating?

Third Point: Are they on a date? if so, where? Is it somewhere the requestor likes or the love interest? Is their favorite food there? A favorite drink? Or are they participating in the requestor's favorite hobby? Or are they spending time together indoors? If so, what are they watching that the requestor likes?

Fourth Point: What are their feelings? Has there been a timeskip further into their relationship? Where are they now? What hobby or cute thing are they doing?

Fifth Point: Conclusion. Are they happily in love? What are they doing that the requestor loves to do? Final information and cuteness can be added.

(I think matchups are just mini drabbles, so I write mine like a fanfic that's been split into five pieces, but everyone's matchups are different!)

(P.S. It helps me to separately write their request down in a notebook, and highlight their likes, dislikes, hobbies, and so on; so I don't have to scroll or go to a separate tab to find their request and read it again.) :)

I hope that helps? I feel like I am rambling! But, that is basically what I do. What I truly know is this really takes practice. But, you can totally message me, (if you feel comfortable in doing so), if you need any additional help with anything. I would be more than happy to help you along in the process!

Good Luck!

-Chloe

[lgcxnoeul]

hear me out

"Yeol!" He blurts out, corner of his lips tugging upwards into a full smile, skin dimpling directly above his cheeks. "My favorite moment of the day had to be cheeky Yeol and his friends trying to steal Byeongkwan's sweater. Who knew sheep could be so mischievous? I wonder if the sheep found it hideous..." A soft laugh escapes his lips and he shifts on the bench, resting one hand on the wooden seat. He figures that there was a slim chance his interview would make it in the final edit. He would cross his fingers and if necessary, he will think about finding refuge afterwards. Act first, think afterwards was his motto for the weekend. "-...That could be it, right?"

"Or, we were such easy targets for a prank... I heard sheep are good at remembering faces. I hope Yeol and his friends remember us fondly." His fingers find a knot in the wood, circling over it with his thumb while he continues rambling on. He tilts his head, briefly eyeing the moth above the camera equipment. He softly hums before continuing to answer the question, visible pout interwoven through his speech. "I guess that I shouldn't feel offended if Yeol doesn't remember me. It'll be hard to pick him out of a lineup."

"I can't stop smiling..." He reaches up to pinch his cheeks, feeling his facial muscles tense underneath his own touch. Maybe, he shouldn't have the carbonated drink. "I didn't know Byeongkwan could be that clumsy. He looked like a foal learning to walk fresh out of the womb." His comparison makes him snort, fully knowing that Byeongkwan would get his revenge if his interview aired. "I wasn't much help either, but Yeol could make it on the national soccer team. I've never met a defensive player like him on the court."

"Now that I think about it... Our group isn't that different from Yeol and his friends." He answers the following question with a firm nod, biting on the inside of his cheek to keep himself from laughing. "We're motivated through our stomachs. Our weekend revolved around gathering food or cooking it." He counts with his fingers, keeping his hand visible in the frame. "There were no winners or losers. In fact, I will boldly say that everyone was a valuable player this weekend. It was fun seeing everyone's personality shine through and I think that despite us being divided into teams, we all worked together to keep up the lively atmosphere. I'll cherish the memories we made together."

"Ah, I'm out of time..." He rises to his feet, shuffling forward to get up close and personal with the camera. "Until next time! Bye, bye~"

[ailendolin]

bed bargain: Isabelle and Thomas from bbc ghosts

Here's your ficlet, anon! I must admit I didn't know what to do with your prompt at first but I hope you like this little exploration of what might have been.

Next up:

Conversationalist: [Alison] rambles in their sick state.   

✿: feeling so out of it, they need constant attention - Caphavers

Ask Games are here & here. Filled prompts are here & here on AO3.

Prompts for these two ask game are closed. I'm currently accepting ones for this ask game as part of my 500 followers celebration.

————

In Dreams

Bed bargain: [Isabelle] won’t stay in bed. [Thomas] convinces them.

In a perfect world, Thomas would have lived.

He might not have won the duel but he would have survived the wound, and Isabelle and her father would have seen that his affections were honest and true and that he was willing to defend her honour with his own life. She might have kissed him right then and there as he lay against the tree and was being treated by the doctor – just like he had told Alison in a desperate attempt to hide the truth about his broken heart and lonely death. The letter in his pocket would have been forgotten and in its place happy promises been made. 

They would have married in the summer. Thomas could see it all in his mind – the bright blue skies stretching endlessly for miles above their heads; the blinding sunlight highlighting the smile on Isabelle’s face; the roses everywhere around them in bloom, filling the air with their sweet fragrance. Isabelle would look radiant in her wedding dress, like Aphrodite come to life. More beautiful than the goddess, even. Thomas would give her a rose, white as snow and pure as Isabelle’s smile when they leaned in to kiss in front of everyone to seal their vows, and Isabelle would pin it in her hair before they danced together and laughed and lived.

Their first child would be born a year or two later – a girl, Thomas’s little Marigold. She would have to fight her way into the world, aided by her mother, and be loved all the more for her strength. Thomas would dote on her and rarely allow her to be taken away from him. With Marigold nestled safely in his arms, he would sit with Isabelle and gently encourage her with sweet kisses and love-filled prose to stay in bed and give her body the time it needed to heal after the difficult birth. He would sing her songs, would read to her from her favourite book, would point out the silly shapes the clouds formed in the sky outside the window – anything to keep her smiling and make her recovery easier for her to bear. It would not be easy but Thomas would not utter a single word of complaint. How could he when every second he spent with Isabelle felt like a gift?

A few years later, they would welcome another child into the world: sweet William who had Isabelle’s eyes and Thomas’s nose, the poor lad. Young Will would ensure that Higham House would be known as Thorne House for the next two-hundred years – a legacy that came at a cost. His birth would be even more difficult than Marigold’s had been; would last longer and be more complicated. It would almost cost Isabelle her life and affect her health for the rest of her days. She would be forced to stay in bed for weeks afterwards and this time, Thomas’s helpless attempts to make her smile would fail and he would bear the brunt of her frustration more than once.

It would test their marriage like nothing else had before and while Thomas would consider the year after Will’s birth the hardest of his life, he would still look back on it with a smile because he knew it could have been so much worse. Isabelle’s anger at him, at the world, at herself was no hardship to face when he reminded himself that he could have lost her, could have lost William too if things had just gone a little differently.

This life he’d never lived haunted Thomas’s dreams every year when Isabelle’s Death Day came around. He had been by her side back then, had watched her wither away like a flower without sunlight after the birth of her second child, unable to hold her hand or open the curtains to show her that the sun still shone in the world outside. When at last she succumbed to her illness and the light took her away, he had shed the tears Francis hadn’t cried for her before Robin had gently steered him out of the room and away from her body.

Thomas couldn’t be sure things would have turned out differently for her if he hadn’t been so foolish on that fateful October day but he knew he would have cared for Isabelle more than Francis ever had. He would have seen that she was happiest when in the company of him and their children and made sure to be with her when she fell ill so she would not have felt alone for even a minute.

Maybe his love, the love of their children, the love for them, might have been enough to grant them a happily ever after.

In Thomas’s dreams, it always was.

[lizardwithacomputer]

Finding A Specific Missing Announcer Voiceline from DDR: Mario Mix

I just went though unimaginable torment (spent 5 hours trying to do this) in order to obtain the following sound byte:

What you hear above is the voice of Londell "Taz" Hicks (I'm 90% certain of this) who was the announcer for several Dance Dance Revolution (DDR) games, both in the arcade games and games for console, particularly Max, Extreme, and SuperNOVA. Based on ear and the release timeframes, he is also the announcer in DDR: Mario Mix.

The above voiceline has been an inside joke in my friend group for more than a decade. It has tormented and taunted us every time we boot up the game. It comes up any time performance is in the question. Speeches, presentations, concerts, D&D games, everything. I wanted this sound byte for the purposes of psychological mayhem and figured I'd do some quick searching and have it downloaded in time to get groceries.

This isolated voiceline does not exist in any archive I could track down.

So, obviously, I figured I'd get it myself. That it would be easy. And, I'll be frank, despite all my struggles, it could've been so much worse if not for the hard work of media archivists before me. Here's how I was able to track this voiceline down:

Getting into Stepmania/ITGMania/Project Outfox necessitated that I know a thing or two about where to get simulation files for the game. In fact, I'd already gotten the simulation files for DDR: Mario Mix, which is what prompted the idea of finding the same announcer. The files only contain music, album art, and step data (the arrows in DDR), and not, reasonably, anything from the game. So I had to look elsewhere.

Stepmania has a large customization and creation community that makes themes, custom charts, and, most importantly for me, announcers. The first thing I did was figure out the most likely announcer for DDR: Mario Mix, then headed to the Stepmania archive and started downloading. I started sifting through the files, but all I could find was this voiceline from DDR Extreme2:

As you can tell, these may be the same words, but it is NOT the same voiceline. It isn't smug enough. It's too supportive. This will not cause the torment I desire. I started to despair. I trawled every single other game Taz had announced for and only found this same inflection. The smugness of DDR: Mario Mix eluded me.

The next thing I did was try to get them from the game itself. The Dolphin Emulator has a really cool feature that lets you extract the contents of "discs" (in this case, a mounted .ciso file). Once I had that, I started to sift through, praying that it wouldn't be embedded in an obscure bin file.

Instead, I found this, in a folder labelled "sound":

What the hell are these file formats.

Briefly, I gave up on trying to extract things from the disc and started looking in different archives. I found one archive of video game music, that had happened to back up all of DDR: Mario Mix, and it happened to include some sound effects in it! I was hopeful, but after clicking going through every unhelpfully-named file, I was out of luck. Why would an archive lack part of the game? Well I went to the forums tied to the archive and:

DID YOU REMOVE THE VOICE CLIPS I'VE BEEN SEARCHING FOR, 1425720626? DID YOU?!?!

Anyway. Searching this forum still provided me with some other options. Mainly, a post talking specifically about the msm and pdt files I was confused by before!

And this was figured out 11-12 years ago!! Remarkably, the download for the script still worked. So I loaded it up into VSCode, fixed some of the outdated code (specifically, had to change ord() calls to int(), some bytes stuff, I could ramble about this, but-), and ran it. This python code produced 465 dsp files. A dsp file is an older type of data sequence file that is common in older videogames and is used to play audio.

Since its on the older and obscure side, it's not something a native media player can play out of the box. The forum I've been searching through, it turns out, is actually part of a bigger website (hcs64) that has tools related to video game music archival, including audio ripping tools and, more importantly, a program that can play and convert dsp files called vgmstream.

I used the vgmstream web player to listen to a couple randomly chosen dsp files I had from the 465 I'd gotten from the python. Luckily, there was a small form of organization, and when I hit the files starting with 0003, I heard the sweet, sweet voice of Londell 'Taz' Hicks. And to my elation, the very second file I tested was the glorious, smug, tormenting words:

Everybody is watching you!

This is generally where you stop, because you've got the file now. But since I'm writing this primarily for my own archival purposes, there's a couple other steps I took after downloading the voiceline.

See, vgmstream converted the file to a wav file and I needed an mp3. This is actually easy enough. If you open up VLC (traffic cone video player) and go to Media>Convert/Save, you can convert it easily. I threw the file in there, made a new profile for the conversion settings, adjusted the bit rate to be the same as the wav file...then, instead of making the sample rate the maximum, like I should've done, I left it at the minimum and, uh...

whoops.

[daddy-suguru]

Hiiiii❤️❤️ congrats on the 8k followers

I hope you've been doing well!

I've been going through it. My fiance got in crutches as healed up for like two weeks out of them before the hurt himself again. By chopping the whole tip of his finger off at work.

Tmi I go into tiny details about his finger. If that makes you feel sick. Then skip down to the bold.

I feel so bad for the lady who found his finger tip lying there because he hadn't realized the whole thing came off. He just thought it was a bad cut.

I got a call during work from him saying ‘I'm gushing blood, my finger is done and I'm heading to the hospital. Don't worry call you back later’ And then I had to go on break because I was shaking. Luckily two people helped me get through my work faster so I could leave early that day and go see him.

We went to a hand specialist two days ago and they said it healing nicely. A good but of healthy flesh is left above the bone so it will slowly re grow back into a weird or maybe normal looking finger tip.

Changing his gauze at home has gotten easy to do. And luckily the sight doesn't make me too sick. It's more unsettling cause I don't want to see the inside of his finger but it has to be cleaned and redressed three times a day.

So I'm happy that it wasn't worse, I'm happy that he is healing well. It seeks like a weird time to start writing again, considering but my fiance has been so supportive.

He feels bad getting taken care of and I have to remind him that when I'm hurt he doesn't want me to feel bad about him taking of me. Which is working. He can't play any games, other than sims and I feel so bad for him. Since he loves playing online shooting games and wants to finish horizon.

So I'm frazzled, worried, hopeful and excited all at once. Anyway sorry for the long ramble. How have you and your babies been? I hope things have been going well, that your are loving your job and that you've been getting some good sleep :3

[closedcoffins]

" ah, melvi, you're here. " The look on Luck's face was one of surprise, having not expected the other to drop on by before the hour. Almost uncharacteristically, he was only in a white button - down & slacks, sleeves rolled to the elbow. It appeared as if he had been in the middle of something -- cooking, if one had to guess. The apartment was suffused with the unusual scent of garlic & herbs.

Luck's eyes glanced about, as if he were looking for something, but really he was just avoiding Melvi's gaze from a slight embarrassment. He wasn't quite sure yet how he was going to tell him, but . . . there was no point in lying now, was there? It wasn't as if he was doing anything bad, just . . . perhaps a little bit more heartfelt than he was used to.

" i . . . wasn't expecting you to come by so soon. sit, sit, " he motioned towards the couch, " dinner should be ready at any moment. i'll admit, it's nothing quite like Berga's cooking, but hopefully it's to your liking . . . i also went ahead and picked up some cake. i . . . didn't know which flavor you preferred, so i ended up buying several slices. vanilla, chocolate, strawberry -- what's the other one? ah, wait, where are my manners? "

As if finally getting a handle on his rambling, Luck regained his composure and proffered up a smile, relaxing. " buon compleanno, my dear. i hope it is a good one . . . ah, excuse me. i have to take the sauce from off the stove. " | it's a birthday ask for Melvi, Luck would not let me rest until I sent one once he saw what the date was jvdbkjdjdvksb

It’s remarkably easy to forget, most days, that he has a birthday at all. Silly, insignificant things like keeping track of how old he is had not occured to Melvi at all until he saw the behavior in the members of the Gandor family. Even when he had seen it, he’d dismissed the tradition as something humans did to cope with the fact that they only had a certain number of “birthdays” until they died---being immortal, Melvi hasn’t ever had that problem. He’d thought himself above that sort of thing, until Luck.

Honestly, he hadn’t even known the day he was created. For the first several weeks of his existence, he’d known nothing, and it had taken years for Melvi to learn enough to understand the calendar and the passing of the seasons. He could have been created at any point in the year, and he’d have no way of telling otherwise.

But when Luck had asked him, some long time ago now, what day his birthday was, he hadn’t told Luck the truth---that he must have been created on some day, but he really had no idea. No, he’d panicked, not wanting to feel the slight sense of pity Luck tended to get when Melvi discussed his life under the rule of the Dormentaire family. October 29th, he’d said, calling to mind the first month and number he could think of. It had been an insignificant, nonsensical answer.

But he supposes that it’s no longer insignificant. Luck has remembered every year, after all. And he calls himself self-centered... What a contradictory man.

“Good evening, Luck. What’s all this?”

Because of his own forgetfulness surrounding birthdays, Melvi can’t help but feel both surprise and an odd sort of tenderness when he opens the door to Luck’s apartment and is faced with the uncommon aroma of something cooking, followed by Luck himself, dressed-down in a way even Melvi isn’t privy to seeing very often outside of the bedroom. And he can’t remember if he’s ever seen Luck take the time to cook something himself.

Despite himself, his expression slips into a tender smile as Luck goes on, nerves evident in every move he makes, every word that leaves his body.

“You can be a very ridiculous man, at times,” he comments, but only because the will to tease any further has been sapped out of him by the affection he feels. It’s hard to want to prod when he knows this is all for him---Luck’s demeanor, the food... Really, it’s all unnecessary, and Melvi would have been happy with Luck’s presence alone. But he suspects Luck knows this. Giving in to Luck’s obvious need to treat him to something special, he acquiesces to his lover’s hurried requests for him to stay back and let him carry on, moving to sit on the couch. He can at least use the movement to hide his face, which is rapidly growing red.

Honestly... How long have we been together, now, and I’m still unable to face him when he does things like this? It’s almost pathetic. But I don’t really mind being pathetic in front of him. I prefer being reduced to this state with Luck than I do acting high and mighty with anyone else.

He watches Luck retreat back into the kitchen to fret over his sauce, though, turning around to do so and resting his head on the couch’s back. There’s a somewhat clear view of the kitchen from here, and though Melvi hadn’t meant to peep on the surprise, he enjoys watching Luck as he devotes his focus to this dinner like it’s the most important thing he’s going to do for a long while.

But he’s always considered Melvi important, hasn’t he? Important enough to spare, anyways. Important enough to give him a job. A life, even. When they’d first talked after Melvi’s defeat, Melvi had believed it would have been impossible to reach a level of humanity that would allow him to consider someone else important in return, in a way other than considering what they could offer him. And now he’s in Luck’s apartment, watching Luck cook him dinner for his birthday he’d made up on a whim, and every ounce of love he feels for Luck is undeniably human. 

“... Thank you,” he calls, the sound carrying effortlessly through the apartment, since it’s only the two of them and the only noise in the apartment is the sound of Luck in the kitchen anyway. And then, a little quieter, a sound that carries just a note of wavering from someone who still isn’t quite used to saying such things, “I love you.”

I don’t deserve you. But I’ll continue trying to be worthy of your love, if you’re going to love me so deeply anyway... Ah, Luck, you’ll really be the death of me with things like this.

happy birthday, melvi! / accepting.

[crazyf0rswayze]

the gang meeting Darry’s shy and quite s/o??

Sorry if this is bad, it only my second time writing hcs, oh! And hope hcs are ok bc you didn't really ask for them but I thinks it's a little easier to write and for others to read hcs about this stuff!

-darry would probably tell them all your shy and a little quiet

-'look guys, she's not super social ok? So just go easy on her'

-Pony, Johnny, and Soda would be super chill about you, and not push you to talk.

-if they ask a question and you stutter or shrug they'd be like 'oh it's ok y/n don't worry about it!'

-Dally, Steve, and Two-bit would be very loud and stuff.

-if too much noise scares you: here how the above 3 would react to you flinching or covering ur ears

-two: 'oh I'm sorry hun...a-are we being too loud?'

-steve: 'haha she's covering her ears' Darry smacks his arm 'sorry y/n we'll quiet down'

-dally 'what the fuck are you doing bro'💀

-soda Johnny and pony would be super kind and if you flinched Johnny would get a little scared but that's it

-Darry would answer simple things for you like your name, how many siblings you have, how old you are, ect

-if you were at any point too overwhelmed with the noise, questions, and conversations, Darry would take you to his room

-'its ok honey. I know you're a little quiet and stuff, they'll understand ok?' 'i know but I just feel rude for almost ditching them Darrel'

-to feel comfortable and stuff about all the noise, Darry would hold you hand and squeeze it

-he would wrap an arm around your shoulders or

-wrap his hand around your waist

-dally would be a little pushy bc

-1 he's kind of an ass

-and 2 he needs to hear it from you and not Darry

-'oh yea she has-' 'darrel I didn't fucking ask you'

-darry would probably lecture Dal and hit his arm and chest when he was pushy or rude

-you would try to hold conversations, and Soda made that really easy bc he tries to understand everything

-and I feel like he's just a really good listener

-you would probably click with Johnny bc you both are rather quiet

-if you like movies and books (ik as an introvert I do) Ponyboy and you would get along

-two-bit would make you laugh and get you comfortable around everyone with jokes

-steve, after getting a talking to, would be super kind, and ask you about interests

-if you like cars, he would literally love you

-dally would offer you a cigarette....and that's probably one of your few interactions

-'you want a cancer stick y/n' 'o-oh I'm ok thank you Dallas' 'just call me dally ok?'

-if you have a burning hate for socs, you and dally could be close over that

-two-bit and you might also SHARE jokes instead of him just telling them

-as you get comfy, Darry would slowly back away, and just let you do your thing

-he would answer less and less questions as the night goes on

-'you know y/n...I proud of you. For really talking and stuff. I love you, you know that? I think you'll get along with everyone just fine'

-he would say as he grabs water from the kitchen, you following

-he would hug and kiss you too let you know it's all ok

-'ooohhh you guys kissed!'

-soda would tease

-it would really only be cheek kisses though.

-after a little bit of Darry being further from you, he would walk back over an cuddle you

-'im really proud'

-he would say kissing your head

-johnny and you might bond over disliking socs and fights (if that's your opinion on that!)

-'yea...a few weeks ago fucking BOB gave this scar, I hate him' 'omg me too! He sucks, I hate his guts. The scar makes you look tuff though'

-darry would be super happy for you, and be smiling a lot

-'why are you so smiley baby?' 'nothing...just happy you're talking. You know, you find YOUR people and then you just start talking and rambling and stuff. It makes me happy'

I think that's it...sorry y'all. I might update it tho!

[kingdomhearts-and-soriku-trash]

Slight Soriku Analysis and Riku and Sora Analysis:

My thoughts don't make too much sense and I'm rambling with Soriku mentioned and also just Riku and Sora (by themselves) as well and I'm just rambling my thoughts aloud. There's some proofreading, but sorry if some stuff is off and looks wrong or something :(.

“It won’t be easy, but I hope you’ll remain the happy and cheerful Sora I know.”

This letter and moment of Kairi is really sweet. I really do enjoy seeing her admit that she wanted to become a keyblade wielder, make friends with Lea, and learn that she CAN do something on her own. She’s learning and I really like that improvement of her character (since she couldn’t do much before-).

The only thing I find so sad about this scene is the line I quoted above. She wants him to remain the happy and cheerful Sora she knows, but what about the other parts she doesn’t know? The parts that maybe even Riku doesn’t know or doesn’t recognize?

What about the Sora that is sad because of all the hurt he carries around? What about a Sora that is angry because of others actions towards him or others? What about the Sora that is lost because of so many things happening all at once around him? And what about the Sora that isn’t all cheerful? I’m just always thinking about Sora’s different sides as a person and how I wish people got to see them.

I’m thinking like this bc that’s just how I think, but ALSO because of these tags from @tharkflark1

I think about this a lot. Not just the part of him listening to only Riku, but the part of Donald and Goofy not really picking up the cues of Sora being upset or slightly angry. They’re his close friends and do care for him, but they seem to lack on the actually treating him like a person and not a child part. They push him out of the way when they talk to the king, Donald berates him on simple things like when he says, “Plain old Sora,” whenever he messes up or slips up, or telling Sora to take things seriously even if he is taking them seriously, and they just seem so overbearing in a way.

But Riku?? Riku is a lot more supportive. I take a look at Riku and Sora from KH 1 (since I’ve played to the end battles and such) to now, and I see a lot of development between the two. Now that is clearly obvious, but I really like to look at the two together.

Riku was one of the bad guys in KH 1. He betrayed Sora, I believe he used Kairi against Sora, he gave into darkness, tried to hurt Sora multiple times, hurt others for his own gain (I think), and he just did a lot of terrible actions. However, after all that, I believe he began to get better. In CoM (which I think is next after KH 1?), I believe Riku was looking for Sora, right? He was looking for him just like Sora was looking for Riku. He was searching because he needed to see him again, but he found out that he was too late.

I believe near the end we learn that Riku was simply…too late to see his best friend. When he did, Sora was put into the pod to have his memories restored (I believe most of them were? I haven’t played CoM :(). Riku then decided to help Sora wake up by finding Roxas and finding Xion (I believe he found Xion? I could be incorrect so ignore this part of the rant if this is wrong). He ended up fighting Roxas and losing (once again I cannot remember so sorry), so he gave into the darkness again. But this time it wasn’t for his own gain, it was for Sora. He no longer seemed to focus on himself or whatever he wanted, he focused on saving Sora. That’s a heck of a jump in character, but it’s so good.

Finally, we get to KH 2, and that’s where we see Riku and Sora development. This game is basically Sora helping others while looking for Riku at any given moment and!! We see their bond grow A LOT. Literally! In Mulan’s world, Sora knows it’s Riku who he is fighting and believes Riku is the one following him. At one point, Xigbar shows up, so, to me, it is unclear whether it was truly Xigbar that followed him (other than the one time where he actually fought Riku on the mountain) or Riku. But it doesn’t matter. We see Sora looking everywhere for Riku, and seeing him use their connection to do it! It isn’t shown too much here, but the moment when Sora finds Riku (thanks to Kairi as well), I think this is the moment that Sora truly stopped hiding his emotions.

Sora actually seems to be emotionally responsive to romantically involved scenes (in a way) or at least seeing two people who are very close be happy. Once again mentioning Mulan, when she and Shang get permission to work together, they basically hug and look at each other with such a wholesome look. Sora is watching and he actually begins to cry. He begins to CRY. It’s all of a sudden and he’s embarrassed and tries to hide it. Donald and Goofy still come over and kinda tease him about, which I think also messes with Sora’s confidence and such.

AND THEN!! When he finds Riku, he also breaks down, but this time it’s different. This isn’t reaction to a scene of two others, this is him in that kind of moment. He finally gets to see Riku again after so long and he’s just…so happy. Sure it may not be romantic, but it’s clear that he and Riku’s bond is very deep because of the reaction. He saw Kairi and gave her a hug and seemed happy, but the reunion between Sora and Riku was so much bigger and an attention grabber to me even before I saw them romantically together. Then we get to the fight with Xemnas, and we literally see Riku fight to protect Sora. They’re both fighting together, but we see Riku actually push Sora out of the way and take a stab in the side that was meant to possibly kill Sora. ITS JUST!! SO MUCH!! Later, Sora carries Riku to safety and is very uplifting to him. He cares deeply for him, just like Riku cares deeply for Sora.

THENN!! DDD LITERALLY HAPPENS!! Do I even need to explain? The entire game is all about them looking for each other and wanting to be together. LITERALLY! Upon waking up in Traverse Town, Sora calls out for Riku because he wants to be with him, and Riku does the same whenever he wakes up in Traverse Town. He looks for Sora and follows Joshua without a second thought only because he mentioned Sora. They both just want to be together and it shows some more development. Riku from KH 2 was distant and nervous, but he was open on the Dark Shore. He admitted how he felt towards Sora before KH 1 (not entirely but he admitted some of his feelings) and actually laughed with him. They were comfortable again, despite the terrible circumstances. Then, in DDD we see their connection in true form.

Sora is lost in the Deep Abyss because of trickery and being used, but Riku was able to save him. He followed him down and freed him from what was trapping him, and it was all mainly because of their connection. We see them both care for each other in new and open ways and its actually shown to us. We're seeing more to them together while also individually.

DDD was very soriku, but it wasn't entirely soriku. Near the end, we see Sora trapped in a nightmare that contained Kairi and Riku walking away from him. He was so excited to see them, but they just had fake smiles on their faces and walked away from him, as if he didn't exist. Then, they turned into Aqua and Terra and called him, "Ven." This confused Sora and only made him chase after Kairi and Riku more, furthering himself into the nightmare. I think this part of the game is showing Sora's desire to be with everyone again and to be safe, and showing how his nightmares and fears are literally surrounded by him losing his friends. He loses people he cares for and that's his biggest fear, or at least it's in his nightmares.

For Riku, we see him become confident in his ability and believe he is worthy for the Keyblade again (he smiles when he notices he actually summons the keyblade on Sora's heart station; not Soul Eater) and realize how important Sora is to him. He smiles whenever he talks about Sora, thinks about Sora, and even smiles when he realizes that he finally has the strength to protect what matters. I think the scene after he beats Ansem (when he says "to protect what matters," line) is when he truly realizes how much he cares for Sora and possibly that he loves him.

This is important because in KH 1, we see Riku saying he doesn't care about Sora at all several times, but now we see him confident in his feelings and in his abilities. Sora's side is also important because throughout each game, he says how his friends are always by his side and how they are his power, but this moment shows the fear of being abandoned and watching them leave him. The game shows the opposite of who they were or at least of what they have shown throughout the games at some point.

And now KH 3 is, to me, showing more about Sora's feelings. We see him become more vulnerable to people's comments, we see more people rely on him, and we see Sora wanting to do things on his own. It's really implied everywhere. We go to Twilight Town and Little Chef tries to control him, and we see that he's reallly uncomfortable with the idea. I bet it is uncomfortable to be controlled by a rat, but still, his insistence on doing it himself is common. He says he can take each villains taunting, he can handle his keyblade, he can save Aqua, he can save Riku, and can save other worlds. He seems to be piling a lot on himself and it just is sad :(.

And then, near the end, we see Sora break down again when he realizes everyone is gone. Riku is still with him, but his emotions just cloud around him and he can barely take everything in. He just screams and falls to his knees and looks up at Riku as his tears fall.

And I want to refer back to picture I added with the tags about how Riku is the one Sora listens to, and I agree that...yeah. It's mainly because Riku is kinda the only one to look at him as Sora and not as a savior or someone who needs to be a hero. He doesn't demean Sora in any way, but instead comforts him and reminds him that his journey is just as important. He doesn't bicker, tease, or do anything other than try to calm him down and realize that he's doing good. I'm near that scene now and I just LOVE it alright??? The way Sora looks up at Riku??? And the way Riku looks down at Sora and speaks to him??? And in the Keyblade Graveyard, he does the same. In a final action, he gives his life to try and protect Sora and even said HE BELIEVES IN HIM!!!

ITS JUST!! So soft guys. I love the development between the two in all of these games and the development of the boys themselves.

But now, all I wish for is for Sora to be developed further. I want to learn about his sadness in more detail, Anti-Sora, if darkness still has some sort of hold on him, learn about his memory problems (I believe some of his still aren't correct? Or at least he doesn't remember them properly? I could be wrong-), and learn about everything he holds inside himself! That break down in KH 3 always stays on my mind and the way he just looks in awe and...emotion when he sees Riku give himself up to protect him. He just....has so much going on inside him and I REALLY want it to be explored more in depth and for other characters to see it as well.

I mean, other characters other than Riku lol.

Anyways, this made no sense and I'm going off from what I remember and my brain may be a little slow and not understand many plot points correctly. It's just how I see things at some points, and if you want to correct me on any points that I mentioned that I could've gotten wrong, please tell me! I'm always excited to learn a little more about the lore of KH and actually know when I'm right or wrong. And please don't hate! This isn't meant to hate on any ship or any character in any way. If it came off like that, then I'm very sorry, but I hope you just understand that this is my thoughts that literally have rambled since that ONE scene of Kairi writing a letter lol. I've had KH 3 on pause since then-