#YES this is a hint hint that I will literally draw anything for my asks as long as it’s related to my interests

[writingficsanddaydreams]

Little Paintings

Mihawk x gn!reader

Summary: surely the extremely observant and powerful warlord of the sea won’t notice your little paintings all over his castle…

Content: pure fluff, with just a hint of romance. reader is written as autistic.

A/N: I recently watched a TikTok where somebody was painting cute little designs all around their house until their spouse noticed. It made me think of this idea. Like all my stories, Mihawk is based on a mix of his live action personality and the little bit I know from watching some of the anime and reading the manga quite literally years ago. Enjoy!

—————————

You like painting. Always have, always will.

However, you’re not sure if the fearsome Dracule Mihawk will appreciate it so much as you, not when you’re painting inside his crystal ware cabinet. Especially not when you didn’t bother to get his permission. 

Not that you’ll stop.

If anything, it makes you determined to work quicker, nudging more of the delicate wine glasses aside to you can lean in and finish the adding paint strokes to the fine wood, creating a minuscule image of a little bottle in the back corner of the cabinet.

Is it silly for a fully grown adult to be doing this? Perhaps. Yet you can’t help but smile as you add the final touch to the tiny little label on the bottle, a small swirl of purple paint to match the label of the wine he shared with you yesterday.  

Perfect.

When you extract yourself and carefully push the wine glasses back in place, the painting is completely hidden. You have just enough time to hustle back through the chilly castle halls and tuck your paints in your room before he returns inside from his sword practice.

He gives you quite the long look when you settle in the kitchen later that day, those piercing yellow eyes seeming to cut through your surface and see so deep. And though you feel your breath catch—as it often does around this formidable man—you force yourself to smile innocently.

“Yes?” you ask.

“I will be sailing out for supplies this afternoon,” he says after a long moment.

You nod and draw your knees to your chin. “Do you need me along?”

“No need for that.”

You sigh with relief, watching as he turns back to his cooking. You don’t dislike people, but you do prefer your solitude. You always have, ever since you were a child. It’s why you feel content to stay here now.

That, and how utterly delightful it is to watch him cook.

He’s terribly handsome when cooking, though you’re fairly sure the man would look handsome doing anything. His knife seem to blur as he cuts up the vegetables, then begins to prep the meat. When he reaches for the pans, his cross necklace shifting against his finely cut chest, your heart skips a beat.

Yet he simply grabs a pan and gets to work, seeming to not notice the tiny cross shaped sword painted just behind where the pots hang.

Really, it’s foolish of you to do this. Yes, art has always been a passion for you, but you are a guest here. A guest he has allowed to stay for some months, and a guest who has shared just enough casual, accidental touches that you hope it might become something more, but still a guest.

Still, you’re curious. Just how much can you paint before the great swordsman notices?

You’ve been at it for a week now, ever since you found the dusty little bottles of paint tucked away in a forgotten storeroom. You use every moment he’s out to sneak little paintings around the castle, none bigger than your thumb.

There’s the little map against the doorframe of your room, like the treasure map you were following before you stumbled on this island.

Then there’s the small ape painted onto one table leg in the dining hall, a far less fearsome version of the beasts that chased away your captain and crew when you all landed here. You recall how frustrated you were that they left you behind, a frustration that has long since faded now that you can count on the safety of Dracule Mihawk’s castle.

He walks past you now, a hand brushing briefly against your arm before he continues on to grab the spices across the kitchen.

Not an accident, surely. Nothing this man does is accidental.

That makes you think of the minuscule wanted poster you painted in the corner of your doorframe yesterday, in honor of the fear you first felt when you realized just who inhabited this place. Funny how frightened you were that first day. And the second day.

…and the third.

By the forth, however, you had figured out he likely wasn’t going to kill you.

By the fifth you’d determined that so long as you didn’t irritate him, he didn’t seem inclined to make you leave either. In fact, as days went on, you became fairly certain he didn’t mind your company.

Which is why you now play this foolish game of sneakily painting designs all around his castle.

You always considered yourself clever. Yet apparently all it takes are a few “accidental” touches and heavy looks for you to throw all your caution to the wind. Teasing a warlord, vandalizing his castle… such a perfect plan for long term survival.

Still, you do truly enjoy painting.

Your favorite are the flowers you painted along a small crack in the stones of the great hall, colored with a yellow that makes you think of his stunning eyes, the eyes that have over the last few months shifted from disinterest and disdain to… something else.

Something that makes you hope perhaps you won’t always be just a guest.

You’re not brave enough to make any moves yourself—never really have been when it comes to matters of the heart—but that won’t stop you from seeing just where these lingering glances and soft touches might eventually go.

Those same eyes stare at you again now as you make your way to the dining hall and pick at your food, separating the small bits of tomato from the rest of your meal. You bite back a smile as his gaze cuts down to your plate and he takes note of the rejected vegetable. Knowing him, he won’t use it in your meals again.

You honestly don’t know how a man so observant has not noticed your paintings yet.

“Do you need anything from the village?” Mihawk asks, startling you from your thoughts.

“I’m alright, I think,” you say. Given the nearest village is several islands away, you take a moment to think about it truly, but everything you need has been provided for you already. If anything, you’re far more comfortable here than you ever were with the crew you sailed alongside, a crew that only cared about you for your rough mapmaking skills—your least favorite thing to paint if you’re being honest—and were quick to abandon you when the first hint of danger appeared. 

He nods and turns to his own plate. You try not to stare at the wall behind him, where you‘ve recently painted a tiny little figure sitting in a tiny little chair wearing a tiny black wide brimmed hat, hidden just at the base of the dining hall floorboards.

Trying not to giggle about it keeps you distracted through most of lunch.

“I’ll be off then,” Mihawk says as you both finish your meals, rising from the table.

“Be safe.”

Ah yes, because you need to tell the strongest swordsman in the world to be safe. You mentally kick yourself, but feel better when he offers you one of his rare almost smiles, even as he pauses by your chair.

“Don’t worry yourself,” he says, that confidence that you’ve come to admire woven through every inch of his words. “I highly doubt there will be anyone to challenge me. Truly a shame. Oh, as a note…”

“Yes?”

Your breathe hitches as he reaches out, gently taking your hand and lifting it towards him. You’re hyper aware of how strong his grip is. So powerful, yet intentionally gentle. Of how piercing his gaze is, those eyes that are so hard to meet, even as they set your heart racing. He lifts your hand to his lips and presses a slow, deliberate kiss against it.

Oh.

When he lowers your hand, he’s… smiling. Not just that almost smirk, but a real smile. Your heart lurches again at the sight. When he speaks, it takes you a long moment to process his words around the pounding of your heart.

“The entry hall could use a few more flowers, perhaps, if you must paint all over the walls.”

Then he’s off, leaving you stunned where you sit. Your draw your hand close to yourself, staring at the skin he kissed.

You hadn’t noticed it until now, but on the back of your hand is just the slightest smudge of dried purple paint from earlier.

As you run a finger along the paint, you find yourself hesitating. Then before you know it, you’ve risen from your chair and are hurrying to follow, to catch Mihawk before he leaves the castle.

Perhaps you need some supplies after all.

More paints. New brushes. A proper tray for mixing your colors… and maybe even a true kiss from the warlord you’ve fallen for.

[buckets-and-trees]

You're such a wicked menace, Eva!

Title: Insatiable Characters/Pairings: Bucky Barnes x female!Reader Word Count: 1845

Summary: Your new boyfriend comes along when you pick up the keys for your new apartment and conduct the move-in inspection.

Content Warnings: explicit smut (oral - female receiving, vaginal fingering, nipple play, vaginal penetration, hint at overstimulation, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, cream pie)

Logistical Notes: Fulfilling my February box for @buckybarnesevents Build-a-Bucky Bingo event (forehead kiss, fingering). Follows our Desperate couple but can be read as a stand alone piece.

Additional Notes: Honestly I didn't have any plans to return to our rivals-to-lovers couple from Desperate and Uncertain and Sure again so soon, but this gif hit a certain inspiration and may pull from some literal "reader insert" vibes as I'm moving into a new apartment right now... Also thoroughly inspired by this post coming across my dash today thanks to @ghotifishreads.

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

You couldn’t help the permanent smile on your face.

Yes, moving was going to be a hassle, and you didn’t have a clue how everything was going to fit into this tiny one-bedroom apartment, but being back in the place again, keys officially in your hands, the place really yours, standing in front of the bright living room windows that made your heart sing when you first saw the place, that feeling that this was your place warmed your whole chest again.

It was hard to break away from the light streaming in through the windows, but you turned your head to look at Bucky. “So? What do you think of the place?”

He was new to your life, too.

The kidnapping and rescue in Paris had been only a month ago. Over that month, you and Bucky had been figuring out what the revelation of your feelings for each other meant outside of a life and death situation. Parts of that were easy, other parts were trickier, but nothing that made you want to abandon ship.

“I think it’ll suit you well,” he answered. His smile was soft. You loved seeing this side of him, especially after so many years of angst and rivalry between you.

“You’re practically glowing with excitement,” he added.

Your smile grew to a grin, and you shrugged one shoulder. “It’s smaller than the place I’ve been, but I couldn’t resist all this sunlight.”

You turned around and looked at the empty living room that bled into the kitchen area. “I want to try and measure things and figure out where everything will go before the movers bring the furniture in tomorrow. I’m still worried about whether all my shelves will fit or not.”

You set your bag down on the kitchen counter and began to pull out a measuring tape, the blue painters tape you planned on using to map out the furniture shapes on the floor and rummaged for the hastily scribbled together list you’d made of your furniture dimensions.

Bucky had remained silent – he was often so silent you could forget he was present when you got immersed into something – and you spun back around to see him still in the same position across the room by the windows, studying you.

“What?”

“You know what we have to do before anything else,” he said seriously.

“What’s that?”

He licked his lips.

Oh.

Your stomach flipped.

“Bucky, we can’t–”

He chuckled. “You have the keys, it’s officially your place,” he said, stalking toward you. “We absolutely can.”

Before you could utter another word, he reached for your elbow and tugged you into his arms, planting a sound kiss right on your mouth, swallowing all protest. He coaxed your lips open, and his tongue licked into your mouth, drawing an eager moan from you.

Damn, he was too good at this, you thought as your hands came up to clutch at his back.

He pressed your bodies together, and you were not surprised to feel the evidence of his arousal pressing against you. One thing you had learned about Bucky over the last month was that he could be ready to have you on the turn of a dime, and he could be insatiable. That your body responded so quickly to him as well was both blessing and curse. Less than a minute and you were melting completely against him, eager for more, and you could feel the slickness already growing at your slit.

Your hands dropped down his back, but only to reach the hem of his sweater before dipping under so your fingers could eagerly climb up against his naked skin. He grinned into the kiss.

With his sweater quickly halfway up his torso, Bucky broke off the kiss momentarily to pull it up and off the rest of the way. Then he coaxed you down to the floor, spreading his sweater down on the hardwood floor and laying you gently on top of it. His body covered yours, and he began kissing you in earnest again, his vibranium arm planted next to your head while his other hand began deftly working at the buttons on the front of your blouse.

It was only another moment or two before he’d pushed your shirt open to bare your torso to him, and Bucky wasted no time in trailing his hot lips down your throat to blaze down your chest, paving a heated path between your breasts, over the band of your bra, and down your stomach. He gave your belly button a playful lick that had you gasping and a giggle bubbling up your throat.

“Bucky!”

He chuckled, and reached down to pull your shoes off as he pressed more kisses over your stomach. Then, with both shoes discarded, he knelt above you to unbutton and unzip your jeans, before pulling them down and off your legs. As your legs came back down on either side of him, his hands skimmed slowly along your inner thighs, and when they reached your core, he pressed one thumb at the base of your clothed slit and brushed it up over the damp cloth of your panties, the other thumb following just after and teasing you again there. You canted your hips up, wordlessly asking for more.

Bucky smirked, but he hooked his fingers into the waistband of your underwear and quickly pulled them off, tossing them to the side as well.

“Please,” you begged.

“Happily,” he whispered, then lowered himself down to wedge his shoulders between your thighs, pressing them wide to accommodate his broad frame. He licked a stripe up your dripping slit, moaning at the taste of you.

Your stomach swam with butterflies and your cheeks heated slightly. You had never been with anyone so unabashedly open with their desire for you as Bucky. He held nothing back when expressing his pleasure, his desire. It was a heady thing to be on the receiving end of, and you it still had you between feeling slightly flustered and drowning further in the depths of how intoxicating it was to know the effect you had on him.

He applied a second, slower lick over your folds, and then he began to kiss your lower lips the way he did your mouth, and your entire body coiled up for him, back arching, hands grabbing for his short hair, legs contracting.

“Bucky, god, yes,” the words tumbled out as you quickly began to lose more and more of your coherence.

But he was slow and torturous in his ministrations. You squirmed for more, but he held your pelvis down with one firm hand, while the other gently caressed your hip. Your fingers found his vibranium ones, and he entwined them with yours and started to fuck your cunt with his tongue.

When he heard a little whine escape from you, he began to suck your clit diligently. The orgasm that he’d been building you toward escaped from you briefly, but the switch picked right up on building that tension again, and he flicked his tongue a few times across your swollen nub as he sucked, and then you cried out as you finally tumbled over the edge of ecstasy.

He pressed a kiss to your cunt, then shifted up, quickly maneuvering his hands beneath your back to unclasp your bra and pull off your last piece of clothing. It was the only moment of reprieve he gave you, because then his mouth dipped to suck at one of your tits, and one of his hands worked into your folds, slowly stroking in and out of your tight channel. Two fingers curled into your pussy, and he quickly found one of his favorite places – that spongy spot on the front of your walls, knowing he found exactly the spot he needed as you gave a debauched moan. He slipped in a third finger, and as he sucked the hardened nub of your nipple and lapped at it, he worked to rip your second orgasm from your soul more quickly. It was clear nothing was going to deter him from his plans to ruin you in the empty apartment, and you could only be glad you were up on a floor high enough you didn’t risk any neighbors seeing in your open blinds to see the way he was taking you apart right there on the floor.

The second orgasm burst through your body unexpectedly, and it stole the breath from your lungs.

It had ripped through you so powerfully that you didn’t register the clinking sound of his belt buckle coming undone and hitting the floor as he unzipped and pushed down his jeans and boxer briefs.

But you noticed he wasn’t finished with you as he slipped one hand under your thigh and angled your hips to slot the head of his cock between your puffy folds.

You whimpered, fighting to open your eyes and plead your case as you looked into in the depths of his heated blues. Whether you were pleading for him to stop or for more, you really didn’t know or care at this point.

He hitched your leg up around his hip and slowly slid his fat cock fully into your cunt. “So damn good.”

You moaned openly, completely debauched on pleasure at this point, but clearly your pussy wouldn’t refuse him plying you with even more of it.

Deep, slow strokes.

You felt every aching inch of him as he thrust slowly in and out of your tight channel. He still made you stretch around him, and it was exquisite for both of you.

Full, so full.

In and out.

So deep inside of you now, and you could do nothing but make incoherent noises beneath him, gasping for air. “I know, sugar, I know," he murmured into the crook of your neck. "Gonna give us what we both need.”

And he fucking does, as he does every time, using your body as if he’s had you for years. He rewarded you both with an orgasm that truly leaves you boneless and breathless once he finally pushed you over the edge and then sped up his thrusts to chase his own release as your vagina squeezed around his throbbing cock. He groaned as he spilled hot ropes of cum inside of you, thrusting until he’d emptied himself in you completely. Finally, he collapsed on top of you, and pressed kisses into the crook of your neck, then along your jaw, allowing you to try and catch your breath before finally kissing your lips again.

You whined against his lips, and he rolled over, taking you with him, and letting you lay half on his chest, half against his side. He continued to kiss you lazily.

You didn’t know how long he continued to make out with you, but the sun’s rays had shifted significantly once he pressed a kiss to your forehead and you rested your head on his bare shoulder.

“It’s a good floor,” he said, almost mundanely.

You laughed softly.

“We’ll need to check the counters a little later,” he added.  

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

[voxmortuus]

Number 139. for Love Quinn xFem!reader please?

✧*̥˚ PAIRING: *̥˚✧ Love Quinn x F!Reader ✧*̥˚ UNIVERSE: *̥˚✧ You ✧*̥˚ WORD COUNT: *̥˚✧ 495 ✧*̥˚ PROMPT: *̥˚✧ From THIS prompt list: 139. “take off your underwear” - “but, there’s other people here” - “they won’t see you, there’s an entire table here” ✧*̥˚ TRIGGER WARNINGS: *̥˚✧ Public smut | Fingering in public | Reader hinting to public oral | PLEASE TELL ME IF I FORGOT ANYTHING!!! I want to make sure readers are fully aware of what they are getting themselves into when they read this… ✧*̥˚ NOTES: *̥˚✧ I will literally write for any character you send me prompts for; I love branching out! So, thank you for sending me Love Quinn! This was a nice break from ATJ and others. ✧*̥˚ DIVIDER CREDIT: *̥˚✧ @nyxvuxoa ✧*̥˚ IMAGE CREDIT: *̥˚✧ @tvandfilm ✧*̥˚ My Master Masterlist *̥˚✧

The restaurant was beautiful, but of course, it was, and with Love, you wouldn't expect anything less. This woman knew how to wow you, she knew what made you tick, she knew what got your gears going in a matter of words. She knew how to give you culture, she knew how to make you smile and laugh. She gave you butterflies and she very much knew she made you feel these things, but truthfully, you told her almost daily. Looking down at yourself you often wonder why she's with you, but she always reminds you that it's what's on the inside that matters more than anything. That is most important because you need to not think badly about yourself because she loves you for you, for all of you. For every curve bump and every imperfection, in her eyes, you are art.

Looking around you draw in a breath and bite on the bottom corner of your lip before you reach for your glass and take a small sip of your beverage you look over at her and smile. You admire her, the curve of her lips, the blue of her eyes, the soft feather-like strands of her hair. With a few blinks and a warm hand on your arm, you shake your head and smile.

"Shit, hi, yes, sorry… what?" you ask. "I was just admiring you. You're absolutely stunning tonight." you state softly.

"Oh please, you're the stunning one, but did you not hear what I said?" She asked.

You flush softly and shake your head. "No, sorry, I was too busy admiring you."

"I asked you to take off your underwear.” she smirks after stating so rather bluntly.

You bink a few times and look over her face and tilt your head, and you clear your throat and lean in… "Uhhhmmm… but, there’s other people here.” you give her a nervous chuckle.

Licking her lip she takes a sip from her glass and looks back at you. "They won’t see you, there’s an entire table here." she smirks.

You flush deeply and look around and you draw in a deep breath and look around again before you slip your dress up and you slip your panties off and put them in your purse. She watches you and smirks and she places her hand on your thigh and slides her hand up your thigh and smirks slipping her fingers between your legs to feel you.

You went to speak but she gave you a stern look and smirked as she started to play with your sensitive bud. You bite your lip and you let out a soft breath. To be honest, she wasn't going to care if the whole establishment heard you.

"After this, I'm getting under the table." You state boldly.

All she could do was chuckle and look over your face. "Good thing I never wear panties." She chuckled softly as she slipped her fingers into your warm dewy core.

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Napoleonville [Chapter 6: The House Of Salt And Scales]

Series Summary: The year is 1988. The town is Napoleonville, Louisiana. You are a small business owner in need of some stress relief. Aemond is a stranger with a taste for domination. But as his secrets are revealed, this casual arrangement becomes something more volatile than either of you could have ever imagined.

Chapter Warnings: Language, references to sexual content (18+ readers only), dom/sub dynamics, smoking, infidelity, Evangelical Christians, kids, parenthood, Willis Warning, (Mis)Adventures With Aegon, Targ family dysfunction, bodily injury, blood, alligators, ANGST!!!

Word Count: 7.5k.

Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.

Taglist: @marvelescvpe @toodlesxcuddles @era127 @at-a-rax-ia @0eessirk8 @arcielee @dd122004dd @humanpurposes @taredhunter @tinykryptonitewerewolf @partnerincrime0 @dr-aegon @persephonerinyes @namelesslosers @burningcoffeetimetravel-fics @daenysx @gemini-mama @chattylurker @moonlightfoxx @huramuna @britt-mf @myspotofcraziness @padfooteyes @trifoliumviridi @joliettes @darkenchantress @florent1s @babyblue711 @minttea07 @libroparaiso @bluerskiees @herfantasyworldd @elizarbell @urmomsgirlfriend1 @fudge13 @strangersunghoon

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist! 🥰🧁

“Did you hear that Willis is single again?”

Ugh. “Yes, Mama. I heard. You told me already.” You linger in the doorway with a white bakery box in your hands: your mother’s favorite, grasshopper pie, straight out of the 1960s. She allegedly ate through two a week when she was pregnant with you. Cadi has already dashed inside and made herself at home; she’s probably jamming the movie she got from Blockbuster—Predator, Arnold Schwarzenegger, Amir recommended it—into the VHS player. “You told me, Willis told me, all his deputies told me, Cadi told me, my mailman told me, the checkout ladies at the Piggly Wiggly told me, literally every resident of Napoleonville has informed me in no uncertain terms that Willis is single again. And I could not possibly care less.”

Your mother sighs and presses a hand to her forehead, wounded and incredulous, like she’s just watched a 60 Minutes segments about a tsunami or a genocide. “I just don’t understand it. In my day, people married for life.”

You glance back longingly at your Chevy Celebrity. “Yeah. I know they did.”

“When your father, and God rest his soul, when he was young, he was a hellion,” your mother says, as if you don’t remember it, as if you weren’t there. “He’d get his paycheck every Friday and stay out all night with his buddies, sometimes he didn’t come home the whole weekend. I’d lay into him when he finally showed, I’d say, ‘Rene, how on earth am I supposed to put dinner on the table if I don’t have any fish in the icebox?!’ Once he punched a hole in the kitchen wall and I had to cover it up with a picture of President Eisenhower! And I never even thought about leaving. How could I have done that to you? Forcing you to grow up in a broken home? Mothers and fathers living apart, whoever heard of such a thing? It’s unnatural.”

You’re brainstorming recipes to distract yourself. Caramel pretzel cookies. Banana chiffon pie. Cheese Danish cupcakes with diced cherries and a hint of vanilla. “Everyone draws their own lines, Mama.”

“But it’s not just about you,” she implores, her eyes shimmering with sympathy she never had for other women. You remember what she said on the rare occasions you confided in her about your frustrations with Willis: Of course a man isn’t going to want you bothering him with your feelings when he’s had a hard day at work. Of course a man—after you’ve had his baby, after you almost died to do it—is going to be crossing off days on the calendar until you can have sex again. He keeps a roof over your head and he never hits you, what more could you ask for? “What about Cadi? What if she grows up thinking that her marriage vows don’t mean anything? It’s the foundation of society, marriage. If that goes, everything goes.”

It’s the foundation of a lot of coercion and unfairness and misery, that’s for sure. “I wouldn’t want Cadi to stay in a situation that makes her unhappy. Would you?”

Your mother throws her hands up, like you’ve told her you’re converting to communism and catching the next flight to the USSR. “Life isn’t just about happiness, sweetheart! It’s about commitment, it’s about responsibility! If everyone did what they wanted all the time, no one would stay married!”

“Maybe that speaks to the value of marriage as an institution.”

“And morality is already falling apart in this country,” your mother continues, ignoring you. That’s what she does when she can’t refute facts, logic, evidence. “Young people living together, women having babies with two or three different men, people doing drugs, people on Welfare, people shooting and stabbing each other, sex shops everywhere, naughty magazines at gas stations, men wanting to marry other men—”

“Okay, Mama. I really have to go now.”

“Alright, I’ll shut up. I will, I will, I swear.” She makes peace with a brisk kiss to your cheek like a stamp on an envelope. “Enjoy a nice quiet night to yourself. Do you have any plans?”

Well, Mama, I’m trying to resist the temptation to call my engaged dominant oil tycoon not-boyfriend and tell him to come over for kinky adulterous sex. “Not really. I’ll probably take a bubble bath and then watch something Cadi would think is boring, like 20/20.” You hand over the bakery box, and your mother’s face lights up.

“Grasshopper pie?!”

“Of course.”

“Thank you, sweetheart. You know it’s hard for me to make it myself anymore. This rheumatoid arthritis, it’s got me all twisted up.” She nods down to where her fingers grip the box, knobby and increasingly useless.

“When’s your next appointment?”

“I’ve got one in…oh…about three weeks, I think. I’d have to check my daybook. All the way over in New Orleans with some specialist that Dr. Cormier recommended.”

“Okay. Want me to go with you?”

“Yes, that’d be fine.” It would be more than fine; she wants you to go, though she won’t say it. You aren’t sure if she doesn’t want to impose or doesn’t want to admit how reliant she’s becoming upon you, like growing up in reverse.

“Mawmaw!” Cadi shouts from inside the house. “Hurry up! I want to watch Predator!”

“You quit your hollering, I’ll be right there!” Then your mother looks to you and offers one last piece of very unsolicited advice. “Just be kind to Willis, alright? Give him a chance. I don’t think he’ll ever find a woman he likes as much as you. That’s what everyone says.”

“Mama, he has no idea who I am.” And he’s not interested either.

“Sure he does. You’re the mother of his child, and you always will be. Maybe you’ll find your way back to each other.”

“I’ll think about it.” You definitely won’t. “Goodnight, Mama.”

“So long.” She shuffles into the house, and once she’s shut the door you hear her muffled voice: “Arcadia, come on over here and help me slice up this pie…”

You drive home with the windows down and blasting St. Elmo’s Fire. There’s still an hour or two of sunlight left; the world is painted in gold and blood orange, the soybeans, the sugarcane, the grass growing tall and wild, the Spanish moss swinging from the trees, the earth ripening as its revolution hurtles towards the apex of summer. Cadi is out of school until August. Amir will be announcing his looming departure to San Francisco. Aemond will be getting married.

The adolescent alligator that Aemond is so afraid of is in the far corner of the front yard, basking in the last of the daylight. You walk into your room, flop down on the bed, lie there staring longingly at the pink phone on your nightstand. You reach to pick it up, then stop yourself. Aemond hasn’t fucked you, hasn’t kissed you, has rarely touched you at all since you found out about Christabel. But he stops by your house and invites you to his; he stitches himself into your life like someone somewhere once sutured his face back together.

I can’t. It’s wrong. He’s engaged.

Aemond doesn’t know you’re home alone. It’s Friday, and usually Cadi would be here with you until tomorrow morning.

Maybe it’s not really cheating until he’s married. I mean, if Aemond and Christabel aren’t sleeping together, if they almost never see each other…is it even a real relationship?

Wistful thinking, yes, denial, yes; but with each passing minute your resolve not to pick up the phone weakens.

We don’t have much longer until the wedding. Our time is slipping away.

He’s a robber baron. He’s arrogant, he’s delusional.

And I want him. I still do, and I can’t stop.

The phone rings. You sit up, startled. It’s not Aemond, you tell yourself so you won’t be disappointed when it isn’t him. But it is.

“Hi,” Aemond says; he sounds out of breath. “I’m really sorry to bother you.”

“No, it’s okay, Cadi is actually having a sleepover with my mom. They’re watching Predator. My mom has no idea what it’s about, she’ll be clutching that Bible she got signed by Jerry Falwell a little extra hard tonight. What’s up?”

“This is going to sound random, but…you haven’t seen Aegon, have you? He hasn’t shown up at your house, he hasn’t called? You don’t know where he is?”

Aegon? Why would I know anything about what Aegon’s doing right now? “Um, no…?”

A long exhale, a lull that’s full of dread.

“Aemond, what’s going on?”

“He and my father got into it a few hours ago. They were screaming at each other, kicking furniture over, which isn’t all that unusual, honestly. But then Aegon ran away.”

“Wait, like, he’s gone…?”

“He stormed out the back door, went down to the lake, and then headed north into the trees. And I assumed he’d be back by now, but it’s getting dark and he’s not here. He never came home. His Porsche is still sitting in the driveway.” There is a pause. “I think he’s out there.”

“Out where?”

“In the woods,” Aemond says, shellshocked, terrified. “In the bayou.”

Your eyes dart to the window; the golden daylight is dwindling. “Aemond, he can’t be alone in the bayou. It’s dangerous. He could die. There aren’t just alligators, there are wild boars, cottonmouths, copperheads, snapping turtles, brown recluses, fire ants, I don’t think there are any black bears this far south but it’s always possible, he could drown, he could get trapped in quicksand, you cannot let Aegon spend the night out there.”

“I don’t know what to do.” You’re not used to hearing this in Aemond’s voice: the panic, the vulnerability. “No one else seems worried. They said he disappears all the time, and that’s true. They’re convinced he’s found his way to a strip club or a Waffle House or something and will drag himself home eventually. No one will listen to me. My father has forbidden me from getting anyone else involved. He doesn’t want gossip getting around town and overshadowing the new rig project or…you know. The wedding thing. My wedding. And I can go over his head, sure, I can make calls, but when investigators show up here to start searching my father is just going to tell them to leave. How is it even possible to find Aegon? At night in a fucking swamp? Is anyone going to be willing to go out there before morning? Do I need people with bloodhounds or a helicopter?”

No way, you think as soon as the idea hits you. But it’s the right thing to do. It’s the only thing to do. “I can think of someone who knows their way around the bayou.”

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s just after 7 p.m. when Willis arrives to pick you up: grinning smugly, mullet fluffed, Plymouth Gran Fury hauling his brand new 20-foot jon boat. He’s dressed for night fishing in boots, camo-colored waders, and a grey hoodie with SHERIFF printed across the front in black letters. You climb into the passenger seat wearing sneakers, denim shorts, and a blue raincoat over your Pepsi t-shirt. You haven’t been fishing since you were married to Willis, and you’ve never missed it. It’s a grisly business: hooks through lips, hooks through eyeballs, hooks swallowed and tangled up in some doomed creature’s guts.

Aemond is waiting at the mouth of the Targaryens’ driveway, just out of sight of the mansion they call The Last Desire. He gets in the back seat and sits there testily with his arms crossed, lips pressed into a thin line, glaring out the window as an indistinct blur of primeval vegetation passes by outside. He has on his Marlboro jacket, light-wash jeans, and Adidas sneakers. You hope he doesn’t ruin them; although you suppose he can always buy more. He could buy a hundred more, a thousand more, and it wouldn’t make a difference. You can’t fathom what it’s like to live that way. It seems to conflict with all the laws of man and nature.

Aemond speaks grudgingly to Willis, a quick flat statement that invites no conversation. He didn’t call Willis to explain the situation, you did. You’re afraid to leave them alone with each other. You aren’t sure who would be more likely to end up a corpse decomposing in the muddy silt at the bottom of Lake Verret. “Thank you for agreeing to help with this.”

Willis chuckles warmly, either oblivious to Aemond’s prickliness or unbothered by it. “Bien sur! It’s my job, son. We’ll hunt your brother down.” Then he glances over at you, smirking, prying. “So, sugar…how’d you two make each other’s acquaintance?”

“Amir and I baked the cakes for his engagement party.”

“Engagement party, huh?” Willis looks at Aemond in the rearview mirror. “You gettin’ married?”

Aemond is still staring out the window. “Obviously.”

“So you ain’t single?”

“Legally, I am in fact single until the day the marriage license is signed.”

Willis returns his attention to you. “So he ain’t the petit ami you’ve been so secretive about.”

“I don’t have a boyfriend, Willis. I really can’t be more clear than that.”

“Oh, I know you got one. I know all your looks, sugar. Some days you come ‘round my office lookin’ lovesick, like you’re just a-floatin’ on a cloud. Other days you’re real mean, like you don’t want me takin’ none of your time, like you got somebody more important to spend it on. And then sometimes you just look…” He smiles, mischievous. “Well, how can I put it? Satisfied. The cat who ate the canary. And I recall exactly what that looks like on you. It’s been a while, sure. But I remember.”

From the back seat, Aemond sighs irritably. You say to Willis: “Can we please focus on finding Aegon?”

“Sois calme, sois calme. That’s why I’m here. We’ll be in the water in ten minutes.”

There is no more discussion; the only sound is the radio, Holding Out For A Hero by Bonnie Tyler. Willis turns onto a winding dirt road that leads to a boat launch about a mile from the Targaryens’ property. He spins his Plymouth Gran Fury around and backs it down the concrete ramp towards the rippling, slow-moving currents of Lake Verret. It’s difficult to see from the driver’s seat—most people would have someone get out to guide them—but Willis knows the way by heart. He’s been on boats since before he could walk; Willis’ daddy knew the bayou, and his daddy knew the bayou, and his daddy did too, all the way back to before the Louisiana Purchase. Your family are newer arrivals (relatively speaking), having only been in Napoleonville for about 100 years and keeping mostly to the town. You remember your 11th grade science teacher saying once that alligators have been around since before the dinosaurs went extinct. Maybe that’s what Willis is: a relic of a distant time and species, afflicted with a cunning ruggedness that won’t allow his kind to go extinct.

When the trailer is mostly underwater, Willis gets out of the car to unhook the straps that keep the boat moored to it. You go outside to help and Aemond follows, though he doesn’t know what to do. He’s never handled a boat this size and it shows; perhaps a yacht would be more his speed. He stands aside and watches, frowning, hands buried in the pockets of his Marlboro jacket. His lack of expertise riles him. He’s not used to being the incapable one. He hates not having control.

Willis already has a tow rope tied to a metal handle at the bow of the jon boat; he lifts it out and gives the free end to Aemond. “Hold onto that, will ya? Don’t let her get away.”

“Sure,” Aemond replies ungenerously. Willis returns to his Plymouth Gran Fury to finish backing the trailer into the lake until the boat floats. Standing on the shore together, you and Aemond stare at each other, unable to speak honestly, unable to decide what you’d say even if you could.

The jon boat bobs in the water, and you show Aemond how to pull it away from the trailer using the tow rope. Willis drives the trailer back onto dry land, parks his car in a flat area near the boat launch, and then joins you and Aemond by the water’s edge. He walks to where the boat is floating just to the right side of the concrete ramp and, with some difficulty, clambers inside as the boat rocks under his weight. Then he stands in the middle of it and gestures for you to approach. “Let’s get goin’, sugar.”

You take Willis’ hands when he reaches for you and let him help you into the jon boat. When you stumble over a bench seat, he steadies you with a hand on your waist, familiar but in no way erotic; not for you, at least. Still, from where he is standing on the lakeshore with the tow rope, Aemond glowers venomously.

“Your turn, son,” Willis calls to him, winking. “And I promise not to get too sweet with ya.”

But Aemond doesn’t need any assistance to board the vessel. He has long limbs, good balance, and an ironclad determination not to let Willis see him falter. Aemond sits at the bow of the boat. You claim a spot in the middle. Willis takes a seat at the stern, starts the outboard motor, and guides the boat into the treacherous swampland that lurks like a stalking animal at the edges of Lake Verret.

In the bayou, the water is sluggish, currentless, thick with vivid green salvinia and duckweed. Towering bald cypress trees grow out of the opaque depths and are adorned with greyish, anemic bundles of Spanish moss like spiderwebs. Mangrove trees with their myriad of semi-submerged roots are sanctuaries for catfish, turtles, baby alligators. Larger gators—as big as the female that lives in your yard, and some up to seven or eight feet—prowl with only their nostrils and ancient yellow eyes peeking out from under the water. Great blue herons tiptoe along the shallow shoreline and stab at fish that unknowingly flit between their long skeletal legs. Cicadas shriek in the trees so loudly they almost drown out the hum of the boat’s motor. When the last of the daylight vanishes, Willis tells Aemond to turn on the spotlight mounted to the bow, and the water becomes a soupy, greenish, primordial witch’s brew beneath its glow. Aemond lights a cigarette and puffs on it as he ponders this alien corner of the world that he’s found himself in.

Willis has a number of items stowed on the flat aluminum floor of the boat, you notice now: nets, paddles in case the motor fails, bottles of water, ropes, fishing poles, flashlights, hunting knives, a few sturdy wooden walking sticks. He’s wearing his sheriff’s pistol on a belt fastened over his waders. This makes you uneasy, though you can’t recall ever seeing him use it. It seems wrong to be able to end a life with so little effort.

“Aegon!” Aemond shouts from the bow, using a flashlight to look to the sides of the boat where the spotlight’s luminescence doesn’t shine so brightly. You grab your own flashlight to help him search. “Aegon! Where are you?!”

There’s something burning in your nose and throat as you lean over the side of the boat to peer into the shadowy wilderness. Salt, you realize, but that doesn’t make any sense. Lake Verret is a freshwater lake. You turn towards where Willis is steering the boat with the rumbling gas-powered motor. “Do you smell that?”

“Yup. Sure do.”

“But…how…?”

“One of the rigs mighta hit a salt dome while they were drillin’, I figure,” Willis says. “There’s been talk for years that we got salt domes under the lake. But that don’t stop these oil companies.” He stares meaningfully at Aemond. Aemond glances back, rather abashed. “And ya know what that means. If the water turns brackish, most of the fish’ll die. And who’s got to live with that for generations to come? Not the Targaryens or the Rockefellers, that’s for sure.”

Aemond resumes shouting for his wayward eldest brother. A dark snake, perhaps six feet long, slithers down the length of the boat through the murky water. “Aegon! Aegon!”

“What did he and Viserys argue about?” you ask.

Aemond is cagy. “It’s…kind of personal.”

“Personal like he got a stripper pregnant or personal like he murdered someone in a drunken hit-and-run?”

“Neither. But closer to the first option.” Then he roars into the darkness: “Aegon!”

“Maybe the bon a rien already found his way back home,” Willis says. “Maybe—”

And then there is an echo through the bayou, faint but vaguely human, a ghost, a phantom. “Aegon!” Aemond shouts back. “Where are you?!” Willis cuts the boat engine so you can hear the reply.

Faintly, very faintly, his disembodied voice drifts out of the trees. “Over here! Help me! Quickly! Seriously, really really quickly!!”

“Keep talking!” Aemond yells. Willis is listening intently, trying to pinpoint a direction. His thick, dark eyebrows are knit together in concentration that is rare for him.

Barely audible over the screams of the cicadas: “What the fuck am I supposed to say?! Just get over here and save me!”

“We’re trying to figure out where your voice is coming from, so don’t stop talking!”

“Help me! Come help me!! Right now!! My arms are getting tired!!”

“What? What are you doing with your arms?!”

“I got him,” Willis says. He restarts the motor and steers the boat down a narrow corridor of the swamp. The path is only about ten yards wide and bordered by mangrove trees with nests of exposed, labyrinthian roots. The water is probably relatively shallow: five feet, ten feet, just deep enough for secrets. The breeze is cool and wet, almost chilly. On the shore, you spy a snapping turtle the size of a golden retriever. Its long prehistoric claws are coated with mud and green blades of marsh grass. It ogles you as if to say: What are you doing here? You don’t belong here. This is where the dinosaurs that survived the asteroid live.

“Aegon?” Aemond calls.

“Here! Over here! I can see you, I see the lights! Oh my God, I’m not gonna die! Thank you Jesus!”

Aemond laughs in relief. “I didn’t think you two knew each other.”

“Shut up and save me, you muppet!”

And then you see Aegon—the spotlight hits him, he is illuminated in a stark white glow—and your stomach plummets, your blood goes cold. In an alcove of the bayou, right where the water meets the shore, Aegon is up in a bald cypress tree. He’s about five feet off the ground and standing on top of a branch just thick enough to hold his weight. It’s too narrow to balance comfortably on; he is hugging the trunk to ensure he doesn’t fall, and a fall would be catastrophic. Sprawled on the muck surrounding the base of the tree are a plethora of alligators, all approximately ten feet in length. That’s big enough to be lethal humans. That would be big enough to kill a bear, a horse, a shark. When the spotlight shines on them, the gators begin to squirm and hiss, glaring with soulless reptilian wrath at the boat. Willis shuts off the motor, and the boat bobs placidly.

“Oh, fuck,” Aemond says.

“Yeah, exactly!” Aegon pitches back. He’s wearing an unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt and tiny turquoise blue shorts. He is barefoot. “So what’s the plan?! By the way, hey, cake lady.”

“Hi, Aegon.”

Aemond says: “How the hell did you get up there?”

“I was pissed off about the dad thing and I was walking for a long time, then I realized I was probably in the wrong neighborhood for someone with two legs and no desire to get eaten. I tried to find my way back but then these pig-looking things started chasing me and I freaked out and climbed up here to hide until they left. But as the sun went down, alligators started showing up. And the more time went by, the more alligators there were. And that’s the whole story, can you get me down now?!”

Aemond asks Willis, petrified: “How do we get him down?”

Willis surveys the scene for a moment, thinking. “Alright. Here’s what I reckon. We can toss him one end of a rope and he can tie it to the branch above him, right at the base where it’s real thick. Then we’ll hold the other end of the rope, and he can kinda shimmy on down it into the boat.”

Aegon says: “But what if right before I get to the boat, when I’m like four feet above the water, an alligator jumps out and bites me?”

“They don’t usually do that,” Willis replies.

“Usually?!”

“Look, we don’t have a lot of options,” Aemond tells his brother. “We can do the rope plan now, or we can leave you here, backtrack all the way to the boat launch, get the car, get some help, and hope they magically have a better solution for you. Or you can wait up there until morning to see if the alligators leave. You pick.”

“Isn’t that the hick sheriff guy? Can’t he shoot them?”

“Gators got brains ‘bout the size of a walnut, son,” Willis says. “And if I don’t hit ‘em where it counts, I’m just gonna make them angrier. That ain’t good for any of us.”

“Okay,” Aegon concedes. “Throw me a rope.”

Willis grabs one from the bottom of the jon boat, hands an end to Aemond, and tosses the other to Aegon. It takes the eldest Targaryen boy four attempts to catch it; the rope keeps falling and smacking the hissing alligators in the face before Willis lugs it back to the boat to try again. Once he finally obtains the rope, Aegon knots it—double, triple, quadruple—around where the branch above him, just barely within reach if he stretches as far as he can, meets the massive trunk of the bald cypress tree. Willis tells Aemond: “Now ya gotta hold the rope real tight. No slack at all, or it’ll dip and he’ll end up in a gator’s lap.”

“Yeah, Aemond!” Aegon says, his voice shaky. “No slack!”

“Got it.” Aemond loops his end of the rope around his waist, makes a knot, and then grips it with both hands and tugs it until it forms a straight diagonal line from the tree to the boat.

“Ya sure you wanna do that?” Willia says softly, nodding to Aemond’s waist. “If somethin’ goes wrong and he ends up in the water, you’ll be goin’ in with him.”

“I’m sure.”

“Alrighty.” Willis grabs one of the heavy wooden walking sticks from the aluminum floor of the boat. “If a gator tries to cause a problem, I’ll whack ‘em good. Don’t let ‘em get their jaws ‘round ya, not an arm or a leg or nothin’. If they get ahold of ya, they’ll roll and rip your bones right outta the sockets.”

“Awesome,” Aegon says from the tree. “I’m so glad you told me that. Yeah. Great. Any more super helpful alligator trivia, Sasquatch?”

“Yes sir. If one chomps down on ya, poke it in the eye with your fingers. A whack to the snout or a poke to the eye is the best way outta a gator’s mouth.”

Aegon gulps and clutches the rope, steeling himself.

“What should I do?” you ask Willis. “Should I get a stick too—?”

“Nothin’. You don’t do nothin’. You just sit down right in the middle and keep the boat steady. And if your petit ami starts goin’ overboard, maybe try to snatch him. But don’t ya fall in. Ya don’t want to be in that water. If there are gators above the water, there are gators below too. I guarantee it.”

You sit in the precise middle of the boat, using your weight to reinforce the vessel’s center of gravity as Aemond and Willis stand at opposing ends. Right before Aegon begins his descent, Aemond snags your attention. He makes a motion with one hand, a slicing, a prohibition. Don’t do anything insane, he means. Don’t risk trying to drag me back into the boat if I start going over.

“Whenever ya ready, bon a rien,” Willis says. And no one else but you knows that what he’s calling Aegon is a good-for-nothing.

Aegon begins scurrying down the length of the rope, rapidly closing the distance between himself and the bobbing jon boat. He passes above the hissing gators congregating at the base of the bald cypress tree and then over the water, where there are ripples that multiply out from epicenters and flashes of movement just beneath the surface but no homicidal alligator activity. When Aegon nears the boat, Willis seizes him and helps him into it; and then Aegon ruptures into hysterical giggles.

“I almost died, can you believe that?” he asks Aemond, who is untying the rope from his waist and beaming, the first real smile you’ve seen from him tonight. “Because I ran away from Viserys?! What an idiotic way to go. I’ll never let that bastard convince me to off myself. I gotta outlive him. I gotta do Jello shots on that motherfucker’s grave someday.”

“Yeah, you do,” Aemond agrees, squeezing Aegon’s shoulder.

“Goddammit,” Willis grumbles. He’s using his walking stick to jab at the water near the rear of the boat. “We’re hooked on a mangrove root or something.”

“Do you need help?” Aemond asks, headed towards him.

“Yes sir, if you’d be so kind. I don’t…I can’t see…what the hell is it stuck to?”

“The motor…? The blades of the motor?”

“Oh, Jesus Christ, you’re right. Yup. There it is. We musta drifted into it while we were preoccupied. Okay, we gotta push the boat off the root and then we can get movin’ again. Grab a stick, let’s start pushin’.”

“Should I get a stick too?” Aegon says, joining them. “I can hit stuff with sticks. I really want to get out of here…”

There’s a bit of a commotion at the back of the boat as the men try to propel it away from the mangrove tree. Willis is complaining that the water is too deep to touch the bottom with his stick. Aemond’s stick keeps slipping off the mangrove roots when he tries to get leverage. You aren’t sure what Aegon is contributing, if anything. The boat has begun to rock.

You look to the tree where Aegon had been imprisoned. The alligators are fully awake now; they are headed into the water and disappearing there, unseen, unheard, and yet all around you.

“I think we need to go now,” you say, but no one is listening to you. They’re still wrestling with the mangrove root. You rise, taking a few steps to the left to offset the boat’s listing towards the right. “Guys, we need to—”

The boat is freed from its organic jailor and lurches sharply towards the left. As the men cheer triumphantly—completely unaware of what’s happening—you are jolted off your feet and tumble backwards over the side of the boat.

The shock of hitting the water stuns you. It is cold and impossibly dark; when you open your eyes to try to find the surface, the boat, you can’t see anything. You paddle blindly. Something brushes your leg, and you scream bubbles of mute terror. You can’t breathe, you can’t think, you are picturing those ten-foot gators slinking into the water that you’re now thrashing wildly through. You swim towards what you think is the surface and strike unyielding metal—the underbelly of the boat—hard enough to put stars in your skull like the flashes of lightning bugs. You get turned around and don’t know where you are again. Something glides past your arm, and you gasp before remembering that there’s no air. Dark water—salt and silt and decomposition—surges into your lungs, your stomach, sinking you like an anchor from within. There is a whirlpool of motion around you and muffled shouting. Then something closes around your wrist.

The eyes! you think frantically. I have to poke out its eyes!

But the vice around your flesh has no teeth. It’s not a reptilian jaw, you realize now, but a human hand. It leads you and you obey.

When you break the surface, you cough bayou water from your throat and blink it out of your eyes. Willis is leaning over the side of the boat and stabbing at gators with his stick, shrieking at them in French. One lunges at him from the water, jaws snapping. Willis whips the pistol off his belt, aims it squarely between the creature’s eyes, and fires. The boom is deafening; the bleeding gator sinks into the water. Aegon is kneeling in the boat and offering his arms to help you climb up.

You look beside you. Aemond is barely keeping his head above water. “Go!” he orders you. “Get in the boat!”

With Aegon’s help, you heave yourself over the side and collapse to the aluminum floor, lungs aching, skull pounding, heart thudding mercilessly, soaked to the skin. Then you force yourself to your hands and knees to see where Aemond is.

“Aemond?!” Aegon is yelling. “Aemond, where are you?!”

He’s gone; you don’t see him in the water. You try to scream for him too, but the water still in your throat strangles you. Your hands close around the edge of the boat, and Willis grabs your raincoat to yank you backwards. “Other side!” says, pointing. “We’re gonna capsize, we need weight on the other side, go there!”

You scramble to the opposite end of the boat, sobbing now, still hacking up muddy water. Where’s Aemond?? Where is he??

Both Willis and Aegon are grasping for something. They’re shouting and stabbing into the water with their walking sticks. And then they’re hauling him into the boat: Aemond, blood pouring down the left side of his face, a gash by his temple, another on his forehead; something bit him or clawed him. He’s wearing only his jeans and a white tank top; he ripped off his Marlboro jacket before diving in after you. You don’t see his Adidas sneakers anywhere. They must have been kicked off in the water. His glass eye has been knocked out and lost in the muck. What’s left in its place is a void, gaping, pink; it’s difficult to look at, you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t. It has the visceral, gory quality of organs never meant to be seen. His fingertips go to the socket to feel for his prosthetic. When he confirms it isn’t there, he covers his face with his hands and moans.

He saved me. He jumped in after me.

You crawl to him. “Aemond—”

“No!” He pushes you away, and you see that there’s blood and ancient silt from the bayou in his empty eye socket. It will have to be cleaned out. Willis watches, astonished, bewildered. For once, he is at a loss for words.

“Aemond, please…” You’d do anything to help him. You don’t know how to help him.

He saved me.

Aegon reaches for Aemond. “Hey, hey. It’s not that bad. Hey…” He drops to his knees, presses his forehead against Aemond’s, stains himself with his brother’s blood. And when Aemond tries to pull away, Aegon doesn’t let him; he’s got his fingers tangled in Aemond’s wet hair. “Thank you for saving me. I’m always almost getting myself killed and you’re always saving me. What would I do without you, huh? None of us would be okay without you. Thank you, Aemond. You hear me? You’re not gonna get this again anytime soon, so listen up. Thank you. Thank you.”

“I’m just so—”

“I know.”

“I hate that I’m like this.”

“It’s not a big deal. You’ll order a new one.”

“You know what he’s going to say.”

“Fuck him. Why do you care what he thinks? Because you think he’s the one who gets to decide what you’re worth? He isn’t. He’s not qualified.”

Aemond nods, but he doesn’t seem to be convinced. He still doesn’t look at you. He turns so the left side of his face—bloodied, eyeless—is angled towards the water and out of your view. Willis goes to the motor, starts it, and begins guiding the boat back towards the launch where he parked his Plymouth Gran Fury.

Aegon glances over at you. “You okay, cake lady?”

“Yeah.” But your voice shakes. The rest of you is shaking too; now that the adrenaline is wearing off, you can feel that you’re shivering in your wet clothes.

“Put it on,” Aemond says softly, and at first you don’t understand. Then you see that he’s pointing to his Marlboro jacket, left hurriedly flung on the floor of the boat. You unzip your dripping raincoat and don Aemond’s Marlboro jacket instead. It smells like him: smoke, cologne, effort, secrets.

“Thank you,” you tell him, wanting to say more. Aemond doesn’t answer. He stares into the murky water, greenish under the glare of the spotlight, and says nothing to anyone all the way back to the boat launch. Wordlessly, he helps Willis re-hitch the jon boat to the trailer. He remembers the steps. He’s a fast learner. The blood on his face is drying; his right eye won’t allow itself to look at you. The only sound on the drive to the Targaryens’ mansion is the radio of the Plymouth Gran Fury, which Willis turns up to cover the silence: In A Big Country.

At the end of the cobblestone driveway, lights are on in the vast house called The Last Desire. Everyone gets out of the car. Willis shakes a rather puzzled Aegon’s hand, then turns to Aemond, who ignores him. Willis chuckles, more curious than offended.

“So ya are the man who’s been givin’ her that satisfied look. I knew it. Yes, I knew what I saw. What’s your secret, son? Ya must really know your way around a woman if ya got her so mad about ya with a face like that. Ya look like the Rougarou got ahold of ya—”

Aemond grabs Willis by his hoodie, yanks him off his feet, jacks him up against the side of the sheriff’s vehicle. Immediately, you and Aegon are shouting and trying to break them apart.

You plead: “Aemond, don’t!”

“Aemond, he’s got a gun!” Aegon screeches.

Fortunately, Willis isn’t grappling for his pistol. He holds both palms in the air, open and empty, like he’s surrendering; but there’s still a smile on his face. Aemond doesn’t act like he’s heard anyone. He leans in close to Willis, his voice low and dark and snarling, his sole blue eye glinting. “You had so much in your filthy fucking hands and you just threw it away.” Then he slams Willis against the car one more time, tears away from him, and strides up the porch steps and into the house.

Aegon hurries after him, casting you a quick glance and a beckoning wave. It’s an invitation. You coming? Aegon mouths, and then vanishes inside.

Willis peers up at the house: stained glass windows, immense white columns. You don’t see any signs of Vhagar the Great Dane. Willis speaks calmly and without looking at you. “I think he’s in love with you, sugar.”

Improbable. Impossible. If he was, he couldn’t marry someone else. “He’s not.”

Now Willis’ eyes flick to you. “All I’m sayin’ is that I’ve been fishin’ on that lake since as long as I can remember, day, night, sun, storms, and nothin’ on earth would have gotten me to jump into that water. Not even Heather Locklear herself.”

“Just go, Willis,” you say, exhausted, heartsick. “Thank you for what you did tonight. But please go now.”

“How ya gonna get home?”

“I’ll figure it out. Don’t worry about me.”

“Of that, I am incapable,” Willis drawls. Then he climbs into his Plymouth Gran Fury and is gone. You sprint up the porch steps in your soggy sneakers, searching for Aemond.

In the white-and-gold foyer, Viserys is just arriving. He struts across the marble floor until he is close enough to his two oldest sons to embrace them, to hit them, to extract their teeth with his knuckles. The others pour through the doorways—Alicent, Criston, Helaena, Daeron, Otto—but while they gape in horror and fascination, they don’t speak in anything more than murmurs amongst themselves. Viserys steals only a glimpse of Aegon, swift and disinterested, then examines Aemond: wet clothes, no shoes, grime and blood, dazed fury. When his cool, pale gaze reaches Aemond’s empty eye socket, Viserys flinches and looks away.

“So you lost another prosthetic,” is all he says. His face twists into a grimace. And you expect Aemond to do something, to jab back, but he doesn’t. He’s frozen, he’s paralyzed. His right eye is misty. He’s biting his lips so they don’t tremble. And suddenly you hate Viserys Targaryen, you hate him more than you can imagine hating anyone. You think that you could watch his entrails unspooled from his body without feeling a thing. The Targaryen family patriarch hasn’t spoken to you; you don’t register to him at all. You might as well be an oriental vase or a house plant.

“You’re the one who did it, Viserys,” Aegon says, stepping in front of Aemond seething and sharp like a blade. “You remember that part? I do. I remember. The North Sea, 1968. I remember him trotting around after you, always so desperate to prove himself, always doing anything you asked, anything you could dream up, worshipping you like you were God. And where were you when he was getting his eye socket debrided at Moorfields Hospital? In fact, where were you when he got his hands caught in a winch when he was eleven? Where were you when he fell off a pipe deck and broke six ribs because one of your idiot employees forgot to close a safety gate and he couldn’t see it? Where were you then? Where are you now?”

Viserys scowls down at him—revolted, repelled—but he doesn’t reply. He feels no instinct to defend himself. He is unable to internalize shame; it rolls off him like raindrops.

“You’d love me so much if I was dead,” Aegon says, grinning, baring his teeth like an animal. “How sick is that? You can love bones in a box, but not someone standing right in front of you. You love Aemma, a ghost. You love Baelon, and you never even knew him. You’ve got nothing for me. That’s fine, I don’t care, I’ll be alright without you.” He points to Aemond. “But you’ve got nothing for him either, and he’s everything you always wanted. You’re disgusting, you’re broken. You belong in a box too. The part of you that was human is gone. I don’t give a fuck about what’s left.”

Aegon shoves Viserys, hard, and then storms past him. As he crosses into the kitchen, Helaena grabs for his wrist. You can hear her whisper: “What the hell happened?!”

Then Aegon remembers one last thing. He whirls around and bellows at Viserys, his voice reverberating off the vaulted ceilings: “And I’m not getting my vasectomy reversed! You can’t make me! It’s bioethics! I asked the lawyer!” He stomps off and disappears, Helaena in tow.

Alicent shoots Viserys a hateful glare and then flees from the foyer, her long auburn ringlets streaming out behind her. Viserys goes in the opposite direction. Daeron and Otto share an awkward glance and then depart as well. Only you, Criston, and Aemond remain in the room, surrounded by treasures that might as well be handfuls of earth, flour, swamp water, salt.

Cautiously, Criston lays a hand on Aemond’s shoulder, on his right side where he can see it. “Aemond…”

“Don’t touch me,” Aemond says as he wrenches away. He leaves like a hurricane, like a flood, receding until there remains only wreckage and memory.

Criston sighs deeply, and then he asks you: “Do you need a ride home?”

You don’t respond. You haven’t decided how to yet. You stare at the place where Aemond stood, a void like a star that died out. Do I follow him upstairs? you think.

Do I?

[taffybear]

random list of my bay Leo headcanons ❤

working on Raph next! let's see how many ideas i get lol

also opening my inbox for writing (and perhaps even drawing) requests! feel free to drop me an ask <3

literally loves mitski and mac demarco. he likes very indie hopeless romantic type music, it's literally hilarious to catch him just vibing in his feels

SECRETLY HAS PINTEREST BAHAHAHAHA but just for finding poetry and looking at bonsai trees. Mikey found out (like he doesn't have pinterest too??) and they all ended up making fun of him for it to the point where Leo debated deleting the app but ended up forgetting about it.

very specific but he has this unique type of love language where he'll ask you something and without any further questions he will go get or accomplish whatever he hinted at. for example, y'all will just be hanging out, and he'll go, "are you hungry?" and if you just as much nod your head hesitantly he will run to the kitchen and make you a 3 course meal. or, he'll just ask you if you're cold, and if you say yes he brings you a heater and a blanket. he doesn't ask things like, "can i get you a water?" he'll just ask if you're thirsty and go from there.

has the most gorgeous handwriting on the planet. this beautiful cursive print that is lowkey unreadable but so aesthetically pleasing. at first you were shocked but as you got to know him it made lots of sense, literally probably his biggest hobby is just remembering some random thing and then spending weeks straight perfecting it until it's natural for him. he loves to challenge himself to be perfect at literally anything, and his hand writing is one of those instances.

HE'S LITERALLY A VIRGO GUYS HE IS THE DEFINITION OF A VIRGO OH MY GOD

speaks fluent japanese OF COURSE but his brothers don't know it as well as he does (they all know a little at least) and he'll curse them out quietly in japanese behind their backs.

Leo wouldn't say he had a favorite brother of course but he definitely prefers Don's presense over the others. they always go to each other first when they have a problem or just want to rant, and they have a bunch of inside jokes.

after Donnie, Leo's the biggest insomniac. he gets nightmares a lot unfortunately, and most times when he wakes up he physically can't go back to sleep. literally Mikey will get up for a glass of water at 5:37 in the morning and Leo is up doing flips.

very random, but Leo is AWFUL at math. he meant to learn at some point but the time passed and he missed the boat. ofc math is Don's second language and Mikey and Raph couldn't care less (but somehow Mikey always guesses the right answers without doing the correct work??) but Leo is lowkey embarrassed that he struggles with it so much. he can do basic math and most things that come up in daily life like practical equations, but anything past times tables and division he is cannot understand. if you come over and need help on your math homework he will try his HARDEST to help you but ultimately he's completely clueless.

always takes bugs outside. if the creepy crawly is creepy enough or makes you screech, he'll whip it with his katana but normally he'll take the time to scoop it up in his hands (literally no fear) and walk it outside calmly.

literally LOVES doing chores. it's like a form of self care for him. folding laundry, sweeping, mopping, washing the dishes, organizing the dojo, he'll literally put on some music and go to town. when he visits you he will literally just start straightening things up and picking things off of the floor. he hates having nothing to do so he'll just ask for something he can clean while y'all chit chat.

incredibly flexible. he can bend every which way, sit comfortably in a split for hours, can bend over IN HALF and grab the back of his legs--he's literally maxed out on flexibility. but splits training is his private time so unless you sneak you won't catch a glance. but when you do, in between of sliding dojo doors, it is... something. like excuse me sir how tf doesn't that hurt your bAWLLS

smells like lavender. dead serious his signature scent is lavender. it's not like he wears cologne or anything, he just lights a lot of lavender incense and candles to the point where if someone even steps foot in his room they walk out aroma-fied.

everyone in the fandom has their personal opinion of who's the best cook and who's the worst cook of the four, and it is finally time for my hot take of the century. i think Leo is by far the best chef, and Raph is the one who can't even make toast right. a lot of people say Mikey is the chef of the family, which i agree with, he enjoys cooking and baking very much, but this doesn't mean the food he makes is good 💀💀💀 he trusts himself over any recipe and so he just throws in whatever he feels like. Leo can't stand being in the kitchen while Mikey is cooking, his ocd can't stand it. this said, you'd think this would mean the guys prefer Leo's cooking over Mikey's but fact is Leo is such a perfectionist he will spend hours working on a meal it's past 11 by the time he's done. and he doesn't take requests, he only makes what he wants and then on top of that the healthnut version. he makes sushi a lot and goes crazy when you bring him salmon.

IS SUCH A DORK BAHAHAHA if you even so much MENTION a book or a show he likes he will blabber for HOURS about it. he knows every single fact there is to know about star trek it is insane. you amuse him not because you're interested of course but he is just so damn adorable when he's talking about something he enjoys (which he rarely gets the chance to without being made fun of LMAO)

[mouschiwrites]

Creepypasta/MH - How They’d Ask You Out

Characters: Eyeless Jack, Nina the Killer, Clockwork, Jane the Killer, Tim/Masky, Brian/Hoody

Eyeless Jack

I don’t think it would take him too long to ask out someone he liked

As long as he was sure that he really did like them, and that they didn’t hate him or anything, he’d be comfortable at least asking

He would bring flowers for sure

He’d show up at your door late at night, bouquet in hand

“Would you care to join me for a walk?”

You’d stroll through the woods, talking a bit about yourselves

It’d be a pretty deep conversation, both of you staying serious as you exposed vulnerable parts of yourselves

He’d hint at being romantically interested in you, but he’d wait until you were back at your house to pop the question

“You’ve probably noticed by now, but I really do think you’re amazing. I’d love it if you’d be my partner.”

If you say yes he’ll be absolutely radiating joy and he’ll promise to treat you well before bidding you goodnight

If you say no he’ll understand, thank you for your time anyway, and disappear into the night

He’s okay staying friends, but he’ll be sad about it for a while

Still, your companionship is more important to him than being yours

Nina the Killer

It won’t take long at all for her to ask out someone she’s interested in

As soon as she knows she can trust them, she’ll go for it

She’ll use something homemade to actually ask the question

Like a kandi bracelet that says “be mine?”

Or maybe a cake she baked herself

Either way it’s bound to be something decorative made with lots of love

She’ll find you at school/work/home and tell you she has something to show you

She smiles hugely when she reveals her little project, but inside she’s buzzing with anxiety

“So..? What do you say?”

If you agree she’ll literally drop whatever she’s made and throw her arms around you

She will proceed to take you out shopping to buy something to commemorate the occasion

Matching shirts, bracelets, a new piercing, maybe even a pizza to share

Just a little something to celebrate :)

If you say no she’ll be devastated

“Oh… well, thanks anyway…”

She probably won’t talk to you for a while, if ever again

Clockwork

She’d have to know you for a VERY long time beforehand

She has trouble trusting people, as well as trouble finding someone she’s genuinely interested in romantically

You’d know pretty much everything about each other by the time she decides to ask you out

That just means that she knows the way to your heart though

She’ll make a beautiful sketch of you

Maybe there’s some gore incorporated, but hey, if you’ve stuck with her this long you’ll be used to it

You’ll be hanging out one day, her drawing and you distracted by something else, and she’ll suddenly tear a page from her sketchbook

She hands you the drawing while saying:

“Hey, Y/n, so… I really like you. You’re my dream partner. I want you by my side always.”

If you agree to be her partner, she’ll grin, turning back to her sketchbook with a little pinkness on her cheeks as she mumbles “cool”

When you leave she’ll peck your cheek before slamming the door in your face, giddy that she had the courage to do that

If you reject her, she’ll frown

Probably won’t want to be friends anymore :(

She just doesn’t want to be around someone she loves knowing they don’t love her back

Jane the Killer

I think it depends on the person when it comes to Jane

If you guys click really well, she’ll probably try to advance the relationship quicker than if your relationship started off rocky

But either way she’s going to plan something romantic

She’ll buy you something nice and deliver it in secret

Like, one day you’ll just find a box of chocolates or a necklace with a note attached telling you to meet her someplace

Personally I like to think it’d be a blossoming cherry tree, or perhaps a scenic overlook

You’ll find her there waiting for you, hands fidgeting nervously behind her back

She’ll get straight to the point:

“Y/n, I like you. It’s okay if you don’t feel the same, but if you do… wanna be my girlfriend?”

If you accept, she’ll get a huge smile and run over to you, throwing her arms around you and twirling you around

You’ll sit together at the scenic location for a while, leaning on each other with your fingers intertwined

If you decline, she’ll just nod with a sad smile

She’ll be sad for a while, but ultimately she’s got other things in her life to worry about, so I don’t think she’ll wallow for too long

Might keep talking to you, might not; again, it really depends with her

Tim/Masky

Another one who’d have to know you a while first

He needs to make sure he trusts you, yes, but he also needs to start trusting himself around you

Once he’s sure that you can both handle yourselves, he’ll take more time to hype himself up to do it

He questions bitterly whether you’d even accept if he did ask you out

Eventually he gets so exhausted from the constant will they/won’t they in his head that he spontaneously blurts out:

“Do you want to go out with me?”

You’ll be taken aback; you guys were literally just chilling in silence

Plus he would’ve given next to no hints that he liked you at all

If you accept, he’ll sigh, slouching severely in relief

Finally some peace of mind… and heart

He’ll murmur a thank you for giving him this peace, but won’t elaborate

If you decline, he’s going to beat himself up about it so hard

He won’t blame you at all; no, every ounce of blame is going into the anvil that he’s crushing himself with

Probably won’t want to keep contact for much longer

Your presence is just a constant reminder of (what he sees as) his failure

Brian/Hoody

He didn’t know you for too long before deciding to ask you out, but he knew a lot about you

If he’s interested in you, he’s going to find out everything he can

He prefers outside sources, but if he absolutely cannot find something he wants to know, he’ll begrudgingly just ask you

That being said, he knows how to charm you

He’s a pretty naturally charming person regardless, but he wants to do something special just for you

He’d leave a gift for you; something he knows you love

Jewelry with your favorite gemstone, your favorite flowers, a nice new fluffy blanket… something on the luxurious side

Plus a note saying:

“Y/n, please be mine. With love, Brian”

He’ll approach you later and ask for your response

If you agree, he’s got a whole nice evening planned out already, and he’s more than eager to take you on this first date

If you decline, he’ll probably “cut contact”

I use quotations because he’ll probably still keep tabs on you in secret for a while

He’ll get over it eventually, but until he does that’s his way of coping

Thank you for reading!! Take care of yourselves pumpkins <33

(divider by saradika)

[mazeinthemiroh]

Hi! i hope your having a good day. i love your work and was wondering if you could maybe do skz headcannons with an idol s/o who’s the main dancer in their group?

stray kids with their main dancer idol! s/o

genre: headcanons; fluff, general, idol! s/o

word count: 0.8k

warnings: none

pls like and reblog if you enjoyed! feel free to request anything <3

bangchan

chan is always keen on self-improvement and finds that you help a lot

if he feels he's lacking in the dance department, the likelihood is he'll seek you out

not that he'll ever directly ask for help lmao

but sometimes you can just sense it and take the hint

he appreciates how much of a perfectionist you can be with your art. he's the same, of course

he feels like your brains are more similar than he thought to begin with, and through understanding how you work he recognises how much you focus and try hard to be the best, which is so attractive to him

lee know

is intrigued by your technique

that's how you piqued his interest before you even started dating him

being a professional dancer, he can pick out the superior dancers from each group with ease

you were easy for him to pin-point as the main dancer of your group because of your raw talent

so, he wanted to work and even perform with you

and since then, he has never once looked back

currently, you're his dancer partner, and dare i say the best fan-favourite couple ever. your chemistry when you work together is seriously unmatched

people are always waiting for your next collab

changbin

he literally thinks you're the best dancer in the industry and stands behind that statement

anytime his friends wanna tease him he's like "okay but are you dating the best dancer in the business? that's what i thought"

gets a good rise outta wooyoung tbh and he gets super competitive but we move

he loves bragging about your achievements bruh

he doesn't have time to talk about himself when he's wayyy too busy hyping you up

he's so proud of you like?? he can't help himself as embarrassed as it sounds. you just gotta go with it

he just wuvs you and wants to tell literally everyone he meets about your awesomeness ;-;

hyunjin

similar to lee know, hyunjin would want to work with you

he can't help but be enthralled by your beauty when you're performing

encourages you to do solo performances just so you get the time to showcase what you can do

wants to learn more classical ballroom dances with you because he's a hopeless romantic and is cheesy like that

he's just so in love

will probably write poetry about you and draw a dynamic, abstract painting of you dancing just cos you inspire him so much

idk you get him so mushy it's so cute

probably cries buckets when you do a super emotional contemporary dance, because... you know... its hyunjin

han

i mean it doesn't matter what position you are in as an idol, han jisung is a supportive bf no matter what and is literally your biggest fan

if you're the main rapper? he'll learn all your rap verses off by heart

if you're the lead singer? he'll dramatically sing your own group's songs until you hate it

and you being the main dancer? well, you best believe he's learning all the choreography

especially if you do solo work, my gosh

from the minute your new music video drops he's like "baby, where do you get those hips from??"

he's down bad, basically

felix

mr. heart eyes

he literally... oh my gosh

i can't even-

he literally is obsessed with the way you move like oh my goshhhh i cannot stress this enough

you got him feeling things he's never felt before, ouch

his eyes are always fixed on you during your performances, and yes the cameraman has both caught and exposed him for having his jaw dropped to the floor and his eyes sparkly and wide as he watches you dance

the fans and i other idols get a good chuckle out of his reactions

seungmin

he takes such an interest in how your work is doing

and he loves it when you do the same

he finds you have the same love and passion for dancing as he does with regard to singing

and that common ground is beautiful

it allows the conversation to flow so easily as you bond with your similar interests

the fact that you're both idols helps too, of course

gets so blushy thinking about how stunning you are when you dance. he's like a little boy when he sees you in action

he doesn't know how to react to his soulmate being so effortlessly talented

jeongin

amazed by you

but doesn't easily show it

lowkey wants to learn more from you but is too shy to ask directly, at first

so he'll get you in a dance studio and teach you how to do the iconic 'maknae on top' hips move, just for funsies

and then he'll casually ask you what your fave move is

and from there, he will learn how to improve from you

he admires you so much, sometimes he just has a hard time articulating that to you

so spending time with you and working on dance - something you both love - is how he expresses that

[luckyarchivist]

You're Mhin hcs are so fun to read!! Do you have any Vere hcs you'd like to share as well? (No pressure 😅���)

Gonna be honest with you, anon: I never have ANYTHING in my head to share. It's empty in there. But since you asked, here's some things that came to mind!

General Vere HCs

Because he's literally a fox Monster, I think a lot of my HCs are based around that! For example:

He's destructive. Yeah. He destroyed Kuras's office because he hates him, but I also think he can't help it. His own place probably has scratches and bite marks on appropriate posts, too, though not as many—it is his space after all, he wants it to be good enough for him.

He will sometimes bite (not too hard) as a sign of affection. Very "rawr XD girlfriend who nom :3 uwu"-coded of him.

Yes, he does like to be pet, and scritched. However, he doesn't like 99% of people who try to, so best not to attempt it. For any brave soul out there: Scritches on the sides of his neck, where his hairline is, will get him super relaxed.

He can get the urge to "laugh" if he's really happy or excited about something, which he tries to suppress—he's better at keeping a lid on it than he is about hiding his tail wagging. This "laugh" sounds different from his sultry, cultivated "ha-ha~ you're funny~" laugh; it's more like a high-pitched, hiccupy giggle. It can make him sound a little crazy. Shame he won't weaponize it to be even more evil.

I also have non-fox-related headcanons for Vere, though, lol.

We already know he's a talented artist; I think his preferred mediums are pencil and charcoal.

This is a shippy headcanon, but I do think he has a lot of drawings of Ais's side profile in his sketchbook—one of the reasons why people are not allowed to leaf through it. Other things in his sketchbook include figure drawings, rough sketches of people who catch his fleeting interest, and symbols or beings from his dreams.

On the subject of dreams: Vere puts some stock into their contents. Maybe because of his unique constitution, he feels his dreams can have hints, warnings, and premonitions mixed in with the shit that doesn't make any sense. That's why, if something sticks out to him in a dream, he'll draw it.

Even with his heeled shoes off, Vere prefers to walk primarily on his toes. He's like a Barbie doll!

He generally likes slower, soothing music. In the modern day, he'd probably be a fan of old-school ballads and even ambient music.

This is a weird one, but I think Vere is really good at imitating people's voices. His voice is too unique to sound exactly like other people, but he can get pretty damn close, enough to fool someone on a first listen.

Thanks so much for your ask!

[starry-night-author]

Loveee the new post 😩😩😩😩 make it a series if you would like

Thank you so much!! I think the most recent one when I got this ask was prompt #15, but lmk if that's not the one you were talking about! <3

Also, I have to admit... this is mostly just domestic fluff.

Prompt #15 (Pt.2)

(Part 1)

"I'm not talking to you," Villain huffed, folding their arms.

Hero raised an eyebrow. "I literally haven't even said anything." They'd just arrived for their night together with Villain, slipping off their coat. Villain sat on the bed, legs and arms crossed, refusing to look at them.

"You know why I'm mad," Villain shifted, turning their whole body away from them.

Hero did. Still, they couldn't help but tease. "No... I don't think I do. Did I walk in wrong?" It took everything in their power to keep the smile off of their face, the amusement out of their voice.

Villain glared at them. God, they were so cute.

"That's not it, then?" Hero stepped over to the bed, and Villain turned further around. "Did I make too much noise coming down the hall?"

They were now right at the edge of the bed, the mattress pressing into their thighs as Villain turned themself completely around, still pouting. "Or did I walk too quietly and startle you? I don't think I saw you jump when I came in."

Villain found a way to pout harder.

One knee on the bed, Hero leaned forward, arms wrapping around their foe from behind. "C'mon, what is it, Villain?"

"I'm not talking to you until you figure it out," Villain still wouldn't look at them, but they didn't pull away from Hero's hug.

So Hero hugged them closer, moving so their chest was pressed against Villain's back. They rested their chin on Villain's shoulder as well, leaning their head against their foe's. "Give me a hint, at least?"

Villain rolled their eyes. "Seriously?"

"Seriously! I'm drawing a blank here."

Villain leaned back against them, not responding.

"Villain, just tell me..." Hero whined teasingly. "I can't think of anything!"

"Yes you can! You just want me to say it."

"Say what?"

Villain didn't reply, and Hero knew they'd have to drop it soon before their enemy really got fed up.

"Hm..." Hero tilted their head the other way as they pretended to think. "Let me think back... could it have been something that I did last night? Or... a few weeks ago? Or..."

"I hate you," Villain grumbled.

Hero couldn't hold their laugh in, still hugging Villain tightly as they snorted, almost right in the villain's ear. "Ohhhh so that's what this is about. You're just mad because I beat you."

"It's not even that!" Villain exclaimed, pulling away. Hero let them go, sitting back and watching as Villain moved to the headboard, twisting around to sit against it. "My trap didn't work! It was going to be genius, and you figured it out!"

Right, Villain's traps that they took such pride in. The one they'd specially designed for Hero's team only earlier that day, and Hero had figured out how it worked and how not to fall for it. In the end their team had been able to capture Villain, but the criminal had slipped through their fingers just as they were calling for reinforcements to take them away.

Hero tilted their head in sympathy. "I'm sorry. But it's literally my job!"

"I'm still allowed to be mad about it." Villain drew their knees up to their chest. "And that one was particularly good!"

"It was," Hero agreed. "I only figured it out because you'd mentioned a similar trap you'd done once, and once I started to compare that to what was happening around me, I could get a general idea of where it was going."

"Wait, you only figured it out because I'd told you about it before?" Villain sat up with interest.

"Well, something like it." Hero clarified with a shrug.

"So I am still a genius!" Villain exclaimed triumphantly. They slammed their fist down on the bed. "No one can best my traps! I knew it!"

Hero chuckled, raising an eyebrow. "So that's what this is really about? We've gotten to the middle of this onion of anger?"

"I have a reputation," Villain sniffed haughtily. "No one's figured out my traps before, and you only did because I'd told you about it before, so it doesn't count. I have been bested by no one!" They announced.

Hero laughed again, walking across the bed on their knees to sit in front of Villain. "So you're not mad at me anymore?"

"I guess not." Villain yawned. "But I don't want to... do anything tonight."

"Then why'd you show up?" Hero questioned.

"Because I still wanted to see you," Villain cast them a smile, and Hero's heart melted. "I didn't have anything else to do."

"I wanted to see you too." They were irresistible as always, and Hero leaned in to kiss their cheek. "What do you want to do then?"

They ended up using Hero's watch to project a movie on to one of the walls, turning the lights off and snuggling up together to watch. The best position they'd found was to have Hero laying behind Villain, almost spooning them as they watched.

And it was just as the credits started rolling that Hero noticed Villain was breathing slower, their eyes closed and their body relaxed back against their enemy's. Hero grinned, pulling the blanket up higher over the two of them and reaching over Villain to their watch to switch it off.

They gingerly pulled Villain closer, shifting their arm underneath them to hold them tightly, resting their chin on top of their head.

They were warm, and their breath soft as Hero got comfortable next to them. Hero had never been in a relationship like this, and they had to admit they didn't think they'd ever be able to get by without someone to sleep next to at night. They slept better with Villain than they did by themself.

There was something so comforting to them about having someone else there.

Hero didn't know if it was the presence of another person or just Villain themself. Different parts of them wanted to believe either option.

They gently kissed Villain's head, wrapping their arm around them one last time before settling down.

"G'nigh't, Villain." They whispered softly. "I love you so much."

It wasn't much longer before Hero fell asleep, and the moon fully rose. It cast a long whitish beam through the room, draping itself like a bright veil on the bed, landing across Villain's blushing face.

They hadn't fallen asleep yet.

(Part 3)

[noemitenshi]

Jake Otto as a brother

so i promised @minimoefoe to write down my thoughts on Jake. I hope I'm being coherent haha, it's all a big jumbled mess in my head that mostly boils down to seethign rage. I definitely hate Jake more than Jeremiah, so make of that what you will.

Jake, to me, seems to have taken on the role of 'the good kid' (you know, the thing that shouldn't happen between siblings, where one takes on the role of the black sheep and by contrast the other is good..) and not only has he taken it on, i mean, you can't really blame a kid for that (as long as the kid is, you know, a kid) but he seems to be have fully embraced that role in s3 where he is all grown up. Which is what really gets to me (he should know better by now).

You see that in all his interactions with Troy. He expects the worst of him, he's annoyed by all that Troy does. In fact, Troy can't win with him (funny how in s3ep8 jake is telling him "Do something!" about the militia being incapacitated etc and then when troy does do something it's still not good enough…). Also note how Troy, in contrast, almost never raises his voice at Jake (except for that one interaction where he's already all irritated/angry about mike leaving). He's mostly mild around Jake and at least I got the sense that he is resigned. Resigned to the fact that Jake will always see the worst in him. He's not even trying to convince him otherwise - so I assume they had several confrontations about that when they were little (actually would have loved to see more of their past relationship, these little hints we get seem so intriguing (eg tell me about the rabbits)).

I think the most hurtful interaction, imho, is when Troy tries to warn him not to go to Taqa to placate him after Troy went and got Alicia back. He seems earnest in his worry over Jake. "Brother, you leave, I don't think you're coming back" Troy tells Jake. And Jake, unable to see anything but confrontation in Troy and all Troy does goes "ask yourself if that would make you happier." Troy doesn't answer, not with words but his face says it all. He closes his mouth, unhappy. Opens it again as if to argue only to - stop. Probably because he knows there's no sense in arguing with Jake about how he sees Troy. He won't get him to change his mind.

Also, since I rewatched the scene, notice how Troy actually does understand Jake. With the "i think you'd be happy if Walker took your scalp." Jake does seem like the self-sacrificing type (they both do haha, they are brothers after all), like he'd want to die for doing the right thing. Troy gets that about him. Whereas Jake does not seem to even start being able to comprehend Troy. There seems to be too much bitterness on Jake's side for empathy.

And sure, yes they've both grown up in an abusive household, yes, probably Jake was told to look after Troy a lot (so Troy was made his responsibility which is super unfair, absolutely), probably also blamed for when Troy behaved in a way deemed unacceptable (which, given the parents were drunks could be literally ANYTHING e.g. drawing too loudly (an example meant to show their unreasonableness). add to that the fact that Troy was shown to be easily upset (in the video tape in s3ep3 he starts crying when his parents fight), they probably didn't want to deal with him upset/crying, demanding he stop it or demanding jake do something abou it…). So yes, all that is horrible also for jake, an impossible -abusive- situation for both brothers.

Jake should've grown out of it though. He's an adult now but he still can't see past these roles they were given. He probably even still blames it on Troy, like if he were a better child to their parents things would've been easier also on Jake. Why can't Troy never do what he's asked to? Etc etc. And all this colors his interaction with Troy as grown ups. All sympathy he has ever felt for Troy eroded over the years...

And I do think as a kid he was also trying to help Troy and protect him, as he says -though I also think Troy protected Jake. Troy seems like he's very used to dealing with pain, so I definitely think he made sure the ire of his parents fell on him. Kinda playing into the black sheep role, too (like kids tend to do once they've got this role)… anyway so Jake tried to protect him/help him though I think with time the bitterness took over. And that's all he has for Troy now, bitterness and disappointment. And Jake gives himself away. When he says "Ask yourself if that [jake not coming back from trying to placate Taqa] would make you happier" that's not troy's thinking at all. It's HIM, Jake, who'd be happier if Troy went off to some kind of mission (exile) and wouldn't come back.

tl;dr Jake is a shit brother to Troy (while playing the white knight to others -or should that be 'and'- fully embracing the 'good kid' role) and I'll never like him

[artofalassa]

Hey I have an odd question. Do Zack and Cloud still live with Tifa at the end of the Zack lives Au? Or is that still something that's up for debate? Also where's Denzel at?

Hey, no worries! Sorry for a tldr answer!

TLDR > Zack, Cloud and Tifa are always together, even if not living in the same apartment and Denzel lives with Barret and Marlene away from the Edge.

LONG ANSWER >

They don't and they do. Sort of.

In our AU, we settled that the building has more apartments. As in - there's a tiny little courtyard sort of in the back? That's where Cloud's garage/workshop is. This courtyard is a space these houses share. What I'm trying to say is that they live in almost the same house, but different apartments.

I was very adamant about the fact that Cloud wouldn't ever leave Tifa behind and needed to make sure he's always there for her, whenever she needs anything. He's just... in my AU, he feels like he owes her his life, so he wants to do the best he can do for her. And since for some, to him absolutely insane reason, what she wanted the most, was to be around him, he lived with her. Not like he had anyone else more important to him. And it made her happy. He'd do anything to make her happy. Until Zack was found. And Cloud realized he could and did have strong feelings for somebody else.

I only hinted it in the 'Arguments' comic, in one panel, where Tifa's standing alone in the apartment. However, Zack and Cloud moved out some time before they got together.

Zack couldn't sleep on their couch, because it was tiny and he's biggy biggy, he kept waking up with anxieties because WHERE is Cloud???, so Tifa found him sitting by their bedroom door a few times at night. He was asleep. And when Cloud found out about that, he decided it needed to stop and there was NO way he would ever force Tifa out of her own bed. So-- he took Zack and sort of left.

To a different floor/apartment.

He was being practical, as always.

'Our' Cloud has STRONG feelings for Tifa. He respects her, loves her, would do literally anything for her. But. All of those feelings are stronger when it comes to Zack, who was everything Cloud ever wanted and always treated him as his equal. While making him laugh, sacrificing his life for him etc etc all the events of the games hahah. But, I wasn't asked why I like ZC so much. SO.

As for Denzel...

I won't lie and try to make excuse - but man, I'm not a fan of the kid. Or more like - what he represents. For me he always stood as a representation of Squenix being too scared to admit, that yes, Tifa and Cloud are together and have kids together. No. That could enrage some of the fans and we need to make as much money from this as possible. So. Hey. Cloud found a kid. And declared him his son. And together they lived happily ever after. Eyeroll.

I drew most of my comics before I read the 'On the Way to Smile' book. I did see the episode Denzel meanwhile and loved it, because it showed events of VII from a pov of a bystander. And man do I love such stories. But Denzel never grew on me. So we always assumed that he left with Marlene, when Barret took her to live with him in the house shown in 'Gardens' comic. He's a big boy and he wants to be useful somewhere.

Then I read in the book that Cloud adopted him, eyerolled so hard and then shrugged, because I am, in fact, drawing a fan comic about my favourite character surviving his own death, so I suppose I can legit sort of skip some other things too, right.

It's a fanfic.

There's so much more we have on the topic of what happened later and in between. I was so sure I'd be drawing at least 150 pages more of the story and start telling a story with the three of them AND Kunsel joining them. But. Hey. I just. I burned myself out too hard with FFVII and I wasn't as excited about Rebirth as I hoped i'd be. So. Who knows if I ever manage. I still do want to draw at least some scenes, though.

So - Zack, Cloud and Tifa are always together, even if not living in the same apartment and Denzel lives with Barret and Marlene away from the Edge.

[chthonicgodling]

/KICKS THE DOOR DOWN- omFG HELLO ITS FINALLY TIME FOR-

welcome to an Elysium Drama Update tHAT IVE BEEN VAGUING AND HYPING ABOUT FOR THREEEEEEEE MONTHS 😱 yes you ARE reading this correctly! After all this time of spiraling deeper and deeper RECENTLY and after the VERY long tumultuous past of the previous decade-ish - the Taki Fuego Trifecta Trio (their tag here) is HAVING AN ENTIRE BABY BY CHOICE AND ON PURPOSE— oh mmmmYYYY GGGGGGGOD—

All five of these illustrations feature completely canon dialogue dating back from January when they first started trying for a baby. now that Loki finally confirmed that he’s actually pregnant a few weeks ago - clearly out loud and in words - it is finally time to reveal this news to all of YOU!

Congratulations YOU are now part of a select few! NO ONE ELSE IN THE PALACE KNOWS YET.

The baby Loki is now incubating is sired by Tory!! with Maci of course knowingly and delightedly pulling all puppet strings “behind the scenes” aka like, to the left of them or whatever on the bed.💞How did this even fucking happen you may be asking??!!! They went from fun bedroom dynamic to let’s have an entire babBY?!?! Well- just like the way these playfully suggestive drawings (every one of these convos took place during…… during. uhhhhhhhhhh) are slyly ambiguous in the way I chose to draw them - let me explain the decision of this baby in the same,, extremely sanitized way:::

Maci and Tory.,,, will say.,,, literally anything. And During one such occasion,, it dawned on Loki - and them too, honestly — suddenly with a full record scratch that — wait are you actually being serious?? WAIT DO YOU *ACTUALLY* WANT A—

As nudged upon here and also in my many recent lore essays, please remember that Loki’s ~antsy~ when it comes to his pregnancies and history of children; due to the prior tragedies that had befallen the first six he’s always made it a habit of just vanishing, paranoid and anxious, each time he’s found himself pregnant. However Maci and Tory unequivocally and wholeheartedly asking him to make a baby with them because 💞love💞 and 💞lust💞 and 💞clingy vibes💞- again LITERALLY the first EVER baby ON PURPOSE EVER- was enough to IMMEDIATELY make him go starry eyed. Even though over these past few months since Tory first initiated the talk Loki had…. Still has……. refused to admit that and continued to be his usual vaguely hostile and suspicious self but….

As of today he’s six weeks pregnant (he can always, magically, tell right away) and he has not yet disappeared.in fact he hasn’t even left their BED or their SIDE in THREE MONTHS. 🥺 mhy god hellO., Loki you’re so full of shit and they’re onto you. Maybe stop blushing so much.

and so now begins the countdown to NEW MYSTERY BABY and the shenanigans that will follow; ONCE AGAIN I am FLOORED and THRILLED and WATCHING all this with my jaw on the FLOOR. ‼️they’re not a throuple this is just uhh fun things to do with your platonic friends!‼️ (oh my god I’m gonna lose my mind for fucking real—)

All the dialogue in the orange bubbles + Tory himself of course belong to @fenixethekid , hiatused, once again trying for real to kill me im pretty sure.Maci & all pink and green bubbles are mine; EeL is mine too idc; do NOT tag this with the m word; I hope this has been worth the hype (and I’m pretty sure I was EXTREMELY obvious about hinting at this so?!?!?! GOLD STAR IF YOU’D ALREADY GUESSED THIS NEWS!)

POPS CHAMPAGNE STAY TUUUUNEDDDDD

[yuyu1024]

Won't you regret it?

Pairings: Yunho × y/n x Mingi

Genre/tags: arranged marriage, cheating

Warning: 🔞🔞🔞 cheating (dont ever do this guys), probably mention of food, alcohol & smoking, cursing, pet names, jealousy, smut/angst, kikk/fetish, semi public, fingering

~~~ [lmk if i miss anything]

Words: 3.7k

Disclaimer:

- this story is just made up

- english is not my first language, please be nice 😊

Note: repost. There is a part 2 for this ♥️

Title is "I think... I love you"

Likes and reblogs are much appreciated 😊

***

I just got married. Literally just yesterday and I can't fucking believe it.

I've always thought that I would never get married. Not that I don't want too. It's just no guy ever likes me to that extent. I am in my late 20s. Well actually going on thirty in a few months. But surprisingly, here I am.

I married this guy because I was told to. I had to. My parents sold me like a piece of meat in exchange of a deal for the business. Typical drama shit. Now, I am going to be stuck in an enormous house pretending to be happy even though I am even unsure how will this work.

As far as I know, based on the few months I have known him before marriage, I don't think we have anything in common. He is a few years younger than me, he works in corporate in their family business while I just do art for leisure and part time job as you may say coz I do sell most of my work. Next thing is, he's so fucking handsome. He is a great catch. Tall, handsome, smart, successful and seems kind. (Sexy also btw) On the other hand, I do look normal, not sophisticated nor a fashionista. I am also a bit curvey than what people nowadays say, the standard beauty. So... He is so out of my league.

I pity him. I know I am not happy about the marriage per say but he's on a great loss on it too. He is stuck with me. A boring, not smart, not feminine nor pretty looking enough.

Oh well. Goodluck to us.

***

"What are you doing?"

I jump a little when I suddenly heard his voice, making me stop sketching on my pad. "Hmm?" I turn my face to look back at him where he's sitting. "What?"

"I said... what are you doing?" He stands up and makes his way to the balcony where I am sitting.

"I'm just... trying to..." I feel awkward explaining to him what I was doing.

I was just drawing yes. However, it's nothing special. I was just letting my hands move on its own as I am drowning in my thoughts about us, this marriage.

"Is that the church where we got married yesterday?" He asks as he sees my sketch pad.

"Yeah... it just came into my mind... while... I was thinking of anything to draw..." I shyly close it and hide it from him.

"You're mother told me... you love to draw and paint... and to see it in person... it's amazing." He says

I could feel his huge presence behind me. His aura feels different from the guy I married yesterday or even the guy I've been seeing the past few months for the preparation of our wedding. He sounds more soft spoken and warm. I thought he will be the strict kind or a cold hearted douche bag behind the curtain

"Thank you." I quietly answer

We're both silent for quite some time. It's not that we are that awkward but I guess both of us got mesmerized to see the beautiful sunset happening right in front of us. The sky sort of blends with the sea as the light reflect onto the water. It's out of this world!

"It's so beautiful..." I mumble as I let the crispy cool wind blew my hair off my shoulders.

"It's indeed beautiful..." he utters. He then move beside me, to sit down.

His eyes are sparkling. And a hint of smile spreads on his lips.

He really seem is a nice person. He is just unlucky he got married to me. A responsibility and a duty for his family.

"What time are we going to have sex?" I spat out

His head snaps back to look at me, stunned. "What?" And then after he processed what I just asked him, he snorts a laugh out "Right... you're mother also told me that you are a bit...straightforward."

"Sorry..." I look away. "I just.. you know..."

"And she said... you're cheeks get red when you are embrassed."

"Wow... You've talked to my mother quite a bit huh?"

"Well..." he stood up and goes behind me again. "When you were doing fittings... she made sure I was not bored waiting..."

My head follows him as he get in his position behind me. "She must've said a lot of embarassing things about me too...?"

He hums as he thinks. "Not much."then he starts to lean in a little bit, his hand goes sliding down on the both sides of the chair I am sitting on. "Just... a few funny moments when you were a baby..."

My heart is pounding off my chest. His face is just inches away from mine. His eyes are scanning me. Is he watching my reaction? What does he want?

"What are you doing?" I ask

"Nothing..." he answers softly. Almost a whisper. "I just...I..."

He is kissing me. He's fucking kissing me! Oh my goodness! Well yeah we did seal the wedding with a kiss but that was just a peck. This is our first damn kiss.

We continue to make out like it has been due but not gonna lie, him making me turn my head like this to face him is straining my neck. HOWEVER fuck that shit. He is kissing me so damn good!

He then pulls away from the kiss leaving me hanging and wanting more.

"Y/n..."

"Hmm?"

"Are you on birth control?"

"Yes..."

"Good."

I squeal as he carries me off the chair, dropping everything I'm holding.

He throws me onto the bed and starts to unbutton his shirt. "Since you asked about us having sex... I guess we could go straight into it?"

Climbing on top of me, shirtless, I am in awe how fucking fine this man is. Damn. I guess there is something good about this arrange marriage after all.

"Okay... game..." I answer, giddy.

I go ahead unhook my bra and throw it away whilst still wearing my fitted off shoulder top.

"Do you mind if I?" He point at my floral skirt

"Go ahead..." my voice is shaky

He goes down and personally takes off my skirt along with my panties.

"We'll take it slow... and..." he is so cautious talking to me all of a sudden. He must be nervous too.

"Where is the brave guy who carried and thrown me on the bed?" I tease, smiling.

He chuckles, "I am still here... just... controlling it in." He then kisses me on my cheek. "We are married... yes... and its our duty to fuck and what.. but... I still want to respect you... as a woman... and do this right..."

I put my arms around his nape. "You are doing good." I whisper.

He is massive. His length is lengthy. I am lost of words to explain it but he perfectly fits me. I think more than perfect actually. I could really feel him IN me. Full, warm, and pulsating.

"Y/n..." he cries my name as our hands linked together. "Y-you... ugh..." he is shaking and sweating like me.

"Are you trying to say... it feels good?" I kiss his cheek

"Fuck yes." He hiss.

He is sweating bullets. His eyes never left my face. He is really gazing at me, seeing me get wrecked by him. It's not weird. It's like he is admiring me also absorbing every moan that escapes my lips. If that makes sense.

We continued until both of us came and pass out from extreme adrenaline. We are exhausted but it was a blast.

"So, since I'm in birth control... we'll always do it raw?" I ask, still panting

He laughs again. He does enjoy it when I say random things and straight to the point.

"If that's what you want. But to be fair, I am okay using cond0ms."

"Okay."

"Okay."

***

A few months later, so far... I'm still married. Yey for arrange marriage. (Sarcastic)

Yes we started as strangers forced to be married and I thought we would be worst; fighting or being enemies like the ones I see in movies and drama but because of our one week honeymoon it shifted a little. We got to know each other a little and we talked about our bounderies. It was all good. It's like a good partnership but on a business level.

Anyways, yeah. It's all good. However, there's one thing missing in our deal lately. "Sex"

We did quiet a lot during our honeymoon. Like, a lot... a lot. I didn't even know I could do a marathon like that. And if I was not on birth control I swear I'm pregnant now. That's how much seeds I got from him.

However, after we got back from abroad Yunho became busy. His schedule is hectic and he is barely home or in the country. So we barely get the time to do it. We do a few make out sessions here and there but not on a regular basis. Their family business is on steroids like everyday is a peak season. I hate it but I can't complain about it.

I never dared to ask him for his time or even a date (not that I need a date but yeah). We just started to connect, to make this work but got drifted apart the second we got back. He became a stranger to me again. It's like meeting him for the first time every 3 to 4 days that he's back.

I want this to work. I need it to work. Because we will be together for a long time.

"Y/n!" my mother-in-law welcomes me to her home. "Thank you for visiting me..." she hugs me and pats my back. "So sad Yunho is out of town and can't come..."

"Yeah, he have been... busy." I agree, smiling.

"Come, I'll introduce you to my friends and their sons. They are Yunho's childhood friends."

"Oh..."

I follow her walk from the foyer, across the living room and out to the terrace and until we reach the gazebo where the three elegant ladies are waiting.

"Here she is." Mrs. Jeong says as we both arrive. "Isn't she lovely?"

All three ladies cheer as they see me. They complimented how I look and how I am the best wife for Yunho. I smile at each of their words but I don't know what they meant by best wife when I barely became a wife to him. He's not here.

"By the way, this is my son... Mingi." The lady with the bob hair cut says pointing to the tall guy, wearing a very loose and unbuttoned top, sitting on the fence. "Mingi! Stop smoking and come here." She calls

He jumps off the fence and put off his cigarette on the ashtray. "Mingi." He sturnly says. We both shake hands and nod at each other.

"And I'm San... and this is Yeosang." A man with broad shoulders on the other side introduces him and himself.

"Aren't they all charming." Mrs. Jeong says to me.

"They are." I smile and bow to all three

The catch up continued for quite sometime until it started to drizzle a little bit. It didn't bothered me but the ladies are not into it. They all cutely panicked and hurried their way back into the house.

I tell them that I will stay and just draw for a bit and I'm glad Mrs. Jeong allowed me. She is sweet and kind. She also supports my hobby.

I got into my zone sketching and trying to capture the beauty of the garden. I didn't even noticed that I've been drawing for more than an hour already.

"You paint to right?"

I raise my glance up and see Mingi, the guy with the deep ass voice earlier. He is smoking again.

"I do."

"Mrs. Jeong boasted about your works to my mother last week. She said... you are talented."

"She's kind. I'm just... alright." I go back to sketching whilst he makes his way closer to where I am sitting

"Do you paint people too?"

My hand stops. "People?"

"Yeah... I meant... portrait... not on people..."

I laugh at his panic reaction. "I know what you ment... why do you ask?"

"Could you paint one for me?" He blows a puff of smoke and then leans his back, crossing his legs. "Don't worry... I will pay."

"I'm not questioning if you will and can pay... but..."

"But what?"

"I don't paint... requests... for now..." I look away. "I'm trying to explore ideas... and learn more... for now... I only paint what I find beautiful...and interesting... the ones I am selling, those are old painting..."

"I see..." he flicks his cigarette on the ashtray.

"Yeah, sorry... Maybe you could find somebody else to paint your parents and--"

"Who said it's for my parents?"

I look at him, confused. "Then... who are you requesting for?"

He smirks, lightly bitting his lower lip. "Me."

"Oh."

"Will you still not paint me?"

"Ahm... sorry...but..."

"Why?" He raises a brow. "Don't you find me beautiful and... interesting?"

Fuck yeah he is beautiful. Sharp eyes and nose. Plump and rosey lips. And a nice built of body. He is huge but lean.

Yunho... my husband is leaner and taller.

"Do you really want me to do a painting of you or you are trying to mess with me?"

"Both." He's so honest. "So tell me, what can I do to peak your interest?"

Fuck. What's going on? Why is he coming at me like this? So bluntly, in broad daylight and in my husband's family home.

"Y/n..." Yunho then suddenly appears. He's still wearing his suit.

"Look who just arrived." Mingi smiled and stands up, welcoming his pal. "Fresh from the airport I pressume."

"Yeah..." both of them quickly hugs and do their handshake.

They have a friendship handshake. And this Mingi, is trying to suggest someting to me just a few seconds ago. What the fuck? Is he doing it on purpose? Is he testing me if I would cheat?

"Just met your wife..." Mingi says, "I'm asking for her to paint something for me... but she refuses."

Glad he didn't lie.

"All of a sudden? You want a painting?" Yunho asks

"Well... I just do." He shrugs his shoulder. "Plus... I want to be friends with your wife."

"Don't worry... he's an ass sometimes but most of the time he's good." Yunho says to me, smiling.

He talks to me like we've never been apart for more than a week. After not having one text nor a call from him. He's a great actor. (Why am I so irritated?)

"I just arrived and saw you two from afar so I said hi... I'll just go inside and meet mom and the rest." Yunho says

"Go ahead... and mingle with the mother earths... I'll stay here with your wife."

"Okay."

***

After the sun setting down, I grab my things and go inside where Yunho and the others were.

I cautiously emerge from the glass door from the terrace. "What happened to your skirt?"

I startle as I see Yunho. "Oh." I look down at my skirt and see the dark stains on it. "From my hand probably..." I show him my left hand that have charcoal color stains as well from me sketching.

He then comes closer and suddenly gives me a kiss on my temple. "I missed you." He mumbles under his breathe

I look up to my tall husband, "Missed me? But you never even texted me or called me this week." My brows are crunching and shows how irritated I am. We had a deal. We make efforts for this fixed marriage at least. "I texted you... multiple times asking you when will you come home... and to my surprise... you arrive today."

He snorts a smile. "Straightforward as ever." He tugs the loose strand of my hair behind my ear. "I was busy. That's all. I didn't even have time to text my mother too."

"So, every time you go abroad or out of town... should I expect cold treatment from you?"

"No..." he shakes his head, "No... it's just..."

"You told me to not ask anything about your work for your family's business... I get that. But atleast just let me know if I would sleep alone in the bed for one week. I have needs okay?"

He smiles again, "needs?" He repeats, sounding amused

"You know what I mean..." I roll my eyes and walk pass him but before I could totally leave the area he follows me and take my hand.

"Do you want to fuck later?" He blurts out, smiling

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Mingi is chuckling as he hear Yunho. "Buddy.... what a topic to hear."

"Go away, Mingi. This is a private matter."

(Part 2 of this, checked pinned post. 'I think... I love you')

Wearing a playful smile, Mingi raises his hands as gesture of surrender and says, "Fine. I'm going anyways... mom asked me to drive her home so... see you!"

"See you whenever." Yunho answer

"Nice meeting you, Mrs. Jeong." He says to me, winking.

I didn't answer him. I just bowed and looked away quickly. I don't want to react to him that much because.... well... earlier...

I don't know what fucking happened. But the next thing I know after Yunho left to go inside the house, Mingi and I argued. He kept on asking me to paint him which I kept saying no. I even asked him face to face why is he messing with me. I remembered walking away from him.

However he did follow me and well... it... went downhill after that.

Can you believe me when I say, I was hiding behind a big ass tree earlier? legs spread and being eaten by a wolf man named Mingi?

"F-fuck..." I breathe out, clutching onto my skirt for dear life. That's where I get the stain in my dress from my hand. "We... might... get... ahhhh... caught..." my eyes are leaking with tears. Even my voice and body is shaking. And I can't stop moaning. It's THAT GOOD.

I've been craving for sex or anything sensual from Yunho for the past days but since he's busy and away, I haven't had sex for quite some time and this... THIS cures the itch.

"Fuck! Mingi!" I grab him by his hair and pull him away.

He gets up and growls at me. "Do you really want me to stop, baby girl?"

I'm dying. I am aroused, needy and I fucking want more but "This is not right... I'm... I'm married..."

"So?" He smirks and then goes on to kneading my covered breasts. "You know you want it too." He bites onto my covered n!pple. "You are wet for me baby girl...you are turned on... by me..."

"I'm married... to your friend..." I'm still catching my breathe

"He does not have to know..." pushing my boob out of my bra and start sucking on it. I could feel his tongue circling over my tip.

What the fuck. This is wrong but why do my body react to it like it is the right thing to do?

"Don't you... want it...?" He's eyes are so alluring. "Me sucking you... whenever you want and need?"

His voice plus the way he speaks is so intoxicating. And the way he sucks my breast. Damn it! My breast is one of my thing when it comes to intimacy. I'm sensitive and in heaven when you play around it and I know my full breast give the other person pleasure as well.

"And this..." his long fingers goes back down to my core, teasing my already wet folds. "Can you feel how wet you are for me baby girl?"

"Ughhh..." I throw my head back.

"I can put one in and..." he slowly eases one digit in. "Do this..." he thrust his finger in me vigorously.

"Oh shit!" My mouth drops as he fucks me with it

He growls under his breathe, "You are tight... squeezing my finger. I could imagine how good it must feel if I put my c0ck in you."

"Here?!" I gasp

"No baby girl, don't worry. I won't do that..." he pulls his finger out of me and kisses my exposed breast, leaving a mark just right in my cleavage. "If we're going to fuck... I want you to feel safe and..." then he runs his tongue from my n!pple up to my collarbone. "to enjoy it as well. Remember, I am here to please you baby girl."

He thrust his fingers more. Faster. I am barely hanging on him. I could feel my nails digging onto his shoulder.

"A-ahh!" I throw my head and I could feel my hips moving along with his rythm. "I'm going to come..." I cry

"Come for me." He growls as he is inserting another digit. "Is this it?" He asks curving his fingers in me

"Holy shit!" I squeal as he hits it. He found my spot.

My mouth is open in O shape. I am barely breathing and barely holding it in. I want to fucking scream but we can't get caught.

"C'mon baby girl... let it out."

"Fuck!"

I came and collapsed on him. I can't fucking believe this! I am on high from the f!ngering he did that even though I knew this is not right, me dealing with him, but then again I said yes.

"Okay...fine." I breathe out. "I'll paint you..."

He pauses and a smile beams from his lips. He understood what I meant by that.

"You won't regret it." He lowers his head and continues to lick onto my sensitive tips

[upn-the-sky]

Give me God of War!! (Ares OOAK, Part 2)

Just a reminder that there was Part 1 of this madness.

OKAY

I wanted to wait until I finish sword and spider legs before making a post, but there are three days after finishing the whole armor and I can't wait, I am screaming about Ares's supremacy.

Now I can say, it was hard. And the most hard thing was finding a balance. There are differences between Ares's 3D models from the different years, even in color palette. And I wanted to be as much close to the first game design as it possible. Some features were fully recreated from GOW1, some others I found more good at latest model from GOW3 and reworked them according to it. So at the end we have a good symbiosis I think.

Now let's a take a bow and look a bit closer at the mess under the cut.

Preparatory process

Until eyes are frightened, you can't do anything. To be honest I had no idea from where to start, the plan sounded like a "How to draw an owl" tutorial. Complexity of his armor scared me as hell, and after spending some time with drawings, where I tried to figure out a hook and loop system, which should attach parts to each other, I gave up and started to make his scaly iron belt, it felt more easier. YEAH.

Iron belt

You can see it at the screenshot. Well, one of the versions. Seems, it has no purpose beside decorative, I mean, maybe it can protect the groin, but eh, not really, honestly. At GOW3 model of dead Ares it became more detailed with round flower-like pendants and a little green jewel drops, but also it became golden as all metallic elements. I decided to make everything silver, but anyway, belt is very beautiful and I headcanon it is the same belt, which Ares gifted to his daughter Hippolyte in the past.

I weaponised myself with the smallest crochet hook and red thread and started to knit. WHY KNIT YOU ASK?? I don't know, it is easier for me than sewing all these scales %) Maybe they represents some fishy motives? (His connection with Aphrodite). Or serpent? (One of Ares's children, who was killed by Kadmus). Maybe green jewels is a hint to his mother Hera, because she loves emeralds. Who knows.

Scales, flowers, suns, glass drops.. If I were Ares, I'd present it to my beloved warrior daughter too.

Pteruges

As an example of the true manliness, Ares wears a skirt of course. He is not a barbarian, who hides his beautiful freckled thighs in the pants! How dare we to judge..

The easy part was to make a leather stripes and pierce them with the rivets (little nails, which I cut after this to left a head only). The hard part (which I had a chance to feel over and over again) was to figure out how to attach it to the body and hide all of the fasteners, and how to let stripes flow on his thighs and how the hell it should cover his.. godlike butt, I can't believe I wrote this.. %)

ANYWAY, A MONTH LATER I decided to make it a single piece with the iron belt, by creating a two-part wide leather base, attach knitted waistband to it, then join the each stripe to the separate piece of cloth to make them movable, then attach this cloth to the leather and sew some hooks. Aaaand the final result!

Cuirasse

I just say I literally hanged up myself with it. Here will be ranting...

Let's just think that it is not enough just to recreate appearence. In making 3D you can ignore some aspects like hidden straps and strings, which keeps armor conjoint on the human body. But how to make it wearable to the doll body, which is not soft and has a stable reliefs? How to make armor firm and shaped, but not completely firm, so it can be taken off from the body? Yes, my wish from the beginning was to make whole armor with a possibility to take it off and send nudes dress Ares in different outfit, which i will also make someday. How to make it light, so the doll can stand by itself? How to make it textured, to make it looks rough, to imitate metal or at least used condition? How to make metal parts without using a metal?

OKAY, WE NEED TO BE CANON - I thought and it was a day I decided to not invent armor, but use an experience of the hellenic people, who was smarter than me, I guesse. Because long time ago these people invented Linothorax - composite armor made of laminated linen fabric. ____

First of all, I splited Ares's cuirass to the segments: chest+collar segment, belly segment, spine segment, which emphasizes Ares's love to hunching over a little, and a waist-and-lower segment. Plus cuirasse has chained shoulder straps and side straps.

Well, when you have all elements, it is easier to imagine a complete piece. After that you just buy fabric, glue, chains, 27 hours for your day, new eyes, paint and other stuff. You wrap the body with the film and tape to protect it and start to glue. And here it is time for me to shut up, I know, you are here to watch a process, not to read an essay. I started from the front pieces of course. You imagine a pattern, you cut it, you glue it to hold the natural body forms as close as possible. Collar was formed right here. Gladly we can remove Ares's head when we want to do it...

Waist piece (eheh, spider butt (͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ) and first attempt to assemble the cuirasse. Here I literally lost my last brain cells and bravery, stopped the process and didn't make straps until the last week.

Anyway A MONTH LATER!!11 after the first assemble I started to sculp a relief of the reinforced chest and the metallic collar. Also we can check how's our decapitated dogs doing. Here you can see a belly piece of the cuirasse, which needed it's own dog decor. I was that meme boy with a knife, yeah..

Seemed they doing great! I felt that and decided to finish arm armor. Shoulder pads and bracers Thankfully making them requires the same process: cut a pattern, glue it, repeat for each arm. Here is close ups of the leather "feathers" pierced by rievets, chained bracers (I am very proud that I recreated it fully like at the Ares model. Bracers has no other strings and stays at arm only because of the chains) and shoulder pads as a base and as a complete, fully Cerbered piece. Actually this part wasn't really difficult, I've just delayed the inevitable.

Boots The first GOW novel says he weared sandals!!! Bloodstained SANDALS! But this novel was written much later, so we are making rocker boots. ᕕ(シ)ᕗ HEY!, we are laughing here, but Ares is smart, Ares don't want to break his toes by kicking someone's helmet! Maybe after having some experience %)))

Well, as I said in my previous posts, his boots was the most agressive part his armor. Heel and shoes toes should be firm, but sole should stay soft. Also the whole construction of the boots should looks monolite with the greavers which cover up the layers of the material above the ankles. Don't forget about the chains and double emotional damage, because there is two legs!

A little more damage as a person you receive, when you understand that you need to process each edge of each piece, because all armor pieces has visible layers. And only after that you can paint everything, draw Ares's assymetrical ornaments and dress him up.

That's how we reach the end. Here he is. O defence of Olympus, father of warlike Victory, ally of Themis, stern governor of the rebellious, leader of righteous men. Kratos's yes-homo partner and his personal most vieceful enemy.

Ares! God of war!

Thank you everyone for your patience while reading this duvet cover. See ya in Part 3, Skeletor will return soon with a sword, spider legs and normal photos. And stay tuned, I will post some portraits next time!

[salsakiyoomi]

Hiiii‼️i remember reading your little fashion designer!akaashi thing and, i was wondering if you could make headcanons about him

pretty please

(☝️🤮; anw can you or can you not? this is a business deal ma'am, i ask, you answer 🫲🤨/j )

a/n : hello 😭😭 im so sorry for the late reply but yes ma'am business deal shall be made 🤝, also i am aware that you asked for headcanons and this is a drabble but it's an idea i had for a while but i will be making a headcanons post! so lmk if you want me to tag you in it <33

you knew akaashi.

well, you didn't exactly know him, you just knew of him.

he was the boy you saw almost every monday and friday when you went to the library for some of your reading time — you didn't see him the first few times you went there but one day, as if heaven dropped one of if its angels, he was just there — and you fell into him.

you didn't see him, truly, as you entered through the door of the library and you unknowingly tripped over your own feet, immediately colliding with someone else as a pair of hands gripped your arms firmly.

"oh my god, i'm so sorry—" you began your blabbering but as soon as you saw the face of your saviour (you may call him that) you were immediately awe-strucked.

he had blue eyes and he stared down at you through thick eyelashes — his hair was jet black and nicely tamed.

he was so beautiful.

you gasped, "i'm so sorry, sir—" you began again but you were cut off by his laughing, "hey, it's okay, just watch your step." he said softly — fuck, even his voice was beautiful, he sounded so angelic.

you could feel your face heat up — from embarrassment or intimacy? you weren't really sure.

he let go you, and took a couple of steps back, smiling at you, and you could swear that you saw a hint of red tainting his cheeks, but you thought it might have been from the cold outside.

"i'm y/n," you blurted out, "nice to meet you."

"akaashi," he said — holy shit, he sounded so charming, "akaashi keiji, nice to meet you too."

you could only smile at him, unable to say anything because you weren't sure what to say — but then akaashi took it upon himself to wave goodbye to you and head deeper into the library.

you stood at the entrance for a few more moments, contemplating what the fuck just happened and whether it was a dream or not.

he was literally so pretty, you didn't that you've ever seen someone so pretty like that before.

after that, you didn't really see akaashi again.

well you saw him, but you didn't really talk to him.

he'd sit a couple of tables away from you, you wondered if he was even aware that you were there — regardless, you couldn't really focus on your book with you glancing at him every few minutes.

he wore glasses, cat eye frames that defined his face, and he'd come in with a coffee or a hot chocolate in hand — sometimes he would read, and sometimes he would pull out a small sketchbook and a pencil and he'd draw.

you didn't really talk to him up until the book you were trying to reach was placed two shelves too high for you.

standing on your tippy toes didn't help you reach the book, you contemplated maybe standing on the shelves to reach it but decided against it after remembering every movie scene where all the bookcases would fall on to eachother thanks to that same decision you were about to make.

you huffed in annoyance, as you took a few steps back away from the shelves and crossed your arms — you thought maybe you could bring a chair and — "hey, do you need help?"

that voice, you knew it.

you turned around to face akaashi standing a few feet away from you, his voice was quiet and almost shy with a timid smile on his lips.

"oh, uhm, yes, that would be great actually." you stammered, as you pointed to the book you wanted.

this was when you realized how tall he was as he easily reached for the book and handed it to you.

you stares at him with an almost awe-like expression as you took the book into your hands, "thank you."

his smile was so warm as he replied, "no problem."

akaashi left the library that day with you hugging the book close to your chest.

he didn't come back for a few days — you wondered what had happened of him, was he too busy to come? or did he catch a cold thanks to the weather of the past few days? — ugh this was ridiculous, it's like highschool all over again with a hallway crush that made your heart pound everytime you saw them at school and wondered what happened to them everytime you didn't see them between classes.

you rest your head on the palm of your hand, subconsciously eyeing the entrance in hopes he would come in — you know you didn't really talk to him, but his presence brought an unknown enjoyment to you — you were happy with him just sitting there and looking pretty, and the even better thing was that he'd acknowledge you with a nod of his head and smile whenever he entered before making it towards his table.

you tap your finger on the table, eyes wandering away from the door to your book, scanning the paragraphs absently without really comprehending what you're reading as your mind wandered back to the thought of him.

he's pretty, and sweet and polite and well mannered and shit, you might have a crush on him, because even now just the thought of him made your heart flutter.

the click of the entrance door makes your gaze immediately switch over to it and as if on cue, akaashi walks in.

he walks in holding two cups of coffee.

your gaze is fixed on him as he acknowledges you with a nod of his head and gives you a smile, one that you mirror — he walks in, and instead of walking over to his usual table he walks over to yours.

your heart races as he stands at in front of the chair parallel to you, "is this seat taken?"

you immediately shake your head, "no no, you can sit — if you want to."

he sets the two cups of coffee on the table as he pulls out the chair and takes his seat. he nudges one of the cups towards you, "i hope you like coffee." he says, his voice tranquil with a sheepish smile on his lips and a faint red blooming on his cheeks.

"as long as it isn't poisoned," you laugh quietly as you take the cup of coffee into your hands.

"oh well, who knows?" he jokes and you grin at him, "well, thanks anyway." — it isn't evident in your behaviour but your heart is leaping out of your chest like in those cartoons and oh how hard are you trying to calm yourself down.

you bring the cup to your lips, ready to take a sip before he faintly places his hand on yours, stopping you, "careful, it's hot." he says before drawing his hand back.

oh my god, did he just touch your hand? — holy shit, he actually did, you weren't imagining it.

you set the cup back on the table as you try to control your pounding heart, and oh, you can recognize the heat in your face.

"so," you clear your throat, "where have you been the past few days?" you ask timidly.

"work gets a bit too much sometimes," he replies, and you notice him fidgeting with his fingers — so you aren't the only shy one here.

silence settles like a cloak over the two of you, its neither uncomfortable nor comfortable. a few moments pass before you reach out for your coffee, deciding that it probably wasn't as hot as before and you take a sip.

"oh my god, that tastes so good," you exclaim after your swallow, it was the perfect balance of sweet and bitter, "where'd you get it from?"

akaashi takes a sip of his own coffee, "it's from a coffeehouse just down the street," he says, "i could take you there, if you'd like."

he mumbles the last part almost inaudibly as his gaze averted away from you, akaashi fiddles with the hem of his sleeve nervously.

your mouth forms into an 'o' shape as you exclaim quietly — for a moment, you thought you might have imagined him saying it, given how quiet he said it, but the deep red on his face made you think otherwise.

"are you...asking me out?" you ask quietly, your tone a bit teasing and you try to fight a smile that's making it's way to your lips but eventually give in to it as you eye him curiously.

his gaze moves over to you again, and he mirrors your smile, "only if you say yes." he says, a hint of playfulness in his voice.

oh my god.

you cover your face as you quietly giggle and try to hide the blush on your cheeks, you feel shy yet enthusiastic as your heart hammers in your chest and you wonder I'd he feels the same way too.

you say, "i'd love that, akaashi."

akaashi blinks at you, almost as if he couldn't believe you'd just agreed to that — his heart clenches in his chest and his stomach drops to his knees, he could feel the warmth on his face and his foot began to tap on the floor.

holy shit, you actually said yes.

"you can call me keiji." akaashi says, "akaashi is my last name."

you gawk at him before you nod, "okay, keiji." you smile as you say his name softly with a bit of emphasize on it.

akaashi feels his heart flutter when he hears his name on the tip of youe tongue, and so he clears his throat as he leans over on the table, "so, say tomorrow, maybe five pm? i'll pick you up from here." he offers.

you can only grin at him as you nod your head enthusiastically, "that would be great."

the truth is, you actually fell for keiji the moment you met him, but what you didn't know was that keiji fell for you too the moment he laid eyes on you — although his fall might have not been as obvious as yours.

[bkdk-art]

Okay. I need to get this out because this idea is literally haunting me.

So, welcome to my brainrot on how the fight between Izuku and Shigaraki / OFA and OFA will play out and how Katsuki could play a part in it 🙌🏼 Even though I know it's never gonna happen like this but anyways, let me dream a little.

[Edit: I wrote this before chapter 403 came out and our beloved returned 🧡]

I always come back to imagining the final, crucial confrontation would somehow end up happening in the vestige realm with Izuku und Shigaraki being on opposite sites and AFO trying to steal OFA from Izuku, just like in the Paranormal Liberation War Arc.

And I feel like this time the battle of emotions might be more challening for Izuku and the former OFA holders. Because, yes, they are still seven people and All Might's vestige has even more to bring to the table after his fight against AFO but so has AFO himself and Shigaraki as well. I mean, the LOV has been defeated, all his friends are in critical states, he's feeling used by AFO etc. etc.

So imagine, the forces collide and it seems to look not so well for our heroes, doom hanging not just over them but over all of Japan.

But that's when Katsuki steps in.

And in my head it plays out like this: Katsuki is entering the scene, maybe only a panel of his shoulders (him being in his UA uniform) is shown, the his feet, the drawing just hinting on him and suddenly the OFA side gets brighter and stronger and all sorts of emotions fill the space.

Namely, Katsuki's confidence, his anger, his ambition, his insecurities, his determination - with every step there're more emotions.

And then he stops, right next to Izuku. The greenhead is just shellshocked, not understanding how Katsuki is in the vestige realm to begin with and he's also so overwhelmed to see Katsuki looking like himself and not like the corpse Izuku had to witness earlier.

Katsuki, now standing next to his nerd, looks at Izuku with that soft expression that has been driving us all crazy lately and a new wave of Katsuki's emotions starts filling the realm: Tenderness, deep regret about his past behaviour, the frustration he used to feel towards Izuku when they were little and a new frustration about Izuku being too reckless, mixed with gut wrenching worry and fear, pride about Izuku's development and so, so, so much more, but all of this is nothing compared to when Katsuki holds out his hand to Izuku and-

Love. The love-kanji becomes dominant, taking up a full panel or even a full page, boosting OFA's fight against AFO's grip.

Izuku is still too stunned to think or understand anything but he would never reject Katsuki, so his hand moves on its own, wanting go grap the blond's but then he staggers, the thought of "control your heart" paralyzing him.

Because how can Izuku control his heart when it comes to Kacchan? Suddenly he's way too scared to take Katsuki's hand because everything could blow up in their faces and they can't risk one single slip against their opponents.

Daigoro, the fifth holder, who said those words all those months ago, is the one to snap Izuku out of his spiraling by saying: "Don't worry, kid, following your heart is important too."

That's all Izuku needs. He launches forward, intertwining his fingers with Katsuki's and slinging his other arm around the blond's shoulders.

Izuku lets all his suppressed feelings for Katsuki come to the surface, a storm of emotions rages through the realm and that's when AFO is hurled out of the domain, maybe even Shigaraki but leaving little scared Tenko there.

And there they are, Izuku and Katsuki, clinging to each other for a heartfelt moment until Katsuki mumbles something like "Don't you still have an ass to kick out there?"

Izuku leans back, tears in his eyes and makes Katsuki promise that they'll see each other again in the real word, that Katsuki has to come back to him. Katsuki makes the promise with a smirk, asking Izuku where else he was supposed to go.

Sharing a last, calm eyecontact in all of this chaos, Izuku gets back to end things with what's left of AFO and maybe even Shigaraki and the final fight is over, Edgeshot and Jeanist manage to save Katsuki, hero society needs to be rebuilt and all of that stuff and ~ the end.

And I'm very aware of the fact that it's not gonna play out like this but storywise it would work! Balancing the "control your heart"-theme in a more healthy way because up until now, it only has lead Izuku to supress stuff. And it would also resolve Katsuki's presence in the vestige realm and would make him the key to winning against AFO.

Because we all agree he has to play some part in it, right? But in my eyes, there's no way Katsuki could return to the real live battle field. I mean, half of his face and his dominant arm have been crushed, not to mention his heart (!) exploded (!!).

So. Yeah, that's it, that's the brainrot living rentfree in my head.

Okaythankyouforreadingthisbye ♡