#and now that I’m the same age as the characters it’s. it’s hitting harder

[nouearth]

lessons in kissing.

dick grayson x male reader x peter parker.

summary: dick and peter become your professors in kissing 101 (& more).

wc: 6.2k. genre: smut. warnings: top!peter, top!dick, bottom!reader, handjobs, blowjobs, kissing, cum-swapping, mouth-fucking, threesome, unprotected rough!sex, reader's first time, characters are aged up!

notes: yeah, so um... this might be my dirtiest smut yet. this was also my first time writing a threesome soooo, i hope i did okay? thank you, anon!

request by: anonymous.

“you’re lying! you’ve really never kissed anyone before?”

“dude, like, ever?!” peter gasped, and you turned towards him, slowly nodding while you grew cautious of everyone’s confusion. 

“not even when you were in kindergarten?” you twisted your neck for the nth time at the sound of dick’s voice again, and shame unexpectedly crept onto you the more the two men collected their bafflement together.

your cheeks and neck flamed as they both stared at you, bewildered as if your confession was akin to an unmasking of a superhero—like a family of lemurs, a small one, you’d reckon.

“geez,” your hand clutched onto the can of sparkling water harder before downing it, ridding your insecurity in several hard and fizzy gulps. “if i knew i was going to be interrogated, i wouldn’t have told you guys in confidence.”

“no, it’s just…” a careful exchange was puzzled together by the two men. dick shrugged and peter stammered, following you into the kitchen of his apartment. “i mean, not to make you feel weird or anything, but you’re not ugly.”

“i- pete, was that supposed to be a compliment?” your eyes narrowed at him jokingly, maintaining the coldness of your gaze to break peter into nervous stammers. 

“w-what, no!“ he shook his head and approached you closer, a mixture of awkward laugher filling the feigned tension between the both of you. “wait- no, i mean, yes! it’s a compliment.”

you’ve always found it cute.

“i think what peter means is…” bouncy steps followed you two into the kitchen, more-so to sate his appetite for pizza after losing his tenth consecutive match on a game, but consider his curiosity piqued. a mouthful of pepperoni and cheese didn’t stop him from joining. “you’re handsome, he talks about it all the time.”

“dude...” peter grumbled and instinctively turned his body away out of your sight, sipping at nothing in his cup. the only fizz left was the glare he sent dick; like a sparkler on holiday festivities. 

“oops, my bad,” another bite, and dick took his cup of soda to gulp the grease down. “we find you handsome—though, i’m pretty sure (m/n) knew that since i hit on him when we first met.”

“god,” you laughed it off, picking the pizza box of gloopy cheese to take it in your mouth. “can you imagine? my first kiss being with you? or even peter?”

yes, you can imagine. those thoughts had run rampant since you met them in freshman year of university, expanded upon it even. what would it be like to date dick? how soft were his lips? and the same for peter. sometimes, you’d even think about making out while he was in his spider-man costume, but that fantasy was shamefully bookmarked into a deep abyss of thoughts, only sprouting when you would touch yourself at night.

“why?” peter turned back, almost offended, while dick’s laughter joined you, and you swear you can feel a draft from how quickly he twisted around. “is that weird?”

“kinda?” the conversation made you shift on your feet. it was more intimate than what you were used to, and they knew it too, judging by the way they both stared at you again—hyenas. “i mean, i guess it’s because we’re so close now, so…”

“pft, that never stopped me,“ it was like a magic spell drew that confession out of dick. your fingers would have to be cut to coerce that out of you, but you weren’t dick—shameless and confident, you admired it on good days. 

nonetheless, you and peter both gave dick a questioning look. offended would be a regular person’s first reaction, but from the brief exchange you and peter shared, it was unanimous that curiosity took the lead.

dick’s gaze shifted from you and peter, and when the silence drew out for longer than he would’ve thought, a welcoming draft in the room awaited his rebuttal. “come on- you seriously think i stopped thinking about you guys just because we’re best friends now?

“dude, you think about me?” peter’s eyes widened. it would’ve been hilarious if you weren’t involved. you would’ve passed this off as a banter, no more than that. 

you hated to admit it, but you felt yourself throb at this revelation. blood rushed downwards in light speed and you were barely conscious to the drone of peter and dick’s chatter, but you shook it off, laughing at their banters like you aways did.

the day went on like usual. peter’s collection of video games kept you guys entertained for a few hours. when you felt fatigued from mashing your thumb onto the buttons for the ninth match, a walk downtown sufficed. laughing and bantering were the core of your friendship with dick and peter—like every friendship you’d imagine.

but at its finest, it was their vulnerabilities to you, and yours to them, that kept the foundation strong. they trusted you with every secret of theirs, aided them in a few missions of their own, and your friendship thrived. 

the next few days haven’t been exactly the smoothest. you were quieter than usual, and they both took notice because you’d pick at your food while their voices—questions and comments—were ignored, passersby to the street of hearville.

was it that weird to have never kissed at your age? to never have had sex? to not even have had held hands with another guy? they never made fun of you, but you couldn’t help but let these thoughts run rampant.

no. no, it wasn’t. people have their own pace. mine... just somehow happens slower.

you weren’t insecure, but you still felt weird. you suddenly became moody when you saw dick and peter, like you want to be left alone, push them out of your apartment when they drop a visit, drop their pants and suck them off-

oh.

ohhhhh.

dick and peter.

“teach me.” you suddenly spoke out and the two men looked up from their plate of food, exchanging a look with each other before questioning you, humored because you barely spoke all day. the tv played in the background and you were all sitting on the ground, eating off of peter’s very… very small coffee table.

“ah, i almost forgot what your voice sounded like, (m/n)!” dick laughed, twirling his fork into his pasta before shoving the food into his mouth. 

you made a slight pout, only because they weren’t taking you seriously. though, to be fair, you have been acting weird all week.

“with what?” peter noticed, a little more serious in his inquiry. but food was more of a priority for him, you can see him practically sweating at the thought of leaving his spaghetti cold.

“pete, you can still eat-“ you laughed, taking a bite of your food. 

“oh, thank god.” and peter does the same, chowing down on his spaghetti after a hard day of saving lives.

dick cleaned his palette with a cold gulp of soda, a refreshing hiss when the bubbles trickled down his throat. “so, teach you what exactly?” he continued on. “fighting? oh, dude, are you going to be a vigilante-“

“no, no! does it look like i have the strength to be like batman or something?” 

“well, i’m guessing that’s why you came to us for training?” dick amused himself, and peter chuckled, much to your annoyance. 

“guys, i don’t want to be a vigilante.” you grumbled, beginning to bury your confession deep in the pit of your stomach somewhere. “or a superhero, or a guy in a spider-suit with weird web things.”

“hey, they’re not weird-“

“i want to…” it was calming to watch the way your fork swirled itself into the pasta, metal tongs pierced and capturing a wave of sauce and spaghetti all in one swirl. “learn what it’s like to kiss.”

peter choked on his glass of water.

you continued, hot in the cheeks because you can see peter’s widened eyes even when you look away. “handjobs, blowjobs, everything…”

and a piece of dick’s meatball was caught in his throat.

a low drone accompanied the silence once the tv was muted and while a huge weight lifted off your shoulders and chest, you felt small knowing how vulnerable and weird your request sounded. 

“so, you want us to teach you how to…” dick cleared his throat and you feel like you could hear a smile, but you weren’t sure if that was your mind trying to convince you that everything was fine. “kiss and… other things?”

“yeah,” you continued to avoid your gaze, opting for the wooden floor instead. “i know, it’s weird. you don’t have to say yes or anything, it’s just-“

“is that why you’ve been acting stand-offish lately? peter was worried. he was the type to always blame himself of someone else’s behavior, no matter how much you tried to reassure him. though, you guess, he technically was the reason why you became so moody—part of it, anyway. 

“mhm.” the silence was defeating, you can hear their necks turn to look at each other—of judgement, most likely.

and it was all but confirmed when you can see them hopping back onto their feet and running—running as far from you as possible. “guys, wait, i’m sorry-“

you looked up and watched them dash to peter’s bathroom, immediately chasing after the trail of their steps in bewilderment. “what are you-“

“first step, make sure you have good breath.” dick handed you your toothbrush, his spare one at peter’s already brushing into the foaming spearmint in his mouth.

“atleastluntilhelikeyousenough” peter gargled thick and incoherent, brushing into his jumbled sentence.

“uh-huh, okay… seems a little obvious, but…” you spread the toothpaste on the bristles of your brush and began brushing, a smile forming because you have to brush the front teeth too—but also because of your best friends.

you can always count on them. 

“you ready?” dick naturally became the leader of this impromptu training program. he was the most experienced considering how many women and men you caught him with, and as much as you hated that when you were roommates with him, his expertise was needed in this moment. 

“yes.” you sat in the middle of peter and dick, rubbing your sweaty palms against your shorts. a mere flash of regret ignited inside of your beating heart, but peter rested his hand on top of one of yours, squeezing ever so gently to warm and soothe you—to pacify you.

and your worries were quelled when dick does the same, his smile softer, countering his usual playful attitude. “just stop me whenever you feel uncomfortable.” he made you feel safe.

you looked at peter, and he nodded in agreement, his fingers now intertwined with yours. he had always kept you safe, feeling safe, this was a normal feeling towards him. “same with me.” “i will.” your voice was quiet in the bedroom, a mere soft whisper, but they recognized your will to be more vulnerable with one another, to blossom. and dick appeased it with a kiss.

light and feathery at first to test the water, but once dick heard your breath hitch, he applied more pressure in between your lips, capturing them in a slow waltz that kept you on your toes, yet flat on your feet to contain your excitement—your relief. 

it was awkward at first, to find your footing. your nose would bump into his, teeth as well, but dick chuckled, assuring you this will always happen.

unbeknownst to you, dick’s been wanting to do this since he met you, and he savored every second. “remember what i told you… build it up.” he reminded you because you were getting eager, following his lead but returning his kiss in hard sucks. “nice and slow.” 

peter’s palm on your thigh pressed gently onto your bare skin, mistakenly under the lift of your shorts because he was too in awe of the kiss, but they grounded you from your brief flight to the heavenly clouds nonetheless.

“nice and slow…” dick repeated, and you succumbed to his reminder like a prodigy. “that’s it.” it lasted for a few seconds longer until you pulled away to capture your breath again. your lips tingled still, remembering the taste of spearmint when dick’s breath ghosted on your skin.

“was that okay?” an innocent question, but you swore you stole that exact same tone from a porn you watched the other day.

“a natural,” dick laughed, stroking your hair back and you’ve never see him so affectionate—loving, as he doted on you. “try it on peter. more touching though, if you’re okay with that.”

you nodded and turned your head, meeting peter’s gaze with a flushed smile, your lips slightly swollen from your previous endeavor. “I’m okay with that.”

“me too.” peter smiled, only softening when you leaned in, and it completed hid against you when you captured his smile with a kiss. 

his hand gently placed on the back of your head when you did and he pulled you closer into him, returning the kiss, and spilling his breath into yours, while at the same time, drawing yours out. “rub my chest, i like it when people do that.” peter whispered in between each kiss.

you do as you were told, a gentle hand to peter’s broad chest, and you feel yourself tightening, satisfied with how intimate this all is as you felt the muscles on his chest through the fabric.

in the meantime, dick’s been squeezing at the bulge in his pants, containing his will to completely ravish you simply by watching the way you and peter made out. he’s always been observant, noticing the strong twitching of peter’s own erection, and soon yours when peter slid his tongue into your mouth. 

it was tantalizing—breath-taking— watching intimacy build up and vulnerabilities become unimaginably pliant before him. the pink muscles looped and swirled with one another, spreading and sharing sticky saliva until your mouth and peter’s were practically coated in it, glossed in sheen.

when peter pulled away, your lips were immediately stolen by dick again, kissing you with more strength than before, stubbornly refusing the chance for you to restock on oxygen as he wanted a taste of you too. the air became thicker, harder to breathe, but you basked in the taste, the wetness of dick’s tongue, and allowed yourself to become weak in his arms when he took you in, embraced you closely. “mmf...” you moaned out, breathing harder.

but just like dick, peter wasn’t finished with you, directing his tongue and lips to the back of your neck when you turned away. his ticklish and fleeting kisses pulled you back into peter’s arms, but dick noticed and pulled you forward: a stubborn game of gentle tug of war. 

they wanted you, every piece of you. it was telling as peter sucked into your neck, venomous and poisoning, and when dick began directing your hand under his shirt, allowing you to feel his toned stomach and chest, and eventually his clothed erection, making you squeeze around it with an open palm.

lessons have completely escaped to the back of minds, and all that remained was pure lust.

“it’s okay if you don’t want to.” dick reassured. though, ironically, his hand atop of yours, relieving the ache in his pants continued.

through swollen lips, you managed to mutter, distracted by peter’s bruising sucks to other areas of your neck and skin, whimpering when he bit a little too hard. “i did say teach me everything…” his hands were under your shirt now, warming your bare skin with his palms, excited, but fleeting as they immediately tied to the buttons of your shorts when you gave the okay.

“hey, hey,” dick laughed, watching the way peter has grown grandly impatient. “you’re going to scare him, horn dog.” he left a kiss on your lips, a quick one before leaning past you to kiss peter.

you watched in awe at what a kiss was supposed to be like: burning with ease and passion with every stroke of their lips, no hesitation at all—just a moment of time that they’ll remember. you backed into the bed and leaned against the headboard as they kissed at the foot. you don’t remember having your hand down your shorts, but you do, palming yourself to your own private show.

the kiss ran sloppy, drool dripping down either chins, stained with intimacy, and clothes were quickly tossed to the side, with no care in the world.

you followed.

even though you were similar height to peter, he was stronger—they both were. and now, you felt smaller as they climbed onto the bed, towards you, bare and hardened. you watched breathlessly, as their cocks swung heavy with heat. peter’s pre-cum dripped thickly in yearn for something to fuck, while dick’s throbbed for something to fill—a porn scene come to life—and you were left agape, jaw and legs.

“kinda surprised we’ve never done this sooner,” peter said, you weren’t used to his voice so low. kneeling on the bed, by your left hip, he took your hand and kissed the palm, the wrist of it, skimmed his lips over your forearm before guiding It toward his cock, aching for your touch. “though, was hoping i’d have you to myself, but…” gently, your hand was cradled to wrap around his shaft, warm and running with veins, it pulsed. “this works too.”

your chest rose with every spoken word, and peter has never looked hotter. taking control of you like that made your skin crawl, a spell that commanded you to move your hand back and forth, conjuring you to pump him in slow strokes.

contrary to his overall demeanor, his actions were of warmth. caresses to your head, doting on you with honey dripping from his gaze and cotton in touch while you sinned. 

you didn’t know where to look—to fall in love with the way peter gazed at you like a painting in a museum, or to salivate over the way his pre-cum leaked thickly over your hand when you squeeze it out of him, like a bottle of maple syrup.

that became more a problem—a dilemma—when you felt a wetness over your right nipple, then a sting when dick bites to get your attention—selfish and stubborn, like always. “are you sure this wasn’t a tactic to get all three of us in the same room? you seem comfortable.”

he tongued your nub, flicking back and forth to make you squirm, to hear the sound of your moans, to be the reason you have trouble sleeping at night. alongside, his palm ran over your body—chest first, down your stomach, and finally, your erect cock and balls.

you watched, breathless, continuing to stroke peter’s cock and he’d lean over to give you a few kisses here and there. for the most part, he was content like this, watching you squirm while maintaining to do the best to pleasure him.

“no, i swear- it’s just-“ dick played with your balls, squeezing and tugging on the tight sack to loosen them. every man was sensitive down there, you were no exception. “you guys made me feel safe, so…”

“well,” you looked up when peter spoke, his eyes fluttered shut, and you only got them to open when you thumbed the slit of his head, rubbing slick all over his glans, then the length of his cock when you continued stroking. “we are superheroes.”

you all laughed, switching gazes between the both of them, but it was dick’s mouth suddenly wrapping around you that made you concentrate only on him.

“oh, fuck…” warmth surrounded you, inhaled you in one shallow breath, before dick pulled you out of his wet mouth, taunting you with the loss of heat.

“it’s just like kissing,” he said, licking a stripe over the underside of your cock, tonguing his favorite spot: the neck of the glans and the frenulum. dick followed the lines of flesh with precision, leading the very tip of his tongue into the duct of your urethra—once again, tonguing it while his eyes focused on you, devious. “but let curiosity take you further and explore every part of their body.”

“m-mm…” you were sure there was meaning to his words, but they fell on deaf ears. instead, you focused on the ample heat that engulfed you again, moaning.

“every.” dick took you in and pulled you out with a pop.

“fuck-“ you breathed out, curling your toes into the sheets.

“part.” holding your cock up and stroking sloppily, he inhaled your ballsack. sweaty and musty, they must’ve been, but dick devoured the scent, the taste of sins with hungry sucks and licks—ardent and full of fervor.

and at the moment where you most expected to let out a moan, it was shoved down your throat when peter suddenly situated you in between his legs and filled your mouth with his thick cock, smelling of sweat and sex when you inhaled near his trimmed hairs.

“come on,” peter briefly pulled out, tapping the plump tip over your lips. “you learn best when you demonstrate what you’ve been taught.”

peter covered your view of dick, but you weren’t sure if you needed to see him because you felt every maneuver of dick’s tongue, now drowning your cock with his mouth while he continued assaulting your sensitive balls, tugging and squeezing. 

you looked up and peter never looked bigger, more intimidating, but it’s become your new addiction, and you take his cock, holding it thick and take in what you can. it was barely past the tip before you could feel yourself gagging, but with peter’s reassurance, you swallow more of him every time you went down, slicking him up with your spit.

“how’s he doing, pete?” your cock was left cold when dick pulled away to speak, but he made up for it with his hand, stroking his spit with your cock.

“he really is a natural.” peter chuckled, watching you with a scrunched face of pleasure whenever you pulled him deeper into your mouth. almost down your throat now, but he pulled his cock back completely before you can fully take him. “you try.”

“fuck, yes.” dick leaped over and used the spit from your length earlier to lube his own cock, spitting in his palm and stroking when it wasn’t slicked to his likening while peter scooted back to kneeling at your side, stroking himself now.

as your head was positioned in between both their cocks, dick’s was bigger, thicker—a mouth stretcher you’d imagine. but peter’s was longer, veinier, and the only thing they had in common was that their balls hung loose. in porn terms, hung like a horse. 

and on this very day, you considered yourself a lucky man because you have no objection to either, no will to pick and choose.

“look at you,” dick’s voice was rugged, deep, and he pushed his cock past your swollen lips. there was a clear difference in girth. your mouth was stretched wide, and you could only hum a sound of satisfaction, even with the slight sting from the stretch of skin. “who knew you’d be such a cock lover, hm?” 

“he can’t get enough of it, god…” peter was in awe, salivating and stroking quicker at the sight.

two hands kept dick’s cock still in your mouth while you sucked on the bulbous tip like a lollipop. the rest of your hands stroked whatever you couldn’t mange to fit in your mouth. you were apologetic at first, but dick’s smirk told a simple story of his ego, clearly aroused by the size of his own cock as it only grew wider when you struggled downing him, gagging with a whimper.

“come on… (m/n), you can do better than that. you were so good at sucking peter off, kissing us too. what happened?” dick pulled away to stroke himself with your spit, but he quickly buried any excuses into your throat when he pushed himself into your mouth.

“you’re too comfortable now, (m/n). you’re slacking…” peter joined the banter, and when dick pulled out of your mouth, peter’s cock replaced the loss of warmth to your surprise.

holy shit, this is happening.

like a see-saw, the two men alternated in filling your mouth, stuffing saliva further and further down your throat, without allowing a single excuse from you to escape. it’s buried now, deep in the pit of your stomach, and all you can do was be the prodigy that they wished for you to be.

when it was dick’s turn to stretch your mouth, you made sure that peter’s cock wasn’t left abandoned, stroking him with distracted strokes, and vice versa when it was his turn at your throat. you overworked yourself in pleasuring your two best friends, making sure they were satisfied with you, with your mouth as you took more of them without a single plea for a break.

“fuck, there we go…” occasionally, dick would take control by holding the back of your head and fucking inside of your tight mouth. drool leaked down either corners of your mouth while you let him, tears brimming in your eyes when your throat tightened again, a familiar feeling that dick encouraged to hold back. “there’s my star. taking cock like a good student.” 

if there was one thing that these very brief lessons have taught you, you were exactly what they named you: a cock lover. you slurped at whatever—whoever—entered your mouth absentmindedly, spat on cocks that have begun to look more or less the same, because it was dizzying now. your cock was left alone, but it stood tall and proud, throbbing as the two men harassed your face and mouth with their erections. one would gag you while the other had his balls shoved to your face and nose, sliding its wet, dirty slick all over your skin, staining you with lust.

it alternated like this for a while, and you were content, so was dick and peter. but you needed more—something to fill you elsewhere that wasn’t your dirty mouth. and you pleaded with your eyes, looking up at your best friends with delighted tears, a mouthful of cock, and a gaze only a cock loving whore could have—and they recognized it. 

peter was reluctant to pull away, he was so close. but he’s always been selfless. he released his hold on you and it was a struggle to pull you away, but he did with your lips suctioning off with a quiet pop. a thick string of spit that once connected between your lips and peter’s cock laid like webs on your chin, cooling as you watched the two men reposition themselves.

“i’m going to assume we don’t need a lesson in how to finger yourself, hm?” dick whispered against your swollen lips and kissed you again. you were entranced under his tongue, swirling all over yours like ocean waves while you touched yourself to his licks. you twisted and pinched your nipples, tugged on them with the occasional help from dick, then stroked your cock while dick continued from peter’s original trail of bruising kisses to mark his own territory on your body. you were as horny as they were, if not hornier, and you needed them inside of you, in any way possible.

“fuck, i need you guys so bad.” breathless in your moans, your legs squirmed when you felt something wet between your thighs when they were raised, peter’s nice girth sliding in between the plump skin. 

he thrusted himself slow and steady while he worked on your hole, reaching down to prepare you with his lubed digits, one by one. you’ve done this before, they were surely aware, so it wasn’t a unit that was particularly focused.

in between preparation, your mouth remained on dick’s cock again, delivering him your fullest attention with several lathers of your tongue, sucking hard and hollow, deep into your throat. you remember what he taught you and occasionally stuffed your mouth with his balls, sucking on the weight and letting go with a pull because you got off on seeing how they tensed and jiggled when you did.

“i’ll go slow.” peter leaned in with your legs hooked over his shoulders, bending you back, and kissing the tip of your nose when he was close enough to your face. “tell me if you want to stop.”

once you nodded, allowing him the will to deliver on his promise, peter made sure to lube himself up once more before pushing inside of you, slow and steady. he was careful, watching your face as it scrunched when the head slid in—burned when the rest of him filled you to the brim.

it was almost like you couldn’t breathe. it was too much, to be bearing all of this pain alone, but at the same time, you held peter close, wrapped your arms around him to prevent him from leaving you while you buried tiny whimpers into his neck, because you don’t want to stop feeling it, so full and devoured. it was written all over their faces when you glanced at them—they didn’t want to stop either. 

peter and dick decorated your skin in wet kisses, distracting you from the pain while peter began to find a rhythm. although slow, you were beginning to familiarize yourself with this pain. soon after, pleasure, when he struck something inside of you, a certain spot.

“oh- peter, right there, fuck.” your legged tightened around him and the sweat from your thighs rolled back onto your stomach when peter re-adjusted himself to fuck you at a higher angle, folding you onto your back. 

“yeah? right here?” peter thrusted into that spot dead-on, like a dart to a bullseye, and you groaned, your throat aching in pleasure, but dick pacified it with his cock again, filling you up once more. “oh fuck, look at you. all of your holes are filled up, fuck… so fucking tight”

“baby, you’re doing a great job, god…” your heart beat when dick called you that. it was always something he said as a joke when he arrived to your place. honey, darling, you name it, but the fact that it came out so genuine, it made your skin flush red and you could only respond in moans while you sucked him off. “i think he likes it when you fuck him like that, pete.”

for the first time, you felt wanted. 

peter’s thrusts were hard and strong, his balls swung into with every rhythm. you can see the muscles in his thighs flexing whenever he pounded down into your tight hole, your bodies colliding like waves to a rock. it stung whenever his skin slapped into yours, sweaty and musky, but the sinful sounds were well-worth the prize as you basked in them, in the taste of dick’s cock, the sound of peter’s grunts, the flutter of dick’s eyes when you gargled his cock again, deeper, the sweat dripping from peter’s forehead and body—the bedroom hailed of sex. it rocked of brutal creaks and slams as both of your holes were violated and filled to the very brim, all driven by pure lust. 

after some time, they switched spots, tag-teaming so dick can have his turn at your hole. unlike peter, he was rougher, immediately pounding into you because he was sex-crazed about you, couldn’t stop thinking about you since day one of meeting you.

“fuck, better than i’ve ever imagined,” he laughed into your mouth, kissing you sloppily, and pulling away when peter’s cock impatiently wedged himself in between the kiss, and you were back to sucking and jerking off cock again—no complaints. “still so tight, even after peter fucked you so hard…”

“it’s like he was made to be a whore, right?” such vulgar language from your best friends broke the original portrayal you had of them. now, all you could think about was how they wanted to absolutely make a wreck out of you, de-blossom your naive thoughts of what your first time should’ve been like.

it wasn’t what you had imagined. it was supposed to be with one person. a full-time commitment to your relationship. a loving pair holding each other close when they both climax. it was going to be special.

but this… you thought to yourself as you were fucked into the bedsheets with absolutely no mercy, your ass pained and bruised from dick’s muscular hips driving into you every time he came down, harassing you in that familiar spot again.

this was… peter pushed on your bottom lip with two fingers to open your mouth, then spitting in the void, some catching onto your tongue, before shoving his swollen cock inside of you again, aching to touch—to fuck.

dick palmed your cock as you writhed, bent under him, moaned around peter’s long cock. he gathered all of his strength left to tickle you deep, to reach inside of you with his cock, breathless and panting with every thrust that rocked the two of you together—three, when peter fucked into your mouth. 

this was so much fucking better. 

“holy shit-“ under dick’s touch, you came hard in several thick ropes, all over his fist, and then the sweat of your body when he opened his palm. you were a natural shooter, accidentally spraying your face with your own thick semen, and you heard peter and dick moan in unison, in awe.

seeing you dressed in cum like this had them race each other to their climax. dick fucked you harder, his grasp on your hips bruising and white, while peter held onto your head and met your throat with his cock, repeatedly forceful in strength. you gagged around him, and they only benefitted from every sound you made.

“fuck, i’m going to-“ you watched peter’s abs flexed, tightened as his stomach pooled with pleasure, and you can hear the holy bells ring when he pulled out of your mouth, jerking his wet and slimy cock off until he came undone in thick spurts, all over your pretty face. not a single shot was missed, painting you in white like a canvas with every last drop.

you were still high off of your own orgasm, and you turned your head to watch dick fuck himself into you, clearly wonder-strucked by the scene before him. you were covered in cum all over. they beckoned him to join, the many loads on your body. they were begging now, a mantra of pleas pulled him closer to you, and he can smell the sex off of you, inhaled peter’s musk as well, and again—those holy bells rang.

with the speed of lightning, dick pulled himself out of your abused hole and climbed over to kneel over your chest, fucking into his fist while simultaneously jerking his cock off over your face. to your cum-covered body, to peter kissing his spunk off your cheek and chin then your lips, to the taste of your own cum when you swiped a load off your chest and fed it into dick’s mouth. he suckled, bittersweet salt spread over his tongue, and he was ravished by the taste of you. 

dick then pushed his hips out and aimed his cock over your lips, still connected to peter’s for a messy kiss, stroking until the only reason he tore his gaze away was because his lids fell heavy, ceased his sight to roll his eyes back, and came with a shudder. thick ropes of cum inked on your face and peter’s, but most of it fell to your connected lips. 

“fuck, that’s hot…” dick muttered, rolling his shoulders back while he milked himself to you and peter making out, cum-stained and all. you moaned at the taste, saltier than yours and peter’s, and peter does the same while scraping a load of warm cum from the corner of your cheek and into his mouth before kissing you again, swapping the gloopy residue with a sloppy exchange of tongues.

he was envious, watching how the sticky load caught onto your lips then peter’s when he squeezed himself dry. before you and peter could take all of his cum for yourself, he leaned down to join peter for a kiss, stealing the mound of cum that peter has expertly hidden on his tongue. dick didn’t know who he was tasting anymore. but whether it was you, peter, or himself, it was delectable, and he wanted to share the delightful taste with you. he spat the mixture of cum and spit inside of your mouth before webbing his lips to yours, sealing it with one final breathless kiss.

“so, are lessons still on for next week or?” peter lay by your side, and dick joined the other, still dizzied from his high as telling by his shut eyes and drawn out pants. 

“i mean… i’m still up for it if you guys are?” you said, leaning over to press a kiss to peter’s cheek. you took his smile as an answer and looked to dick for his.

“mm... yeah.” dick sleepily opened his eyes, his locks stuck to his sweaty forehead while he buried himself under the blanket. you felt his arms wrap around your waist once he got comfortable, muttering a kiss to your shoulder before dozing off. 

“we’re good teachers, pete.

nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. andif you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!

[satorusugurugurl]

Currently thinking about switch reader and switch toru, where reader would be riding him while he’s a crying whining mess, maybe even tying his hands up, but as soon as she gets off of him he’s ripped the binds on his wrists and is flipping her over to give her the same treatment

-🍭

Silk

Characters: Gojo Satoru, FAB!Reader

Warnings: Bindage, silk ropes, choking, smut dirty talk, switch!gojo, switch!reader

Word Count: 1,119

A/N: F-Feral, submissive, whinning Gojo is one of my favorite Gojo’s!! 🫣

Gojo Satoru was the strongest. It was something everyone said, including himself. Yes, your boyfriend was the strongest sorcerer of the modern age. Which meant he got sent on missions a lot, which you didn't mind. He always came back home to you, cocky and ready for a sweet treat as a prize for himself.

What people didn't know was that when Gojo came back from a long or tedious mission, he needed you. Satoru needed you in a way that he never, ever let other people even know about. Because what would that into his reputation? What would happen if people knew Gojo Satoru wasn't always the strongest in bed?

Sure, Gojo loved fucking you into the mattress. But days after two week-long missions, he wanted to sit back and let you take the reins. He was beginning to regret his choice to let you do what you wanted now.

“A-Ah, holy fuck!” Gojo’s eyes flooded with tears, his blue eyes watching his cock disappear into your pussy as he slowly, and he fucking meant, slowly bounced up and down on him. “Y/N babe, please!” He cried out, choking on a sob as you clamped down on his oversensitive cock. “P-Please, move faster!”

“I'm sorry; I thought you told me to enjoy myself, Toru.”

“I-I did! But I-I need more.”

You stopped moving altogether, sitting on his lap, cockwarming his throbbing cock. He whined in protest, struggling against the blue rope binding his wrists together. There was something about seeing him like this. Gojo was so needy and desperate that it had your pussy twitching with need. Feral horny Satoru was fun, but this submissive Satoru hit a different kind of button inside of you.

His hips weakly tried rocking up into you, but you hummed, slowly pulling up off him until he was an inch from popping out. “N-No, wait, what are you doing?! Please, please don't!” With a sneer, you slammed yourself back down onto his length, taking all of him in one go. “HAA!” Blue iris’ were the size of pin pricks as you repeated the same pattern, over and over, until he was choking on moans.

“Look at you~ such a good boy, Satoru~” Your boyfriend's chest heaved, eyes shut tight as you leaned forward, your fingers wrapping around his neck. “Are you my good boy~?”

Satoru bucked his hips cock throbbing as he shook his head. “I-I’m not a fucking sub.” A sadistic smile crossed over your face as he bounced faster, moaning as you felt the coil in your tummy tightening.

“Ooh~? Is that why you're blushing like a whore~? Do you want me to stop?” he shakes his head, “I asked you a question.” Fingers tightened around his throat, and you savored the way he cried out. “So answer it; are you a good boy?”

The way you spoke the degrading tone, made everything feel better. It was like he was in his domain, and everything was much more intense. His balls clenched, and a strangled cry overcame him as the first waves of his orgasm rolled over him.

His hands fought against the silk ribbon you so cruelly bound him with. “I-I’m a good boy! I'm a good boy!” Crying out, Satoru threw his head back, cumming inside of your pussy as you bounced harder, faster before slamming down on him completely, cumming with him.

Heavy breathing flooded the room as your heart rate began to slow. Only when you were positive you weren't going to pass out from pure orgasmic bliss your gaze fell on your boyfriend's face. Satoru’s bangs hung over his eyes; his ivory-perfect skin flushed red.

He looked so fucked out of his, drool spilling from the corner of his mouth. His chest was moving rapidly; his stomach muscles clenched underneath you. God, he looked so delicious like this, but at the same time, he seemed out of it. A little too out of it.

“Satoru?” He didn't respond. “I'll go get you some water.” Inching yourself off Satoru’s semi-hard cock, you gasped as the tip popped out. With jelly legs, you got off him, standing up slowly. “Baby, I'll be rig-” Looking over your shoulder, you came face to face with stunning blue eyes. “T-Toru?”

In one swift movement, Satoru yanked his wrists apart, ripping the blue silk bindings. Large hands gripped your hips, throwing you down on the mattress. The fluidity of his actions left you breathless, his hips pressing against yours. His hard cock throbbed before plunging inside of you.

“Nnngh! Fuck!” Satoru growled, hearing your cries of pleasure. One hand gripped your hip so hard you knew you'd have bruises later. “T-Toru!”

“You thought it was cute tying me up like that?” His voice was dark, lips on your neck, breathless words tickling your ear. “Oh, you got nothing to say now?” he thrust deeper, his cock hitting your cervix head-on. “Yeah, that's what I thought.” His free hand grabbed both of your wrists, pinning them against the mattress. “Not so funny now that you're in my position, is it?”

You couldn't find the words to respond other than ‘fuck’. Satoru was fucking your brains out. Literally rendering your use of human language useless. All you were capable of doing was crying out his name as his cock slammed against your g-spot and your cervix with each thrust.

“Ah! Mnnngh T-Toru!” He chuckled, the hand in his hips moving, rubbing your clit in circles, his other hand squeezing around your wrists tightened, making your eyes roll back.

“Who's my good girl?”

“Haah, ah~!”

“Answer the question Y/N! Who's my good girl?!”

“M-Me! I am!”

Satoru took your earlobe between his teeth, picking up the pace of his sensual movements. “Then be a good girl and cum on my fat cock!” His eyes shut tight as you obeyed him, jerking and screaming, your orgasm bringing him over the edge of his second one. “That’s right, good girl~ good fucking girl~!”

The warmth from your lingering orgasm and Satoru’s body laid over you. Satoru’s bare chest hummed with a satisfied groan before trailing kisses up your neck all the way to your lips. The kiss was soft and full of adoration, his strong hands cupping your face. Before he collapsed next to you, his arms dropped over you, pulling you close.

“Next time, you'll be the one tied up.” He whispered over the back of your neck, grinning against your skin as you squirmed. “And baby, that's a fucking promise I intend to keep.”

[bad268]

can you write about Arvid x y/m both liking each other and everyone wants them to get together but both of them are too clueless to realise they both like each other. Atvid ends up confessing to y/n and it's juts all adorable?

love ur stories!!

+ I saw something about arvid? so I thought id give you an idea.

Y/n could be Dino's sibling, and they are the same age as Arvid, and he's just lovestruck by them and how gorgeous they are. and Dino finds out and also finds out Y/n also like Arvid, so he makes a plan to get them together, the plan ends up working but they pretend it didn't work, till dino walks in on them hugging/kissing. and it's just alot of fluff and funny.

Something New (Arvid Lindblad X Beganovic! Reader)

Fandom: RPF/F2/F3

Requested: Clearly (thank you love <3 I changed it a bit, but not a lot) (P.S. reader drives for Van Amersfoort)

Warnings: Aged up Arvid (Arvid and Dino are F2 Prema teammates) (Also 1) i watch Smii7y and friends so be aware of that 2) this is how I play Mario Kart with my friends)

POV: Second POV (You/your)

W.C. 1467

Summary: It takes a plan to get together.

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

~~ (^Pinterest)

You had never put any thoughts into anything other than racing. You decided from a young age that getting to Formula 1 was the only goal, and that’s been your mantra for as long as you can remember. You wanted to race with your brother, Dino, and the only way to do that was to dedicate your entire life to it. 

You worked your way through the ranks and kept to yourself the entire time. Not like anyone wanted to be your friend. You were so much harder on yourself compared to other drivers your age, and no one wanted to subject themselves to that.

When you got to Formula 2, you decided to let up a little. You had made it to, what you consider, the straight shot to Formula 1. You felt free for once. You were able to hang out with your teammates, participate in challenges, and just be normal for once.

Your teammate, Enzo, was great. He was fun to hang out with, and he helped you get acclimated to the new field. Enzo knew almost everyone since this was his fourth season. He introduced you to Luke, Jak, Gabriele, Sebastian, and Dino. Granted, you already knew Dino, but it was fun to meet him in his element since you were always on the back foot compared to him. By association, you met their teammates, and that’s how you found yourself in this predicament.

You were currently locked in a closet with none other than Arvid Lindblad. Let’s go back to the beginning.

You started hanging out with a bunch of different drivers. You started training with some of them, going out with them, and you even started hanging out with them outside of racing. You texted a few of them a lot and played games during the off weeks. 

One person you always hung out with was Arvid. 

“Wanna play Mario Kart?” Was probably the most common text between you two. You two were known to join a call and totally dominate random lobbies. 

One time, Dino and Sebastian joined your lobby, and they witnessed the random banter that you always played with. 

“I’m coming,” You joked as your character came up behind Arvid’s. Dino and Sebastion were off fighting while you and Arvid were battling for first place. 

“Keep that up,” Arvid joked back as he threw a bomb back. “I’ve got more where that came from.

“Give it to me then,” You chuckled as you threw a redshell at his character. “I’ll take anything from you.”

“You sound a little too excited about that,” He kept the banter going, knowing it was just banter. Despite the fact that he wished it was more, he would settle for being your best friend for now. 

“Suck it, Arvid!” You shouted as a blue shell hit him and your character passed him right before the finish line. “You are choking!”

“On what? On What?” Arvid shouted back with a loud laugh.

“What the fuck?” Sebastian laughed as he realized what you were saying. “Ain’t no way you two are just friends after saying some shit like that!”

“There’s no way that’s just banter,” Dino laughed nervously as he crossed in fifth and Sebastian crossed in sixth. 

“You just wished your banter was as goofy as ours,” You laughed as your characters were taken back to the menu for another race.

That was the day Dino and Sebastian devised a plan to get you two together. They were convinced you both harbored feelings for each other and you two were just too shy to say anything.

Dino started by talking about it with Arvid. It started with brief conversations about how he started hanging out with you, and what his favorite games to play with you were. Eventually, it turned to what his favorite things about you were and how he felt about you, and soon, he caught on.

“I see what you’re doing, Dino,” He laughed as they walked through the paddock on their way to a drivers’ conference. “And it’s not going to work.”

“You have so little faith in me!” Dino said, acting offended, “I’m just trying to understand your relationship or lack thereof.”

“I take what I can get,” Arvid attempted to joke as they walked past your garage, but it fell flat. When they got past your garage, Arvid turned to Dino, “If you know anyone who wants to be a wingman, I’m taking applications.”

“You say that like Sebastian and I don’t already have a plan,” Dino laughed as he put a hand on Arvid’s shoulder. “Say the word, and we go forth with Mission get Arvid and Y/n together.”

“Come up with a better name for this and you’re hired.”

The next week, Project Whisper (name pending), was moved into action. 

You had been seeing Sebastian, Dino, and Arvid talking off to the side a lot, and every time you tried to join them, they suddenly dispersed. You tried to listen in on their hushed conversations, but it was like they were speaking in code (they were).

You started backing off from them. If they were speaking in code every time you were near, maybe that meant they didn’t want to be friends anymore. After not having many friends to begin with, you never knew how to act in these situations, so you were doing what you thought was best.

The mission was failing!

Arvid was always texting Dino, saying they needed to ramp up the timeline of the plan. He noticed you started pulling back immediately, and he hated it.

“Dino!” Arvid ran up to him after the last race of the season. Dino had crashed out of the race, but you and Arvid shared a podium with Luke. Dino was hiding out in the PREMA trailer, watching the race but fell asleep after he saw the podium finishers. He jolted awake when Arvid frantically ran into the room. “What do I do?”

He’s talking about how you disappeared as soon as the podium celebration was done and the pictures were taken. You were gone, and Arvid couldn’t find you anywhere. This wasn’t supposed to be how this went!

“We’re gonna have to improvise,” Dino said to himself as he texted Sebastian to get the new details figured out. 

They knew you were touring the PREMA facility next week since they were rumored to sign you for their F2 team, so they were planning to use that to their advantage. Dino knew that facility like the back of his hand. He’s sure he could find somewhere to lock you and Arvid.

He did. And that’s where you are now. Locked in a supply closet nearly chest to chest with Arvid. It was awkward as you looked anywhere but him. Arvid was trying to think about how to start the conversation, but his instincts kicked in when he noticed your breathing quicken.

“Hey hey, what’s going on?” He asked as he wrapped his arms around you, trying to help you.

“I don’t like confined spaces,” you whispered as you leaned into him, grounding yourself. “And before you say it, a closet is different to a cockpit. I am busy trying not to crash in a cockpit. I’m just aware of the space in a closet.”

“Well then I can get us out sooner,” he started. “I didn’t know you were claustrophobic, else I wouldn’t have gone with this plan.”

“What plan?” You asked as you looked up at him in the limited light.

“Mission Whisper,” he responded with a grimace. It was a cringy name. “It was the plan to get us together.” There was a beat of silence between you two before you started uncontrollably laughing. “What’s so funny?”

“You’re telling me this code thing you’ve been talking about with Sebastian and Dino was an attempt to get us together? That was the reason I started avoiding you guys because you only talked in code around me so I thought you didn’t like me,” you word vomited through laughter. 

“You’re kidding,” Arvid gasped as he laughed at the misunderstanding with you. “I just didn’t know how to tell you, so they came up with this plan.”

“Tell me,” you said in a soft tone as you grabbed his hands.

“Tell you what?” He asked confused as he squeezed your hands. 

“Tell me how you feel,” You pressed. 

“You’re just teasing me right now.”

“Maybe,” You dragged out as you averted your eyes. “Maybe I just wanna hear what you actually think of me.”

Arvid, instead of talking, let go of one of your hands to rest it beside your head against the door behind you, and he leaned down to press his lips against yours. That was the start of something new.

~~~~~

© BAD268 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

[i-smoke-chapstick]

Okay I think I’ve finally come up with a plot for that jervis story I was telling you about. This is pretty long- I’m sorry 😭

Basically could follow the same plots as the ‘come on Eileen’ story with an age gap but obv themed for Jervis’s character. For the sake of everything, since this could be already dark-ish, instead of Alice being his sister, she’s his coworker. Very similar story tied with the btas version. Anyways continuing that, let’s say reader is Jim and Barbara’s kid all the way from episode 1 when they were still in there couple era (I miss it 😔). Jim had custody over reader when Barbara was sent to Arkham but once she’s out and running the sirens club, her and Jim come to an agreement for the sake of the reader to co-parent. Reader is about 10-13 during that time and then jumping to like season 3 with jervis being introduced, reader is around 17-19 (I’m not sure if this is the realistic time jump but whatever). During the first episode with how Barbara introduces tabby to jervis, imagine that same scenario but with reader also present. Jervis realizes how much reader reminds him of the book version of Alice with their curiosity, ambition, etc. I’d like to imagine Barbara finds it cute in a way similar with that one fix you did when jervis was leaving stuff for the reader while tabby is like “Stay away from the baby 😡”.

Now when Alice gets killed, we know jervis makes him go through all these games of killing and stuff and then he has to choose the one he loves. Instead of Val, it’s reader. As much as Jervis doesn’t want to hurt his current crush, he tries to be nicer about it and shoots them where the bullet won’t damage them as bad?? Idk where else I’m goin with this lol. I’ll let you come up with whatever else you wanna do. Be creative if you’d like.

I’d say basically it follows the plot of season 3 but without Alice and reader is present.

Thank you Cupid 🙏🖤

'DON'T BLAME ME, [PART ONE]

-GOTHAM!JERVIS TETCH X READER-

⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ; Everything's always the same in Gotham. Hard to imagine things changing.

⋆ tags/warnings. GOTHAM!jervis x female reader. SLOW BURN!!! Not sure how many chapters this will be yet! LOTS OF PLOT SET-UP!! AGE GAP ROMANCE! (reader is Jim and Barbara's daughter) Readers got trauma. Reader's also a cynic and dissociating. She fell first, he fell harder. Writing this kind of artistically and as character studies for everyone. Jervis being an obsessive freak, per usual. Jervis and reader are soulmates, not just in his head but in real life! More about reader is revealed as the story goes on. I'm taking canon out back and beating it with a stick until it stops twitching.

⋆ tag list (tell me if you want to be removed!) @adalwolfgang @jervis-tetch-my-beloved @honestmrdual @moonlightnyx

⋆ 'PART ONE, - 'PART TWO, - ‘PART THREE, - ‘PART FOUR, - ‘PART FIVE, - ‘PART SIX, - 'PART SEVEN, - 'PART EIGHT, - 'PART NINE, -'PART TEN, - 'PART ELEVEN, - 'PART TWELVE, - 'PART THIRTEEN, - 'PART FOURTEEN,

Special thanks to @adalwolfgang for giving me the idea for this fic <3 really really excited to make this multichapter !!

♫ “Echoes of your name inside my mind / Halo, hiding my obsession.” Don't Blame Me by Taylor Swift

You feel like your ten again, staring into space, watching the passerby's from inside a Gala. You're mother used to take you there, when you're dad wasn't available.

You sometimes miss it, even though you used to complain. You hated just sitting there, hours on end, seeing rich people dance; like there weren't people being murdered on the street two blocks down. Maybe you took after your father in that aspect. It was a curse.

Your mom used to do your hair. You remember the way she finger-twirled your curls, gasping as she looked in the mirror. Eyes wide, she always said the same thing.

"Look at you, you're gorgeous!" You'd laugh and hit her on the shoulder, young and innocent. Sometimes, you'd make a mess of her lipsticks and bronzer. You'd try on her dresses which were far too tall for your young stature.

The sound of yelling rips you away from your thoughts.

This place isn't a gala. It's a club. And you didn't get ready with your mom, you got ready in the morning, waking up alone in your dads house.

You watch the two men argue from across the bar. You're cradling a drink; unsure what to do with it. Selina had stole it for you, somehow. You didn't ask questions anymore. You'd known her since you were eleven and she was eight. You didn't really like to drink. She knew that. You don't know where she ran off too.

Mindlessly stirring your glass in your palm, you can't help but squint under the bright blue lights. This place...it's not your first choice of where you'd like to be right now. Never is.

You hear a feminine voice calling you to the front of the club, and you can already guess who it is. You haven't seen her in a little over a week, not that it matters.

You decide to down your drink anyway. Who cares.

Pushing your way through the crowds of Gothamites, you notice the stage light up. Your mother and Tabitha stand in grand dresses. Tabitha's resting, one arm on the bar, looking effectively bored out of her mind. Your mother, on the contrary, looks utterly pleased. You fight the urge to snort.

There's a man on the stage. Long hair, cat-like smile. Your eyes follow the contours of his cheek bones. He's spouting something about waking up from an animal-identity. You're frankly lost, staring into his dark eyes. They look pitch black.

Sounds of clapping arise from the back. You simply suck your teeth. Someone new comes into the club everyday with a different act. This guy certainly wasn't any different.

"A magician? Really?" Tabitha asks, interrupting your thoughts. She sounds displeased and confounded, unsure what to make of Barbara's smile.

"Hypnotist." Your mom answers, correcting her. Ah, so thats what he is. You think. Couldn't hypnotize himself to have a better act? You almost make yourself laugh. Barbara mistakes it for agreeance.

"See! I like him! Y/N likes him!" Barbara chimes, smile lighting up to be a bit more genuine at your laugh. "Like mother like daughter. Plus, the place is packed. Be happy." She waves her drink around. Tabitha still looks peeved.

You want to correct her, but the words 'like mother like daughter' make bile rise in your throat. You don't speak.

"Just a taste, ladies and gentlemen." The man purrs, pulling your attention to him. That dark stare of his never once leaves the crowd. "But now...let us venture into something more arcane."

His eyes drift to you in the crowd, and it feels like a jolt of electricity. You wonder if he feels it too. He must have, since he cocks his head, pausing in his words for a little too long. His brows furrow, until the crowd begins to murmur. It's awfully intense.

You tear your gaze away to look at your mom, wondering if she was who he was looking at instead. It would certainly make more sense, given they must've been around the same age. But as soon as your gaze leaves his, the man clears his throat, and goes right back to speaking.

"The hell was that?" Tabitha whispers to me, and my mind goes blank.

"...No clue."

We watch the rest of the act, intrigued. He makes a man stand on the back of a chair, which definitely does not obey the laws of physics whatsoever. I can see why some people might find this amusing.

Your mom does bring up a good question though.

"So you could get him to do anything you wanted?" She asks, abet too excitedly. You want to roll your eyes. When you were younger, she would've made fun of this guy with you.

The man looks between the two of us, and you squint your eyes.

"Did you have something in mind, Ms. Kean?" He asks, and her gaze darkens. You feel a little sick.

As the act finishes, the man takes one too many bows, but the crowd eats it up. That blinding blue light still bounces off his face. Something about it is...unsettling. You notice it more as he stalks towards the three of you.

"Very impressive, Mr. Tetch." Your mom compliments. Mr. Tetch, huh. Well, you finally have a name for the man. "You have quite the gift. But you didn't answer my question. Can you make people do anything you tell them to do?" She speaks, slowly. Mr. Tetch looks flattered at the praise.

He clicks his tongue. "Only things they secretly wish to do," he remarks, eyes falling on me once more. "It's surprising what people will wish for," His eye contact remains on you, voice getting quieter. "Secretly. Deep down." He repeats.

Your mother makes a sound akin to a pleased hum. Tabitha looks between the man and you, and she looks less than amused.

"True," Tabitha speaks, pushing you to the side a bit. You watch as his gaze leaves yours, and snaps up to her. There's a ghost of a scowl on both of their faces that suddenly makes you confused. "You must be a very popular man."

She takes a swig out of her drink as she says the words, a bit sarcastically. Mr. Tetch, or whatever his name is, doesn't falter in his resolve. He instead offers a polite chuckle.

"Oh, I wish. Parties like this help pave my way, so, thank you."

"And you're new to Gotham?" Your mom asks.

"Yes...just arrived from up north."

"You have a place to stay?" Tabitha asks, head cocked. You begin to feel a bit embarrassed, heat rising in your clothes. They're asking the guy way too many questions. And he's a new comer. Poor man probably doesn't know a thing.

Before the man can answer, you butt in.

"Let the man breathe." You huff, and all three of them look at you in unison. Eyes-narrowed on you, the man blinks. Barbara looks at you, surprised, and Tabitha glares daggers.

Silence surrounds the four of you, and you shiver uncomfortably.

"Just saying." You mumble. Barbara raises an eyebrow.

"You'll have to excuse her. This is my daughter, Y/N."

Jervis's face lights up in realization.

"Ah, I see." He remarks, taking your hand. Tabitha instinctively steps close, watching the way he takes it. He presses a soft kiss to your knuckles. "Pleasure to meet you, Ms. Y/N."

"Thank you," You say, softly, looking into his eyes. It really does feel like time stops. You can understand why people are hypnotized by him.

Tabitha finally steps in between you two, as Barbara watches the interaction with vague intrigue. He drops your hand with some reluctance. You don't blame him.

"I think you should get going." Tabitha says, firm. The man simply nods.

"Very well. Enjoy your night." He speaks. "Ms. Kean, Ms. Y/N." He bids one last nod of goodbye, before turning on his heel.

[shookie-y]

Wisteria Blooms (2)

Pairing: Giyuu X Reader/ Tanjiro X Reader

Desc: (Y/n) is Giyuu's Tsuguko. Ubuyashiki appointed him to train her a year after he met Tanjiro. (Y/n) has had strong feelings for the water pillar for a few months. During a mission with Giyuu she runs into the two Kamado siblings. For Tanjiro it was love at first sight. What happens when (Y/n) has to fight her feelings for not only the two slayers but also keep up with the fight against the demons?

A/N: All of the characters are slightly aged up or down to make this story work. Tanjiro will be 18 and Giyuu will be 20. (Y/n) will be 19. If anyone has any questions about the other characters ages feel free to ask.

----------------------------------------------------------

"Kanao! Look out!" You tackle the girl to the ground. The demon growls as its body hits the rough dirt. You jump up, moving your sword in front of you to defend yourself. It was dark and neither of you could see very well. "Get behind me. We need to work together." Kanao's back presses against yours.

How did you get in this situation? The first three days of the final selection went by without a hitch. Now here you are, you have a deep cut on your leg and you can feel the blood trickling down it.

Focus (Y/n). The demon could be anywhere and it can strike at any moment. Final selection is only supposed to have lower level demons and yet something is different about the one that attacked you. She looks frail and weak but her attacks are quick and stronger than anything you've fought so far.

Your eyes flicker around quickly in the dark, looking for any signs of movement. There's a small breeze making the tree branches sway and hit against each other. Is the noise just from the wind? Or is it the demon jumping from one branch to another?

"There." Kanao's voice is soft but sharp. You feel her move from behind you and can hear the sound of her sword clashing into something. You turn around just in time to see the demons arm fall off. It hisses and goes to grab Kanao. 

You rush towards her and use your sword to slash the demons other arm off. “Now Kanao!” At yours words the younger girl swings her sword towards the demons neck. You make the same move, it won’t manage to dodge both of your attacks.

Both of your swords cut through at the same time. You watch as the demons head thumps to the ground and slowly rolls to a stop. “No! No! I can’t die this way. Not by the hands of you two! I’ve been here for 4 years! I’m supposed to get stronger. Like the guy with all the hands. That should be me!” She’s crying but her tone is spiteful and loud.

Her body slowly starts to disintegrate into nothing and her cries slowly die down. The woods grow quiet around you and you take a breath.

“What was that? I thought it was only lower demons…” You glance at Kanao, who seems okay, and then back towards the trees around you. There doesn’t seem to be any demons around you for now.

“We should keep moving.” Her voice is quiet and it startles you a bit. “We need to find more demons to kill.”

You’re quick to follow after Kanao, who walks forward, there seems to be almost no emotion in her. She didn’t react much during that last fight, or when you ran into a demon eating someone. Such a strange girl.

The next few days are harder on you. The cut on your leg seems to get worse as the days go by. It only makes fighting harder. Luckily, all the demons you've encountered since have been easy kills. The final day arrives and you make your way out of the woods. 

"Welcome back." Ubuyashiki's kids greet everyone with a smile.

"I am glad you are safe."

"There appears to be only five of us. Including me and Kanao.

There's a boy with yellow hair. He's mumbling to himself. "Die... I'm going to die. Die, die, die, die. Even tough I've survived here, I am going to die in the end."

There's two more boys as well. One you've met before. Genya. He was a mean kid. You didn't talk to him much. You only really know him because of Gyomei. Genya was trained by him. You two didn't really get along from the few interactions you've had.

The last boy seems to be studying everyone else as well. He has dark short hair with burgundy tips. He is wearing a blue kimono with a cloud pattern. His eyes meet yours and you freeze. His eyes are beautiful. They are a dark red. He gives you a soft smiles and you blush.

"So what am I supposed to do now? Where is my katana?" Genya's voice startles you and you quickly look away from the other boy.

"First, we will provide your corps uniform. We will take your measurements and then engrave your rank."

"There are ten ranks. Kinoe, Kinoto, Hinoe, Hinoto, Tsuchinoe, Tsuchinoto, Kanoe, Kanoto, Mizunoe, and Mizunoto. Right now, you are all the bottom rank of Mizunoto. Today you will choose the ore for your sword. Then it will take up to two weeks for the katana to be finished."

"Then we will assign you a Kasugai crow."

Several crows fly down. One for each of you.

"Huh? A crow? But this is a sparrow?" The yellow haired one pokes at his bird.

"Kaw. Kaw." Your eyes flicker down to see a small crow in your hand.

"Hi. You're so cute." You reach up and pet the small creature. It rubs into your hand and you smile.

"Kasugai crows are generally used for communication but not always."

A loud sound echoes across the grounds and everyone turns to look at Genya. His bird flies off. He seems to have hit it. "I do not care about crows!" He storms up to the two kids and before you have a chance to move, he hits the white haired one over the head and then grabs her hair in his fists. " Katana! I want my katana! I want it now!"

The young girl stares up at him. The dark haired boy rushes forward and grabs onto his arm. "Let go of this child! If you don't, I'll break your arm!" His voice was demanding yet somehow he sounded nice at the same time.

"Who are you!?" Just try it!" Genya seems pissed. The other boy didn't waste a second before crushing his arm. Genya gasps in pain and rips his arm away.

He opens his mouth to say something. "Cut it out, Genya." Your voice is rough and you sound annoyed. The two guys turn to you and Genya huffs in annoyance, but he listens and lets it go.

"Are you done talking? Then come over here and please choose the ore for making your katana."

"I'm probably going to die soon anyways." The yellow haired one mumbles as everyone makes their way forward.

There's multiple ores laying out on a small table. They vary in size and color. You look around before our eyes settle on a little black one. It has white and blue speckles on it and it seems to shine as the sunlight hits it.

Everyone chooses their ore before you all get sent on your way. "Let's head back. I'm sure they're waiting for us." You give Kanao a small smile and then begin your way back to the butterfly estate.

[briar-rolfes-research-oubliette]

your writing is phenomenal. i write a little bit, but i think one of the biggest struggles i have is with pacing and structuring for anything longer than a couple thousand words. gonna hit you with a ton of questions, no pressure to answer all of them: how do you structure your longer-form writing? what considerations do you keep in mind as you do? are you more of a pantser or do you start with a solid outline and story beats first? what is your 'process' - and how do you approach editing as well?

Okay, I’m ready! Took me a bit.

Thank you, first of all! This is humbling, since in industry terms I’m a debut author. (Or not even. My book isn’t even out yet. It takes ages to make a graphic novel if you have to hold down a day job at true same time. Fingers crossed 2026?) And, since structure has been the hardest thing for me to learn, it’s rewarding to know that it’s paying off!

I’m in the middle of a few planning-stage projects right now, so I’ve been asking these questions myself. Because each story is different (in length, in genre, in terms of what I want it to achieve, and also, because I’m a cartoonist as well as a writer, also in format!) I have to reinvent at least part of the wheel with each project. I’ve learned some constants, though. I’ll try to outline some of them, and rather than just tell you what I do I’ll try to explain what purpose it serves when I do it.

I do think starting small and working up is the right way of learning, because that’s what worked for me, a chronic not-finisher. I sat down and said “okay, what is the shortest thing I can make that I am guaranteed to finish?” and once I had finished that, said “okay, what’s the next longest thing?” and worked my way up. It’s easier to structure a zine than a graphic novel, it’s easier to structure a short story than something with multiple chapters, etc etc… but this isn’t because a longer story has more structure in it so much as that each structural element has to work harder.

HOWEVER, I don’t look at structure until I know what I’m building my structure on. This was the missing piece in my structure learning! So, the things I have in mind when I’m starting a new project are:

What is my genre?

What are my themes?

What is my tone?

Genre is where I get the payoff that I’m working towards. Why do people pick up this kind of story? What’s the most basic appeal of it? I try to keep this as simple as I can, eg:

In romance, the couple have to get together by the end.

In sci-fi, a new discovery poses a new question, which is then resolved

In mystery, the detective has to figure out who committed the crime so that they don’t do it again.

In erotica, the protagonist is liberated from a social norm by a new sexual encounter

In horror, an outside force threatens irrevocable change to everyone who encounters it.

This narrative payoff is (in my opinion) the bumpers on the bowling lane of fiction. If you read a romance where they never got together, an erotica where nobody fucked, a detective story where justice wasn’t done, a horror story where it was no biggie and everyone just walked it off… you’d feel ripped off, right? You’ll see that I’m not saying “in horror there is always a jumpscare” or “in a mystery there is always a red herring,” because I never actually notice if those were missing. Many stories are worse because the author has said to themself “a story like this always has this element.” RIP to all those minor characters who die in fantasy novels during the fight scene at the end of the second act just because Boromir did.

Sticking the landing on that genre promise is what makes a story “feel” complete, and the success of the buildup to that promise is what makes a story feel satisfying in that worth-a-reread way. The overall genre payoff helps me keep my eye on the prize as I’m writing. If I get writer’s block, 99% of the time it’s because I’ve written something that conflicts with it. That’s helpful to keep in mind for editing (awkward scenes/characters/sentences etc are usually also conflicting with the payoff, or at least not helping me get there) and is also helpful to know when I’m doing back of mind narrative debugging while zoning out over the dishes. If I have a character and I want them to end up at that final point in a way that feels natural, what do I have to do to them to make it happen? If they feel stagnant, what beliefs do they have to have at the start that will jar against that end point?

(I believe the Literary phrase for the narrative payoff is the climax, or the catharsis. Catharsis is usually the concept used for horror or for tragedies. But I’m a cartoonist, so it’s easier for me to think of everything as setup for the final payoff of the punchline.)

Also—and this is more my individual philosophy rather than actual advice, but: delivering the payoff matters because it develops my readers’ trust. I’m not owed anyone’s time or attention. In a big world full of competing demands, it’s important to me that my readers know that I appreciate them choosing my work over putting the recycling bin out. And the great thing about reader trust is: it stacks. Trust means a reader is willing to go a bit further out of their comfort zone with me. When someone says “I don’t usually read stories like this, but I gave this a shot because you wrote it,” that’s what I’m talking about. I’m a trans writer who tells silly jokes and tackles weird topics, so I really do appreciate the readers who invest time and attention in me. They’re my 30 sickos, you know, from the tweet?

Anyway. If genre tells me where I’m landing the plane, theme tells me what the jet fuel is. The reason a particular concept is making me insane, aka, my motivation to tell the story at all, is my theme. It’s the question I’m trying to answer. It doesn’t have to be pithy or well articulated—I just have to know the general gist of it. It might just be “it pisses me off when authors do X, so I am going to prove it’s not actually hard to write Y.” What matters is that it’s something I won’t become bored of. My graphic novel, which has been the longest and most involved project of my life, hasn’t bored me once. That’s pretty spectacular seeing as I have ADHD out my ears! I’ve been frustrated, tired, had bad wrists and general creative ennui at points, but “can you have a happy ending if your family doesn’t accept you?” Is a question that hasn’t run out of juice, even though I’ve been answering it for six years now. The theme is often the most powerful if it’s something you don’t know the answer to. When we were talking about whether or not to tackle the marriage equality debate in Australia in my book, my agent told me “you’ll know it’s a good story if writing about it feels like pressing on a bruise.” I think this is what keeps your themes honest. It stops them being preachy and stops them from becoming The Moral Of The Story.

Terry Pratchett said that the first draft is him telling the story to himself, and the subsequent drafts are him figuring out how to tell it to other people. That’s been very helpful to me. Each successive edit will make the themes clearer until I can say “oh, so this is what the story is about.” What I said before about longer stories doing more with each structural element is because of this. Longer stories tend to accrue more themes, usually one per subplot and/or per character relationship. Shorter stories usually address just one. Themes are handy to think about here because if a story looks like it might get too bloated (“no way I can explore this AND this AND this and still stay under 20k words”) you can cut em out and address them somewhere else.

The themes in your fiction are the bit that makes it uniquely yours, like fingerprints in a clay pot. They stop the structure feeling formulaic and make it feel personal. A thousand authors could (and do) write the same premise over and over again, but in their hands each story means something different. If you’ve ever read a story that rings hollow even though it hits all the same notes as other stories you like, I’d say that it’s by an author who hasn’t figured out what interests them in the story they’re telling. Like… there’s a reason Twilight was successful and its many copycats were not. It’s because Meyer had this theme of insane repressed Mormon horniness running through her work, and everyone else just said “ah, so readers like boys who are barely restraining their murder instinct.” No! The murder instinct was juicy because it was thematically complex.

Genre and theme give me an idea of what the tone is, aka what mood I am building. I guess if genre is my destination and theme is my fuel, then tone is my plane. It’s about how the journey feels. Taking a first class flight from A to B is different from taking the same trip in a crop duster. The people on each plane will observe different things throughout the journey. The same events could happen on both flights, but a reader will feel way more anxious about the crop duster encountering turbulence.

Outside my increasingly elaborate metaphor, this is questions like… Is this setting fun and friendly? Are the characters mistrustful of each other? Is the world fundamentally evil? Can anyone die? Am I using colloquial language? Are swears allowed? How hard should the protagonist’s failures hit them, and how sharp should the consequences for their actions be? Is it realistic, or a bit surreal? Is my narrator (or narrative perspective if I’m in second or third person) sincere? Cynical? Trustworthy? Biased? Can they crack jokes?

Once I have an idea of these things, structure usually slots in pretty easily. As I’m in the thinking stage, if I have an idea for a scene (or a joke, more often than not) that I want to include, I’ll put it in a dot point list. Later on, I will look at these dot points and the structure and say “what goes where?” or “what needs to happen before this thing I want to include to make it make sense?”

Short things I use a three act structure, aka Beginning Middle End, where “middle” is whatever events need to happen to shift my character from their opening position to their concluding one. For longer things, I just whack on a seven act structure for whatever genre I’m working in. I often come back to Jami Gold’s romance structure because I write romances a lot, but also because it’s the only structure I’ve ever really seen that maps internal character arcs along with external events—one of the things I found absolutely the hardest to get my head around when I was structuring my graphic novel. If it’s a genre I know less about, I’ll find a structure that specifies examples for the pinch points, because those are ones I usually have trouble brainstorming. The mystery outline I used for my Disco Elysium fanfiction gave me the suggestions that a suspect should escape, which got me out of a huge block.

So: before I write, I’ve thought very hard about genre and tone and theme, and how my characters need to get from their starting positions to one where if bondage doesn’t happen the story will feel narratively incomplete. I’ve pondered my place in the world, I have developed beef with a handful of authors who I’ve decided have Done It Wrong, and I have image searched “mystery structure seven act”. I have probably gone on four or five research sprees where I learn a bunch about medieval demonology and insect genitalia and radio antennae or whatever.

(I should say a lot of that is just what do for fun anyway. I do think writers tend to forget that we do this because it’s fun. If you’re not having fun doing this stuff, then your reader is probably not having fun either. It’s important to figure out what is fun to you and to find a way to make your process mostly the fun stuff.)

Materially, what I have is a maybe a couple of test scenes I’ve written while working out character dynamics and refining my idea of tone, and a list of dot points that reads like:

Wrap up the subplot with that other guy

Heart to heart

Protagonist gets a boner

Exposition about early printing press

Fight scene (to show they care about each other)

Phone call from side character 12

MIDPOINT: Guy goes missing (or is killed with weapon from earlier? Suspected killed, but actually just escaped?)

JOKE

Bring back printing press thing

Bondage obviously

Catch the bad guy

Resolution (come back to this).

The trap for structure for me for YEARS has been assuming that I should be able to sit down and write out the perfect plan. “I’ll be able to write well so long as I know exactly what I’m doing every step of the way.” But… most of the fun of writing for me is figuring out how to address those missing plot elements as I go. I don’t think I’ve ever said this, but I never intended for my Disco Elysium fanfic to end with an explosion. I figured it out once I wrote the interview scene with Felicity, and then I said “okay, so that’s the resolution. Now, what do I need to do to blow this building up?“

The groundwork I’ve laid is helpful because I know what I can’t compromise on. As I’m heading towards my payoff and hitting these beats along the way, I have the wriggle room for flashes of discovery where I go “wait, fuck, you know what’d be cool as?”

Editing is where I get to make sure that everything lines up without contradictions. I’m very irresponsible; I don’t have the patience to wait until the story is finished before I start editing it, so I often go back and make tweaks on a sentence level. This is often how I get myself out of writer’s block. “What did I say back here, and why does it make me feel like I can’t get to the next point on my structure?”

I also tend to write on my phone in notes app documents or in Scrivener, so I can actually make use of the dead times in my day. I pick up my phone all the time to keep my hands busy, but I rarely sit down at a computer without something more important coming up. Only once the document gets long enough to be unwieldy, or once it’s actually finished, will I sit down with the text on a bigger screen. This really helps me stop myself getting overwhelmed by the idea of The Blank Page, too. I can’t see how much I’ve written or look at much text at a time when I’m writing on my phone.

Other favourite structural things, which I add on in successive edits:

Bookending! For when you have a scene displaying the relationship between your protagonist and a secondary character at the start, then bring ‘em back together at the end to show how things have changed. My graphic novel has something like two… wait no now I’m counting it’s more like four bookend scenes, whoops. I guess I really like these! They’re good for when someone reads your draft and says “I don’t know why this character showed up, they didn’t seem that important.” If the character really IS important, they need to come back. This is handy for me specifically because I love big world with lots of secondary characters.

Callbacks: jokes strike again! But you can use this to achieve other moods. In my Silent Hill fic the words “Empty, bleeding, and different in every way” get used first to describe the town, and then again at the end to describe the protagonist. It’s unsettling both times, but the second time I feel as though it is a little bit reassuring, too. Maybe sometimes it’s good to be reinvented.

Foreshadowing: Lay the breadcrumbs! Make that one character stare at the table in the scene where everyone is speculating on the identity of the traitor, draw our attention to the ceramic statue on the mantelpiece. I love to use the rule of three for this, often describing the significant thing last—or to describe two significant things and diffuse any audience suspicion with a joke as the third thing 😈🙏

Well, this has been a very long post! I wonder what my rules for writing are. UM. I know I have them. I’m nothing if not wildly opinionated!

1. Don’t hang out with writers who think that they’re better than their readers. Storytelling is about sharing humanity, not transcending it. Writing is not a divine gift. There is no muse! Not only hang out with people who do not write, but hang out with people who do not read. It keeps you humble.

2. Don’t break format just for the helluvit, but—if you have an idea about how to pull something off and say, scandalised, “oh my god, but is that allowed?” you have to do it.

3. If you’re having fun, your reader is having fun. If you’re bored, your reader is EXTRA bored. So… don’t write the boring bits. If you don’t know what to say in the scene where the character gets the bus between two locations, just cut it and start the next scene with “When she got off the bus.” Christopher Paolini is an example of someone who has never learned this. On one hand he has a lot more money than I do, but on the other hand, I’ve had a lot more gay sex.

4. Hot take: bad books are just as educational as good ones. I love a formulaic or poorly told story because they give me a chance to engage my structure brain. I like to figure out what went wrong and how. It’s never cinema sins bullshit like “WOW! GAPING PLOT HOLE!!!” but more like “weird, the tone of the climax is jarring compared to the rest of the story” or “well that’s the obligatory breakup at the end of the second act, but why did it happen?” I’ve also learned a whole lot about how to write sex scenes by reading ones that made me say “well, certainly not like that.”

5. Learn to recognise ways you make your own writing noncommittal. “He felt,” “she realised,” “they discovered,” “she thought.” Almost, very, really, nearly. These are all things I do way too much. Don’t say he felt it was, say it was.

☀️🌱☀️

Lastly: If you’re hitting a brick wall, if you’re blocked, if writing isn’t fun… stop.

Read something outside your genre. Dig up weeds in the garden. Watch a friend play a game that is too scary for you. Put a weird doll in the corner of your bathroom, go look through second hand shops for cheap treasures, get an outlandish food on your grocery run. Have a nice chat with a guy who is eighty something, make faces at a baby when mum isn’t looking. Learn to tie a useful knot. Badly paint some furniture. Sit out under the stars with a cuppa, listen to the night sounds, enjoy the feeling of being small. What I’m saying is, you should actively distract yourself with the interesting parts of Being Alive. Whatever feels like a waste of time is worth your time. Internet does NOT count! Do not watch a video, do not read a post! Do things that engage your senses. Do things where you use your hands. Make yourself laugh! Be clumsy, be silly, be messy on purpose. Writing is never more important than being alive, and your brain is never more important than your body. You need to fall in love with being alive. You need to be in the world. One day the gears will click into place and you’ll need to start writing again, furiously, like there’s a fire lit inside of you—but you can’t rush it. You need to take the time to be an animal, and animals play.

Here is a photo of Flea, who is a sixteen year old cat. She has no teeth. Here she is having a great time rolling around in the sun.

Sometimes my zine friends and I joke about things that are zines. Can my tomato plants be a zine? Poets joke about what is a poem. Is my cat rolling on the lawn a poem? Well, in that line of thinking… being an animal isn’t not a kind of writing. You’re making a mark on the world either way.

[starryoak]

So! That Dungeon Meshi/Delicious in Dungeon sure is a great show! So much so that I made an OC for it! Please click the link so you can see it where tumblr doesn’t ruin the quality

The thing is, though? I kind of came up with her to fix the most significant flaw I saw in the ending, one that I’m not sure anyone else is going to be insane enough to actually think is a flaw like I do.

The thing is, this flaw is connected to some pretty major endgame spoilers, so if you don’t want to be spoiled, you really can’t stick around; this entire character’s story is intimately tied to the ending of Dungeon Meshi.

Ok! So, to start off, explaining my perspective requires knowledge of one fact; Marcille is my favorite character in the series, for one specific reason. I am extremely thanatophobic. 

I have an intense, all consuming fear of death that used to leave me literally wracked with actual physical pain from the nightly panic attacks I would have obsessing over my own impending mortality, something that only stopped because I take intense mood dampeners, not because I ‘got over it’.

So, obviously, Marcille’s backstory and motivation resonated deeply with me, her fears and obsessions over her friend’s mortality, the omnipresent specter of death trailing behind her stealing all her loved ones away, how she grew up with the looming knowledge of her father’s increasing age and his inevitable passing, something that hit me even harder because not only do I do the same thing, obsess over my parents increasing age, but Marcille’s dad physically resembles my own.

Her goal of equalizing the lifespans of the races, ultimately… I think it’s a noble one! It is the ultimate injustice of living that death is inevitable, one that I genuinely believe is worth solving. I don’t actually know if we ever will, it is probably impossible… but that doesn’t mean we should give up. Back in the 1300s, smallpox was inevitable. Now, it doesn’t exist outside of a lab! For most of human existence, half of all people died before puberty. Now, child mortality is down to less than 5%. https://xkcd.com/1520/ sums it up pretty nicely.

And then, the ending of the series. Well. Look. It’s not just that I disagree with how the series ends with “well, if you just eat right and exercise, that will release you from grasping your own mortality”. I mean, it is a lot that. But I’m used to series ending with some form of “people with a healthy fear of their own mortality are evil/insane/stupid/cowards”, hell, most characters genuinely afraid of their own death in media are villains!

Not only that, to a certain extent, it’s very logical that the series end with a moral about accepting the circle of life. It’s inevitable when the series focuses so much on food, because death is an unavoidable part of that cycle; to eat, we must kill. Even vegetarians can’t escape that fact, with how much we’ve learned about how plants are more alive than we once thought. 

It's not that the series ended with that moral that bothers me, or at least. I wouldn’t be as bothered as I am, if it was just that. There’s another couple aspects to the ending that I feel were mishandled. One of them is one I think that if most people were honest, would also agree, or at least understand why I think it’s a misstep, and one that only someone who’s insane in the exact same way I am would even care about in the first place.

I’ll start with the reasonable criticism first; I think, if they wanted to really sell me on the idea that Marcille is truly changed and has come to accept death as a natural consequence of life like she says she has when they discuss the potential of Falin’s resurrection failing… Falin should have died, then. 

It’s not that I’m not happy she’s alive, or that I don’t want her and Marcille to be together, but rather, it rings extremely hollow to me to have Marcille go “Oh, I’ve learned to accept death, after all of this journey, if Falin’s resurrection fails, I can accept that.” and then have her not have to test that newfound conviction. 

It feels too convenient, like the series couldn’t actually commit to that moral fully. Beyond that, if anything, I would think that the journey they went on would make Marcille more firm in her desire to resurrect Falin, if anything. 

But I can understand the logic they want you to go with, I just think that it feels like a cop-out to try and sell me on this “death is the natural consequence of life” moral, and then go “oh, except for Falin. Falin gets to live, because she deserves it.” 

Why does she deserve it more? Why did you say all that if not to set up the failure? So you could reassure us “don’t worry, Marcille doesn’t have those naive, stupid ideas about improving the lives of the short lived races anymore, she’s learned better! Now she understands that some people just deserve to live longer than others!” Admittedly, that’s me being uncharitable, but it just feels wrong to me.

Now, onto the second, more insane person critique, one that I don’t think anyone but me even thought about, and one that I think most people would think is being too nitpicky. 

But the thing is, it relates to the worldbuilding, and as much as people will likely want to tell me “you’re thinking too hard about a minor aspect of worldbuilding”, the thing is that Dungeon Meshi, above all, is very obviously a labor of love from the creator, and she clearly thinks about her worldbuilding a lot! 

So it feels like saying that I’m overthinking it is dismissing her intricately crafted world as not worthy of engaging with fully. You can’t have it both ways, where you only want people engaging in your worldbuilding if they’re saying something positive.

Anyway; it has to do with a very minor, throwaway panel in the discussion of the history of the Winged Lion/demon’s interaction with the world outside its dimension in chapter 87; where it’s revealed, offhand, that the differences in lifespan between the races is in and of itself caused by the demon granting wishes, as can be seen here. 

And. Well. That sits wrong with me. What happened to the conviction that it’s inherently wrong and twisted to use the demon’s powers? What happened to the conviction that they need to reverse all the changes that the demon forced on the world? Oh, so, since it happened so long ago, it’s no longer a problem? It’s only a problem when someone wants to use the demon to equalize the lifespans?

And I realize it’s insane to care this much about such a minor, throwaway line, but honestly? I think both my complaints about the ending stem from the same root frustration with the hypocrisy of it. Death is natural and worth accepting, except Falin’s death, then she deserves to live because her friends worked so hard for it. The demon’s powers are inherently wrong to use and must be reversed, except when it happened thousands of years ago, then it’s just the way things are and we have to get used to it.

What bothers me especially is how unforced of an error it was. Just have the differences in lifespans be because the world is a fundamentally cruel and unjust place, like it is in real life! You don’t have to ‘explain’ it, because it’s not something that needs explaining. 

But now that you’ve brought it up, suddenly I have to ask, well, why were their demon wishes valid and not Marcille’s? Because you said that the demons powers were inherently warped and twisted and that they had to undo all of the damage it caused. And I do agree that the demon was causing damage and needed to be stopped! I just dislike the hypocritical criticism of Marcille’s entirely reasonable desire to not outlive all her loved ones by centuries.

Anyway. So, how does this tie into my OC? I’ll get to that!

This is Lymsie Bens, and she’s a half-foot mage, something that, if you remember, is actually a fairly rare thing for her to be! So how did this come to be, considering Chilchuck says that most half-foots fear higher magic, on account of them being unwilling test subjects for elves whenever they got too close?

Lymsie grew up the daughter of an older couple of relatively rich and very well off half-foots, Benbur Sams and Pamsie Hobs, living in a town in the Eastern Continent not all that far from the magic school that Marcille and Falin attended, and ever since she was young, she grew up with one thing weighing on her mind; The deaths of her parents. 

Oh, no, her parents are still alive! Even by the time of this picture! 

But she still knew it would happen. She loves her parents, more than anything in the world, and she would look at them every day and count the grey hairs, the wrinkles, small as they may be, considering they’re half-foots, and look youthful for far longer than the other races. 

As much as the other races wouldn’t be able to tell by looking at them, they were old! Or at least, older than most couples usually are when they had children, and Lymsie was incredibly aware of it every time she looked at their faces, and saw them getting older and older.

And that didn’t even get into her own fears. As a child, she tried to befriend the gnomes that went to the private school her parents had sent her to, one that had mostly gnomes and where she was one of the only half-foots, and while racism meant she didn’t succeed very often, the times she succeeded, she would always end up having to graduate friends within the year. 

She would find herself outgrowing them quickly, and her friends would look at her with pity, like she was just seconds away from keeling over, like they shouldn’t get too atttached to someone who would die so soon. 

It made her realize something that left her feeling cold and scared; she was going to die. And not only was she going to die, she was going to die far sooner than she wanted. Well, she didn’t ever want to die, but she especially didn’t want to die so soon!

Eventually, she started feeling bitter and resentful about the whole thing, how unfair it was. Not just that the long lived races had all the power and money, but that they had the lifespans they did at all! 

And maybe it would have been easier not to resent them as she grew up if making friends didn’t get harder and harder as she grew up, as kids started picking up prejudices from their parents and started caring about their social status enough that they don’t want to be seen being friends with a half-foot… maybe she would have grown up a little more well adjusted.

As well, while the private school was definitely fancy by the standards of half-foots, it wasn’t a very affluent one for gnomes, and as such, the magic they taught was rudimentary at best. 

The teachers clearly didn’t expect the half-foots to get anything out of the classes, to the point where they were practically left alone the whole period, while the teachers focused on the more ‘promising’ students.

But Lymsie wasn’t willing to let that happen to her, to be left behind like her fellows; she wanted to learn magic if it was the last thing she did. She knew there had to be a solution to her problems with magic. 

So, despite the teachers’ prejudices, she applied herself, and she forced them to acknowledge her skills. They didn’t like it, but they had no choice but to recognize her skills for what they were; extraordinary, especially for a half-foot, a race supposedly predisposed against magic.

After Lymsie graduated from school with the highest honors that the school was willing to give her, she found herself looking for higher education in the arts of dungeon and healing magic, having learned all she could at the level she was at. 

She first tried to apply to the highest magic school nearby, the same Marcille and Falin attended, but there was a problem. The school refused to accept a half-foot, even if she easily passed the requirements.

A half-foot simply didn’t have the raw magical talent that was required for higher learning, you see. No matter how she begged or pleaded, she couldn’t change such a simple fact of biology.

Lymsie wasn’t satisfied. If she couldn’t get into that school, there were others in the world. She simply would have to say goodbye to her parents, secretly fearing, no matter how ridiculously, that they would die before she could get back.

Her parents supported her in her endeavors to learn magic; they were proud of their daughter’s accomplishments and how far she’d come, even if privately they felt her goals unrealistic.

Lymsie eventually found a school willing to teach her, but it was an uphill battle. Magic schools just weren’t made for half-foots; it was a struggle to use furniture made for elves and tallmen, but she refused to give in. Simple setbacks like a little discomfort wouldn’t stop her.

She poured herself into research, defying those who coddled her, cooing over how cute it was she was even trying, when everyone knows that half-foots simply can’t channel the mana required for true magic.

She focused her research on the magic of healing, the art of resurrection had to be connected somehow! She knew there had to be more to it. As she researched more, it became clearer and clearer that there was something missing to the discussion, some secret hidden and kept out of textbooks, and she wanted to find it.

Lymsie’s research deepened, spending her days glued to every book she could find in the library, excelling in her studies and at every test, she was making a name for herself among the school for her talents. 

In truth, it wasn’t exactly a good reputation she was garnering. Her stubbornness and bitter affect didn’t make her many friends, something she eventually realized herself, but it was too little, too late. 

She couldn’t win back people who were determined to see her in a bad light, for having the opinions she did and the skills she had, so she pressed on ahead anyway. Eventually, she had learned everything she could through conventional means, and she had a choice.

She could head back home to her parents, accept defeat against the insurmountable weight of her own mortality, live out the rest of her life content she had beaten the odds and learned what she could. 

Or, she could keep searching. Keep pushing the boundaries she had come across in her research, the walls she had encountered that seemed deliberately put up to stop her from attaining her goals.

There was only one choice for Lymsie, in the end. To keep going. In truth, she already knew where to look, though only because of warnings to stop; dark magic. Of course she had heard the rumors, of powerful magic that elves possessed, of how they would kidnap half-foots for cruel experiments to test the limits of what magic could do.

While she had heard those warnings, the idea didn’t dissuade her; in fact, it excited her. There was potential, magic beyond what she had learned, if only she could find it. It meant there were people out there testing the limits of what could be done with magic!

If she could learn what the secrets were to it, the power could be hers! The idea of being spirited away, of experiments that stretched the boundaries of conventional magic, it was a dream!

It didn’t matter to her that it could be dangerous, it became a private fantasy of hers, to imagine herself whisked away to the land of the elves, to see magic beyond her wildest dreams.

Lymsie would dutifully send letters to her parents informing her of her research, but she kept her fantasies and pursuit of dark magic secret. She knew that her parents would worry for her if they found out she had such dangerous intentions. She didn’t want them to worry, though not enough to stop her search, of course. 

She chased after every rumor of dark magic she could, though she began to learn the art of not being a colossal bitch to everyone she meets, of playing into stereotypes to get what she wanted. 

It never seemed to get her closer to her true goal, the rumors of ancient magic not enough to satisfy her ultimate desires, no elves willing to indulge the fantasies of a single half-foot, until one day, out of nowhere, the sky opened up. 

From massive tears in the fabric of the sky itself, long and terrifying arms descended down and began to pluck people out of their homes and villages, massive eyes peeking out from the dark void beyond the stars above.

Destruction rained, for a brief moment, the world itself seemed like it was going to end. But what Lymsie saw was the culmination of everything she had ever hoped for. Ancient magic, pouring out from the heavens themselves, right there for her to see.

And then it stopped. As quickly as the chaos began, it ended, and with it, Lymsie saw her dreams falling away as well. She knew then, she had to discover what happened. Whatever it takes, she knew that she would do it. Her goals, for once, finally seemed to be in reach!

Even with the desire of elves to keep their ancient magic hidden, in the end there was very little they could do to hide what had happened; the secret of the dungeon’s magic became known. The infinite well of energy that existed beyond the stars, the malevolent will that only desired to feed, and, of course, the entire kingdom that had sprung up overnight.

Rumors flew, of the king who had conquered and devoured the demon, and what was more, of the mysterious mages that had ruled the kingdom before him. The lunatic mage, who rumors say had cursed the kingdom with immortality, it was confirmation; the impossible could be done. Magic could free her from the shackles of her fate.

There were even more rumors, of resurrections and ancient magic, so much that Lymsie couldn’t discern fact from fiction. They couldn’t all be true, could they? She would never know, unless she tried.

She set out to the Golden Kingdom, to uncover the truth at any costs. It was a long and grueling journey to be undertaken alone by someone so small, but her affluence helped lighten the load. Though nothing could keep the travels from being long, it became clearer and clearer as she kept on, that the Golden Kingdom was alive with ancient magic, a kingdom that had been touched so deeply by the past that the very ground was charged with mana.

She was singleminded in her goals, to seek out the truth of what had happened that day, to uncover the center of this grand mystery. And luckily, the kingdom was abuzz with travelers, it seemed that whatever had happened had left the kingdom in dire need of subjects, and they were accepting anyone. 

Moreover, they were accepting anyone, of any race. Lymsie had never met a kobold or orc before in her life, and suddenly she found herself surrounded by them. Not only that, but they were welcome as much as any other. 

Lymsie tried not to hope, tried not to let herself believe that she could be accepted as well, if other ‘lesser’ races had found themselves welcome, could she be as well? It was almost frightening to imagine after how long she had spent being rejected by others.

There came a point, as Lymsie settled into her base of operations (she refused to call it a home without her parents beside her), that she realized there was nowhere else to look but to the castle itself. The newly crowned royals were the center of all of this, she was sure. 

She investigated every rumor, every errant piece of information she could, playing the conscientious citizen who simply needed to know what kind of place she was living in. She was but a small and simple half-foot who didn’t want trouble, you see. 

She received bits and pieces of information that told the story of a small circle of the highest echelons of the kingdom, who had come from nothing; privately, she suspected this to be a falsehood. 

Who could believe that elves would not have swooped in to appoint their own leaders? She suspected that this tale of simple adventurers rising to power through their wits and guile was simple mythologizing, something all dynasties did to establish legitimacy.

The king, who had devoured the demon, who had destroyed the only hope Lymsie had of solving her problems, and the sister who was rumored to have been resurrected from certain death, beyond anything anyone had done before, the half-foot who ran the adventurer’s union, at the side of royalty? It was so unbelievable that Lymsie had to uncover the truth of it all.

The sister of the king, the one who the most fantastical and obviously false rumors had claimed to be a dragon, was clearly the center of what had happened, and Lymsie knew she had to reach her. If rumors of her death were in any way true, she was the key to everything Lymsie desired.

Sneakily, she began to worm her way upward. With her money, it wasn’t hard to establish herself among the elite half-foots, and though she had no real interest in adventuring, she joined the half-foot’s guild, happy to pay their fees if it meant she could learn more about the mysterious leader who supposedly had ties to the king.

Asking around, it became clear, the rumors were true. He indeed knew the king and his mysterious sister. Waiting for her moment, one day, it happened. A woman walked into the guild while the leader was there, and Lymsie knew instantly, this was the mysterious sister of the king.

Mana radiated off of her like a flame radiated heat, and her eyes were a sight that sent Lymsie off, her predatory gaze giving her an unnatural and threatening aura. Lymsie watched as the union leader talked with the dragon woman, something that Lymsie had no choice now but to believe was true.

Lymsie couldn’t interrupt, but she now knew her target. She would talk to this woman. Discover the secrets she had hiding that had summoned the demon into this world. She approached the union’s leader warily, approaching the subject as casually as she could; was that the king’s sister? Were the rumors true?

She kept it as light and airy as she could, that this was mere gossip to her. The leader was cagey, unwilling to give up any information of substance, as he rightly pointed out it was none of her business. 

Realizing she had nothing more she could learn from the leader, she watched as the woman left the union and slipped out as well, staying as far as she could from the very obviously dangerous girl while still keeping her in eyesight, she was surprised to see the king’s sister stop to talk excitedly with another woman… or at least, she assumed she was a woman, given she had so little experience with orcs, she wasn’t sure.

She waited until the king’s sister was long gone, and walked up to speak with the orc woman.

The woman (my friend @vacamariposa’s OC! Thanks for letting me borrow her) introduced herself to Lymsie as Vur, and Lymsie suddenly realized that she had heard rumors about an orc working at the castle, something that many of the Golden Kingdom’s inhabitants found relevant for reasons that Lymsie very deliberately didn’t want to know.

As Lymsie tried to play her usual weaselly and evasive probing game, she found that the orc woman happily would gossip about the dragon woman, whose name was apparently Falin, and about any topic that Lymsie asked. Asking about Falin gave her a veritable wave of information, as Vur was apparently friends with the woman, and she got to hear outlandish stories of how the kingdom’s first feast was apparently made with the body of the dragon that Falin had been transformed into.

But what was more interesting to learn wasn’t anything about Falin, but rather came up when Lymsie asked how on earth a woman could have ended merged with a dragon; she learned of another woman she had never heard of before, an elf named Marcille.

Apparently, there was another mage the kingdom had besides the lunatic, and what was most interesting to Lymsie was how the orc gossiped of the elf’s strange obsessions with ancient magic; neuroses that landed dangerously close to her own.

Though Vur didn’t know her nearly as well as Falin, she still was able to tell Lymsie where she could find this mysterious elf, though Lymsie privately wondered if she should have been so willing to divulge these things to her, she thanked Vur and prepared to meet this mysterious Marcille woman.

Which lead to the fated meeting between minds who, by all rumors, would have to agree. Lymsie woke up early in the morning and headed to the castle. Being a half-foot made sneaking in perhaps easier than it had any right to be and definitely was because they assumed anyone who’d have problems with Marcille would be likely to be another elf, but in the end all it took was some minor trespassing on castle grounds.

And, as Lymsie knocked on the door, she was greeted by the surprisingly unassuming face of the mage who had apparently brought the demon to the surface, and introduced herself as a researcher of ancient magic.

“I sincerely apologize for my actions as lord of the dungeon!” were the first words out of Marcille’s mouth, at the same time as Lymsie asked “Are you still pursuing your research?”, answering her question in a way Lymsie truly hadn’t expected.

What do you mean, you’re sorry? You perform feats of magic that I’ve been dreaming of my whole life, and you’re apologizing!? Lymsie couldn’t believe it! And, alternatively, neither could Marcille!

Marcille, flustered in her usual manner, asked how on earth Lymsie could see what she did as a good thing; all the damage the demon caused and all the lives ruined weighed heavy on her mind.

Lymsie responded that Marcille’s mission, the one she had summoned the demon for, was the most noble cause that she could think of, one that she herself pursued; the secrets of immortality.

Marcille responded, no, you don’t understand, immortality is a curse, watching your friends grow old and die around you, you lose all sense of self, she’s seen it happen!

Lymsie scoffs, of course, how expected of an elf to think of how it feels to outlive someone; newsflash, asshole, she doesn’t want to be outlived either. Marcille sputters in confusion and anger and slams the door in Lymsie’s face.

Well. That could have gone better. Lymsie isn’t giving up, she decides, and she’s back the next day, knocking on Marcille’s door, and shoving her foot in the door before Marcille can slam it in her face. Marcille snaps at the half-foot, why can’t you understand that it’s wrong to decide someone else’s lifespan for them!?

Lymsie spits back that it’s awful convenient for her then, that Marcille is doing just that by hiding the research she had worked on from the world! This back and forth goes on for hours, Lymsie getting more and more infuriated by how Marcille doesn’t seem to grasp the potential she abandoned, while Marcille grows more and more conflicted.

Everything Marcille thought she had learned over her journey, flashing before her eyes; the acceptance she had felt she had over death was slipping away, clawed from her tooth and nail by Lymsie’s acerbic arguments.

Marcille began to doubt, really, as they argued, whether or not she really was as over it all as she thought; she knew that her friends said that the secret to a long life was simply eating well, exercising and staying healthy, but her father had done that, and she still vividly recalled how he had withered away in front of her despite his supposed ‘health’. All the health in the world couldn’t erase the simple fact that death was inevitable.

Lymsie could tell her rhetoric was working, she didn’t necessarily understand the intricacies of Marcille’s neuroses, but she could see Marcille faltering, the elf not being one to hide her emotions on her face.

As the arguments continued, Marcille lost much of the acidity in her retorts; part of how she knew that her quest to conquer death was wrong was that the citizens of the Golden Kingdom already had immortality, and they had become miserable and listless over the thousand years the kingdom remained buried.

Lymsie counters that many of the citizens returned to the surface and had resumed their lives, though now aging, clearly they weren’t miserable anymore. Maybe, just maybe, they were miserable because they were trapped in a single place under the watchful eye of a lunatic who took any complaint and punished them severely for speaking out of turn; perhaps that had something to do with it?

Marcille couldn’t deny the sense that Lymsie was making, but ultimately, her friends didn’t want to live forever, they wanted to grow old and die, as much as that frightened Marcille, it wasn’t her right to decide for them that they should live alongside her; she couldn’t use the demon to make versions of them that would stay with her forever, that’s what she had learned.

Well, Lymsie huffed, that’s all fine and good for them, they can die all they want for all she cares. Marcille gasps in offense, but Lymsie presses on; you’re right, you don’t get to decide who lives or who dies or for how long. But why can’t she decide for herself? Why does she just have to accept her lifespan? Can’t there be some middle ground here? 

Marcille feels a little pit in her stomach, realizing that she agrees. She’s terrified of that fact, though, terrified of falling into the habits and allure of the demon; and then Lymsie counters, why do we have to use the demon? Why can’t we research a way to live longer using the magic that already exists? Falin had been saved, hadn’t she?

How come Falin deserves to live and Lymsie’s parents don’t? As Lymsie asks that, Marcille’s heart breaks. She sees the despair on Lymsie’s face and recognizes it intimately. Lymsie explains, finally, a little softer, manipulatively; her parents are old, and she wants to spend as much time as she can with them. It’s not fair that she doesn’t have much longer with them.

As Marcille’s eyes begin to water, Lymsie realizes she might have gone too far, even as her rhetoric clearly worked, she clearly touched something deep inside Marcille she hadn’t known would hit.

Marcille sighs; she says  needs some time to think this over, and shuts the door on Lymsie, who isn’t sure if she’s won or lost this argument, as she realizes she has tears on her face as well.

Marcille spends the night ruminating on everything Lymsie said; she had always thought of the difference between lifespans from the perspective of outliving everyone she knew. She had never thought about what it would feel like to be someone on the other side of the equation; living your life knowing there were things you could never do or see, because there simply wasn’t enough time.

Marcille had always seen the length of her life as a curse, as a burden she had to carry, but seeing someone who saw it as a blessing… she had never encountered that before.

Even with how King Delgal had feared death so much that it had become forbidden in his kingdom under Thistle, she had seen that as simply an obstacle to Falin’s resurrection, background dressing to an adventure and nothing more.

She knew what she had to do.

The next morning, Lymsie shows up at Marcille’s door, and instead of having to force her way in, Marcille opens the door and invites her in. Please, why don’t we have breakfast together, so we can discuss our research together?

Lymsie gasps, she can’t help but reach for Marcille’s hand and shakes it as hard as she can. Oh, thank you thank you thank you, so so so much! She knows they can do it! You were a powerful enough mage to resurrect a woman from only bones, she’s heard!

Marcille is, admittedly disconcerted how much Lymsie apparently knows about her adventure, but that’s not important, she can find that out.

Now, Lymsie and Marcille work together to find a way to equalize and extend lifespans, for the shorter lived races first, but even elves; everyone in the world deserves to have the choice to live as long as they want; healing magic should theoretically be capable of this; if they can bring people back from the dead, there’s no reason that they should just have to accept old age.

In the end, they may or may not succeed, I haven’t decided. But they certainly contribute to the nascent field of what is known as “science”, magic written down for the masses, when previously science was the domain of elves alone, and they test the boundaries of medical magic together.

Lymsie doesn’t get along very well with any of the other members of the main cast; she blames them for how Marcille was almost convinced of the divine right of longer lived races to rule over the shorter lived ones, and while Marcille protests that framing, that’s really what it boils down to, right?

Longer lived races just deserve to live longer, the shorter lived races just have to accept their fate; nobody should try to change those facts, because what if I personally like shitting myself and dying?

… yeah, Lymsie still isn’t a very polite woman. She knows Falin is important to Marcille, and she’ll act civil enough around her as long as the subject of their research never comes up. And the less said about the rest of the group, the better. Their dynamic with Lymsie is… volatile, much like her personality.

As well, the dubious spy work that she did to infiltrate the castle eventually earns her heat from the vizier, Kabru, but it’s not exactly her problem they had prepared for elves and received one angry little half-foot, she says. Kabru is simply incensed that such an egregious gap in their security existed in the first place. What if Lymsie had ill intent?… did Lymsie have ill intent? He still isn’t sure, but it’s Marcille’s choice to work with her at all, not his.

Essentially, Lymsie is my answer to the ending of Dungeon Meshi and the failings I think it has. I don’t hate everything about the ending, I truly think almost every other aspect of it is perfect, even defeating the demon itself. I just resent the framing of how equality between the races is seen as a bad thing; and no, they don’t frame it that way, but that’s what it comes down to, isn’t it?

If a real life ethnic group had a life expectancy a tenth of the upper class, that would be considered the gravest injustice in the world; hell, to a certain extent, life expectancy is a matter of class; the rich can buy their health while the poor suffer and die, when we have the technology for that not to be the case!

I understand that I’m taking fictional worldbuilding entirely too seriously, but I find it fun, so I’m going to do it! This is my podium and you all are my audience to preach politics.

Lymsie’s design is inspired by several characters, though surprisingly not Frodo Baggins, despite appearances. Her hair was inspired by Barbara and Barbie from a manga called Shadows House, as well as a little bit of Rei from Persona. One aspect you may notice is that she has the same white eyes as Marcille, something IIRC no other character has, to symbolize that she sees the world in the same way as Marcille! Her outfit was inspired by the uniform of the magic academy Marcille and Falin went to, but with different sleeves, because I couldn’t figure out how to make them looked swamped on her. Maybe someday I’ll be brave enough to try long sleeves. Her clothes meant to look somewhat baggy on her, like they’re made for a child of a different race, not her size.

A lot of her personality was inspired by a specific song; “Show Me The Way” by Billy Talent; despite the song not necessarily being meant as being about the inescapable inevitability of death and only mentioning it in passing. It also works with her dynamic with Marcille, like, I can see an animatic in my head of it; I’d go into it further, but the post here is already so long that I think I’ll just save it for another time.

[gaybananabread]

for the thing i saw that you were open to magnus chase potentially fierrochase with oranges and cherries? Lee alex ler magnus? You definitely dont have to just curious (for 300 fruit thing)

Fruit(s): Oranges, Cherries

I haven’t read these books in a while, but thanks for reminding me of them! I was younger when I first read these; the gay went right over my head. Also, severe LACK of tk content for this entire series! Now I can obsess over these as well (UvU). Used she/her pronouns for Alex on this one. Magnus strikes me as a shy ler, ya know? Hopefully these peeps aren’t too OOC, same with any lore or character dynamic issues (). Thank you for requesting, and I hope you Enjoy!

Lee: Alex

Ler: Magnus

Summary: During one of the Hotel’s fights to the death, Alex and Magnus slip away for some calm. Unfortunately for the son of Frey, Alex got geared up for the fight and is feeling antsy. He offers another kind of fight, and while it’s not what Alex had in mind, it's certainly a laugh.

Warnings: none! This is a tickle fic, so if you don’t like that, scroll away!!

It was business as usual in Hotel Valhalla; Einherjar running around, trying to pop eachother’s balloons that were attached to their chests, various weapons flying across the playing field. Folks of all ages screamed in frustration as spears, axes, and arrows went through their balloons and hit vital organs. The usual mayhem.

Two residents managed to sneak away from the craziness, locked in a room with a nice, peaceful atrium. Magnus took a deep breath, savoring the quiet peace with his partner. The blonde spared a quick glance at her face before turning back to the trees, blushing softly. “Thanks for dipping with me, Alex. Sorry if I spoiled your fun with Mallory…”

Alex rolled her eyes, pinching the hand she was holding. “You didn’t spoil anything, dork. I’d rather relax with you than kill that loudmouth again. I’ll get her later.” Her free hand moved up to her chest, absentmindedly twisting the changing pronoun pin Magnus had got her on their last trip to the mortal world. That day, it read, “she/her/hers.” She wore it every day, though a certain blonde got punched whenever he brought it up. 

The calm sounds of nature surrounded the pair, bringing a small smile to Magnus’s face. He much preferred the quiet to the chaos, though he had to admit a few of the games were kinda fun. The son of Frey could’ve stayed there all day.

Alex, on the other hand, was really starting to get bored. She was all for supporting her boyfriend, but Gods, they’d been just sitting there for almost twenty minutes. She had no problems ditching the fight for Magnus, but it left her fidgety. The greenette wanted to move, the urge to do something like an itch on her hands she just couldn’t scratch. She tapped a quick, repeating pattern on her arm, trying to distract herself. 

It took the blonde all but four seconds to see how antsy Alex was getting; he nudged his partner’s arm, sighing. “You don’t have to stay here if you’re bored. I’m fine by myself.” The look on his face was a smile, though his eyes gave away how desperate he was for Alex to stay.

That got an eye-roll; how poor was that boy’s self-esteem? Alex wrapped an arm around Magnus’s shoulders, squeezing him a bit harder than necessary into a hug. “Maggie, listen; you’re good. I know you don’t like super loud ‘n crazy stuff, and they’re literally killing eachother while popping loud ass balloons. It’s actually refreshing that you have the sanity to not wanna do it.”

Magnus’s guilt faded, the desperation melting into adoration; what did he do to deserve someone as awesome as Alex? Well, besides saving a bunch of stuff and almost dying for it, but he didn’t count that… “Thank you, Alex. Seriously.” Still, something nagged at him to make it up to his partner. He really didn’t feel like actually fighting, though a silly idea popped into his head. One his partner might enjoy even more than revenge on Mallory.

“Hey, I know it’s not Last Einherjar Standing, but do you wanna do our own thing in here? Like…a fight, but not killing eachother?” A small blush decorated Magnus’s cheeks, making his partner hum. It sounded better than just sitting there, though she could tell there was more to it than that. “Okay…what’s the catch?”

The fact that he only got redder was very telling for the child of Loki. Another silly Magnus idea…but anything was better than nothing. “Well, we could, ya know…tickle eachother instead.” He regretted the words the moment they left his mouth; why would Alex ever wanna do that? He tried playing it off, hoping he wouldn’t get teased for it. “It’s, uh, nevermind dumb idea-”

“Eh, sure. I’m bored enough.”

Magnus was a bit stunned, to be honest. Alex actually wanted to have a tickle fight? He was shocked for a good few seconds before snapping back to reality. “Oh…alright then. You wanna count it down, or…?”

Alex rolled her eyes, seeing the shock on her boyfriend’s face. Normally, she would’ve teased the Helheim out of Magnus for even mentioning something like that. That day, though, she was feeling kind; kind enough to let Magnus have his fun. While he’d never directly expressed it, it was clear to literally everyone close to him that Magnus liked that kind of thing. Still had appearances to keep up, though. “We can count it if you want. I don't really care.”

A vibrant red hue decorated Magnus’s cheeks, a rare bout of confidence overtaking his thoughts. Things were gonna be fun; if he could win without combusting, that is. 

“Okay…uh, three, two, one…go!”

Not in a thousand years would Alex have expected Magnus to pounce like he did. I mean, she was already planning on letting the blonde win, but damn. Boy was excited. 

Magnus was quick to wrestle Alex down, his mind racing with all the possible ways the greenette could wreck him. Animal claws, bird feathers, multiple appendages… Best to get her before any of those played out. Soon, the shapeshifter’s arms were above her head, wide and slightly surprised eyes staring up at Magnus.

“Dahamn, Beantown! Didn’t think you had it in you~” Alex, ever the tease, smirked up at his boy. While there was no avoiding what was about to come, she could at least see the little flash of red across her boyfriend’s cheeks.

Predictably, the blonde blushed, his confidence faltering for a second. “Quiet…” Okay, Alex was so getting it after that. However, the doubtful thoughts wormed their way back into his head. Gods, he hated his head sometimes… “Hey, are you sure this is okay? Like, you’re fine with me ti-…uh, doing this?”

Alex rolled her eyes, a small groan escaping her. Magnus said “fight,” not feel guilty about everything; was he seriously gonna make her ask? The anticipation was honestly getting to Alex, her heterochromic eyes shining with a nervous giddiness that she would never admit. “Yes, my Gods, just do it already!”

Magnus huffed, feeling himself get a bit red at the annoyed ask. Still, he kept Alex’s arms above her head with one head, the other experimentally kneading at her hip. 

She bit her lip, squirming in his hold as she tried not to giggle. If she really wanted to, Alex could’ve just shifted into a ferret and slipped away; she could’ve won the whole fight if she wanted to. Magnus seemed down though, and while she’d never admit it, she loved the wondrous little gleam he got in his eyes when he was happy. So, for him, she endured. It wasn’t that horrible…

“Aww, c’mon Alex. You were begging me to get started, and now you’re not even gonna giggle?” He dug in, drilling his thumb into Alex’s hip. Hello, confidence! Alex’s strained focus broke, surprisingly bubbly giggles spilling past her lips. Even more of a shock: her cheeks grew red, almost matching her boyfriend’s. “Sh-shuhuhut ihit!”

Magnus was stunned for a second, his mind taking a moment to process the sound of her giggles. So cute…she’d kill him for saying it, but it was true. He had to hear more; the hand traveled upwards, curiously clawing at her ribs. He wasn’t disappointed.

“MAHAHAGNUS! F-FUHUHACK!” Alex arched her back, not expecting that spot to be so bad. She hadn’t really been tickled as a kid, and while that stuff was more common with her friends, most of them were too anxious to really try it. That was…really the first time someone had actually gotten her. She didn’t…hate it? It was a lot.

The blonde chuckled, his eyes sparkling as she laughed. Okay, new favorite sound… Alex had never sounded so carefree. “Wow Alex, such dirty language. It’s just a few little tickles; no need to get so worked up!” Not wanting to make her uncomfortable, Magnus moved his spidering fingers to her stomach.

“Y-yohohohou’re the wohohorst!” It was hard to take that “insult” seriously with all the giggling she was doing. That side of Alex was one Magnus didn’t see often, but he loved when it would show. “Am I? I mean, you did literally ask for it. I’m kinda an awesome boyfriend for giving you what you want, no?” 

Alex groaned through her giggles, mentally rolling her eyes. “Noho, you dohohork!” She wiggled in his hold, but made no real effort to get away. It still lit up her nerves, but the gentle tickling on her belly was actually kinda nice… Well, until Magnus started talking. “Wasn’t this supposed to be a tickle fight? Kinda seems like you gave up, love~”

Her cheeks went red, an indignant grunt flowing with the adorable giggles. “I- thahat’s nohot-... Ihi hahahate youhu…” Alex tried to hide her face in her shoulder, her arms still above her head. 

Magnus gasped, feigning a hurt pout. “You hate me? Wow Alex, I thought we had something…” He sighed, shooting his hand back to claw at her ribs. “Guess I can’t feel bad for doing this anymore.” 

“NAHAHAHO! MAHAGNUHUS, YOUHU AHASS!” She squealed, her face turning an even deeper, lovely and vibrant shade of red. Magnus couldn’t help but coo. “That’s actually adorable, Alex. I mean, I knew you were a shapeshifter, but I never knew your cherry impression was so good!”

“SHUHUHUT UHUHP!” Alex twisted and turned in Magnus’s grip, her face only getting hotter. She really wasn’t used to tickling, and while it was kinda fun, she was nearing her limit. While it hurt her pride to do it, she tapped out. “ENOUHUHUGH!”

The son of Frey stopped almost instantly, his arms wrapping around Alex to pull her into a hug. He was pushing it with all the affection, but he was feeling brave. “Sorry, that was kinda mean. You good? Did I go too far?”

Alex buried her face in his shoulder, giggling off the ghost tickles. “Thahat was- Gods, Mahaggie. Yeah, Ihi’m good…” She took a few deep breaths, her slightly dazed smile becoming something much more mischievous. “Uh…Alex?”

Suddenly, his partner shrank, a small ferret in her place. The fuzzy noodle zipped under his shirt, climbing up his torso and around to his back. He squeaked, squirming as her fur brushed against his poor skin. Finally, she made it to his neck, hopping out and shifting back. 

Alex wasted zero time with her plan. In seconds, Magnus was on his back, his arms stuck firmly above his head. She smirked down at him, a playful smirk on her face. “Here comes the fight, Beantown. Hope you’re ready~”

Magnus gulped, looking up at his partner with wide eyes and a wobbly smile. “Oh Gods…” The rest of the afternoon was filled with laughter, the chaos of the morning’s strange murder-game forgotten. While it wasn’t exactly what either of them had planned for the day, it was definitely the most fun they’d had in a while. Totally worth it…

[just-a-carrot]

Heyo, Carrot! Not really an ask, I’m just gonna be yapping at you for a bit, sorry. Related to OW though!

So, I just rewatched a lot of Madoka Magica, and I am NOT about to directly spoil that show if you haven’t seen it, that’s a sin as an anime fan I feel, but there are a TON of similar themes to OW regarding wishes in the show and how everything has a price. Warning for spoilers of Madoka’s overall themes, though I tried to be vague.

It got me thinking, and the overall theme both that show and OW have about wishes branches into different things within the stories themselves, but they connect back when it comes to the corruption of innocence. How nothing stays happy forever. How things are destined to change in a negative way, no matter how perfect they may seem at the time. Nothing truly lasts forever.

Depressing af messaging, but it really makes you appreciate the here and now, you know? And I think it hits even harder since the connection exists between these two specific properties. The characters in Madoka Magica are middle schoolers. In OW, they’re all adults, late twenties to early thirties. Yet both can get lured in by wishes. They both see the promise of anything they could ever want, and they take it with varying consequences.

Kinda reinforces the fact that no one really grows out of the desire to wish. People can be dreamers at any age, but what matters is what they do with those dreams. Do they take the easy way, or do they do the hard work? Do they listen to the devil on their shoulder, or do they stick to their morals and problem solve?

I just thought it was a really interesting connection, and I’m excited to see how OW’s themes in particular are expanded upon in the finale.

ohhhhh this is really interesting??? i have never watch madoka before and so only really know the general gist of it/would recognize screenshots from it, though i know how big/influential it is in general

that really does sound like it treads on a lot of the same types of themes and subject matters though, just from different perspectives

i'd probably expand upon this even more by talking a bit about how some of the themes wrap up, but then i'd get into spoiler territory for the finale so i'll refrain for now lkdjflaksf but i'll be interested in seeing what you think about the finale then in terms of what you've already said here upon seeing everything wrap up 👀

[zoeysdamn]

Headcanon (crack): Wednesday’s characters being drunk

Don’t ask me why. @beggingforxavierthorpe​ and I talked and boom -- crack thoughts, you know the drill

Wednesday: 

Doesn’t get drunk easily, is used to fancy wines from family dinners; it takes around a whole bottle to get her tipsy.  

Prefers old age whisky (or nail polish remover)

Blunt af – even more than usual it is

But it also means blunting compliments

“Your dress is nicely complimenting your body, Enid”

“....I’m sorry wHAT– “

“I said what I said”

0 sense of danger

Like, none

Would accept any dare, I swear to god

“Hey Wednesday, bet you can’t walk barefoot on that electric line”

“Hold my beer–” 

Probably confessed a hella lot of personal stuff to Thing without realizing it

(he’ll keep it to himself, he’s not suicidal)

If she tolerates a hug more than 5 seconds, she’s wasted 

Enid: 

Can hold her liquor for like three cups top – after that she’s a goner

Will deny she gets drunk 

Switch between sad drunk, happy drunk, and cuddly drunk

Also will fight God in a fistfight on her 6th drink 

Sad drunk Enid will cry her heart out and cuddle you over any random subject. Last episode of her favorite show? Yep. The caramel dessert at the cafeteria at lunch? Absolutely. Yoko wearing the same outfit as her at the last party? She’ll cry on your shoulder. Mommy issues? bOI bring the tissues. 

Karaoke is a must do; don’t tempt her with a mic, you’ll have the full Taylor Swift discography blasted ‘til daylight 

Came become suspicious of everyone on her top drunk state: she’ll be sure one of the guest is actually principal Weems in disguise 

Probably had show her boobs on top of a table for fun (sober Wednesday had to pull her down)

Gets whiny when the alcohol starts to wear off 

Already ended up asleep upside down in a bathtub – somehow always wakes up in her bed 

Ajax: 

Mildly light weight; can hold his beer as much as he wants, but anything stronger and he’s gone. 

At 3 drinks he thinks he’s a good singer; at 5 he’ll demonstrate it (he’s not) 

Definitely an affectionate drunk 

Will hug anyone – anyone

The only person who had tackled Bianca Barclay into a surprise hug and lived 

Bc drunk Ajax is a gentle giant too cute for his own good

Actually managed to get away after being busted by Ms Thornhill as he stumbled drunk in the school’s corridor 

Asks the dumbest yet most legit questions

“So snakes are basically walking on their bellies?”

“D’you think Weems can have a baby with herself? I mean theoretically–” 

“If I stone someone during sex and pull out, do I pull the sword out of the stone?” 

Loves everyone, will die for everyone if you ask enough (just ask him)

Saw a bearded man once and hugged him while crying “Dumbledore, you’re alive!!” 

Xavier and Yoko filmed the scene; it’s an official meme of Nevermore now 

Harder drunker, so somehow the best at knowing all the tricks how to handle hangovers 

Will leave ibuprofen and bottles of water in the bathroom every time the party’s in his room

Xavier: 

Also familiar with fancy drinks (family dinners and all)

Ajax definitely made fun of him during their first time drinking together because of that 

Will defy anyone in a drinking contest – will most likely win but at what cost 

Knows when he’s drunk, will have another drink to celebrate it 

Needs no more than 3 drinks to dramatically turn to Ajax singing like he’s a judge in The Voice 

Hair has no rule anymore: past 5 drinks, Xavier will let anyone try any hair style on him – should he end up with a palm tree hairstyle (he definitely did. Multiple time.)

Instaured a socks race with Enid to establish a winner in beer pong in case it ends in a tie

The scale of drunken Xavier can be established by the corny nicknames he uses: babe, sweetheart? Getting tipsy. Muffin, baby doll? Drunk. Sexy cake, pudding, honeybun? Definitely drunk. Baby boo, Sugar pie? Bro you’re wasted af, drop this drink right now and stop trying to hit on the coat hanger.

Emotional drunk; the daddy issues WILL show and the emo playlist will be brought up.

Also somehow a bitchy drunk. Will make a gossip club with Yoko and Wednesday on the spot to bitch about every single guest while sipping mojitos and margaritas. 

Bianca: 

Will drown a bottle of tequila without blinking an eye and then recite an entire Shakespeare sonnet without stuttering 

Slightly emotional drunk, but also a loud drunk

Like, legit sounds like Cardi B laughing while drunk – a hyena

Brutally honest with you, but more prone to help you after a few drinks 

Dance monster on her 4th drink; don’t try to stop her getting on the dancefloor 

Taster of every new mix by Yoko; she has excellent cocktail tastes 

Will cry watching ‘Monsters Inc.’ on her 5th drink, will absolutely trash talk the little mermaid tho

The strongest drinker – it takes a lot to actually get her drunk

So she always end up being the referee to all drinking games (which she’s most likely to have instigated)

Have tons of pics of her friends during their drunken antics – goldmine. 

Mama bear taking care of the drunk crew 

Tyler: 

No filter whatsoever

Will either broke down into tears or unleash anger 

Would fight anyone too 

Not a lightweight but doesn’t know how to handle the amount of liquor he’s drinking 

Conspiracy theories after the 5th drink. So. much. theories. 

Had improvised a drunk strip tease once; will not do that again (for free)

Actually received a lot of compliments after that

The official coffee supplier of the crew on hangovers 

“Give me a pint of that coffee, Galpin” 

Around 4am, he’s usually taken by the urge to stress/hangover clean everything. Will do all the dishes to sleep off the alcohol. 

Will alternatively flirt or try to fight everyone, no middle ground 

He’ll actually defend any of his drunk friends being harassed 

High chances he’d join the bitch club too; Enid once photoshopped his, Xavier, and Yoko’s faces on the ‘Mean girls’ poster

(every one of them had secretly that printed in their locker)

Also a mother hen – at least he tries

Bonus: Principal Weems

Did indeed transform herself into a student to attend a party 

Quickly understood why she preferred a glass of Chardonnay in her cozy office

The sole time she threw up after a party thanks to cheap vodka

Also had to purposefully ignore some students after that – some pictures can’t be erased 

[decayingcupid]

yan!sweetheart (lucy marell) x gn!reader | tw: slight yandere behaviour, mentions of injuries/a car crash

a 20 year old starting college, lucy was quickly known around campus for being extremely well-liked. always willing to lend a hand to help her peers and faculty, the word most used to describe lucy was sweet.

with soft brown hair, big brown eyes, and a penchant for cute yet comfy looking clothes, it wasn’t exactly a surprise that she had a few admirers; most of them were too intimidated by her status as campus princess to ever ask her out, though, and the ones brave enough to shoot their shot were shut down immediately (although the rejection was so polite they could never be too upset about it).

lucy didn’t have many close friends, but she was friendly with everyone, so it was inevitable that some of the more gossipy students ask her about her disinterest in dating. they always got the same answer:

“i’m just waiting for the one, y’know?”

growing up, lucy was rather isolated. after being hit by a car at the young age of seven, lucy’s life was spent in and out of hospitals for a not-insignificant amount of time.

during this period lucy spent much of her time alone. her parents were preoccupied with work; her older brother with school. the only person lucy saw regularly was the nurse her parents hired to watch over her, helping to make sure she could heal properly.

unfortunately for said nurse, lucy wasn’t exactly thrilled about the many months of bedrest. in order to keep her from her rambunctious antics the nurse gave her the best medicine she could think of: romance books.

although lucy wasn’t very interested in adventure or nonfiction, she quickly latched on to romance stories. tales of princes saving princesses, of childhood friends turned more, of girls-next-door’s falling for bad boys; every love story she could find, lucy devoured.

to her nurse and family, this had a positive effect on her! not only did she start to gain an impressive vocabulary, but her one-track-mind kept her from overexerting her already weakened state.

it wasn’t until she grew older that her fascination with romance novels started to show in her interactions with other people.

even once she was well enough to attend school again, lucy mostly kept to herself. she had no interest in making friends, and clearly avoided any potentially romantic interactions.

by the time she got to college lucy had become more extroverted, making many casual friendships, but she still kept everyone at arm’s length. why? because she needed to save room for her love interest, of course!

lucy didn’t know when she’d find love, but she knew better than anyone how much it would change her life. after all, in all of her favorite stories, once the main characters fell in love and lived happily ever after they didn’t have many scenes with the secondary cast.

and so, lucy spent her days diligently studying, watching romcoms, and showing kindness to everyone she encountered (just like a romance heroine)!

until you walked in.

despite her adoration of them, lucy had never quite believed the scenes of love at first sight, the way time stops and everything else dims. but that day she realized how much they underexaggerated.

lucy swears the first time she saw you her heart stopped in her chest.

it was like everything fell into place.

now all she had to do was make sure your love story went off without a hitch ♡

you, on the other hand, had no clue what had just occurred, the life changing effect you’d had on someone you’d never even talked to. after all, you were much too preoccupied with your failing grades.

it wasn’t that you didn’t understand the material. but it had only taken a month at college for you to be completely burnt out, so much so that you misplaced your notes and didn’t end up studying - and it showed in your test scores. you tried to explain to the professor that it was just a slip up, that you’ll try harder from now on, but you could tell they weren’t buying it.

unfortunately, that failure meant that you had no choice but to ace the upcoming class project, worth a large chunk of your grades for the semester. luckily for you the professor took the opportunity to set you up with the class’s best student in hopes their good study habits might rub off on you.

lucy couldn’t have been more excited when she heard that you were working on this project together. a perfect meet-cute! (just ignore how she’d been stalking your social media for almost a week. and how she’d stolen one of your notebooks, just to trace her fingers over your handwriting. how was she supposed to know you wouldn’t be able to study without it?)

but that was okay! it was her borrowing that brought you two together, after all!

and now she had the perfect chance to impress upon you that she’s the only best candidate for your sweetheart! ♡

[the-fiction-witch]

Old

Media IRL

Character Thomas Brodie Sangster

Couple Thomas X Reader

Rating Sad + cute

Concept The Passage Of Time

I smiled as I pushed myself up out of bed with a slight yawn taking my glass from the bedside table and having a sip of the cold water. "Ummm" I smiled "good morning!" I gleaned 

"Please don't -' whined from beside me, I glanced down at the covers seeing Thomas in bed beside me tucked up with the covers looking uncomfortable and in pain 

"Don't what?"

"Not so loud darling" he whines 

"Ohh what's the matter?" 

"I'm hungover pet" 

"Hungover?" 

"Ummm" he groans rubbing his eyes 

"We had like… maybe three glasses of wine last night?" 

"Yes."

"Your hungover from that?"

"Need o remind you I'm thirty two. I might not bloody look it, but I am. Stuff hits you harder when you get to my age" he pouts 

"Your age? Awww you're adorable when your grouchy" I giggled giving him a kiss "coffee?"

"Yes please darling"

"Alright," I smiled getting out of bed and slipping on my slippers and robe "would you like me to bring you the paper and your morning pills?" I giggled

His only response was to hold his middle finger up at me.

I went and made our coffee bringing it back to him in the bed sitting with him as I had my own 

"Thank you y/n"

"Your welcome grumpy butt" 

"I'm allowed to be grumpy I'm in pain"

"You know how you could not be in pain?"

"Umm?"

"If you drank water before bed like I told you too I don't have a hang over and I drank the exact same as you"

"Yes however you are y/a/g younger then me."

"So?"

"So. Your not withering away yet"

"Withering?"

"In the middle ages I would have been dead by now. And my body knows I should be dead."

"Yes a time without toilet roll. Health care. Or you know… soap" 

"Still" 

"Alright Thomas of you say so" I laughed getting my whole deciding to be mean to him "hey Thomas?"

"Umm?"

"Death cure came out five years ago"

"..... Did it?"

"Ummm humm" I nodded

"I… I… oh god. It did didn't it?"

"It did"

"I… I really need to call dylan" 

"Jeremy Clarkson left top gear eight years ago" 

"No."

"Yes"

"No"

"Yes"

"That was eight years ago?" 

"Yes it was"

".... It can't be"

"Twenty fifteen. Eight years ago"

"Oh my god." He sighed 

"You remember fifty shades of grey?"

"Unfortunately yes."

"That was ten years ago"

"No!"

"Yep"

"That is not possible"

"Very possible. And true. It's height of popularity was twenty thirteen ten years ago" 

"Why does that feel like two years ago?"

"Cause your old" I giggled

"I feel old."

"London Olympics was eleven years ago"

".... Are you serious?"

"I am serious"

"This is not making me feel better. In the slightest I hope you know that"

"I know"

"It was eleven years ago"

"I went to see one of them. The… I think 500 meter swim? Might have been a driving? I don't remember all I remember is the pool"

"I watched the ceremony on TV because I got the day off school"

"... It's moments like that I suddenly gets reminded to me that you're younger then I am" 

"Thomas?"

"Yes"

"When did Michael Jackson die?"

"A few years ago, like a little while ago now."

"2009"

"Was it?"

"Yes. Fourteen years ago" 

"Was it really fourteen years ago?"

"Yep, same year avatar"

"Avatar is fourteen years old!"

'yes it is. Just now getting a sequel"

"I saw that in the cinema"

"Fourteen years ago. You were nineteen"

"Please stop. This actually hurts me."

"Breaking bad's first season came out in 2008. Fifteen years ago"

"No. This can't be real" 

"Revenge of the sith came out in 2005" I giggled

"No!"

"Yes"

"That's not possible. I did not come out that long ago"

"Yes it did Thomas. You were fifteen. Almost eighteen years ago"

"Revenge of the sith cannot be eighteen"

"It's old enough to drink Thomas"

"No!"

"The emperors new groove came out in 2000"

"No!"

"Yes"

"No!"

"Yes it's twenty three years old"

"It can't be twenty three"

"Yes it can. And so is cast away"

"That's not possible. I think I'm freaking out right now. What happened to time!"

"The Nokia 3310. Came out in September of 2000. Twenty three years ago!" I laughed

"Make it stop" he pleads hiding under his pillow 

"Disney's Hercules came out in 1997. Twenty six years ago"

"Nooooooooo!" He whines 

"Yep. The live action Flintstones movie came out on 1994. And you were not even five"

"Make it stop. I don't like this…"

"You were born the same year as a super NES" 

"No! It can't be that- that's not possible! That… that would make me…" he sat up upset

"Thirty two." I smiled giving him a kiss "thirty three in may" 

"Let me die. I have lived to long" 

"Hey Thomas?"

"Yes?" He sighed 

"Officially they class the start of early middle age-"

"Don't. you. fucking. dare."

"Early middle age is 35!" I giggled hidding slightly under the covers

He sighed and laid down next to me "can I atleast have a mid life crisis? Get a cool car? Go on cool holidays? Loose my mind a little"

"No."

"Fine. At Least I have a sexy younger wife to entertain me" he smirked cuddling me closer  

"Aww cute" I smiled nuzzling closer to him "I still love you"

"I love you too darling" 

[twilightmalachite]

2×2 - Children on the Streets 1

Author: Akira

Characters: Yuuta, Shinobu

Translator: Mika Enstars

"Actually, why do you continue being an idol if you’re so dissatisfied, Yuuta-kun?"

[Read on my blog for the best viewing experience with Oi~ssu ♪]

Season: Spring

Location: Downtown

Two days later, on the third day of shooting 2×2 episode 5, noon…

Shinobu: … …

Uu, uuu, uuuu…

Yuuta: Shinobu-kun looks like a wandering zombie during an apocalypse…

Shinobu: It’s so hard~, usually… My standard of living has dropped to the lowest level possible.

Yuuta: W-well things are going surprisingly well, right? Better than we expected!

It’s like riding a bike! Thankfully we lived in extreme poverty for the fourth episode, so we knew to find dollar stores and thrift shops to buy our essentials—

We then save money for that using our idol skills we honed at Yumenosaki and ES, a.k.a., performing on the street and asking money from those who pass by!

Since ES is nearby, there are often performers around town, which helps a ton. Passerbys are used to them, and typically give a bill or two.

Shinobu: Because ES promotes music, or rather, idol activities.

If this were the Special Music Zone, for example, that centers around “that”, we could have made money more efficiently, but…

Yuuta: We really don’t have either the money or energy to travel that far out… We’ve been doing a lot of street performances with the sun high in the sky, so I’m seriously starting to hit my limit.

Shinobu: And I wonder if it’s even harder on me… Uu~, maybe it’s a genetic thing, but no matter how hard I train, I can’t build up physical strength.

Yuuta: We both have our genetic disadvantages, don’t we?

Shinobu: And to make things worse, our beds are atrocious, so we can’t recover our lost energy at all…

Yuuta: We were able to eventually save up enough money for a decent cardboard house, but…

There was a horrible draft in the end, and the blanket from the thrift store wasn’t enough to keep me warm.

Shinobu: Though if the temperature gets too low, we’ve been going to a cheap public bath to wash up and sleep in the break room.

Yuuta: We get two birds with one stone with that. We used to use those places when we were kids, I’m so glad those cheap bathhouses haven’t gone out of business~!

This is a show about idols, after all, we have to keep reasonably clean.

Shinobu: So every day, we make sure to wash our clothes at a laundromat and our body at a public bathhouse or internet cafe shower room.

It’s more than a matter of looking good, we also gotta keep clean so we don’t get sick, usually.

Yuuta: Living in the streets seriously is so tough. It’s just staying alive, but it’s so tough.

I seriously don’t know how we did it back then.

Shinobu: Yeah… I can say this from my heart now that I’ve experienced the hardship myself, it truly is amazing. It’s commendable.

At that time, you and Hinata-kun were just small children who still needed the protection of their parent.

Yuuta: And we ran away from that parent~. Didn’t we just reap what we sowed in a way?

Shinobu: Seriously though, I don’t know how you did it.

Yuuta: Aniki was strangely talented with these things, and I recall being able to live in this area rather comfortably.

But, back then too, Aniki was also just a small child, the same age as me—

He must’ve been having a really hard time, I just didn’t realize it… I’m sure.

Shinobu: Fufu, Hinata-kun’s done a lot for you, hasn’t he, Yuuta-kun.

Yuuta: Uu~… I didn’t ask for him to, though! He did it all on his own, meaning it was all just for his ego.

Aniki must have just been happy because was able to do what he wanted to do.

Whenever I wanted to do something, he wouldn’t let me. That is what was tough, you know!

So this time around, I’m rather satisfied. I’m able to do what I want, without anyone getting in my way or denying me.

Shinobu: But the burden of that’s being pushed onto me.

Yuuta: What? You have complaints? You know, if you don’t like it you can just quit, 2×2 is our show after all—Meaning you have nothing to do with it, Shinobu-kun.

Shinobu: That’s not an option… To abandon a job once undertaken goes against the code of a ninja.

Yuuta: Sounds inconvenient and a lot of work to me, but do what you want to do I guess, ninja.

Shinobu: Actually, why do you continue being an idol if you’re so dissatisfied, Yuuta-kun?

If you hate it so much, why don’t you just quit?

Yuuta: … …

Shinobu: Ah… S-Sorry. I said a bit too much. Living marginally like this has put me on edge.

Yuuta: No, nevermind that. Look, over there.

Shinobu: Huh…?

Hmm? Over there, could that be—

Yuuta: —Aniki!

That bastard Aniki~! I thought since we were having such a hard time, surely he must have been as well!

What is this? Why on earth are those guys looking so happy!?

[ ☆ ]

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[braveheartstoryteller]

A Sprit of Wonder, Excitement and Discovery…

I’ve often enjoyed stories with a sense of wonder. When I was young there was an audio drama that invoked a sense of wonder, excitement and discovery, despite being set in a small town. Some stories since then have reminded me of this, Sarah Jane Adventures is one such show. Often Sarah would tell the kids you never know what’s happening in your own back yard, wonder could be just around the corner. A message that makes since both for her character, and for the series theme. You could also say that “making the most of your summer vacation” Phineas and Ferb style invokes the same feelings, and is probably why I’ve watched that show through about 3 times.

But nothing quite hit like Kingdom Hearts. Like the special audio drama of my childhood, KH not only focuses on the idea that the world is full of wonder, but on what can make it all the more special. As in, sharing it with others. We aren’t supposed to go it alone. This sense of community, is a huge part of why I love the series as much as I do. And it is why I wonder about the future of the series. Would it still have that feel? That child like wonder, untainted by the world’s pressures? Or, like the main protagonist, will it grow up?

We already see it, this growing up process. I’ve talked about it before. By the end of Dream Drop Distance, it is the beginning of the end, but also a new beginning. In KH3 this goes on even further. The game itself seems like more Disney than ever before, with all the flash and theater. But that almost feels like a smoke screen for something deeper, and more challenging, as each story tackles themes not usually seen in KH. Even the game’s theme song: Face My Fears, hints at this.

So on one hand we have Sora’s wonder over San Fransokyo, and a walking, talking snowman, while on the other we have him breaking down in tears over Eugene, and yelling in agony over Will. It makes sense, after all this is Sora we’re talking about. But now not all of Sora’s advenures truly end well. No longer is the keyblade is “a chance to make everybody happy”. Reality has set in. But then, how does one grow without it?

The audio drama I keep mentioning wasn’t all roses either. Often sorrow would come, and even topics of death, evil, and corruption were present in the story. One of the most memorable stories as a kid for me touched on death of a kid my own age at the time, a story that would stick with me for years to come.

So how does one balance this thing called “reality” with the reminder that “even in the deepest darkness, there is always a little bit of light?” How do you keep that joy, while not being afraid to show something harder to swallow?

As a storyteller, that is my biggest question right now. And I’m not sure of the answer.

[take-taker-taken]

Bunch of random asks:

Halloween or Christmas?

Dream vacation?

How did you get into wrestling?

The food you hate

Do you wear odd socks?

Did you eat the last cookie?

Oooh, KWESTSHUNS, thank you! Here goes!

Definitely Christmas. I love lots of twinkling lights, the smell of a real tree and we have some absolute bangers of Christmas songs over here in the UK (I will fight anyone who claims otherwise). Only have ‘small’ Christmas with just me and my husband (and the cats) and that suits us just fine. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t dislike Halloween - it’s just not as much of a thing here in the UK as it is in the US (though goodness knows marketing people are trying harder every year). Personally I prefer Guy Fawkes (Bonfire) Night to Halloween.

I would love to drive an RV through parts of the west coast of America - it’s on my bucket list to see the waterfalls at Yosemite and to see Monument Valley, as well. I’ve been to Yosemite before (saw a bear!) but it was in August so all the falls were dried up. Went through Death Valley as well as I swear I could feel my eyeballs cooking in my skull.

I used to watch as a kid and remember being fascinated by Taker. I was 9 years old when the character had its debut, and don’t remember it at all but I do remember my heart pounding when he would make an appearance - like a horrified fascination between the TV showing a blacked out arena, the music, the thunder effects and of course the eye-rolling. By the time it had moved into the Attitude Era I was off doing other things; would occasionally catch some of it here and there but I by no means followed it. I got back into it properly about a year ago - a friend had done the same (she was at Summerslam ‘92 at Wembley Stadium) and I found my fascination for Taker was still there but this time there was SO MUCH MORE because of course internet, and Mark doing interviews left, right and centre following his wind down / retirement. Thing is, when I go in for something, I go in HARD hence me hitting up PPV events like Clash at the Castle, house shows, the Taker One DEADMan Show… I’m an adult now with disposable income and I’m not afraid to enjoy it! 🤣

Oysters. I mean, WHY. And people are out there claiming they’re an aphrodisiac. My arse they’re an aphrodisiac. They’re violently unpleasant, sandy little bags of snot, is what they are.

No, never. I actually love socks. REALLY love socks. I like to move my foot about inside the sock so I can feel the sock rubbing on my foot. Very comforting. I have socks with cheese on, with snoopy on, glittery David Bowie socks, socks with Pikachu, with Pringles and just black ones with coloured heel and toe. Oh, and some fluffy bed socks. I really, really like socks.

I probably didn’t - I can leave chocolate, cakes and cookies around for ages and not eat them.

[sendme-2hell]

Ranking the books I read in 2022 by how much I liked them

20. The Power - Naomi Alderman

I really really hated this book. I think somewhere else I already talked about how much I hated it. The truth is that the concept is good. And I do agree that if women gained power over men that they would create power structures similar to what women currently experience under men. But the absence of any sort of queer/trans exploration seemed really glaring--especially from the author who gave us Disobedience. I felt it just wasn’t nuanced enough for me. 

19. Yerba Buena - Nina Lacour

Okay I really liked this book! I think there needs to be more coming of age books about lesbians in their 20’s-30’s and that's exactly what this book was. It was a bittersweet book about two women finding each other and themselves, but I didn’t quite latch onto it. 

18. The Oleander Sword - Tasha Suri 

I don’t have anything to say except I really liked the second installment in this series and I can’t wait for the next one! More enemies to lovers where they are still kinda enemies. 

17. The Echo Wife - Sarah Gailey

I liked the idea of this and almost all of the execution. It’s what would happen if a woman found out how to make clones that had the same personality as their source. Then her husband makes a clone of her. As you can imagine, it’s more about trauma and domestic abuse than cloning. Which works. 

16. The Glass Hotel - Emily St. John Mandel 

I love the Emily St. John Mandel Connected Universe. Even though I didn’t find these characters as compelling as some of her other works, one thing really stuck with me. In this book she speaks of the wealthy as living in their own country. Because they are so rich, wherever they go they are having similar experiences with similar people. They have more in common with rich people from other countries than poor people from their own. When characters lose wealth they are demoted to the country of the poor. 

15. Exciting Times - Naoise Dolan

Some people don’t like this book but I was having a good time. Sadly it’s hard not to make the Sally Rooney comparisons since it’s about a really self aware Irish woman noticing a lot about capitalism. But tbh I eat that shit up. Like Conversations with Friends, she is choosing between the idealized perfect woman love interest and the male love interest who will probably never love her. I don’t think it’s a hard decision but these women seem to really have a problem choosing. 

14. We do What We do in the Dark - Michelle Hart

This was another coming of age book about a female college student having an affair with a married female professor. I felt bad for her but also I’m sorry it is kinda sexy. That is absolutely not the point of the book though. 

13. The Vegetarian - Han Kang

One woman decides to be vegetarian and you will not BELIEVE the chaos this causes. I really liked the writing style. 

12. Disobedience - Naomi Alderman 

Unlike The Power, I loved this book. As a Jewish (but not close to how Jewish these characters are) queer woman, I loved this book about Jewish queer women. It was incredibly nuanced, and I was interested in how it explored religion and community and did not give a simple answer. Literally nothing will ever hit harder than women who are foils to one another. One woman is more open about her sexuality and has moved away from her stifling community but she isn’t happy either due to the crushing loneliness of modern capitalism, but the other woman while having community is not being honest about her sexuality and is dealing with oppressive sexism. But now where was the spitting scene from the movie?

11. Sea of Tranquility - Emily St John Mandel

I love time travel. I love meta media. This book was awesome. ESJM writes about her own experiences as the author of a famous pandemic book living during an actual pandemic, but also it takes place far in the future and there is time travel. Five stars. 

10. They Never Learn - Layne Fargo 

Is this book as much of a literary achievement as some of the books I’ve ranked lower on this list? Absolutely not. But it does have a queer woman murdering rapists and getting a happy ending. Incredibly cathartic 10/10. 

9. Fire & Blood - GRRM

I’m sorry this should not be ranked so high. Especially since I learned GRRM was pressured by HBO to work on this instead of winds of winter in time for HOTD to come out. But honestly I really liked it. I am a real sucker for seeing large family history and lineage and that’s exactly what this is. Also I love a good unreliable narrator! It adds this other layer to reading, where you can see the biases and societal norms influencing the writing. I find the sense of ambiguity quite powerful where you know multiple answers could be true, but also when the narrator is so unreliable you can imagine quite literally anything. I choose to imagine Visenya and Sharra of the Vale were lovers, Alys and Tyanna were lovers (and something really complicated went down), and that Rhaenyra and Alicent had a toxic age gap relationship. No one can stop me! 

8. Our Wives Under the Sea- Julia Armfield

This was a really creepy book about a woman whose wife goes to sea to research something and comes back changed. It reminds me of that part from The Doll House by CMM where she speaks about how the idea of possession is comforting because it implies it is not the person you love who has changed and is hurting you, but something else inhabiting their body. I love a book that uses sci-fi concepts to explore relationships. 

7. Nona the Ninth - Tamsyn Muir

I truly think this is the book that closest captures what it is like to be a child. I love Nona with all my heart. Can’t wait to see what happens to these crazy kids in Alecto. 

6. Everyone in this room will someday be dead - Emily R Austin

This book is funny and captures what it feels like to have anxiety in a scarily accurate way. It made me feel a lot of things. 

5. The Rehearsal - Eleanor Catton 

There is something so fascinating about media that explores the toxic relationship between competitive young artists (musicians and actors especially) and their mentors. The other book that comes to mind is Trust Exercise. Like that book, The Rehearsal has unreliable narrators and a peculiar structure. It is a little more raw and experimental; you can tell this is Catton’s first work. Yet I found it so powerful and thought provoking. 

4. Klara and the sun - Kazuo Ishiguro

I read this in a day but I can’t stop thinking about it. Just one of those books about AI and personhood and what if we could create a realistic person from AI? What about personality replication? But what was most interesting to me was how Klara created a religion out of what gave her life -- the sun. Also every time I see the M3gan trailer I think of this book.

3. Detransition, Baby - Torrey Peters

What an interesting book about gender, family, queerness, motherhood, etc…

2. Conjure Women - Afia Atakora

Another book I will think about for the rest of my life. It explores the life of three women (two black one white) living in the South before and after slavery is abolished. It explores a sort of intersectionality and is nuanced but not forgiving of the white woman. It also has a really interesting magical realism aspect which can be read as literal or metaphorical.

1. No one belongs here more than you - Miranda July

A short story collection that is incredibly weird yet so powerful. I am most drawn to authors who let their characters be as strange as humans are. Characters who have not-often-expressed thoughts are sometimes the most relatable because I personally am not going around narrating my life like a cliche standard romance novel and I don’t think most people are! I think most people are out here thinking the weirdest least-logical thoughts out there. And that’s great! I think what ties the stories in this collection together is that the narrators of each story are suffering from either extreme loneliness or trauma, and this leads them to act from a sort of logic that a “normal” person might not understand. But the reader can understand it. You can feel their loneliness radiating from the page and see it dictating their actions, and suddenly it makes sense. As we live through a pandemic, I truly relate to the extreme lengths these characters go through just to feel any sort of human connection.