#bcs my other friend among these two uh

[noxtivagus]

ffxv makes me so emotional oh my god 🥹🫶🏼

[sungbeam]

𝐆𝐎𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐗! — eight

viii. is that my shirt ?!

2.1k written (omg im sorry)

in which sungchan's so-called plan includes a dash of jealousy, a pinch of friendship, and ... jisung's shirt??

park jisung x f!mc ; humor, mentions of alcohol, swearing, uhm ur wearing jisung's shirt at some point so if u think that's uncomfy...

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a/n: surprise 😭? ik u all probably don't even remember what's going on cuz it's almost been TWO YEARS since the last update,, im sorry btw 😭 anyways, it's only this long bc i was stupid when i outlined this and i had to write more to make my stupid idea not sound as stupid

You could already tell that Mark was given speaker privileges when you pulled up outside the house and you felt the bass pulsing through your car. Your brother Mark had a few different aux cord modes: bass boost, lo-fi hoe, Celine Dion, and just plain stripper. You didn't particularly enjoy the latter because that was your brother (gross), but all of the others were quite enjoyable.

Chaeryeong told you earlier she would be coming with her dance club friends, so you had coerced Sungchan to carpool with you. Well, you actually hadn't needed to do any persuading. He somehow just… asked you. Huh. Weird.

"I didn't even realize I stole this shirt," you told him as the two of you hiked up the front lawn of the house, narrowly dodging a couple giggly boys stumbling down the street. You wrinkled your nose at the distinct "Beatbox" logo written in charmingly messy bubble letters on the front, signifying that one charity event the boys hosted a year ago. The back had been decorated in more pen inked doodles and a scrawl you guessed was close to Mark's. Or maybe it was Jeno's… either way, Sungchan had found it tucked among the rest of your t-shirts and you threw it on with no further complaints.

Sungchan shrugged, holding the door open for you as you both entered into the throes of the party. "You didn't realize you stole my pen that one time."

"A pen is different than a whole damn shirt though."

You glanced over at him to see if you had lost him to the crowd, but you should have known better since he towered almost everyone here. He seemed to have gotten a text from someone, but he was quick to tuck his phone away and search the crowd. "Who're you looking—"

He slung an arm over your shoulders and steered you toward the living room. "No one. C'mon, Mark hyung just asked me to bring you over to the DJ booth. Something about cashing in a song suggestion."

That immediately drew your attention. "I can't believe he remembered."

(And Sungchan couldn't believe he just got away with that. He looked over his shoulder toward the hallway where he saw Jisung's face appear in the crowd, then caught his eyes. Sungchan grinned to himself. It was time to get started.)

When you and Sungchan finally reached the DJ booth, Mark greeted you by handing you his phone. Mark and Sungchan exchanged looks over your head—everything was going perfectly.

"Hey, I'm gonna get us some drinks," Sungchan told you with a reassuring pat on your shoulder. You nodded to him as you scrolled through your song choices, but Sungchan was practically gone.

Not even a few steps away, Jisung appeared before him, his dark bangs hanging in his eyes. "Oh, hey."

Sungchan chirped back at him, "'Sup, man."

Jisung narrowed his eyes just slightly, head cocking to the side. "Is Yn here?"

Sungchan almost laughed at how well this was going. "Yeah, she's back with Mark. I was actually just gonna get her a drink—"

"I can get it," he said, and his eyes widened as if even he was surprised he just said that. He cleared his throat, cupping the back of his neck. "Uh—I mean, I can get all of us drinks. I was actually gonna ask if Mark hyung wanted anything."

Suuuure, Sungchan wanted to say. But he could respect this guy's quick thinking. "Oh, cool. Thanks, dude. I think Mark hyung says he's okay, so it's just Yn."

"Cool." And then he was gone.

As Sungchan turned back to the DJ table, he realized Jisung hadn't even asked Sungchan what you wanted or liked to drink.

When he returned to the DJ table, you threw Sungchan a confused look. "I thought you were getting drinks?"

He shrugged helplessly. "Jisung said he'd get them."

"Jisung?" Now, why in the world…

As if your brain had magically manifested him, you spied Jisung carefully maneuvering through the crowd. In one veiny hand, he clutched the necks of two bottles of some mystery liquor, most likely beer, while he raised a little can of ginger ale into the air over his head as if scared the bodies around him would spill it (yes, spill a sealed can of ginger ale).

You couldn't help but eye his attire—the white tank top beneath a dark bomber jacket, paired with a pair of black jeans. There was a silver chain link choker around his neck, and Sungchan even raised his eyebrows at the way your eyes made a generous sweep of the newcomer's form.

You hated him, huh?

Jisung set the beer bottles on the cleared off space on Mark's table, his eyes meeting yours first. He passed you the ginger ale, "Hey, for you."

You accepted it with a hasty nod. He must have asked Sungchan what you wanted.

"Oh, thanks." You took the bottom hem of the Beatbox T-shirt you wore and swiftly swiped it over the rim of the can, before cracking it open with a satisfying click and hiss.

Jisung clasped the back of his neck instinctually, but when he saw the shirt you wore, he thought offhandedly that you and he could've matched. Not that he wanted to match with you. Definitely not. Why would he want that?

You were probably wearing one of your brothers', but he could've sworn the little doodle on the corner of your shoulder looked… familiar.

Wait.

Wait a goddamn second.

Jisung's eyes widened in alarm.

Sungchan held back a snicker. "Uh, you good, Jisung?"

Jisung coughed, glancing over at Mark in case he had caught him staring, too, but the older Lee brother had already turned the opposite way to speak to Vernon from the SVT fraternity. Jisung popped open his beer bottle, then passed the other to Sungchan. "Yeah, ahem, I'm great. Hey, Yn, is that Mark's shirt?"

Your eyebrows furrowed, and you ducked your head to look at the shirt. "Actually, I'm not really sure."

"Oh really? 'Cause… I… I think it's mine."

You sputtered a laugh. "Good joke."

He grimaced. "Can you… turn around?"

"Turn around? Why?"

If Sungchan's eyes weren't deceiving him, he was certain Park Jisung was blushing.

Jisung sighed, a stressed sound. He pressed the back of his hand to his forehead as he inspected the shirt you wore closer. “Because I would've written my name somewhere on the back,” he mumbled with a wince.

You could feel your face and neck warm after he stated his reason, and in an effort to get this matter solved so he could stop staring at you, you turned around. After a moment of silence, you twisted your head over your shoulder to peer back at Sungchan and Jisung. “See? Not your shirt.”

“Except, it definitely is his shirt, Yn,” Sungchan said, lifting his free hand up to cover his grin.

“What?”

Jisung had gone quiet, eyes widened like twin saucers. Not a thought passed behind those eyes as you attempted to look at your back to confirm exactly what both Sungchan and Jisung were telling you. It was impossible—how in the world could Jisung's shirt appear in your closet?

“Sungchan, is it really his shirt?” You asked your friend, pleading for him to tell you this was all a huge misunderstanding.

Sungchan had the decency to look sheepish. He reached over and gently grabbed your shoulder, pulling a part of the T-shirt edge so you could see. This brought you and him closer together as he pointed out Jisung's name to you.

The movement did not go unnoticed by Jisung, who watched this interaction with a wariness he didn't know what to make of. You were wearing his shirt, and somehow looked… good in it…? His eye twitched—why weren't you as friendly with him as you were with Sungchan? He could totally be a good friend—

Acceptance, swiftly followed by immense embarrassment, swept over you. It seemed it wasn't just Jisung who had gone quiet; neither of you could look the other in the eye.

After stepping away from you, Sungchan's eyebrows arched high as he sipped his beer and his gaze flickered between the two of you. “Well, this is awkward,” he mused unhelpfully.

That was enough to snap Jisung out of his daze. He clasped a hand on the back of his neck. “Would you be more comfortable in one of your brothers’ shirts? I can go grab one for you to change into—”

“Oh, uhm, yeah. I can just go upstairs and raid Mark's closet or something. I'm sure you'd like your shirt back.”

“No—I mean,” he sputtered, “yeah. It's no worries, really, if you don't wanna go through the trouble.”

Sungchan suppressed a screech akin to a pterodactyl. He hadn't thought you two would be this awkward around each other. It all played out a lot differently in his head, but… wait. Where the fuck did you go?

He realized quickly that you and Jisung were no longer right in front of him. Sungchan's head swiveled around nearby to search the crowd for you and Jisung, but it seemed that both of you were nowhere in the vicinity. Maybe you were headed up to swap shirts after all; that made his life easier.

As soon as you'd changed out of Jisung's Beatbox T-shirt and into one of Mark's Justin Bieber tour T-shirts, you prepared to step back out into the party. When you opened the door to Mark's bedroom, you found Jisung right where you'd left him, stationed outside while nursing his beer and holding your can of ginger ale.

“Here's your shirt,” you said to him, drawing his attention to you.

“Ah, thanks.” He traded you his T-shirt for your drink, but still, neither of you could hold eye contact.

For a moment, you racked your brain for something to say to loosen all this tension. “Uhm, you did great at the showcase, by the way. Your performance, I mean.”

Jisung's head perked up. “Oh, you stayed for it?” There was an intonation in his voice just now—you’d actually stayed and you also complimented him? He didn't understand why his heart was rattling around in his ribcage like a stampede of galloping horses, but he guessed it had something to do with the fact that he was pleasantly surprised. Something like pride filled his chest.

You gave a small nod, and if he wasn't mistaken, it almost looked shy. “I did end up staying. The thing I thought I had planned…” you trailed off and you filled the silence with a nonchalant shrug.

“Well, thanks for watching and I'm glad you thought I did well,” he said with a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Was he finally getting through to you? Were you warming up to him at last?

He couldn't help but search your face then in the dim hallway light. Were your eyes always so pretty? There was a small smudge of silver glitter on the side of your cheek that glistened like diamonds, and he recognized it from somewhere on his shirt. It must have gotten into your face while you were changing.

He raised a hand, then froze. “Uh, you've got a little—a little something—” He pointed to his own cheek to tell you where it was.

“Oh!” You used the back of your hand to rub at it, but because glitter never listened the first time, it stayed put. “Is it gone?”

He winced. “No, it's, uhm—right… right there…”

You tried again, and he awkwardly tried to point it out without actually touching your face.

On your fourth attempt, he huffed. “Here,” he muttered, lifting his hand and gently brushing the glitter off.

When he was done, his hand fell back to his side like a dead weight as reality came crashing back. He coughed. “It's gone now.”

You averted your eyes. “Oh, cool, thanks.”

“Anyways, I should probably go put this away,” he said, gesturing down the hall toward his room with the shirt in his hand.

You gave an eager nod. “Right, yeah. I'll just—I’ll see you back down at the party then?”

Jisung bobbed his head in agreement. “Yeah, for sure! See you down there.”

Like two rats, the pair of you scurried away from each other in opposite directions. Even as you were descending the stairs, you threw a look back at Jisung, who was opening his bedroom door at the end of the hallway. Unbeknownst to you, Jisung had tossed you a glance just milliseconds before.

You swore you could still feel the brush of his fingers against your cheek, but it wasn't like it meant anything, right?

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[tired-reader-writer]

Considering who to put in charge of safeguarding the northeastern border of Pars against Turan and Turk before Shapur becomes a marzban and... There aren't... that many, are there? Those younger than Shapur are automatically out of the picture (Kubard, Daryun, Kishward), Bahman has been stationed at Peshawar for a long time by canon era so ?????, Kharlan, is he even a marzban ten years before canon? Even if he was, I associate him much more with the western half of Pars, if only because it would make it easier for him to coordinate with Hilmes in Lusitania (assuming no switcheroos happened like it did with Kishward, he was originally stationed at the southwestern border of Pars against Misr, but was plunked into Peshawar some time before canon).

That leaves us with... Manuchurh, Garshasph, Saam, Khurup, Khayr, and Khshaēta.

We all know what Saam looks like, estimated to be in his 40s, but here's what the other 5 look like (well we also know what Garshasph looks like too but just as a reminder):

Manuchurh:

Garshasph:

Khurup:

Khayr:

Khshaēta:

I... don't feel like Saam is a good fit for the kind of emotional beat I want to portray for one of the two pre-canon Turanian invasions (foreshadowed in chapter 2). So that leaves me with the other three. Three complete and total strangers of whom we know absolutely fucking nothing about.

Which narrows the six options down to five.

I think Khshaēta looks a tad young to have been marzban for too long, so I'm booting him out of the candidate list to make my life easier.

This leaves me with four.

I got nothing for Khurup and Khayr, we know nothing of them, but as for the other two... We know what Garshasph is like, which is, uh, kinda unpleasant, he might be a good candidate for what I'd planned, but also... Manuchurh, Nasrīn's father, Kishward's father-in-law. He purportedly had a beautiful voice and Andragoras made him do the court announcements and stuff bc of his pretty voice.

So basically, among the four candidates left, we only really know two of them.

...which one shall I pick, now?

Oh, I forgot what the emotional beat I wanted to incorporate was, it was Shapur maybe realizing the marzban in charge of the northeastern border may have been responsible for the deaths of his friends and the destruction of their village after the marzban lets slip about some “bandits or potential rebels who kidnapped people and caused unrest” which Shapur knows from talking to the clan before that the abusers or tormentors who felt entitled to their victims might have painted them that way to justify trying to hunt them down or avoid having to confront the harm they themselves have caused to their victims, and Shapur feeling... quite nauseated. Remember how Isfan immediately jumped into trying to avenge his brother in the manga. Remember how rash Shapur was even by the Battle of Atropatene. He won't do anything here, he can't, because Eihon (debuting in chapter 3! I still don't know whether the invasion would be chapter 3 or 4) has made sure to hammer the point home that doing so will only bring them doom, there's no way he can demand justice for a commoner village in the middle of nowhere who were branded as criminals.

He has to swallow his bile and work to repel the invasion. Feeling like he's failed his friends for not being able to protect them, give them a funeral, or even avenge them.

I know with this context it'd be easy for some of you to immediately pick Garshasph considering how much of an asshole he was during the siege but. What if. The emotional whiplash of it being Manuchurh. But also I could just pick Khurup or Khayr to avoid the headache altogether—

[citrusbusiness]

@drakenhert tagged me in this so...

Ask game!

Favorite color: It fluctuates, but it's some sort of greenish-blue color. I think normally it's more on the blue end?

Last song: uh, the crownsguard from critical roles welcome to wildemount album. If you want an actual song with lyrics then it's oh no by marina and the diamonds

Last movie: uh... Might be Interstellar? It was interesting and space and stuff.

Currently watching: idk I don't really watch a lot of shows. Does CR1 Vox Machina count?

Other stuff I've watched this year: Dragon prince s5, Legend of Vox Machina, I'm just gonna put TMA here too... In terms of movies I watched guardians 3 when it came out, and Honor Among Thieves.

Shows I dropped this year: I don't really drop tv shows bc I don't watch a whole lot of them lol. The two things I've dropped this year were Welcome to Night Vale and Rusty Quill Gaming Podcast, for lack of time.

Currently reading: Ordinary Monsters by J.M. Miro (very slowly), kinda started reading Percy Jackson bc my friend told me to but haven't gotten very far... (I hate reading from fiction things at the same time)

Currently listening to: if VM doesn't count as a show it goes here because I'm listening to it in podcast form. The critical role albums, Hamilton, your standard aro/ace songs mostly.

Currently working on: uhh school and dance? I had a NaNoWriMo project about a couple of gods I slapped together but I gave up on it, I still like it though so I guess it's a WIP?

Current obsessions: Critical Role mostly, Percy Jackson will probably be on there as soon as I actually read it

It's time to tag some mutuals I guess? Idk if any of you have already done this, but participate if you wish!

@ztmachine

@bumblewyn

@eliias-bouchard

@loserclawkittycat

@spacetimeaccordionfolder

@wackywatermelon31

@aelfithearchmage

@negative1humans

Ofc shout-out to mutuals not on here! Love you all!

[heartbrake-hotel]

Lordy honey yall makin me wanna write my own damn prompt. I got some more little tidbits for ya:

Elvis was turned during his first appearance at the International. But who turned him? I'm thinking there's some sort of deal going on between one the old vampires who invested in the building, maybe even the International's owner and Colonel Parker. They want Elvis to play there for as long as possible, and he isn't getting any younger--so they make it so he can't get any older, either.

At first Elvis is in a state of confusion, because fledglings (at least in my thoughts) are in a sort of fog when first turned. It helps them to adapt to feeding; cue Colonel Parker shoving cigarette girls into Elvis's suite, which he drains dry, much to his own horror when the initial feeding frenzy lifts.

And Colonel Parker isn't exactly picky with what he feeds Elvis: whoever is easy to get up into the suite, and high young girls are the easiest. Elvis tries, when he can afford it, to not feed--he doesn't know that if he drinks regularly then the frenzy won't come, but nobody has told him much of anything. His Sire isn't there, there wasn't any sort of ritual to his Turning as there normally is. No, this was just business.

aLRIGHT WOOHOO SMITTY MY LOVE LOOK AT US !!! im finally getting to this lmaoooo oOOPS 🙈 AND i have some mf THOUGHTS,,

(the orig hc post is here btw) ((idk if yall could tell but it Wrecked my Shit))

also it's been Sooooo long since we discussed this that u now have some Other relevant supernatural!au lore to pull from . so,, i hope u don't mind if i conflate the two universes a lil but ur worldbuilding in you ain't nothin' but a overtook my conscious mind weeks ago and has yet to relent 💝 oh nooooo.. whatever shall i dooooo.. 😏

far too many words under the cut. i, uh.. i may have lost control a lil 🤭🦇 ft. a frankly excessive use of pet names and an e who has been babygirlified maybe more than is appropriate within the confines of the plot (shocking, i'm sure).

right ok so !! vegas as a hub for at least some of the supernatural bc of its transient nature, high tourist volume, and seedy reputation. obvious check

for the most part, unaffiliated vamps stay out of vegas. like you said- it's too hard to monitor their blood concentrations when everyone and their dog is doing truckloads of party drugs well into the night.! but there are, of course, some Old Ones, who saw (or perhaps even built??) the city as their own personal playground btw this blends so seamlessly into the irl high-level mob ties its crazy lmao. marina's bringing up elvis is literally never not on my mind 🙏

if you're rich enough, or powerful enough (or have friends who are enough so), you don't have to fend for yourself the same way, so it's less of an issue. sucking out some rando party girl off the street is faaar beneath the pay grade of the handful of guys at the top, who have their meals carefully cultivated and hand-procured thru what is almost certainly a human trafficking ring

kirk kerkorian [or meyer kohn - u can pick ur universe, here] and the entire board of the international is of course among this group, exerting their power and influence (and perhaps Compulsion) to keep the flow of money running smoothly from the casinos below directly into their cash-lined pockets.

colonel tom parker [a demon again? or perhaps nobody in particular - either way he ends up hellspawn lmao whether literally or figuratively] is acutely aware of this when he first signs elvis on for the hotel's opening season - how could he not be? and of course everything goes perfectly smoothly for those first six weeks in 1969. **ik im twisting ur original idea just a tad but bear w me

but the longer the engagement goes, the more trouble colonel has reining elvis in. he had agreed heartily to those first fifty-eight appearances - purely to fund his upcoming world tour, you understand ("the snowman strikes again!"). but no matter how much colonel wheedles, he's not budging; elvis simply will not sign on for the next year.! he's finally holding his ground... and that's his undoing

coming off the back of his comeback special and last movie, e finally feels like he's got his mojo workin' - the king is back on top! after a looong decade stuffed fit to bursting with his botched movie career, he never thought he'd wrest any semblance of creative control away from the powers that be. but the last year or so has really made him see the value of his own opinion, AND the dangers of continued complacency. so with the backing of his family and extended entourage, he's heading halfway across the world just as soon as he gets off that stage for the last time.

colonel can't have that, not with the remainder of his hefty personal debt hanging in the balance. and with all the dough the hotel is raking in during the first dregs of their opening season, nobody up top wants their prize little cash cow flying away to london or japan or the rock of eternity or wherever he's fixin' to go - not if they have anything to say about it !

and so a plan is devised, swiftly, mercilessly, and without any pesky sense of remorse. after all, what do they have to feel bad about? they're just taking care of business

just after elvis' last performance, he's heading to his packed-up suite to shower and change for what he thinks will be the last time.. the boys are downstairs getting the last of the stuff in the cars and then they'll all head to the airport. he's got just a couple minutes to spare, and he assures them he'll be fine alone. just gonna run on up and change real quick, y'all don't needta worry about me none. [*evil colonel voice* wanna bet?]

he steps into his unusually empty suite, but before he can even shuck the towel from around his neck, his throat is being wrenched to the side in a vice grip as an unseen assailant steps from their hiding spot behind the door. he yelps, tries to throw them off, goes for the gun in his boot, but their grip is like steel, solid and unyielding, and before he can move much of anywhere there's a sharp prick in his neck and a sudden heaviness in his muscles he can't quite shake.

he assumes it's a syringe - he's not wholly unfamiliar with a needle, after all, and why would he suspect anything else? he guesses he's been drugged on account of... well, on account of bein' elvis presley. goddamn sonsabitches don't need any more reason than that. 'course, the sensation is a little different than he's used to - the gauge is unfamiliar, and he could swear he feels two distinct track marks - but by then his head is spinning too much to be certain of anything.

the last thing he feels is a rushing sense of complacency as his legs give out. his vision is swimming too much too see his attacker's face, but they let him go down, hard, and he crumples to an undignified heap on the floor helplessly as they turn to... leave? huh. not what he expected, but he supposes beggars can't be choosers

his sluggishly disjointed musings are broken only by the shadowy figure melting back into the shadows... his increasingly-addled mind knows he should be glad at their sudden departure, but all he can concentrate on is the inexplicable swing out of the vague sense of euphoria that had been the "drugs" kicking in, and a sudden accompanying feeling that he didn't like one bit. he could only describe it as a crawling fear, an absence, a kind of ripping deep in his soul... a pervasive sense of distance, of wrongness so festering he feared it was about to tear him apart from the inside out. he's suddenly certain he's not meant to be alone right now.

he gasps in the worst pain he's ever felt, and at the same moment, he's aware of a rush of footsteps in the hallway outside - he barely manages a wobbly gesture to the door and a slurred request to rip his goddamn tongue out b'the roots to the panicked faces of his boys crowding around his supine form before his vision finally goes dark.

when he wakes up, he's in an all-too-familiar bed. before running for the doctor and his daddy, a frazzled jerry sitting vigil at his side hurriedly explains that without him conscious enough to fill them in, all they knew is he wasn't fit to travel, so they'd unpacked his suite again while waiting for him to return to the land of the living. he's grateful, but assures him that as soon as he's feeling better they'll be heading out again.

he asks jerry to turn down the thermostat and flip off the light on his way out. the heavily-drawn drapes had already ensured it'd been near-pitch dark and freezing, just how he liked it, but he murmured it felt like he was burnin' up from the inside out, and his eyes were too sensitive for even the ambient glow of his bedside lamp. jerry does so and also fetches him a pair of big ol' sunglasses, without a word.

the doctors (who'd been summoned to the hotel; despite protests from the mafia, colonel had suggested that moving elvis to a hospital could be even more dangerous, what with this criminal still on the loose, and vernon had reluctantly agreed) hadn't been able to tell what he'd been dosed with - it'd metabolized too quickly to detect, apparently. all they can tell him after the last four days of monitoring his comatose form is that his vitals have been almost astonishingly strong. the only symptom he's had has been a high fever, but it breaks as soon as he's awake again- and actually, his body temp has overcorrected and is a little low now, is he feeling chilly?

they joke that whatever he'd been given seems to have actually helped him, and he's inclined to agree... despite the fact that they hadn't administered anything to him except an IV drip, in case it had any adverse interactions with whatever he'd been on, his chronic pain has mysteriously vanished. and since he's been awake and in recovery, he's only seemed to get more handsome and charming, no sign at all of being out of it and on fluids for so long. you sure wouldn't have known his recent predicament by looking at him !

he's got a host of baffling new symptoms as well, but nothing that seems dangerous or that points to any kind of diagnosis. he's growing increasingly thirsty, but the buckets of water he's drinking aren't quenching him. he seems to have lost his sense of taste (this one hits him the worst) - at first, the smell of food made him nauseous. now he can keep it down, but it feels like ash in his mouth. his light sensitivity lingers, though for the most part it's limited to natural light, and he takes to wearing the sunglasses often. he seems to have developed a sudden allergy to some of his jewelry - his silver rings and pendants now cause a burning rash. he has them remade in gold and doesn't give it a second thought.

he tells and retells his story to the cops, but they're left scratching their heads; it's widely assumed the panicked arrival of the mafia scared off the creep before they could pull off the rest of their plan. kill him, kidnap him for ransom... seemed like they'd never know for sure, but either way everyone agrees he narrowly escaped a much worse fate. colonel doesn't think it wise for him to be on the road, what with this continued threat hanging over his head, but jerry argues it doesn't seem any better to stay in vegas with this freak at large. and elvis points out that if the bastard follows him overseas, they have bigger fish to fry.

the boys seem confused that the attack doesn't appear to have played into his usual paranoia in any way; he doesn't know quite how to explain it, he tells them, but he feels stronger, somehow. more settled. like if it ever came to it again, he could handle himself. it might just be relieved cockiness, but what didn't kill him made it so he's at least not afraid again. he's been reflecting deeply on psalm 23, apparently.

and so the suite is once again packed up, despite colonel's protestations- this time with elvis under constant supervision, much to his good-natured amusement. it goes without incident, and they make it all the way to the runway before elvis is suddenly doubled over in pain in the back of the limo, sweating and shaking like a leaf.

he's groaning that it hurts, hurts s'bad, but can't say anything more than that, and within seconds the whole caravan has whipped around and is careening back to the relative safety of the hotel. by the time he's being ferried hurriedly up to his room, he's improving steadily, and by the time he's settled in bed and the doctors once more fetched, he's weak and badly shaken but seems no worse for wear.

the doctors can't explain this apparent relapse any more than the first, but tentatively give him a clean bill of health, and two days later they try it all again. this time he makes it within a couple miles of the airport, and it takes him four days to recover. the last time they try, he only makes it four blocks away from the Strip and is bedridden for a week. nobody has any sort of explanation, and the tour is put on hold indefinitely while they're seemingly stranded.

the colonel is the one who offers a possible solution. he'd been hovering around elvis' room the whole time (like a bad smell, sonny mutters when he's out of earshot), fluttering around with assurances that the hotel would gladly host them as long as they needed, maybe even sign them on for another season if elvis so wished...

when elvis finally roars that he just wants OUT of this place, goddammit in response to vernon's suggestion that he stop working himself up with leaving, colonel finally pounces.

he must put his foot down, he says. his boy is clearly in no condition to travel- no, no, not physically, he hastily amends, when elvis opens his mouth to remind him what the doctors said, but clearly mentally. something about the attack has left him emotionally unstable, it appears, and the idea of leaving, even though he's so sure he wants to, is clearly triggering some kind of psychosomatic attack. why doesn't he make up his mind to stay- not forever, just until his head is screwed on right. he can keep playing the international, and they can find him some head-shrinkers to fix him right up, eh? elvis doesn't see any choice but to glumly agree.

of course, unbeknownst to elvis, the real issue is that his Maker won't allow him to leave vegas city limits. he's been kept totally in the dark as to his situation and is thus totally suggestible, so when the vampire who Turned him (continually employed by the Ancients for just this kind of dirty work) uses their mental connection to Compel him to stay within a certain radius, elvis doesn't even know he's feeling it, much less that it's possible to fight it. his Bat simply obeys without question, to the confusion of his body and conscious mind.

if his Turning had been accompanied by proper ritual, if his Maker had explained any of his new life to him, if he'd received any guidance at all, he'd know he could override this instinct, break the Bond they shared (especially as ill-cultivated as it is), and be on his way. as it is, he's like a dog with a newly-installed invisible fence. a dog who's also growing steadily weaker since his Turning because of his lack of sustenance, mind you.

the colonel knows all this. he also knows that any doctors or psychiatrists that see elvis from this point on will be in the know, be provided by the hotel, and be payed handsomely to tell elvis exactly what the colonel wants him to hear. he send word to the Council that they've got him at last. they rejoice at the prospect of chaining elvis to their stage for an eternity, elvis begrudgingly signs the contract for another engagement, and this is where the real trouble starts...

it's been three weeks since he was inadvertently Turned, and elvis is feeling the affects of not having Fed, though he doesn't realize it. he's weak, he's thirsty, he's snappish, and can somebody turn off those godDAMNED lights !!! the mafia assume it's due to his mental slump and are at a loss except to wait it out, but the colonel thinks he has something to cheer him up. he winks and tells red that elvis will have a few, ehem.. lady visitors tonight, and surely they shouldn't be disturbed. the boys get the hint.

colonel sends up the ditziest cigarette girl he can find downstairs, a perky little blonde, so doped-up out of her mind she's wobbling in her heels. she gasped and flushed darkly when he told her that mr. presley was in need of her services; he hadn't even needed to slip her any cash to incentivize her troubles. he chomped on his cigar and grinned darkly as he watched her giggle her way to the elevator.

elvis, for his part, almost makes it. he'd answered the rhythmic little knock in his robe, loosely tied, and didn't miss the way the sweet young thing at his door gaped at the sight of all that chest on display. before he can even say anything, she's slipped under his arm and further into the room, and he raises an eyebrow and grins as he eases the door shut. he peruses her wares (the CIGARETTES !! im talking about the cigarettes..) more for show than anything else, and hands her a $20 in exchange for a pack he doesn't plan on smoking, telling her to keep the change.

she bends over far more than necessary while stacking boxes back in her tray, and flutters her lashes when she asks him if there's... anything else she can get him. flattered as he is, he tells her, he isn't sure he needs anything just now, but thank you kindly anyways, honey. truthfully, he's not sure he's feeling up for it, but she pouts so prettily as she swings her hips sadly over to the door, and turns back to ask if he's really really sure... the colonel had sent her up with express instructions to give him anything he wanted, she explains, sultry little whine in her voice, and he finds his resolve crumbling.

surely a little kissing wouldn't hurt, he reasons, might even make him feel a lil better, and her eyes light up in glee when he beckons her back over. but the minute she's in his arms, easing her way up to his lips as her eyes flutter shut, he isn't sure what comes over him. they're so close her heartbeat rushes in his ears, and without a thought he's effortlessly snapped her neck (with strength he didn't know he had) and is lapping frantically from her torn throat (pierced with the aid of sharp fangs he's never felt before). she never even saw it coming.

he moans as he sags to the ground, clutching her limp form and still slurping desperately as, for the first time since his attack, his thirst is quenched. he dimly realizes he's done something unforgivable, but his head feels like it's been stuffed with cotton, everything around him distant and foggy. the sense of panic he knows he should be feeling is a far-off twinge, all but muted by the combined cocktail of ecstasy running through him: fresh blood, dope, and a brain fog he can't quite attribute to either.

when she's dry he's sated, the sense of woozy relief hits him so strong that he barely manages to stagger to his feet and stumble over to the couch, chin and hands still covered in blood, before he's passing out for ten hours of the emptiest sleep he's ever had. when he wakes up, all traces of what happened are gone, and with a mind that finally feels clearer than it has for weeks, he almost manages to convince himself it was an incredibly fucked-up dream, so potent that the sweet metallic tang is still blooming on his tongue...

...until of course, the next time it happens. it goes much the same way: the colonel has no trouble locating a girl who'll never be missed- this is vegas, after all- and sends her, high as a kite of her own volition, up to the penthouse to keep company with a disgruntled and starving elvis. he drains her dry before he can even blink, but stays awake this time to spend the next few hours totally blissed out in an uncomfortably drugged haze. the more he comes down, the more he hates not only what he's done but also the way it makes him feel.

thus starts a vicious cycle: elvis, terrified of feeding, swears off blood, until he's half-starved but fighting himself at every turn. the colonel intervenes, sending throngs of low-risk girls up to the suite, where e simply can't help himself anymore, and enters a violent blood-crazed frenzy. he spends the hours after staggering around half-lucid, waiting for the effects to fade so he can convince himself he'll never do it again.

the stronger he maintains his tenuous mental fortitude- the longer he goes between feeds- the more girls he needs in a night to fill him up, and the higher he gets afterwards. he doesn't ask where colonel finds them or what he does with the bodies. he thinks dully that he doesn't much want to know.. it's hard enough on his conscience already.

of course, yet another thing nobody's bothered to explain to poor frightened fledgling elvis is that every time he refuses to feed when he should, every time he feels the welling signs of that dark hunger within himself and shoves them down in distress, every time his instincts are forced to take over and quite literally make him feed, that it exacerbates the mental fog he's feeling.

vampiric lore (which of course he doesn't know) attributes it to a sort of easing-in countermeasure; it's only newly-turned vampires, not fully in touch with their desires, that attempt to starve themselves so, clearly suffering from a mental block regarding the morality of preying upon their former species. to smooth their transition into acceptance of their new form, every time they're forced to feed rather than do it willingly, a potent release of hormones and neurotransmitters floods their system, both to combat any lingering guilt and to make them crave the mental release of feeding just as much as the physical.

if he were to feed normally, if he were to provide his body with the nourishment it needed on a regular basis, his instincts wouldn't have to override his mind this way. he wouldn't be forced to feed so violently or so much, he'd be able to control himself such that he could select his own victims preferentially and even bring himself to stop before killing them, and he wouldn't feel so overwhelmed afterwards.

elvis thinks of his... condition as an affliction, a temptation he lacks the strength to overcome, but really, it's his body's desperate attempt to stay alive when his mind insists on thwarting his ongoing survival at every turn. the bloodlust isn't a punishment but a protective measure, and one he could prevent if he'd take consistent care of his new needs.

and on top of all that, the particular way his intake is chemically tainted only adds to this anguish, because now he's unknowingly also developing a dependency on the drugs- the painful withdrawal symptoms of which serve to strongarm him into feeding even more frequently.

things are only exacerbated by his performance engagement starting back up; of course, it's even easier to find girls- hordes of them batter the doors to the showroom after every show, desperate for just another glimpse of him- but it also means he's got a responsibility to be right there on that stage twice a night, able-minded or no, and he takes that very seriously.

he's got people to support, after all, so he gets very used to functioning while highly intoxicated, whether that means performing, schmoozing the high rollers in the casino at the behest of his hotel benefactors, or smiling through a never-ending stream of reporters and photographers during every interview and press conference.

this is where the reader steps in !!!

you're one of less than a handful of vamps, just two or three, really, who manage to stick around vegas (and consume healthy blood) without the influence of the Old Ones, a feat you manage by staying off the Strip almost entirely. you stick to the suburbs, both as a way to ensure you're not tripping out after every meal, and to (hopefully) stay out of sight and out of mind of the powerful Ancients who don't want anyone infringing on their territory. this is very fright night remake vibes btw if anyone remembers that

but there's very little to do in the dusty, sprawling desert neighborhoods that isn't centered around maintaining the tourism industry downtown, especially for an immortal with nothing but time (and the occasional meal) to kill. you're nowhere near as experienced as those you seek to avoid, but you've been around the block quite a few times yourself, and sometimes the neon glow of the city lights overrides the quiet boredom of your safely-maintained little perimeter.

tonight is one such night: elvis presley had been headlining the international hotel for what felt like ages, or maybe just a blink - it was hard to judge that pesky human time, when their lifespans were so much shorter than yours. either way, he'd been this era's answer to jesus for a few decades now, and you had to admit you were curious to see him in person at last.

you decide on the midnight show- maybe if you're lucky, you can scrounge up a snack on the way home. you don't bother with a ticket- though you have more than enough human money stored up over the years, you're sure it's no use for what promises to be a sold-out show. the bouncers aren't any deterrent, either- you simply Compel them into checking the list for your name another time, and they let you in without a murmur. the showroom is packed so full, you notice as you survey the area, that nobody could ever notice one more.

you slip into a vacant seat at the end of one of the long tables that line the stage, with a group of screaming fans who don't seem to notice that they don't know you. you can't tell if their distraction is borne more from excitement or alcohol, but either way, you're grateful for the cover. you order a bloody mary as your own personal joke and bide your time until the show starts, perusing the booths that line the floor behind you. you recognize a few familiar Old Ones, by face if not name- no surprise, considering who runs the casino just outside.

eventually, the lights fade and the orchestra bursts into an opening riff. you clap with the rest when elvis struts out on stage, looking resplendent in a white jumpsuit, grinning wide and boyishly and practically glowing under the stage lights. his rings flash as he waves to the audience, courteous and attentive even as he starts singing. when the song's over he introduces himself and some of the VIPs, including the owner of the hotel (now there's a vamp who's been getting himself a lot of press lately), and the heavyset man next to him, apparently elvis' own manager. the man gives a simpering smile and wave to the crowd as the spotlights illuminate the booth, and you wrinkle your nose as you turn back to the main stage. you haven't placed it yet, but something seems off about that one.

elvis puts on a good show, you'll give him that, but the longer you watch, the more puzzled you become. he's slurring just a bit when he jokes with the band in between numbers, and more clumsy than you'd expect for someone so flexible; you'd say it was just another hollywood star using and abusing drugs if he didn't look so... panicked every time. he's twitchy, too, keeps getting down toward the edge of the stage like he's about to move out into the crowd and start planting kisses on his clamoring fans, like you've heard he does, but he keeps jerking himself back at the last second. they seem to think he's teasing, screaming louder every time, and he plays it off with a slow grin, but it's almost like... like he's afraid he won't be able to control himself, like...

ah. there it is

you zero in on just the barest flash of fang in his smile, and immediately suss out what's going on. elvis presley, a fledgling vamp in what is indisputably the worst city in the world for fledgling vamps... strange things are happening every day, aren't they?

that leaves you with more questions than answers, however... questions like where's his Master? why isn't he feeding properly? who's keeping him half-starved and strung-out? and most importantly, does he even know what's going on?

you narrow your eyes contemplatively as you watch him fool with the microphone before prompting the band to start the next song. all it takes is seeing his hands tremble around the cord to make you nod decisively and shoot back the rest of your drink. you suppose you can stick around a little longer than originally planned... after all, it seemed like elvis might need a little help fixing this, whether he knew it or not.

you lingered just a little after the show ended, waiting until the throngs of frantic women had pushed their way back to the lobby before heading after them yourself. you glanced around surreptitiously, locating the nearest elevator bay... and near it, a familiar older man with a cane whispering furtively to a clearly-tipsy young woman, one you recognized from your table during the show. she had caught a silk scarf fluttering down in front of her from the man himself and hadn't stopped screaming until the lights came back on. bingo

you ran one hand through your hair haphazardly, tousling it slightly as you stumbled your way over to them. "oh, there you are! i was looking for you," you chirped. she gasps and waves excitedly in the earnest way only drunk girls do, but your mouth is open again before she can speak and do something incriminating, like ask your name. "who's y'r friend? s'he coming upstairs with us?" you giggle, leering at... what had his name been again? ah yes, colonel parker. you silently gave a sigh of thanks for your heightened senses- you might not have recognized him just from your brief glimpse during the show otherwise.

the colonel glanced you over dismissively, clearly writing you off as another inebriated fan - his mistake, but exactly what you wanted him to think all the same. he gave you a leering grin and tapped his cane as he said "ah, i was just asking your friend here to do a simple personal favor for me..." you hummed disinterestedly until he continued "...on behalf of mister presley, of course." you gasped exaggeratedly and willed your cheeks to flush- lucky you had fed recently.

he seems to buy it, from the way his eyebrow ticks upwards when he sees your reaction "perhaps you would like to... accompany her to his suite, no?" he teases. you nod raptly, artificial stars in your eyes, and he snorts as he pushes the call elevator button for you with the top of his cane. "top floor. you two enjoy yourselves," he chuckles. the two of you giggle as he saunters away, towards the casino entrance.

as soon as the doors slide shut behind you, you straighten up and tidy your hair in the chromatic reflection until you're once again presentable. you brush off your outfit, fiddling until you're satisfied, then take a deep breath. snapping once to get your lightly confused companion's attention, your turn her shoulders towards you so she's making woozy and bewildered eye contact with you.

"hi honey. having a good night? good. this is how the rest of it is gonna go, ok? now you listen to me-"

when the doors opened again at the thirtieth floor, the girl (tracy. she had told you absently her name was tracy) waved distractedly over her shoulder as she walked straight out of the elevator bay and into the nearby stairwell, head filled with what she believed to be an immutable truth about the elevator being out of service. she'd walk back to her room (on the off chance there was anyone downstairs monitoring the floor indicator dial), wake up perfectly safe in the morning, and think nothing of it.

meanwhile, you let yourself into elvis' suite with the key tracy had handed over, a parting gift from the colonel. you left the lights off, made yourself comfortable on the couch facing the door, and waited.

you didn't have to wait long- just minutes later, there was noise outside, multiple male voices speaking over each other as they all piled out of the elevator and headed for the door, elvis' the loudest. "yeah, yeah, i said i'd meet you down there, didn't i? doin' my damn head in... i'll tell ya what, y'all g'head and i'll call down there when i'm done. yes i swear, now git!" laughter and good-natured ribbing faded as the elevator doors presumably closed behind the crowd once again, punctuated with a sigh and the click of the door lock disengaging another time.

elvis didn't seem to notice you as he walked in, leaving the light off as well as he patted his face dry with the damp towel looped around his neck. he leaned against the wall with one hand to brace himself as he toed off his boots, then whipped his dark shades off onto a side table and gripped the bridge of his nose with another deep sigh.

"are you in any pain, mr. presley?" he yelped in undignified surprise and whipped around with a touch of vampiric speed, dropping the towel in his fright to discover the source of your voice. despite the pitch blackness of the room, his eyes locked onto yours immediately through the dark, without needing to scan the empty space around you- another sign of his transition. no mortal could see as perfectly well in this scenario as the two of you could.

"wh- who-" he stuttered some, regaining his bearings, as you cocked your head in evaluation. "i'm sorry to startle you, mr. presley," you say evenly, but pleasantly. "you can drop that shit straightaway, honey, that's my daddy. can jus' call me elvis." he murmurs absentmindedly, as if it hadn't been what he really intended to say but came out by habit. "and now that you know me, may i ask who you are? and better yet what the hell you're doing in my room?" he doesn't sound angry, per se, more resigned than anything, and you smile wryly in response as you introduce yourself. "real pretty, honey, but i'd like an answer to my other question, too." he raises his eyebrow, and you wonder if he's even aware of how much charismatic mental energy he's leaking right now. it was even more apparent to you now why humans throw themselves at him left and right.

"sorry, m- i mean, elvis. the colonel sent me up. i saw your show- you were fantastic, but i had a couple questions." "he did, did he? just wonderful," he almost growls, squeezing his eyes shut. "and some questions, you said? you a reporter?" his voice sounds hard-edged for the first time tonight, but he seems to relax again when you answer with a simple no. "just concerned, i guess." he hums tiredly at your response, vague though it is. "concerned about what, 'bout the show? i'll do my best to answer your questions, honey, but i really don't think there's all too much to be concerned about-"

"elvis, when was the last time you fed?" you can hear his breath catch from clear across the room. "i-i had lunch after rehearsals, but i ain't had dinner yet, if that's what you're askin'... pretty forward way to ask me on a date, but i-" you put a hand up to cut him off. "i think you know perfectly well that's not what i'm asking, elvis. when was the last time you fed properly? on blood?" "...ha! been watching a little too many dark shadows reruns, honey?" his words trip over themselves getting out, and eventually he gives up to just blink at you, speechless, owl-eyed, and afraid despite his frankly pathetic attempt at a cover. he looks like a little boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar only this time the metaphorical cookie jar is a number of very literal human corpses lol

you bite back a sigh- perhaps you pushed too hard there. poor thing is wringing his hands like he thinks you're gonna put him in cuffs any minute. "maybe we should start over- i'm here to help, ok? i wanna make sure you're alright, cuz i think you might have a lot of questions nobody's explained to you yet. c'mere and sit next to me, baby, and we'll just talk" you pat the seat next to you, flipping his casual pet naming back on him effortlessly. to be fair, he is a baby to you- only, what, a couple months old? that's nothing compared to your few hundred years.

he eyes the spot next to you but shakes his head, still looking like a lost puppy. "n-no, i- m'fine over here," he manages. you furrow your brow; he's gonna need to start trusting you if he wants your help, and this is a bad way to begin. "i promise, i'm not gonna hurt you, elvis-" that sure does it. "i'm not worried about that!" he exclaims. "m'worried about me hurting you!"

you breathe out a surprised little oh, suddenly understanding. "is that what you're so worried about, sweetie? i'm not afraid of you." you try to placate him. "y-you should be afraid of me, honey. i am."

and that's the crux of the matter, isn't it? it breaks your heart a little to know that this is what he's been grappling with alone. it's not meant to be like this- with time and acceptance, he was meant to gain eternal companionship (your semi-loner status nonwithstanding). and whoever heard of a scared vampire?

but you put that aside to focus on elvis- and quickly realize there's one more... little thing you might've left out.

"you don't need to be anymore, ok? i'm gonna help you learn to control it." you beckon him over again, and this time he makes it halfway across the floor before you realize you're not sure if you're Compelling him or not. he'll need to learn what it feels like eventually, in order to both use it and combat it, but now's probably not the time. you break eye contact, just in case, and he falters slightly, but keeps coming, putting you at ease.

as he gets close enough to hear your heartbeat, though, his eyes suddenly turn frantic, and he backpedals, once again in the grip of that familiar terror. "you- you have to get out of here, i can't-" you shush him, not unkindly. "oh, sweetheart. that one's my bad, ok? i guess i haven't been very good at this so far," you grin apologetically. "but you couldn't hurt me, even if you tried"

you use your superspeed to whoosh over to his side and back, the only sign you'd moved at all the slight sway of your hair in the breeze it creates- and the golden ankh pendant now swinging from your upturned palm. elvis gapes, hands reaching up to feel the now-empty space around his neck where the necklace rested just moments ago. "how...?" listen i really can't be assed abt the fact he wasn't wearing necklaces this early ok. it was a cool move

"forgot to tell you - i'm souped up, too." you wink at him, flashing your pupils the deep red they turn when you're Feeding. "and also i think a little stronger than you, given what i saw on stage tonight." this is soo cliche im sorry but Spooky Eyes HAWT. i don't feel bad about it actually

the immediate sense of overwhelming relief on his face almost aches to see, and he's crossed the remaining stretch of floor to practically collapse in your arms sobbing before you can blink. it's... very surprising, you'll admit, but not unwelcome, either, and you're sure the uncertainty lingers in your voice as you gentle him softly, petting his hair and rubbing his back and trying not to overthink the fact that you've known elvis presley for all of ten minutes and now... this is happening. whatever this is.

"woah- woah, hey, what's happening? what's the matter, baby?" he's shaking like a leaf as you hold him, trying to work out in what universe this makes sense. "i-i-i ain't-" he manages through tears. "i haven't been able to touch any-anyone this whole time without b-being so goddamned afraid i'd hurt 'em... and i just- i..."

your worst fears for him, first materialized as you watched him onstage and puzzled about the identity of his Master, are confirmed. "baby... have you been alone this whole time?" you whisper. he just nods from his resting place, face buried in your shoulder. IS this a weird level of intimacy for 2 virtual strangers? totally yup. DO i still think its arguably valid considering how desperately lonely i have decided to make this bitch? uh huh :3

you suck in a breath through your teeth, suddenly filled with the fiery emotion you've been tamping down all night- rage. rage at whoever organized this hit, at whoever must be profiting off it while elvis suffers and innocent girls die, at the colonel who's been shepherding bodies in here endlessly and apparently without deigning to give elvis any proper help or training- yeah, don't think you forgot about him.

but before you can do anything about that, you have to do something with the king of rock 'n roll, who's finally quieting down in your lap. you shove the anger back down, the same way you do your bloodlust- the same way you'll teach elvis.

he sits back up, furiously wiping his tear-stained face. "sorry, honey- i don't know what came over me." he barks a laugh but his eyes tell you it's for show. you tut at him, standing up to fetch him a tissue and maybe a bottle of water, if you can find it- you're sure there must have been one waiting for him after the show. his eyes widen again, but before he has time for concern you cup his cheek to brush the last of his tears away with the pad of your thumb, accompanied by a gently chiding look that says i'm not going anywhere

he has enough time to look sheepish before you putter back over to him with your spoils, talking a mile a minute to distract him. "tch, enough of that! that's part of the change- everything you felt before is doubly strong now. it can be hard to separate your emotions sometimes, especially when you're not used to it. you'll feel everything differently now, and twice as hard."

he takes a moment to mull that over as he mops his face and chugs the water bottle, then nods as he meets your eyes again. "i didn't know that, but it sounds- it feels right. what else can ya tell me?" you chuckle darkly, stretching out on the couch. "oh, just bunches, baby. get comfortable, cuz i know you've got questions- and i've got your answers."

over the course of the night, you explain everything to elvis- how he was Turned, the changes his body's going through, all the symptoms and abilities he'll experience now, why he's feeling the way he is, his options for feeding, how his habits need to change if he intends to keep going like this... it's a laborious process, given how little he knows and how much he thinks he does- he's already got a lot of misconceptions to retrain.

"hey, maybe you're the one who's been watching too many dark shadows reruns lately!" you mean it as a joke, but he flushes. "well, s'not like there's a, a handbook or anythin'! i've been tryin' to study up!" you burst out laughing, and he laughs with you.

at one point he orders up dinner for the two of you, which provides the perfect opportunity for you to offer him a creature comfort- "food? yeah, you can eat food. it won't sustain you, but you're free to eat for pleasure." at his pained look, you give him a knowing smirk. "i bet it tastes nasty right now, doesn't it?" he nods glumly, eyeing your super-rare hamburger, and you chuckle, eyeing him as you take an exaggerated bite. he groans in annoyance, and you laugh as you lick your fingers clean. "don't worry- that'll pass. it's your instincts' way of telling you that you're malnourished- kind of a deterrent from stuff that won't actually keep you alive. you'll be back to your peanut butter and banana in no time, promise." he cheers, and orders up a bottle of champagne, just for that.

"that's another thing- we metabolize differently. your system can tell the difference between the liquid calories it needs and the solid calories you're feeding it just for fun. you won't derive any energy from human food, so you can't gain weight. no reason to store fat," you shrug. "but it also means-" you clink your champagne glass with his in a mock toast, "-you can't get drunk." he sputters, "well, why'd you even let me order the bubbly then?? this shit's expensive, so they tell me!" "i like the way it sparkles! it tickles my nose!"

the hours come and go, but the two of you barely notice, so wrapped up in your conversation. that's another thing you explain- how he'll need much less rest now, if he keeps himself healthy, but that until he's being nourished properly he'll be fatigued and need to sleep pretty much like before. he admits that he was practically nocturnal beforehand, anyway- he hadn't even noticed this one change among so many more pressing.

his drapes were heavy-duty, but you could see just the barest sliver of skyline out the window as the sun began to rise. "it's almost dawn," you whisper, conscious of the fact that the vampire before you is very young, and has had a very long night. a very long month, to be perfectly honest. he hums from where his head is resting on your thigh- you'd encouraged him to lie down an hour ago when he kept breaking off his sentences to yawn hugely. actually, you'd encouraged him to get some rest and you'd talk more later, but he'd refused to go to bed, assuring you he wasn't tired 't all, just sore from the show- he got muscle aches, you know, and he needed to stretch out. you hadn't been convinced then, and you were even less so now, keeping a fond eye on him (fond?? when had that happened) as he drowsed in your lap.

his end of the conversation had started lagging about the same time you started running your hand through his hair, until he was practically purring in contentment. you huffed in amusement. "more like a kitty cat than a bat, i think." he cocked an eyebrow and grinned salaciously, though he didn't open his eyes. "oh honey, i'll show you a cat... a pussycat, to be precis-" "HEY!" you swatted him teasingly and he snickered, settling down again. "keep it clean, presley." "yes, Master." you paused in your ministrations at that, just long enough for his brow to furrow. "you don't have to call me that." "yeah... but can i? i mean, would'ya mind if i-?" his voice was quiet, but sincere. "...ok. but only if you want to." he can hear the smile in your voice without looking, and it makes him smile, too.

"you do have a real one out there, y'know." "i know. but they ain't ever helped me none- all they've done for me is turn my life upside down and leave again. but you... hell, honey, i've only known you one night, and already things are starting to feel right side up again." you sit with that for just long enough to feel pleased before you reach down to tweak his nose. he giggles, and your bid to give the both of you a break from being so fucking earnest goes off without a hitch. the tension stays broken, but the tranquil mood remains.

"guess you're stuck with me again- i can't make it all the way home in that," you venture eventually, nodding at the lone streak of sun making its way past the blackout curtains to pool on the floor behind the piano. luckily far out of the way, or he might've had a particularly unpleasant awakening of his own, had he stumbled through the patch accidentally. he shifts minutely, well on his way to sleep by now. "mm, sounds jus' awful," he drawls, answer delayed only slightly by the fact that he's snoozing, his voice is so quiet that without your enhanced senses you'd have to strain to hear it. "can't imagine quite how i'll make it through if you've gotta stick around s'more." "even dead to the world, you maintain your sense of humor, huh, baby? and those lady-killer tendencies, i see" "yeah, well, i have killed quite a few lad-" "elvis!" you laugh, scandalized, as he huffs a laugh as well as he leverages himself up to sitting.

he rubs his eyes as he tries to get his bearings. "s'pose that's my way of asking real tactful... what happens next?" "well, first we've gotta detox you." "what, from the blood? i thought you said-" "nope, not from the blood. from the drugs in the blood." "from the w-" he gapes, looking shocked and hurt, and also a little appalled at himself. "i really am sorry to break it to you, sweetheart- there's a lot going on with you right now, and only some of it is due to... this," you reach up a hand to thumb at one of his fangs, which had slipped out as soon as you started talking about blood. "the rest of it is a combination of the vegas lights and whoever up top orchestrated the whole thing." he nods slowly, expression inscrutable. "we'll take it slow, i promise. ok?" "yeah," he nods more steadily now. "yeah, i trust you."

"well, then, mr. presley- are you ready?" he nods his head as if on instinct, then has the decency to look confused. "ready for what?" you smile, fangs out. "to start getting you fixed up... so we can take down those bastards responsible for this." he just stares at you a moment before a slow grin starts to take over his face, eyes darkening to match the quite literally bloodthirsty expression in yours.

"let's get to it."

[strawberry-fields-things]

mkay but have you considered just tommy going to the summer camp his brother wilbur used to work at, and him meeting the current camp counselors; all of whom are old friends of wilbur’s. among them, two camp counselors stick out to him: y/n (who tommy had definitely heard of before bc they are good friends with wilbur) and dream (who tommy had also heard of, but more because he was a dick). imagine tommy just witnessing these two fully grown adults —both of whom are (for the most part) pretty cool when they’re separate from each other— banter and argue every time they’re in the same room. just some sweet ol’ rivals to lovers because i said so <3

yes i- this??? i love this so much skjwjdjskw pls send more camp counselor!dream content dhkwjs. i really loved this idea so……. i decided to add a little something:

tommy had high hopes for summer camp— which is ironic actually, given the fact that he’d all but despised the idea of spending his summer at some deserted forest for the past five years. as it happened, wilbur had finally convinced him.

of course, the main reason as to why wilbur was so insistent on tommy going to summer camp was because he himself had been going for the past four years— granted, not as a camper, but going nonetheless. and by the time the end of summer came around, tommy’s older brother would come with stories and pictures to spare.

much to tommy’s dismay, wilbur would not be going to camp this year— his final year of college was already taking a toll on him, and summer camp was simply unable to make it into his top priorities.

tommy drops his bags by his sides as he reaches a small wooden platform, where the rest of the campers have already gathered around. on the stage stand six people, the eyes of every other person on them.

tommy squints at them, the heat of the summer beating down on him even as he stands underneath the shade of a particularly tall tree. out of the six counselors, he only recognizes three from pictures and stories— quackity on the far left, dream in the middle, and next to him, the one and only y/n.

now, tommy often found himself idolizing other people. it wasn’t exactly rare for him— but most were parasocial, people he’d never get to meet. but you? you were practically a legend at his house.

tommy soon realizes that what had been happening was that the campers were being divided into groups, being paired with one of the six counselors.

“oi, soot!”

tommy’s head snaps up, only to find you grinning down at him. “grab your friends— you’re with me!”

the first weeks flew past in the blink of an eye, and before tommy could even start to process the experience, he found himself sitting by the edge of the lake besides bill, aimsey and eryn. he distantly hears y/n and dream arguing— and, as expected, he turns to see the two of you bantering about something he can’t quite figure out. dream looks amused. you look pissed.

tommy nudges bill besides him. “what’s up with them?”

bill squints at the pair by the edge of the lake, before scoffing a light laugh. “oh, you don’t know? they’ve been at it for, like two years now.”

“two years?”

“yeah. uh, maybe three.” eryn shrugs nonchalantly. “i think dream broke their nose during a game of volleyball a few summers back.”

aimsey snaps her fingers. “you’re right! oh my gosh, i’d completely forgotten about that.” they nod at tommy sucking in air sharply. “i reckon it was the same summer they had invited their boyfriend at the time.” aimsey winces. “after that, well— y/n’s kinda known for holding a grudge.”

the three weren’t that far off from the truth— dream had indeed been the reason as to why you had a bloody (and i mean bloody) nose for days before you were sent back home. in dream’s defense, he’d been aiming at your boyfriend’s face. which doesn’t exactly sound great, but— in his defense! the guy rubbed him off the wrong way. and, despite what everyone might think, he didn’t actually hate you. if anything, he’d been trying to look out for you.

tommy stares at your fuming frame, before quackity and the counselor he now knows as karl gently try to pull you away from the argument. even after you’ve turned and left, dream stands there dumbly, green eyes focused on your retrieving frame. his daze, however, dissipates once sapnap shoves him forwards, earning laughs from other campers.

tommy blinks once, twice. finally, he turns to look away and towards the lake.

“huh.”

[goldensunset]

What are your thoughts on each of the Team Star kids?

beloveds. all of them. fave has gotta be eri though she’s both the most intimidating and the most loving. like she’s wearing this cool sparkly outfit that manages to scream ‘wrestler’ and ‘princess’ at the same time. but she’s really just another sad bullied girl like the rest of them who wants to do her best. she stands guard outside her own base and almost just challenged us right away. i appreciate that they made another named character among the team star grunts in that base to add to her character (carmen!) so then we find out that eri reached out a hand in friendship even to the girl who ruined her life with bullying because she knew what it felt like to be alone. also the way all eri’s pokémon are in heal balls! she’s the scariest and toughest of team star and she actually wiped the floor with me but at the same time she has the biggest heart of any of them

uh uh ok so for the others. tbh it’s been a while since i did those quests i don’t remember as much. atticus is a nice and polite man i think he’s cool. great character design but also the splatoon colors and patterns lol… hey as a poison type trainer he gets away with it. i do not remember his role in the group unfortunately but wasn’t it like. didn’t he make the code or something and he was super strict about it? or was that giacomo?

anyway giacomo beloved major props to him for composing all team star’s music because their music absolutely slaps. especially the squad boss battle theme. he’s the real mvp of the squad obviously who needs technology or training or whatever if you have killer music.he just seems like a friendly silly guy tbh he seems very chill. i respect him a lot

ortega is so funny even in postgame after y’all are friends he’s still a little brat. he’s like uhGHHHHHGGFG i can’t believe i lost to YOU!!! how old is this child. i would’ve tweaked his design only slightly to make either his hair or eyes darker, or to make one of them two-tone, cuz the all-pale pink isn’t as interesting to look at. or just fix his bangs slightly. otherwise it’s a fantastic design for a fairy-type trainer. and especially for a guy yeah i think ‘snotty pretentious rich boy’ is the best path they could’ve gone with that. but hey little boy can’t we be friends already

mela was the first one i did so i love her. she’s so sassy and fiery (lol) and i was like :0 when it cut away to a flashback to her past bc i wasn’t expecting it (i love that they did that for all the team star kids) basically it was just the first moment i really realized oh these are just a bunch of sad and rebellious kids who want to be with their friends. even in defeat mela still had to act all aloof but i could tell she cared! and she actually gave me a bit of trouble with her battle too bc i wasn’t expecting that revavroom. that was the first battle i really had to use more than one pokémon for; even my strongest mon who was my water-type starter couldn’t carry me the whole time. it was a rewarding experience

penny… she’s great! i just wish we had gotten to see more of her early on. like i know we were actually talking to her the entire time under the guise of cassiopeia but it’s just not the same as having bonded with the *concept of penny* for an entire game. she could’ve just showed up in person more often during starfall street, or we could’ve had one really solid conversation towards the beginning in between us intervening to bail her out from the team star grunts and her messaging us as cassiopeia for the first time. i think it would’ve done a lot. but hey given how much i love the team star storyline i have to give credit where it’s due to the one who made it all possible- both team star, and their downfall. honestly the one thing i think was really missing was nemona and arven asking her questions about it all during the endgame. i would’ve loved for them to hear the truth about team star but it’s too bad it was just never mentioned outside of that exact storyline. if they had cared at all about it and therefore had a reaction to penny talking about it all it would’ve made those endgame interactions even better. like hey remind us why penny’s here and relevant as one of my allies too other than being smart. just the teeeeeeensiest tiny little things i would’ve added if i were working on this story too. no need to remove or change anything, just add more

[paridoxpower]

Warden-Commander Ara Mahariel

Born 9:11. 19 at the start of Origins, 30 by the time of Inquisition. She/Her

Dual-wielding Rogue (Axe and Dagger)

Pale skin, white hair, dark brown eyes, dark brown (Origins’) Sylaise Vallaslin

Titles: Grey Warden, Warden-Commander of Fereldan, Hero of Fereldan, Champion of Redcliffe, Veteran of the Fifth Blight, &  Arlessa of Amaranthine

More about Ara & Picrew links below the cut 

(I swear I tried to stack the images to not make this a long post, but every time I do it activates a bug that messes up the text below the cut. I let Staff know, so hopefully it’ll be fixed soon!)

Origin

Pronounced like ‘are-uh’ 

Ara’s beginnings start the same as the ‘generic’ Mahariel warden. Her father was the former Keeper of the Sabrae clan, while her mother was a renowned hunter from another clan. After her father was killed and her mother wandered off into the woods, Ashalle became Ara’s guardian, although raising her was a clan effort. 

No one is sure why Ara has white hair, considering her father had brown and her mother black. Ashalle always (lovingly) teased it was because her mother left her in moon light and the moon bleached her hair so Ashalle could find her easily among the other children.

Fighting & Skills

Ara’s amazing at wielding two daggers or an axe and dagger, which is actually her preferred combo. Alongside with her trusty mabari, Maggs (female), she’s nearly unstoppable.

She’s an incredible smooth talker and lock picker. She can charm nearly anyone and is very convincing, but not in a vicious way. She’s also very observant. Tries to broker peace before resorting to violence. She’s friendly and curious about the world.

Companions & Love

She’s friends with all her companions. She’s closest to Alistair, Morrigan, and Wynne (this was also her preferred team). She is least closest to Zevran and Leliana.

She quickly fell for Alistair’s witty charm and romance between the two young wardens blossomed. She felt betrayed by Morrigan’s dark ritual, but her and Alistair agreed to go through with it. Ara follows Morrigan through the mirror at the end of Awakening to help raise the child. Ara would insist that Kieran have some form of relationship with Alistair. Ara herself would eventually be considered a second mother.

In a blight/taint free world, Alistair and Ara have a son named Desmond (Desmond Duncan Theirin), a warrior like his father. Desmond would know of his half older brother, and like Ara to Kieran, Morrigan would become a second mother.

Key Decisions

All companions, alive and well

Dark Ritual done, Alistair is the father

Loghain dead, by Alistair

Broken Circle: Saved the Mages

Nature of the Beast: Brokered Peace

Paragon of Her Kind: Defeated Branka and Bhelen Rules

Redcliffe: Connor alive, not possessed. Isolde alive

Anora rules alone

Ara killed the ArchDemon

Shale learned of her origins

Misc. Facts

My first Warden (and character) in the Dragon Age Universe

My canon warden. She shares (more like started) traits with the rest of my canon OCs: White hair, rogue, aims to be neutral, name features ‘ara’ in it

No one has seen her with her hair down, except Alistair

Her version of Alistair knows how to cook

Trouble maker as a kid but mellowed out with age

Likes browns and tans

She’d totally be a plant mom

Would (and does) get along great with Zahara and Vara

Unlike Alistair when they first met, Ara had licked a lamppost in winter

I sometimes imagine Ara’s relationship with Morrigan as Leslie and Ann from Parks and Rec (Ara being Leslie)

In a not as canon world, Alistair and her actually have more kids. Wynne, a girl, then Desmond, then 3 boy triplets (they’re names change bc I can’t decide, but two of them are usually Tamlen and Duncan. The 3rd is the one I can’t pick :/ )), then a little girl named Rose. Wynne would be close to Kieran’s age. The triplets are a big surprise and Rose is an even bigger, later in life surprise. Their friends tease that Ara and Alistair suck at naming their children. But like I said, this is very not much canon, but an enjoyed thought of them being happy

Picrew Links. Some provided are the ones used, others are ones that I recommend but are not shown above :)

Picrew, picrew, picrew, picrew, picrew, picrew, picrew

[boypussydilf]

For the ask game: those two people in your header

YAAAAAAY. im building a collection of father daughter duos where both of them r autistic. so far my collection is just sherlock&iris and dororo&koyuki. im going to preemptively assume this will get long enough that the polite thing to do will be putting it under a cut. so here look at them

that’s uh. supposed to be a gif. it didn’t. it didn’t save as a gif. ok whatever

DORORO N KOYUKI THEYRE AWESOME. THE BESTEST CHARACTERS. i dont think any fans dislike either of them bc they’re so great that how could you not like them

describe their canon relationship/dynamic

INSEPARABLE BEST FRIENDS. VERY familial. they rely on each other they encourage each other they teach things to each other they help each other. they both want the best for each other & always do whatever they can to help Get it. they’re sooo sweet all the time theyre just giving each other advice or telling each other new bad jokes. or hunting in the woods together. you know how it is. koyuki always does whatever she can for dororo when hes having a Complete Emotional Breakdown and hes always super excited for her when she has a good time hanging out with natsumi and They’re Just Sweet.

your ideal/headcanon version of it? how does it differ from how it is in canon & why is this your favorite version? any other alternate versions of it you enjoy?

i dont think theyre actually very different in my mind than in the series. like. i used to think dororo being like her dad was a fabrication of my brain but no he really IS sometimes. his first dialogue in the show is asking her how she likes her new school. like. they’re one of those dynamics i like where i dont think there’s any improving on it. it’s pretty much the best version of itself as is.

what do you like about their relationship, why is it interesting or enjoyable to you?

I HAVE to like it bc dororo is my favorite character ever and koyuki is One Of my favorite characters in the series. i love found family. i Love Besties. i love autistic people. theyre just Very Fun, and Very Cute, and Very Funny, and Very Important

what about the individual characters involved? what does this relationship mean to them, what makes it unique among their relationships?

GOD IT HAS TO BE SO SO IMPORTANT TO BOTH OF THEM. LIKE. lets start with koyuki. She seems to be an orphan but aside from that her family situation is unknown, like idk if she ever HAD parents she Knew or not, and the ninja village she spent Most of her childhood in was kind of Against the formation of too Soft & Close of relationships. One of her lifelong friends Mukuro was always firmly against koyuki calling them friends because Ninjas Don’t Have Friends, and another one of her friends would help her out when she got tired or hurt during training as a little kid & she said he might get in trouble because he wasn’t Supposed to help her. Koyuki had friends anyway because she’s just that nice and determined but she wasn’t really SUPPOSED to and i don’t know how many people were close to her in like. A Warm Way Conducive To A Child Who Is Growing Up. Dororo is sort of Her Only Family, and he’s also the one Consistent part of her life - she had to say goodbye to all the people she’d known for her entire life when the ninja village was disbanded, and had to move on to a life completely different from anything she was used to, BUT Dororo had been living in the village for a few years (is the timeline I tend to go with) before that so she gets to have ONE properly familiar thing With her in her new life.

For dororo. First of all. Koyuki is the ONE person he knows that he has absolutely 0 grudge of any kind against. He’s at least a tiny little bit angry at everyone else he knows but koyuki has never done anything wrong to him ever in her life. She also like. Saved His Life. In the straightforward literal momentary sense and also in the existential metaphorical sense of when you experience a change so drastic that it completely changes you and then you look back and go I USED TO BE LIKE THAT?? THANK GOD I GOT OUT like . She literally saved his life when she found him caught in a trap which it has to be said was kind of a big deal for him already because he was taught to expect humans to be violent and cruel, don’t join the military. & she took him back to her village and took CARE of him and helped train him 2 be a ninja and indirectly/unintentionally showed him some of the Best of earth & humanity and the kinds of things he thinks are Beautiful and he got his life changed and threw the old life out and became someone he likes more. And she is always nice to him and is the one person who never forgets him :)

They just care about each other so much!!!! They both have other very close friends but they’re definitely each others closest friends on a very deep level. They consider it a Given that they are going to keep being best friends & family forever. Soulmates (familial)

favorite interaction they have in canon

NOOOOhow am i supposed to choose…. most of their interactions are really sweet or funny……. ummmm…. I like just sort of. Everything that’s about their friendship in 184. Koyuki noticing something is Weird with dororo and immediately spending her whole day making a protective charm for him. their friendship literally saving his life again in that koyuki (not for the first time) uses her awesome powers of Being Very Determined and Caring So So Deeply About Her Friends to overcome magic that’s supposed to be completely controlling her, & is able to just redirect her sword a little to hit the charm she made instead of hitting him.

Also I really like the scene in movie 2 where tamama goes “i feel like we’re forgetting someone” and koyuki immediately holds up dororo and goes “dororo’s here!” it’s really funny

favorite interaction they have in your head/a situation you want to put them in

I just think they deserve more family moments bc they very much are family. And I want to see more of dororo being koyukis wingman when she wants to spend time with natsumi. He’s already kinda done that once in the manga. Do it again. Help ur daughter get her rad gf

[silverskye]

I've introduced two of my characters before, but never the rest. Uh, yes this list is still growing bc I love coming up with new characters all the time. For now have this. This is a process & I will eventually link my google doc. 

                                                         &&&&

Reeve: A quiet and socially uncomfortable human being. He’s the type of person to say yes to everything, even when he has so many other priorities in life. Self-care? He doesn’t know what that is and it causes him to have minor set backs in life. Most of his teen & early adult years he’s been lost and questioning the meaning of his life. His whole journey is finding out who he is, what makes him happy, and what his meaning of living a happy life means to him. A lot of his way of thinking was pushed onto him by his parents & that has caused him to hate certain aspects of his life & himself. His main question is “how do I fit into society?” (I’ll go more in depth in another post.)

Aesthetic: Light Academia   // Earthcore // Art Academia

Relationship: Romantic Interest for Zack.

Zack: Mostly rude, mean and has that dark cloud over his head for most of his life. He does what he wants when he wants. The complete opposite of a sun shine person. His whole aurora is cloudy & off setting. The standard that he has for himself is to have none. Why disappoint anyone let alone yourself if you don’t have any goals, achievements & aspirations . Zack doesn’t care about most things or people, those who are close to him hold a special place in his life & he will make time for them. Zack is very closed off from the world, doesn’t know how to interact with new people, especially one on one. He suffers from social awkwardness, and is vey aware of it. 

Aesthetic: Dark Naturalism // After Hours 

Relationship: Romantic Interest for Reeve. 

Mae: Cozy vibes & self-healing. Mae grew up with emotional drama from her family. As an adult, she is learning how to become a better person for herself and for her future. She doesn't want her past drama to define her or others to see her as a weakling. Mae is emotionally & mentally working through certain aspects of her life. She has the support of her best friends and brother.

Aesthetic: Comfy/Cozy

Relationship: Besties with Reeve & childhood friends with Zack. Trevor is her twin brother.

Alice: Unlike her brother she is very social and aware about what’s on trend & what is more important to her. She strives to be in social circles that benefit her

Aesthetic: E-Girl 

Relationship: Half-Sister to Zack.

Trevor: Unlike his sister he had a better childhood. He was the favorite among his family. That has made Trevor very anxious about living up to a certain image people have about him. He struggles with accepting his downfall that people don't approve of. As an adult Trevor is very happy and is supporting his sister in every way possible. Truly he knows that without his sister he has nothing really going for him. He is the supportive brother who tags along for the ride.

Aesthetic: Undecided

Relationship: Besties with Zack & Ash. Frenemy with Kai.

Kai: Very supportive & carrying. He is the one who uplifts everyone, a sunshine person. He's very outgoing, easygoing, and never complains. He loves theater and has achieved being the leader in his group. Kai struggles with letting people know himself truly. He stuggoes with talking to people and them getting to know him. He has a front that people know on a daily basis. And his true self he shows when he's with friends. Meeting new people stressed him out bc he feels that he isn't good enough to be in people's lives.

Aesthetic: Dark Academia // Art Academia

Relationship: Besties with Zach & Ash. Frenemy with Trevor.

[cas-rivaille]

Hi! Can I request a obey me hc where the MC is a leader of a very big mafia gang in the human world?

YES !??!?

(ahaha this def isn't the plot of one of my scripts where i run a mafia gang because i thought it would be cool and it's amazing you requested this)

tags: mentions of weapons, mild swearing, protective brothers and datables (i didn't include luke because it's a mafia gang thing and he's precious child and i want abt to put him in harms way)

a/n: i also didn't write the thoughts for dia, barb, simeon, or solomon because i honestly couldn't think of anything i'm sorry

MC as a Mafia leader in the human world

When you came to the Devildom, you were in another world, rendering everything in the human world useless. You spent so much time trying to adjust, that your life in the human world was almost forgotten.

Almost.

It wasn't long before Lord Diavolo announced you would be going on a trip to the human world. Suddenly you remembered everything you would go back to. If only you were aware of the chaos that would unfold. When you got to the human world, in your town you previously lived in, there was maybe a minute of peace before chaos erupted.

Once you stepped out of the alleyway that Diavolo teleported the group of you into, nearly half the people on the street turned and looked at you. Some of them ran, others pulled out their phones and made calls, and about four or five came rushing towards you asking where you'd been.

You recognized the men that had the gall to come up to you, they were some of the more high ranking commanders. However, your second in command was not among them. The brothers protectively stepped around you, not knowing who these people were. Clearly that was the wrong move.

In an instant the street was clear of citizens and there were members of your gang with their weapons drawn or their hands near their weapon. Diavolo stood behind you, glaring at the men in front. Simeon and Solomon were on edge. The atmosphere was tense. Barbatos was the first to speak.

"I'd advise you stand down," He spoke with a hum in his voice to the men in your gang.

"I could say the same to you," Said a voice emerging from the other side of the street. Slowly the person walked forward. It was your second in command.

"Who are you to be acting like this around our commander ? They disappeared four months ago and show up again like nothing ? Forgive us if we're a little curious," Your second spoke in a teasing manor, eyeing everyone carefully.

Lucifer -

- commander ?

- who ? mc a commander ? of what ?

- who are these people and where did they come from ?

- *protection mode activated*

- the only reason he's not in demon form and ready to attack is bc diavolo is here

- looks at all his brothers and makes sure they understand exactly what he means with one look

- this man is next to dia full on ready to fight

"Who are you calling com-"

You interrupt Lucifer.

"Everyone stand down, this is all just a bit misunderstanding," You say as quickly as possible to stop any conflict. Everyone directs their attention towards you.

"Commander who are these people ?" Your second asks.

"They're my friends, there's no need to be hostile. Everyone stand down," You say, looking around at all the people. They immediately lower their weapons, some of them even holster them. Your second on the other hand, known for standing up to you, doesn't lower their weapon.

"All due respect commander, but I won't stand down until I know they aren't a threat," You second looks you dead in the eye. You sigh. You then direct your attention to the boys surrounding you.

"Guys, back off a bit please. I'm fine. They aren't a threat," You say, tired.

The brothers ease up a bit, but you can still see the tension in their muscles. Diavolo, Barbatos, Simeon, and Solomon stood behind you protectively still, but also stepped back.

Lucifer steps forward and makes eye contact with you.

"What's going on MC ?" Lucifer asks.

"Okay so, gang this is Lucifer, Mammon, Levi, Satan, Beel, Asmo, Barbatos, Belphie, Solomon, Simeon, Barbatos, and Diavolo. Boys, this is my gang," You say while pointing to everyone and talking as fast as possible.

Mammon -

- he eased up on his defensive stance, but he never let your hand go

- as to be expected because you're HIS human

- anyways

- gang ??

- what do you mean gang ??

- like a club or should he be running

- very confused boi but just wants to protect you no matter what

Mammon squeezes your hand lightly. You look at him.

"What do you mean gang ?" He asks.

"I- uh.. well you see, it's exactly how it sounds," You respond.

The confusion on Mammon's face only grows.

"I am the leader of a gang. Here in the human world?" You say while shrugging your shoulders.

The boys all look at you like you've grown a second head.

"You run a gang ?" Mammon says after a moment of silence between all of them.

"Is that so surprising ?" Your second asks.

Leviathan -

- surprising ??

- surprising ??????

- the same mc that would stay up until two am playing animal crossing with him ?

- the same mc that bought him plushies of his favorite characters ?

- mc who would cosplay with him

- how could someone who makes sure he takes care of himself and basically babies him but on a friend level, be the commander of a gang ?

- lowkey thinks it's badass because he is the grand admiral of his own army

- gets distracted and starts fangirling over you

"How long have you been the commander of a gang?" Levi excitedly asks.

"Two years, before I went to the devildom that is," You respond, slightly bouncing off Levi's excitement.

"The what?" Your second asks, interrupting.

"The- oh. Wait a minute," You say and turn to Diavolo.

"Am I allowed to tell them ?" You half whisper to Dia.

"If you see fit. This situation is entirely new to me," Dia half whispers back. Barbatos leans in and joins the conversation.

"I sense utter loyalty to you, MC, if you trust them then I advise we should too," Barbatos speaks quietly.

You turn back to your gang.

"Okay so the reason I vanished for four months is because I went to 'hell' as an exchange student. Now I realize that may sound crazy, but these guys are all demons," You say while roughly gesturing to the brothers, Dia, and Barbatos, "He's an angel," You say and point to Simeon, "And he's a human, but immortal, I think. I don't really know Solomon is the textbook definition of an enigma," You say while waving at Solomon in gesture.

Your gang stares at you, bewildered. The person next to your second starts laughing hysterically. Your second glares at him but the laughter doesn't stop.

Levi, knowing exactly how it feels to be laughed at and not believed, starts talking.

"Need proof ?" He asks. In the blink of an eye he's in his demon form.

Your gang steps back, eyes wide, their hands near their weapons.

Satan -

- there's no way satan isn't dragging you back to his room after this to talk about your gang

- thinks it's attractive as hell, MC in a position of power ? that's the stuff

- takes a moment to register why levi is in his demon form, but feels his wrath and changes too

- steps closer to you

- he's still mad you never told him, but he won't take it out on you

- honestly just wants to know the truth

After Satan changes too, the rest of the brothers join in

Except Lucifer, who looks very displeased. Diavolo laughs at Lucifer's discontentment. Satan smirks as well, knowing he made Lucifer angry.

Your second is the first to speak.

"Okay what the fuck," Is the only thing said.

"MC did explain that we're demons, were you listening ?" Satan asks coyly.

"Right then. So it's actually true ?" Your second asks, looking at you.

"Yes, why would I lie ?" You say back.

There is a moment of silence. No one moves or says anything.

"So I take it this means we can't tell anyone ?" Your second asks.

"No, you cant. But I know you're all more than capable of keeping secrets," You laugh a little. The atmosphere lightens up. Your second laughs with you.

Asmo -

- your laugh is so adorable to him

- not the time thoughts

- he also thinks it's attractive you run a gang

- admires how you were able to change the atmosphere and how these people listen to you

- will totally tease you and call you commander

- joins in on lightening the mood

"Right then, how about we all go get a drink and discuss the events of the last four months over dinner ?" Asmo says.

"Is there even a restaurant big enough to hold all of us ?" Satan asks.

"Yeah, we can use the base," You say.

"Of course, it's still the same as you left it commander," Your second joins in.

"Then it's settled, let's go !" Asmo smiles.

Beel -

- definitely not opposed to having food

- is a little hurt you didn't tell him, but ultimately understands

- he wants to hear about your adventures

- wonders if he can spend more time with you to hear about said adventures

- does this mean you can fight ?

- if so can you train with him ?

"Does this mean we get human world food ?" Beel asks, looking at you.

"Yep !!" You respond.

Beel changes out of his demon form with a smile on his face.

"I'll also show you guys our base of operations and give you a tour. I can also show you where I used to live too !!" You say excitedly.

The other brothers change out of their demon forms.

Your second starts to walk and lead the way to the base. Everyone follows.

Belphie -

- to be honest he doesn't care you're a gang leader

- he just wants to sleep and spend time with you

- if those two things coincide then good for him

- he does think it's cool tho

"So, you're gonna tell us everything right ?" Belphie asks.

"Yes. I'll tell you guys about my life here and then I'll tell my gang about my life with you all," You say.

"Good, as long as things get cleared up," Belphie says and yawns.

----

SORRY IT GOT REALLY SHORT AT THE END IM REALLY TIRED BUT THANK YOU FOR THE REQUEST I HOPE YOU LIKE IT !!

- cas :)

[sugako]

after dinner special

bokuto x f!reader x hinata sum: after seeing the way his teammate looks at you, bokuto comes up with a plan to help all parties cw: 18+ only minors dni i am begging you, established relationship (bokuto x reader), slight manipulation (?? reader/bo make a secret plan to seduce hinata and he wants to so not really but idk what else to tag it as), oral (f!receiving), double pussyjob, nipple play, orgasm denial, D/s, spit roast, unprotected, hinabo if you squint extra hard wc: 4.2k a/n: finally back from the dead with this wayyy overdue fic ive been thinking about/writing for months, no edits or beta bc i'm too impatient and haven't posted in so long

Above all else, Bokuto was incredibly perceptive to other’s emotions. Among other aspects, that quality had really drawn you to him even if it wasn’t as extraordinarily overt as his confidence and enthusiasm. His perceptiveness didn’t end with you, of course, he was well-connected with his teammates, which meant when he saw the way Hinata’s eyes just barely glazed over when he met you he knew there was something more happening in his head. He watched the burning grow in Hinata after he had witnessed the two of you had, quite obviously, snuck off to another room during a get-together at Meian’s, spit still drying at the corner of your dry, puffy lips a week prior.

Even he wasn’t sure what exactly his plan was as he started up in the locker room a couple weeks later, oversharing every little detail he could recall about your body, namely when it was under him. Ignoring Atsumu and Kiyoomi’s groans for him to stop while Shugo and Oliver snickered to themselves reminiscing about their own escapades from a handful of years ago, he focused on Hinata’s reaction.

Shōyō remained uncharacteristically quiet as he rambled on about how cute your soft tits were, only speaking to quietly excuse himself to the bathroom. He was careful, but not careful enough to hide the tent in his shorts.

Not one to keep a secret, the words came tumbling from his mouth when he burst into your shared apartment.

“I think Hinata likes you!” He managed, tearing off his shoes to stumble into the hallway to wrap you in a tight hug like he did nearly every day.

“I-...what?” You choke, wrapping a tentative arm back around him and peeling away to look at him in the eyes. “What do you mean?”

“Not like… I don’t know, I think he wants to fuck you.” The smile on his face doesn’t waver, only confusing you.

“I’m not sure how to take this.” You deadpan, brows just short of knitting together. “Why…?”

“Well if you would like that I certainly wouldn’t mind.” His teeth graze over your skin as he pecks messy kisses all over your cheeks and neck.

“You wouldn’t mind?” You blankly repeat back, holding his back by his muscled shoulders to make him look you in the eyes. “Because not minding something and wanting something are very different and I just want to make sure whatever we’re about to talk about we’re just being really clear.”

Bokuto inhaled a massive breath, squeezing his eyes shut tight as he collected exactly what he wanted to say to you. Before he could, the smell coming from the kitchen distracted his senses, leaving him to weakly exhale and blink his eyes open. “Talk over dinner?”

The long talk over the dinner table was eventually fruitful. After he collected himself and stuffed his rumbling stomach, Bokuto was better able to explain what he had seen in Hinata. It made you recall every time you had seen him and you would be lying if you said you didn’t see it too. He wasn’t exactly a subtle person.

When it came down to it, you certainly weren’t opposed. Bokuto certainly seemed interested in the prospect of sharing you, especially with his favorite prodigy as he liked to class him. You recognized that Hinata was attractive and you had to admit that the concept of being squished between the two thick, bubbly men was alluring as long as he was truly interested.

Before the full invitation to come over for dinner - specially prepared by you - had even slipped from Bokuto’s mouth, Hinata was eagerly accepting. Part of you dreaded the entire ordeal, anxieties bubbling up about the lead up and the talking beforehand that you had foolishly agreed to do most of. Over dinner you stayed a little quieter than usual, trying to gauge Hinata’s expression and body language.

When he politely excuses himself to use the restroom after finishing, Bokuto grabs your hand across the table, rubbing a thumb over your knuckles.

“If you’re nervous we can stop right here.” He whispers, grinning softly.

You can’t help but smile back, shaking your head. “No, I’m okay,” you assure him, “I am a little nervous, but I really want to.”

He opens his mouth to say something else, but is cut off by the sound of the bathroom door closing and the soft pad of Hinata’s feet down the hallway. Clearing your throat, you give a reassuring smile to Bokuto, and stand to face where Hinata soon pops out of.

“Hinata, would you-”

“Shōyō is fine!” He interjects. “Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“That’s fine,” you smile, ghosting your hand down his arm and resting your palm against his elbow. “Shōyō, would you mind helping me wash up in the kitchen. I feel bad asking the guest, but Kōtarō has something for you and you’ll get to it faster if I finish this.”

Hinata can feel his heart pounding behind his rib cage so hard he worries you can hear his pulse reverberating. You look so sweet with those pleading eyes staring at him, the warm touch of your fingertips sending heat to his chest.

“Of course, I don’t mind.” He nods, letting you lead him a room away to the kitchen.

“Great, thank you, this is such a big help.” You grin while placing the dirty dishes in the sink before you and handing him a dry towel. “You can just dry and put them in the cabinet in front of you.”

“Okay,” he says quietly, eyeing down your low-cut shirt as you squeeze your arms together and lean down to grab the first bowl. His eyes roll to the back of his head when you turn the tap on a little too fast and water splashes all over the front of your thin, pale dress, making the black lacy bra underneath pop.

“Whoops!” You exclaim, smiling a little too happily, feeling how his feet shift beside you. “This tap is a little loose, I always get messy and wet trying to do anything.”

He has to bite down hard on the inside of his cheek to keep from groaning, glad that your gaze is in the sink and not on his flushed face. He doesn’t want to feel this way about his friend’s girlfriend, but it’s so hard when you’re standing so close - did you take a step toward him? when did your hip start brushing against his? - and you look so pretty.

“So, Shōyō…” you start, handing him another dish, “Kōtarō talks about you a lot, you know.”

“Really?” His voice is pitched and strained, stopping short of choking on his own words.

“Yeah, he thinks you’re great. He was so excited when you joined the team. He, uh, he pays attention, a lot more than some people give him credit for.”

Hinata nods, carefully placing the bowl in the cupboard. “He’s great, I’ve always loved watching him play.”

“He’s fun to watch,” you agree, “You know he thinks….actually, can I just ask what your type is?” The words tumble out quickly as you try to gain confidence, a small bit of worry creeping into the back of your head.

“My type?” He repeats back, pausing in his drying motions. “I don’t know if I really have one. Just anyone I feel good with. Why?” When he turns to look at you again you’re turned to face him, a small smile lighting up your features.

“That’s a good way to look at things. I only ask because, well Kōtarō seems to think you have some kind of interest in me.” You force the words to come out casually, keeping your eyes on him. Hinata sputters and chokes on his own words, the way your hand comes down over his doing absolutely nothing to help him compose himself. “There’s no good way to say this, but he was thinking you could, uh well take what you’ve been thinking about, if you want to.”

Taking a deep swallow, he took a short deep breath to clear his mind. “And what do you think?”

Tension dissipates from your body at his question. “I think I would like you to do whatever you want. Touch me, kiss me, anything. Only if you want to.”

His fists clench and unclench again, gears turning in his head as he realizes this was planned. All those stories Bokuto told, the glint in his eyes for the past few weeks, the way you put yourself on display for him all night with that sly little smirk - it was all part of some plan. A little worried voice in the back of his head told him this was too good to be true. But you were offering yourself up to him, angled forward so your tits would pop and watching him so carefully as though he were a scared animal ready to run, and he knew it had to be true.

The timid, apprehensive look he had been sporting slowly drained from his face, replaced with a much more confident and delighted one. His hands moved from his sides to dig into your waist, lifting you up onto the counter behind you.

“Don’t tease me.” He whispers hoarsely, lips ghosting over the pulse of your throat. The loose dress Bokuto had purposefully picked out for you to wear for the evening rode up as Hinata settled his thick body between your welcoming knees.

“I’m not,” you pant, “Kōtarō really wanted this.”

A shuddered sigh comes from his chest as he rests his head against your shoulder, just barely kissing the soft spot between your neck and shoulder. You fidget restlessly, trying to pull his still body closer to no avail.

“Wanna know he wants this.” He says eventually. “I trust you, I just…”

“No, no, I get it.” You say a little too abruptly, fishing around for where your phone was tossed onto the counter. With shaky hands you hurried to click it open, immediately going to your messages, scrolling to the most recent chat with Bokuto where he depicted how much he wanted to see you fucked out on his and Hinata’s cocks in vivid detail. You push the phone into his hand. “You can scroll wherever, he mentioned it before that one’s just… yeah.”

“Oh, wow.” He breathes, glancing through a few other messages from earlier in the week. Gently, he sets the phone down beside you before pulling your hips to the edge of the counter. His lips collide with the base of your throat knocking the air right from you.

You wind your fingers up in his hair as he pressed harsh kisses straight down your front, his rough hands pushing the skirt of your dress up even higher, leaving the tops of your thighs completely exposed. He keeps journeying lower until his cheek is flush to the hem of your panties. When his nose presses up against the slowly growing damp patch leaking his shoulders heave as though to hold himself back.

“And he doesn’t want us to wait up…?”

Truthfully, you didn’t know completely. Bokuto had asked to make some kind of subtle move on Hinata in private, he figured it would be less stressful for the both of you, but he hadn’t said how far to go with him, and you weren’t really sure what he was doing in some other part of the house, and Hinata’s fingers were so hot against your skin…

“No, it’s fine.” You pant, desperation evident in your voice. He doesn’t need much more, hand moving to pull the stretchy fabric you had purposefully worn to the side, his wide tongue darting out to lap up the wetness seeping from you.

With an aching whine, you lean into his touch, massaging his head and bringing him closer to you with every burning second that passes. Not that you had expected him to be inexperienced by any means, but you hadn’t expected him to be so good. He was loud, moaning against your cunt as he buried his tongue inside of you, nose tapping against your pleading clit.

The sound of your breathy whimpers and the loud slurping squelches drowned out the steps coming down the hall or the kitchen door swinging open. Bokuto stood there for a moment with a small smile, admiring how pretty you looked like this, even if he wished it were him, but he couldn’t let the moment pass him by.

“Puppy,” he sighed. The first syllable was enough to make Hinata pop off of you and stumble back to turn around, eyes hazy and drunken of the taste of you. Ignoring the hardened look in Bokuto’s eyes, you pouted sweetly, spreading your legs a little more to let him see your soiled panties.

“Kōtar-”

“You’re being greedy, don’t you think, puppy? Going ahead without me like that.” He imitates you with a fake pout, the look never quite meeting his blazing eyes. You can feel what’s coming and make no more attempt to argue. Hinata is taking in the interaction, still halfway in his own daze. “She’s great, huh, Shōyō? Pretty little pussy and she makes the best noises, especially when she’s crying for your cock.”

Hinata swallows hard, absentmindedly palming over his pants where he’s quickly grown half-hard. “Yeah, she’s, yeah no, uh she’s really great. This is still okay?”

Both of you nod quickly, reassuring him, but you remain silent for now, trying to settle before you know what’s to come.

“Totally okay as long as you’re okay.” Bokuto drops the edge in his tone to carefully watch him for a moment, assessing.

“Completely.” He agrees with a dreamy sigh.

Nodding again, Bokuto approaches the two of you. Refusing to meet his eyes you stare just ahead at the door.

“Oh, don’t look so sad, puppy, you know you’ll get what you want in the end anyway.” He jabs as he scoops you over his shoulder and gives you a gentle pat on the back of your thighs. “Let’s at least go to the living room.”

You glance back at Hinata, mouthing a silent whoops, while Bokuto leads him around the corner. Bokuto plops into the corner of the couch, back propped up by the plush arm, and maneuvering your pliable body to sit comfortably in his lap with your back pulled up flush to his chest. You’re gently pushed forward so he can peel the dress off and unclasp your bra. He’s calm for now, at least on the outside, but you can feel his heart pounding through the thin fabric of his shirt.

“Don’t need these anymore,” he hums, latching his fingers in the sides of your underwear and motioning for you to lift your hips to let him slide them off. Hooking his elbows under your knees, he pulls your thighs to your chest, high enough so that he can palm your breasts. Quietly whining, you turn your head away so you don’t have to look directly up at Hinata - not that he’d notice your face with the way your cunt was glistening under the low, soft lights of the room. “Shh,” he directs at you before glancing back up at Hinata, “go ahead, but don’t let her cum.”

With a warm grin he gets on his knees between Bokuto’s spread legs. You almost felt too exposed, all power taken from your hands, splayed open like this. Bokuto slots his chin against your shoulder and presses the softest kiss to your cheek in stark contrast to the way his rough hands are kneading and pinching your sensitive breasts.

Hinata eagerly gets back to it, lavishing your cunt with softer licks than before, making your hips shake as they seek out more friction. While your neediness grows so too does Bokuto’s grip on you.

“So pretty,” he coos, eyes glued to where Hinata was firmly pressed against you. Pride bloomed in his chest at the sight of his teammate sloppily eating out his favorite girl so enthusiastically, appreciating you so much as he should.

It’s impossible for him to not get rock hard with the way you’re grinding down into his lap and the crude, wet sounds and groans vibrating from the back of Hinata’s throat.

“Taste so good.” Hinata grumbles, pulling back and forcing his tense hips to stop rutting into the couch cushion. He feels himself making a mess in his pants, hoping that he isn’t leaking through to your nice furniture, but he can’t quite bring himself to stop either. Both Bokuto and you watch the string - you’re not sure whether it’s his spit or your own wetness - that stays connected between your slit and his puffy, glossy lips.

“Good...good job.” Bokuto sighs. You’re not sure if he’s praising you or Hinata, but you don’t have much time to think too hard about it before he releases your legs and wedges his hands under between himself and you to pull his straining cock from his pants. Mind buzzing, still a little hazy from the feeling of Hinata’s tongue, you grab out from him, pulling on the band of his pants. Truthfully, he’s not quite sure what you’re asking for but he does know how tight his balls are and how inviting your cunt looks.

Just as Bokuto is settling his cock between your ass, Hinata’s pants are slipped off, thrown to the ground. He dips his head down to take one of your breasts into his mouth, moaning around you and pressing in close so his tip catches against your clit. At your whiny cry and keening, Bokuto lets out a low, single chuckle. “Don’t let her have your cock, not all the way. You were being so greedy earlier puppy, I don’t think you deserve it yet.”

Hinata keeps his mouth firmly planted on your chest and reaches down to perfectly slip himself between the top of your folds, acutely aware of Bokuto’s heavy head just barely bumping against the base of his own cock. They’re both so thick and heavy as they rabidly hump against you, Bokuto maneuvering your body for you back and forth across both of them. Everything is warm and wet between Hinata’s mouth on your chest and Bokuto’s lips kissing down the side of your neck.

The tease of release that’s been creeping up on you for so long draws closer and closer. Hinata’s cock is catching so exactly on your swollen clit and Bokuto’s tip keeps threatening to slip past your entrance, slick dripping past your thighs.

“Gonna, ahg, cu-cum!” You manage out, hips already bouncing on their own accord against them.

“Go ahead.” Bokuto says with a shaky breath, squeezing you as tight as he could between his body and Hinata’s. One more roll of their hips has you crashing down, pleasure rolling through your body. All you can feel is warmth and overwhelming satisfaction as you twitch between their arms, creaming across their cocks. “Good girl, good girl…” you faintly hear Bokuto coo into your ear as you slump back against him.

The buzzing, quiet moment is quickly squashed as he hoists you out of his lap and onto all fours. He’s talking to Hinata and you know you should be listening, but your pussy is still throbbing and you’re trying to catch your breath.

“...okay, baby?” You catch the very end of his sentence and blink hard, desperate to refocus.

“W-wait, what? Sorry, I just-”

“It’s okay, puppy,” he rubs a soothing hand down your back, slowly bringing you back to reality. “Need a second?”

You shake your head, the last of the fog slipping away. Before you, you see Hinata, his rigid cock slicked up by you only a few inches from your face. “I’m okay now, can you just say that again?”

“‘Course,” he grins, teasing your entrance, “I said I’m going to take your pretty pussy from back here and Shōyō is going to use your mouth. If you want.”

Wiggling your hips back to meet his and craning your neck up to look at Hinata you give a deft nod.

“I do, I want that.” You sigh.

Trembling with excitement, already so riled up from feeling you cum against him, Hinata shuffles the last bit forward. He’s pretty and much thicker than you had imagined. The tight strain of scattered veins and his heavy balls tell you all you need to know about how pent up he obviously is. Reaching out with palms still a bit shaky, you helped to reel him in the rest of the way with welcoming, parted lips.

You wrapped your fingers tightly around where you couldn’t quite reach, sloppily taking more and more of him with each bob of your head. His salty precum meshed with what was leftover of your own mess, the taste making you moan around his length.

Bokuto was trying to move slower now, recognizing that you were easily slipping, but the way you rocked your body back and forth bumping against his sensitive, reddened tip, he couldn’t hold back much more. Digging his fingers into your hip, he eased the motions of your body, lining himself up, resisting from plowing into you at full force.

“Ready?” He asks, nearly whining. At the sound of his voice, you pull off from Hinata, letting your quickly tiring jaw grow slack.

“Uh-huh.” You barely heave out before wrapping your lips around him again. So sure you can take both at once and not falter, you ramp back up to your original pace, slobbering down his cock, the click of your quick motions echoing around your head. Unfortunately for your ego, you’re dead wrong.

Bokuto wastes no time drilling himself into you, setting a bruising pace straight from the beginning. It’s all you can do to loudly moan around Hinata’s cock, still stuffed in your mouth by the slight pistoning of his hips, the way Bokuto is ramming you forward only forcing him deeper down your throat.

As you gag, sputter, and moan down his length, drool dripping onto the already soiled cushions below, Hinata feels the pressure building and building in his core. Electricity tingles down his limbs, aided by the fucked out look in your pretty eyes. He doesn’t even have to move now with the way Bokuto is railing you against him. He wonders if you realize he’s close when you suck a little tight, cheeks hollowing as you take a little more of him, the hand that had been working his base coming down to lightly hold his swollen balls.

You don’t know. At this point, you’re moving on autopilot, simply trying your best. Your brain doesn’t know where to focus - Hinata filling out your mouth or Bokuto as he purposely alternates between hitting against your spongy spot and deep inside of you. It’s all a mess of spit, sweat, and cum, but you don’t think you’ve felt the rush of pleasure that comes with being used so well by more than one person.

Bokuto doesn’t know how much longer he can last. You’re clamping around, cunt fluttering each time his digs in a little deep or Hinata’s cock twitches against your tongue. He can tell by the scrunched up expression on his friend’s face that he can’t last much longer and he doesn’t blame him. Between fucking against your pussy and being wrapped up in your pretty mouth, no one really could. He’s determined to hold out though, a little spark of competition lighting up his chest. When Bokuto’s strokes suddenly slow you groan again, the vibrations dragging a stuttered moan from Hinata’s pretty lips.

“Gonna, hngh, uh gonna cum.” He sputters out, hips quivering as he tries to hold back from fucking too far back into your throat. At that, Bokuto’s hips speed up again, forcing a little whimpered cry, muffled by the cock in your mouth, from you. Still, you force yourself to focus on Hinata, sucking him dry as soon as the first spurt of cum hits the back of your throat.

He cums fast and hard and a lot. It’s seeping out from your lips, making him messier than he already was until he’s pulling his softening length from your mouth and flopping back against the couch, gently rubbing your arm while he catches his breath. With a heavy grin, Bokuto shoves a hand between your shoulder blades, knocking you into Hinata’s lap. Somewhat in vain, you try to clean him off between the pitchy mewls and cries that you breathe out while Bokuto chases his own release.

In no time, he’s there again, his own pressure built up as high as it could just before he burst inside of you. He fucks himself raw, your tight hole sucking him in, his cum only making it easier to slip in and out of you. Knowing he’ll finish when he’s completely spent, you lie limp in Hinata’s lap and he lazily wraps a hand around the back of your neck, soothing the leftover tension. You recognize Bokuto’s nearly done when his cock stops twitching and his hips slot against yours with some finality just before he slumps over you.

Whining when he slips out, even soft his cock is still a tight squeeze, you fall all the way against the couch, legs giving out at last. He falls back against the back, moving your legs to sit on top of his thighs and massaging them with great care. Completely spent and drifting half-asleep you just barely hear him.

“So,” he starts, head lolling toward Hinata who’s still lightly working his fingers against your upper back, “Dinner next week?”

[kylie-writes-stuff]

“wife”

pairing: corpse husband x reader (female)

words: 1,714

requested?: no (send some in tho pls :) )

plot/summary: felix invites his friend, y/n, to play among us when they need an extra player. her and corpse get along well

authors note: so this isnt that good and i know a lot of corpse fics use a similar plot. i just wanted to try to write for corpse. hopefully things i write for him in the future are better. let me know what you think tho! also i really wanted reader to be best friends with karl bc i love him sm. uh every swiggly line is like a small time skip. this was written late at night btw and i didnt take much time to go over it

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

You sat up from laying down when you heard your phone ring. You looked at the caller ID.

Felix.

"What's up Felix?" You ask with a small yawn.

"Aww, how sweet," You hear in the background.

You giggle and ask, "Is that Sean? Hi Sean!"

"Yeah, we're playing Among Us and need an extra player. You down?" Felix explained.

"Sure, just give me a few minutes. See you soon, whore"

"Bitc-" You hang up before he can finish.

You got up and turned off your TV, going to get ready. 

⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒

You quickly tweet out that you're going live and say something on your insta story as well. You start your stream and slowly watch people flood in.

"Hey everyone! How are you guys doing?" You wave and smile, reading the chat.

"Everyone doing good, awesome! And i'm sorry to anyone having a bad day. I hope i can brighten it a bit!"

"Okay, sorry i didn't give you a further notice. I didn't even know i was gonna stream. Felix invited me to play Among Us so... here we are!"

You quickly join the discord and pull up the game, putting a cover over where the code goes.

"Hello?" You ask as you join the call. A chorus of greetings came your way.

"(Y/n)?"

"Karl!" You smile brightly.

Karl Jacobs was a good friend of yours. You would play on the Dream SMP sometimes. When you would, it would mostly be you being stupid with Karl and Alex, also known as Quackity. You were even a well know citizen of El Rapids.

"LET'S GOOOOO!" He yelled, making you laugh.

"Hey (Y/n), do you know everyone here?" Sean asks you.

"Um," You quickly scan through the names, "no, i don't think so."

You recognized names but you only personally knew Felix, Sean, Karl, and Ethan.

"Oh my god! Your voice is so cute!" Pokimane exclaims.

You giggle softly, "Thank you Poki!"

You're voice wasn't high pitched or anything like that, you just always spoke very softly and calmly. You were also a bit quiet.

Felix introduces you to those that you didn't know.

"There's one more person we're waiting for," He says.

While everyone waits, you and Karl run around each other's little characters and make jokes between yourselves. You mute yourself to read donations every once in a while.

You hear the discord chime, signaling that someone joined the call.

"WAIT CORPSE! DON'T SPEAK YET!" Felix yelled. "We have a new player. This is my friend (Y/n), say hi to her"

"Hello (Y/n)," Corpse said. You were taken aback by how deep his voice was but you didn't show it.

"Hi Corpse! Nice to meet you!" You said happily.

"Okay, how is she not freaking out?" Bretman said, making everyone laugh.

"Uh, (Y/n), do you mind letting me have black? It's cool if not.." Corpse asked gently.

"O-oh sure, no problem." You were usually black with the pink flamingo hat, but you ran over to the little computer and changed your color.

"Simp," Ethan mumbled, knowing you never switch from black.

"Thank you," He said, then the game started.

The word “Imposter” appeared on your screen in red, yours and Corpse's characters underneath.

As the game started, you thought no one could hear you so you spoke to your chat. "His voice was so deep, what the fuck? Holy shit that was hot, i'm gonna-"

"(Y/n)," Rae laughed, "You know we're playing proximity chat, right."

You blushed as you realized and said "Ha, anyways..." and ran to start faking tasks.

You ended up in electrical with Karl. "(Y/n)! My good friend, my buddy, you would never kill me right? Haha..." He said.

"Of course not, Karl! My good friend, my buddy. Why, I'm not even imposter," I said as i quickly dipped into the vent and back out, making him laugh.

I decided to show him because I knew Karl wouldn't say anything, and it's funny.

"Oh that's good then. Are you sure you're not imposter?"

"Mhm, pretty sure," You said, going back in. As you came out, Sykkuno walked in and froze.

"Uh, (Y/n)?"

"Fuck... Karl run! Go!" You said, Karl starting to leave. You walked closer and quickly killed Sykkuno then vented to security.

"That was close..." You told your chat.

You saw Corpse as you made your way around the map and walked into navigation.

"Hey, Corpse, how ya doing?"

"Ah you know, good. Just being crewmate and all."

You stifled a laugh, "Oh yeah I feel that, buddy."

"Yeah because there's no way that i'm imposter. No way i could be faking tasks and there's no possible way you could be the other imposter" He said quickly.

"For sure. Hypothetically speaking, though, if you were imposter, how many people would you have killed by now?"

"I would say probably around two."

"Interesting," You said right before a body was reported. It was Sykkuno's. Felix and Rae were also dead.

"WHAT!" Corpse yelled.

"Where was the body at?" Sean laughed.

"Uh I found it in electrical," Bretman said.

"I'm pretty sure Karl was in there earlier."

You calmly said, "It's not Karl, I was with him for most of the round."

"How do we know the two of you aren't imposters?" Sean asked.

"I was alone with him, he would have taken the chance to kill me."

"No, he's your best friend."

"He's also ruthless,"

"TRUE! SO TRUE!" Karl yelled.

"So skip?" Corpse asked.

Everyone agreed and the voting was skipped.

The next round, I spent with Ethan. He was pretending to be mad at me because Sean said Karl was my best friend.

"What happened to Blue Boi Buddies, huh?!" He exclaimed.

"Neither of our hair is even blue anymore!" You argued back.

You were in reactor with him when Corpse and Poki walked in. He hit the lights and you took it as a sign to double kill. He killed Poki, you killed Ethan, and the two of you made your way to electrical to help fix lights.

You and Corpse went the opposite direction of reactor after the lights were fixed, Karl going with you.

Poki's body was reported. That double kill only left you, Corpse, Sean, Karl and Bretman. You only needed two more kills.

"I still think it's Karl and (Y/n)," Sean said quickly.

"I was with (Y/n) the whole time," Corpse said, "In fact, I think it's you."

"That does make sense. Why so quick to accuse others, Sean?" You ask.

"It's not me!" He yelled.

"I actually agree with Corpse and (Y/n)," Bretman said.

"I was with you!"

We all voted for Sean, him voting for Karl. Sean was ejected.

When you load into spawn, you wait for the kill cool down and kill Bretman, saving Karl.

"Victory" appeared on your screen.

"God damn it!" Sean yelled.

"Good job, (Y/n)," Corpse said lowly.

You smiled, a slight blush on your cheeks, "You too Corpse."

"Their voices go together and they're a fuckin dream team? What have i done...," Felix sighed.

⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒

A few more games went by. Most of them you and Corpse spent together, whether you were both crewmates or if one of you was imposter.

You really enjoyed his company and you actually got along with him pretty well.

⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒

"(Y/n), before we get serious, I have one question to ask you." Corpse said as both of your characters stopped.

"What's that?" You giggled.

"Do you know Bingus?"

"Bingus? As in, our lord and savior, Bingus?"

You could hear the smile in his voice, "It's settled, you're my wife now."

This made both of you laugh and your chat go crazy.

⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒

Eventually, people had to start leaving. You said your goodbyes to everyone and left the discord call and the game.

You set stream to where it was just your face cam.

"Guys, what should we do now?"

You saw some people asking what time it was for you.

"It's 3 AM right now... I’m not tired though.” You had been streaming for a few hours; You never even noticed how late it got.

People in chat were yelling at you to go to sleep, making you chuckle.

“How about we do a quick QnA, then at 3:30 I go to bed. Deal?”

You watched as the chat filled with questions. They obviously seemed to like the idea.

“‘Who is your best friend? Karl or Ethan?’ Neither, Alex Quackity. Next question.” You answered quickly.

You laughed, “I’d like to clarify that that’s a joke, i love all my friends equally.”

You answered more questions. Some were from new viewers asking basic questions, some were about future streams and videos. 

“‘How do you feel about people shipping you and Corpse?’“ People are already shipping us?” You laughed, “I’ve said before that I’m okay with shipping, as long as the other person is too. I think it’s funny.”

You continued to read chat. “Wait, we’re trending?”

You checked Twitter and “#(your and corpse’s ship name)” was trending in the US.

You laughed as you scrolled through the tag, “Oh this is so funny.”

“Fanart already?! You guys are so talented!”

You read chat, looking for more questions. You saw people telling you that it’s 3:30.

“Okay fine, a deal’s a deal. I hope you all have, or had, a great day and I’ll see you guys later. Depending on what time it is for you, you should also get some sleep. Stay hydrated, love you!” You ended stream.

⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒

You scrolled through Twitter as you laid in bed, liking fanart and dumb memes. Also replying to a few of your friends’ tweets.

karl :) @/KarlJacobs_

@/(your username) what the honk ?

*clip of you saying Quackity was your best friend*           

You liked the tweet and replied, “karl no,,, look away,,,”

You continued scrolling, feeling your eyes get droopy. Your eyes fell closed but quickly opened when your phone vibrated. It was a DM. 

From Corpse.

You two had followed each other earlier.

Corpse: hey (y/n), just wanted to say you’re really cool and i’d love to play again with you soon 

You smiled, a light blush spreading across your cheeks, and replied.

You: i’d love to, corpse

Corpse: ok, see you soon ‘wife’

You: back at ya, ‘husband”

Corpse: :)

You: :)

[m0srael]

Drunk Texts

For the @drarrymicrofic prompt: Love Letter

One balmy night in June, Harry’s lying in bed wide awake--unable to sleep again--when his mobile lights up on the nightstand. The only people who ever contact him on his mobile are Teddy (“All the cool wizards have them these days, Harry, please get one so I can send you memes!”) and Hermione, and neither of them would be texting this late.

Friday, June 6 2008, 1:27 AM

+445195555555: I’ve been hopelessly in love with you since we were sixteen, won’t shut my bloody mouth about you actually, can I take you on a date? I’m still very rich, all things considered, and know all the best restaurants in Wizarding Britain.

+445195555555: Maybe just a shag, then?

Harry: bloody hell, who is this??

Harry: This number is unlisted, I don’t know how you got it but I’m blocking it now. Kindly, fuck off.

+445195555555: WAIT

+445195555555: What do you mean, who is this? I thought muggle mobiles know who you’re talking to already.

Harry: Not if a strange person is texting in the middle of the bloody night from a number I’ve never seen before!

+445195555555: If you don’t want to date me or shag me just say so, Potter. No need to play hard to get and toss around insults

+445195555555: Unless that’s a thing for you, cheeky ;) ;)

Harry: Last chance, tell me who this is or I’m blocking your number.

+445195555555: Draco

+445195555555: Obviously ;)

Harry: Draco...Malfoy?

Harry: You expect me to believe Draco Malfoy is confessing his love and hitting me up for a shag at 1am. On a *muggle* mobile.

+445195555555: Believe it scarhead, now answer the question do you or do you not want to shag me

Harry: Look, you’ve obviously read one too many Prophet articles…

Harry: Somehow found my number...did you confund someone I know??

Harry: And thought that...pretending to be Draco Malfoy, of all people, would entice me to meet up with a total stranger?

+445195555555: Ooh, the logic of it all, Potter ;)

Harry: Stop doing that

+445195555555: what ;) ;)

Harry: The emojis. Malfoy would never use emojis.

+445195555555: You don’t know what I would or wouldn’t do anymore Potter. Would you like to learn? ;)

Harry: Fuck

Harry: Even if I believed you, I’ve never given Draco Malfoy my number. My *muggle* mobile number.

Harry: I’ve never given him my number because Draco Malfoy would never use a *muggle* mobile.

Harry:...among other reasons

+445195555555: Always so preoccupied with blood purity, Potter, haven’t you learned anything?

+445195555555: And there you go again, assuming that you know what I would and would not do

+445195555555: It really would be much more efficient if you just let me demonstrate

Harry: oh my god

Harry: I can’t believe I’m still messaging you

Harry: ffs, you have one chance to convince me that you’re really Malfoy otherwise I’m blocking you immediately

+445195555555: You are a tetchy one, hm?

+445195555555: Fine. You cornered me in a bathroom in 6th bc you were *obsessed* with me and tried to murder me using sectumsempra (which you claimed not to know the effect of, pft) but only because I tried to Crucio you and I would have died if Snape hadn’t found us and cleaned up your mess (again)

+445195555555: They definitely didn’t print THAT in the Prophet. Unfortunately.

Harry: Bloody hell um...okay…

Harry: Look, about that, Malfoy…

Harry: Wait, unfortunately…??

+445195555555: So you see, Potter, it is in fact I, Draco Lucius Malfoy, confessing my love and “hitting you up for a shag at 1am” as you so elegantly put it.

+445195555555: ;)

Harry: Okay. Malfoy, then. Jesus.

Harry: How exactly did you get my number?

Harry: For that matter, when did you get a mobile?

Draco Sodding Malfoy: I got it from Pansy, who got it from Ginny, you recalcitrant twat

Draco Sodding Malfoy: See, I can do the sexy insults thing, too :*

Draco Sodding Malfoy: And if you must know, Potter, I purchased a mobile years ago to stay in contact with my cousin, Teddy. Teddy Lupin. I think you’re acquainted? The little brat refuses to owl, apparently it’s “sooo medieval”.

Harry: Oh. That...actually makes sense. He said the same thing to me.

Harry: Hang on, Teddy isn’t a brat. I thought you two got on rather well…?

Draco Sodding Malfoy: Whatever, the point is I’m mad for you and I never told you because, well, there was the whole war thing and then the whole trial thing, and since then I’ve become a bit of a self-righteous coward. Also, I fancy myself something of a martyr. I think the constant pouting makes my mouth look more kissable, don’t you?

Draco Sodding Malfoy: We could do the dinner thing if we must, or you can just come round mine I can meet you there right now

Harry: Oh. You’re drunk.

Harry: Never pegged you as the type to get sloshed and text your ex-childhood-nemesis for a hookup

Draco Sodding Malfoy: not with that attitude you haven’t

Harry: Hah

Draco Sodding Malfoy: Not drnk

Draco Sodding Malfoy: Honestly, Potter

Draco Sodding Malfoy: Harry

Harry: weird

Draco Sodding Malfoy: I’ve seen the way you watch me when you think I’m not looking. You look at me like some lovesick teenager. Why deny what *literally everyone* can plainly see?

Harry: I do not look at you like a...lovesick teenager, Malfoy.

Draco Sodding Malfoy: Draco ;)

Harry: I do not watch you, DRACO.

Draco Sodding Malfoy: I only notice because I’m watching you too, Harry. All the time. I’ve been watching you for as long as I can remember.

Draco Sodding Malfoy: You’ve practically been the center of my universe since I was eleven years old, for Merlin’s sake. I think about you all the time. I miss you all the time, even when we’re in the same room.

Draco Sodding Malfoy: I mean I LITERALLY do not shut up about you I wasn’t exaggerating about that. It drives Pansy and Blaise, who have the patience and constitutions of actual saints and who are very, very good friends, absolutely mental and they’d like nothing more than to hex my mouth shut permanently.

Harry: um

Draco Sodding Malfoy: Admit it.

Draco Sodding Malfoy: You’ve wondered what it’d be like.

Draco Sodding Malfoy: Imagined it.

Draco Sodding Malfoy: Us

Harry: Malfoy…

Draco Sodding Malfoy: Draco

Harry: Draco…

Draco Sodding Malfoy: Yes, Harry? ;)

Harry: I...could do dinner.

Draco Sodding Malfoy: You could “do” dinner? That’s all, after everything I’ve just said, you can “do” dinner??

Harry: For the love of Merlin

Harry: Fine. You’re right, Draco. I...have wondered

Harry: About us, I mean

Harry: Ahh and actually Draco sometimes when I look at you I just want…

Friday, June 6 2008, 2:15 AM

Draco Sodding Malfoy: what

Draco Sodding Malfoy: you want what

Friday, June 6 2008, 2:48 AM

Draco Sodding Malfoy: harry

Friday, June 6 2008, 3:09 AM

Draco Sodding Malfoy: harry, bloody hell

Saturday, June 7 2008, 6:45 AM

Harry: Draco, I’m so sorry

Saturday, June 7 2008, 8:18 AM

Harry: My mobile died and I didn’t have my charger

Saturday, June 7 2008, 9:23 AM

Harry: Draco

Saturday, June 7 2008, 11:47 AM

Draco Sodding Malfoy: Potter, why on earth are you contacting me so early on a Saturday?

Draco Sodding Malfoy: Scratch that, why are you contacting me at all? Where did you get my number?

Harry: Oh, so you were drunk

Draco Sodding Malfoy: How is my present or past level of intoxication any of your concern?

Draco Sodding Malfoy: Oh.

Draco Sodding Malfoy: No.

Harry: Draco, what’s wrong? What happened?

Harry: Draco…?

Harry: I’m sorry, if I said something…

Harry: Look, YOU’RE the one drunk messaging ME at all hours of the night looking for a shag!

Saturday, June 7 2008, 7:08 PM

Draco Sodding Malfoy: Dear Harry,

Draco Sodding Malfoy: I hereby formally apologize for my previous messages. They are inappropriate and entirely out of line, do forgive me. Although it appears that Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson absconded with my mobile yesterday evening to, “have a bit of fun”, I take full responsibility for what has transpired. Do not report me, or something. I do hope you were not too offended. I will henceforth refrain from contacting you by this, or any other, means. I assure you that my traitorous, juvenile, back-stabbing, inconsiderate, so-called friends have been soundly reprimanded. You may expect their formal apologies via owl, posthaste.

Draco Sodding Malfoy: Apologetically, Draco L. Malfoy

Harry: Wow, uh, ok. I’ve never gotten a formal apology over text before. Did it take you...8 hours to write that?

Harry: And for the record, I knew something was up. We may not be best mates or anything but I know you wouldn’t use emojis like that.

Draco Sodding Malfoy: Oh, bugger off, Potter you had no idea it wasn’t me. You were ready to spill your innermost desires to a stranger on your mobile! Stupid Gryffindor.

Draco Sodding Malfoy: Ah.

Draco Sodding Malfoy: I mean, goodbye! So sorry, again, for the inconvenience! We will never speak again from this moment on!

Harry: Draco, wait

Draco ;): Merlin, what, Potter?

Harry: Harry

Draco ;): No.

Harry: Fine. Look, if you accept full responsibility, does that mean your offer still stands?

Draco ;): What offer?

Draco ;): No. It doesn’t, whatever it is.

Harry: Your offer to take me on a date.

Harry: ;)

Draco ;): Bloody...Potter, that wasn’t MY offer!

Harry: Perhaps not, but I’ve seen the way you watch me when you think I’m not looking...Draco.

Draco ;): Who is this? I’m blocking this number. I’m going to ask Pansy how to block a number.

Harry: Draco, I’m serious.

Saturday, June 7 2008, 9:14 PM

Harry: Draco, I can tell that you didn’t block my number.

Saturday, June 7 2008, 11:47 PM

Harry: Fine.

Harry: Draco, could I take you out for dinner some time? I know someone who knows all the best restaurants in Wizarding Britain.

Draco ;): …..

Harry: ?

Draco ;): If you must

Harry: If I must?

Draco ;): It's true that I'm still rich, all things considered, but you’re paying

Draco ;): ;)

[astriiformes]

What kind of unique names are you considering. Bc I know my dad tried to name me both Glorfindel and Aragorn but my mom wouldn't allow it.

Either congratulations on the near miss or sorry for your loss, whichever the case may be. I actually had a neighbor named Aragorn growing up, which I was always sort of delighted by. He was my littlest sister's age and I loved hearing her ask if she "could go over to Aragorn's house to play" (RIVENDELL??)

The potential last name I have picked out stands out a bit less than that though. I was sort of intentionally aiming for "Not actually a last name, but believably sounds like one" and landed on a name derived from a mythical creature that's personally meaningful to me that I am..... most likely going to go with, when I change my name. My only real concern is the instant shift in Googlability, but as someone aiming to be a writer among other things, I think that could be a plus in the end. We'll see, I suppose. I have been supremely anxious about all my name choices and thus haven't legally changed it yet even though I've been out as trans for uh..... four years now?

That said, if I do go for the unique one, I'll be in good company. My friend that I live with/qpp changed ser last name to a word in Elvish after getting divorced and two of my dear local friends picked the name of a Star Wars location for their shared last name when they got married. Turns out these things are anarchy and you can just kind of do whatever, actually.

[curiosity-killed]

Lang Qianqiu deserves more love goddammit: a post, unfortunately

This brought to you by the wonderful @veliseraptor & @/yuer on Twitter but also mostly out of spite and the fact that it’s preventing me from writing a very dumb poke-the-bear post abt the entire weird social media culture around The Minors

As always ✨SPOILERS!! SPOILERS EVERYWHERE✨

So first off: when I hit the scene where lqq confronts xl and screams “I will never be like you” I sat up in bed, did a little shimmy of delight, and hissed “fuck yes” at like 2 AM so. Now you have a preview of wtf this train wreck will be

1 ) lqq is a good character

We don’t get a ton of time with lqq because tgcf is 87 side characters running across stage with The Most Interesting Concept constantly one-upping each other before vanishing. But what we do get is, I think, enough to make a pretty compelling story: Lang Qianqiu is a kind and generous prince who is also the sole survivor of the bloody massacre of his entire family, committed by the people dearest to him (both in his belief that Gusohi Fangxin did it and in the reality of An Le’s involvement), who goes on to peacefully lead his fractious nation into a peaceful reign before he ascends as a powerful enough (aka beloved and worshipped enough) god to be ranked among the top heavenly generals. That’s like. Pretty fucking classic protagonist vibes right there.

And, as usual with mxtx’s characters, we get a lot more than this lovely little backstory. In his interactions in canon, lqq is capable of great grief and anger; he is willing to sacrifice himself if it means avenging his murdered family; and he simultaneously holds both great hatred and great respect for his old teacher. And, of course, he winds up raising and taking care of his enemy’s son which shows a remarkable depth of compassion and emotional messiness that I find terribly compelling. He struggles with a simplistic view of justice that is supported by lies told to “protect” him and that is uprooted by the truth and forces him to try to make sense of the world without the guardrails that others installed around him (looking at you mister fangxin sir).

Also I’m stealing my own tweets bc I’m Right but:

*pulls up single barstool to lqq is a good character table* I think it’s interesting & Says Things abt the continued relationship btwn lqq & xl that lqq *didn’t* recognize xl, implying that he left fangxin’s mask in place even when he went to kill him

Like here is the man who killed his family & best friend, who left him abandoned in bloodshed on his 17th bday—& here is also the man who saved his life, who taught him, who lqq looked up to & wanted to be like

Even when lqq *does* recognize xl, he still has so much respect for him paired with that hatred that it’s honestly rlly tragic? Like man. There’s so much grief in lqq’s repeated demands for a duel & insisting it’s fine if xl kills him as long as he doesn’t hold back

*pats lqq pompom* this bb is so sad. And so much more like his teacher than either of them seem to realize or necessarily want

Despite being a pretty minor character, lqq gets a lot of complexity and nuance! Look at this child trying to be grown up while desperately turning to his old master for guidance and “the truth”! Look at him! Be sad!!

2 ) lqq is an excellent parallel to xl

Okay stealing my own tweet again don’t look at me I yell the same shit everywhere

Xl didn’t want lqq to become like him (self-sacrificing, vengeful, alone) but lqq not only became alone, chasing vengeance, & willing to sacrifice himself for revenge—he also became kind, open-minded, & remorseful!! & he still clearly respects xl @ novel end 🙃🙃

We all know hc’s “they’re not very alike at all” and yeah sure baby go support your man but narratively, there’s a lot of importance given to cycles, parallels, and foils in mxtx’s writing and most explicitly (compared to mdzs, haven’t read svss) in tgcf. For example, *gestures at beefleaf, gestures at Xianle Trio vs Wuyogn Crew, gestures at Xie Lian & Jun Wu’s whole uh. Deal.* And while I’d argue xl and lqq are part of a triumvirate rather than a pair, we’re not including mister three-face in this conversation so just looking at xl and lqq:

Both adored and sheltered crown princes

Both taught by a guoshi who was seeking to prevent the repetition of their own tragedies and in their efforts, lied/omitted information and failed to protect their charge from tragedy

Both were betrayed* by their closest friends

Both are the last living members of their respective royal families

Both caught the interest of supernatural beings from a young age

Etc etc I’m getting v bored and distracted writing this so moving on

Most importantly to me, we have their betrayal by a very close and adored mentor and how they react. The confrontation I mention at the start of this shitshow is really imo one of the most important scenes in the novel because it a) illustrates the differences in xl and Jun Wu and b) sort of gives you a preview of how xl ultimately wins

So a) Jun Wu and Xie Lian both take a talented, marked-for ascension young prince under their wing. Jun Wu sees himself in the boy and obsesses over shaping him into Jun Wu’s own image in the belief that this will make him the perfect heir. Jun Wu pushes his chosen heir into situations where Xie Lian is repeatedly harmed in an effort to show that the common people are fickle and cruel and don’t deserve his compassion and care.

Meanwhile, Xie Lian is reluctantly roped into mentoring his prince due to his inability to stand aside when he feels he could do something to prevent hurt or injustice befalling another (simultaneously his great strength and great weakness! God I love him). Xie Lian tries to teach his student to believe in and care for the common people and not to sacrifice himself (see: flashback convo re:taking the force of the sword strike into his own body).

When Xie Lian refuses to bend in the shape Jun Wu demands, Jun Wu bashes his head into the wall. When Lang Qianqiu cries “I will never be like you!”, Xie Lian laughs and says “Good!”.

B) this of course feeds directly into foreshadowing! Like Lang Qianqiu’s bold words, xl ultimately refuses to become like his mentor and remains defiant even when it would stop him from being hurt. Xl beats lqq and says so what if I tricked you, so what if I lied, I still won. Naturally, xl beats Jun Wu not through standard swordplay but by using a trick he learned while forced to busk and wander the earth alone and unlucky for centuries.

…okay so I have fully forgotten what I was actually saying here! Anyway!

Like Xie Lian, Lang Qianqiu spends a time consumed with the need for vengeance, hunting his enemy and rejecting the heavens. And like Xie Lian, he winds up caring for his enemy’s “son” and trying to both comfort him and maintain what’s left of Qi Rong’s life force despite having previously been hellbent on destroying him—bc he sees the impact it has on another person. In the end, he even gives a gift to Xie Lian—his mentor, his role model, and the one who killed his father—that was once given to him as a symbol of unexpected kindness. Sound familiar?

But, importantly, and contradictory to what I have been yelling abt but whatever it’s 12:30 am, Lang Qianqiu is not a direct mirror of Xie Lian but a closing of a vital loop in the story. Lqq is very similar to xl (I will die on this hill!! Only I won’t bc I’m stronger than y’all and will keep swinging these pots and pans) but bc xl tries to do better and keep lqq from suffering the way xl has, lqq is able to have a gentler and more optimistic path forward. He’s proof that even a small act of kindness or even kindness to only one person still matters and has a ripple effect that can’t be seen when you’re in the middle of it—a thread started with xl giving the coral pearl to Lang Ying and closed with Lang Qianqiu returning the pearl to Xie Lian.

So I have no idea if any of this is coherent or compelling but I meant to be asleep two hours ago and the points are:

A) Lang Qianqiu is good actually

B) parallels!!!

C) look ive already started another wip about Lang Qianqiu and Xie Lian and I didn’t want this but no one else wrote it so now I have to so pls just accept this as a warning

*sort of air quotes around this for Xie Lian bc frankly Mu Qing was right & Xie Lian kicked feng xin out BUT on the other hand, it was experienced as a betrayal and we also again have all of Jun Wu’s shit so it evens out