#for every single decision i make now . like lmao what if i decided to do something big and i just . couldn’t

[undermostcorgi]

the media which consumes your entire soul at age 12 will forever be a part of you. this is an unavoidable consequence of living and you have to accept this fact. no matter how old you get, no matter how long it has been since you last saw its smug face peeking out from the bushes as it follows you, no matter if you think you have outrun it for good and that you're finally finally safe and you hardly even remember it exists anymore and your brain knows a few brief moments of true peace, it WILL catch up to you in your moment of weakness. and listen you don't want to hear this but sometimes this is necessary for your mental health. you will on instinct want to reject it and run away again but sometimes. sometimes you just need to watch that old show or listen to that silly song or read that weird book again as an adult and it will hurt you a little bit in various little ways but it will also heal you a little bit. you can call it nostalgia you can call it connecting with your inner child or whatever you want but just listen to me it WILL HAPPEN TO YOU TOO AT SOME POINT AND YOU HAVE TO BE PREPARED FOR THIS (i am forcibly dragged off the stage by security)

[heartshapedbi]

-

[gor3-hound]

paint the town red

ft. pyramid head x fem!reader

cw: 18+ content, dead dove, snuff(i think it counts for written work idk), big size difference, stalking, murder, physical injury, heavy non-con, gore, blood, violence, p in v, monster fucking

a/n: i'm so nervous to post this idek why 😭😭 um it's very dd:dne so proceed with caution! i lost followers after the cannibalism fic lets see if it happens again lmao

word count: 1k words

You've been running for so long that your lungs burn. In the distance, the loud screeching of the metal of that creature’s weapon grating along the concrete is the only thing letting you know he’s still hot on your tail. There's a heavy thumping of footfalls as he follows you, seemingly aware of every move you make. No matter how fast you run, he always seems to be close by, never faltering in his chase.

The fog is endless. The air is thick and starved of oxygen, making it harder to breathe and worsening your fatigue as you try to escape. You should be thankful for the creature's noise, as you can barely see two feet in front of you. You'd been drawn to this town, and now it would not let you go. Not until you had paid your debts - it appeared the Executioner himself would be the one to claim the price.

One wrong turn was all it took. It was so easy to get turned around in the fog, and you find yourself growing uneasy as an eerie silence settles around you. You can feel his presence, even if you can no longer hear him. There's an unmistakable terror that rises within you when he's nearby, like your subconscious can sense him even when there's no sign of him. The heavy thuds of his footsteps stop, and your steps falter as you try and figure out where to go next.

You didn't get the chance to make that decision.

You hear the familiar screech of his blade dragging along the floor right behind you, but before you can run, a strong arm settles around your waist, dragging you back against the hulking figure. He doesn't speak as he grabs hold of you, but you can hear the heavy breaths coming from underneath his large, triangular helmet.

You try your best to fight your way out. No matter what you do, he doesn't flinch. His breathing doesn't change. There's not a single sign that you're even hurting the thing. You kick back against his legs, hard enough that if he was human, his knees would give out. You claw, scratch, punch…

Nothing works.

He drops his weapon, and you don't stop panicking. He's no less intimidating without it - his hulking figure is a looming presence over you, and you're sure that he could snap every bone in your body without even trying. You scream as loud as you can, your throat turning scratchy and your ears ringing at the sound.

It doesn't matter. Nobody's coming to help you, and the creature only gets more excited by your torment. When you feel the evidence of his excitement, your blood runs cold.

You can feel his hardening cock pressing against your back, and you know any attempt to fuck you would kill you. It was long, and probably thicker than your forearm. You beg for him to let you go, plead until your voice grows weak. It just watches with sick satisfaction, waiting for the moment you give up and go limp in his arms.

In one fluid motion, he's got you pinned to the floor. His hand is harsh against the back of your head, slamming you hard enough against the ground that your nose breaks, blood pouring out steadily. You scream in agony, and the thing behind you lets out a pleased grunt, reaching under his bloodied apron to free his cock.

It ignores you as you beg for him to stop - to just kill you. His large hand rips right through your jeans and panties, leaving just enough access for him to push inside of you. It grows increasingly frustrated as any attempts at entry fail, eventually deciding to stop playing ‘nice’ and just thrusting his hips forward as hard as he can, tearing right through you.

Your throat is raw from how much you're screaming, your fingers clawing helplessly at the concrete below you. Your thighs are coated in a wet substance, which you vaguely register must be your own blood.

You're sure you're going to pass out soon. The pain has your body going numb, your body growing slack underneath him as he begins to thrust. Your mind tries to go somewhere else, but it's impossible to ignore the intrusion. Your stomach bulges grotesquely, the outline of the monster's cock visible even as he pulls back before slamming back in.

Your pulse weakens as he forces himself further inside, thrusting as deep as he can manage. You're barely conscious, bleeding and drooling all over the concrete beneath you. His thrusts falter slightly, and you feel a flicker of hope that this would all finally end.

Hope that is quickly ripped from you as soon as he grips your neck from behind, his hand squeezing your throat and cutting off all your oxygen. Good things don't survive in Silent Hill, and you should have known your brief respite wouldn't last. You raise your hands to try and pry him away from you, but it's no use. He's too strong, and you're too weak, only seconds away from passing out.

His thrusts resume, knocking you forward jnti his vice-like grip on your throat. You hadn't even had a chance to say goodbye to your family. No one would know where to look for you - you'd just become another body lost to the horrors of this town.

Your chest heaves as you struggle to take in breaths. Your body consorts unnaturally as he starts to tug you back into his thrusts, a sickening crunch echoing in the air before he drops you back to the ground, your lifeless body thudding against the concrete.

The pain finally stops, the release of death smothering you like a warm blanket. The Executioner peels away from you, your blood joining the other victims’ on his apron. His punishment has been delivered, and he returns to stalking the town of Silent Hill, his knife dragging along the floor with that sickening sound echoing through the fog.

[piplup335]

Subspace & a reader who is a toxic player!

HEYA, FELLAS!!!

sry I didn’t have time to write, I was quite busy these few days ;-; but hey, now I have time to write! I’m just cramming out whatever time I have to finally rest and finish up reqs :D

honestly I like writing for you all, so I’m not a fan of going inactive LMAO

anyway, enjoy!

requested by…yeah, you already know who you are, you just don’t wanna admit it. I know who you are :)

-

"At last."

Subspace could feel the smugness radiating off of Medkit as he fired a crystal, instantly healing his teammates. Subspace had tried to chase after and take down the other team's Shuriken for one and a half minutes, only to get shot and taken down by Medkit himself, his sworn enemy.

Or rather, Subspace himself didn't try to take down Shuriken.

It was the player. The one controlling him.

More specifically, someone named (Y/N). He overheard the name when someone yelled at them to keep quiet…and judging by the tone, it seemed like this wasn’t the first time.

Deep down, Subspace never wanted to fight anyone. He just wanted to stay in his lab in Blackrock, tinkering on his newest experiments and inventions, improving the Biografts he held so dear to him...after all, the Biografts were the "people" he truly felt close to, the beings he saw as children.

But no, the creators of the endless game he was trapped in pulled him out of Blackrock for ungodly amounts of time, only being able to leave when the server was shut down for maintenance or when the game was closed for updates.

He rarely even got to see his creations as often, only being able to catch sight of them in what the players called a "lobby" or during one of the matches. Regardless of whether Biograft or Hyperlaser was on the same team as him or not, a familiar sight was always appreciated.

To the players, it was just an average video game where you use random characters and fight each other with swords and stuff.

To Subspace, it was hell.

He wanted to be left alone to work on his creations in the eternal winter of Blackrock.

But no, he had to be pulled out of the comfort of his lab just to fight people, most of whom he had never met before.

He didn't even have control of his actions either- everything was decided by the player.

The player. Subspace shuddered at the thought.

He always hated losing control of his body, watching helplessly as the player controlled his every movement. Controlled where he walked, who he attacked, how he attacked...Subspace couldn't even run to save his life if he wanted to.

Sometimes, whoever the player was would be nice to him. On those days, the player would make smart decisions to avoid death, allowing him to effortlessly eliminate multiple opponents by utilising his poisonous tripmines to shred the opposing team's defences.

In other scenarios such as this one, however, the player controlling him was terrible.

They would make the worst possible choices, immediately charging into battle even though he was meant to attack from a distance. They never used his crystals effectively, missing the opportunity to immobilise and slow down his opponents...they made so many bad decisions it was almost impressive.

Today, however, seemed a lot worse.

Not only did this one player, (Y/N), suck at utilising his abilities, but he would also curse him out for being "bad" and "useless".

And now, here he was. He was faced with a death screen with his limp body on the ground as Medkit ran past him to heal the rest of his team.

The player had spent almost two minutes trying to take down a SINGLE PLAYER. The amount of misfires on other people was impressive at that point...

And now it was all for nought.

"Damn it! You suck at this! I spend so much time trying to kill someone and I can't because you do less than 5 hitpoints for your normal attack!"

Subspace internally groaned at this. He was not allowed to cry out loud or make a sound outside his usual voice lines- that would alert the player that he and the others were self-aware about these phights being nothing more than a game.

He forced himself to keep his mouth shut.

Subspace was irritated- he wanted to yell out loud, retort at the player and get some common sense into his head. He wanted to instruct the player as to how to properly play him so that maybe, just maybe, the player could shut up for thirty seconds.

He was tired of seeing the death screen so many times in one match. By then, he had seen it seven or eight times in four minutes and was slowly getting tired of it.

He just wanted to break free from the puppeteer's grasp.

He just wanted to get out of the lobby. He wanted to head to Crossroads, down the familiar concrete path back to Blackrock. He just wanted to put on a warm coat amidst the everlasting blizzard in his faction.

The blizzard gave him a warmth in his chest...a warm feeling that reminded him of home.

"One last minute..." Subspace thought. One more minute, and he could rest for another thirty seconds...until being pulled straight back into another nightmarish round, another round where he'd experience the constant and tedious cycle of spawning, being controlled, getting killed, spawning again...

He wished he could go home, back to Blackrock. He did not like it here.

As the round ended, Subspace got a glimpse of the results screen.

He was last. Again. With thirteen deaths, zero kills, and only two assists.

“Darn it! Why’d I even pick you? Your damage output is trash!”

Subspace could hear (Y/N) let out a string of profanities upon seeing another loss. Just as Subspave thought all was lost and he’d die from madness after all this, he heard Zuka announce something- something he had yearned to hear for the past thirty minutes.

“Phighters- I got a message from the developers. Server’s gonna shut down, maintenance is happening soon.”

Five seconds later, Subspace felt energy return to his joints as he stumbled onto the floor.

Subspace tried moving his arm, then went on to flexing his fingers. It worked.

He let out a sigh of relief. It was finally over.

One by one, other phighters around the lobby stumbled and toppled over as they regained energy in their joints as the players got kicked.

The puppeteers were gone.

Zuka gestured into his van.

“We’re going back to Crossroads. Hop in.”

As the familiar tower in Crossroads emerged in the distance, Subspace finally let his shoulders relax. He was closer to Crossroads, closer to his laboratory, closer to his home…

Subspace wouldn’t need to fight his beloved Biografts like he was forced to in phights. It always tore him apart to attack his creations, the very things he had worked so hard to perfect…the closest thing he had to a true companion.

But now, he could rest.

Other phighters lounged around in Crossroads. Rocket could be seen making small talk with Sword

Hyperlaser and Katana could be seen heading to the nearest bar.

All the phighters seemed to want to have a chat with someone else before heading back to their respective factions.

Instead, Subspace trudged down the path to Blackrock without saying a word, exhausted and irritated from everything that happened.

Biograft spotted this and immediately sprinted towards his creator.

“I just don’t get it!! Why me?? Why do I always seem to get the most talentless players?? I can see their stats and half the people who play me are newbies!!”

Biograft listened. That was his task, anyway- to identify the needs of his creator and adapt to them. And right now, Subspace needed a listening ear- someone who would listen to all his woes about the day.

“Why am I even doing this?? It’s been a week without seeing a player that knew their stuff!! Dear Illumina, WHY?!”

Biograft may have been a robot, but he was programmed to understand what his creator needed and how to respond.

If he needed food, Biograft could cook up a meal.

If he needed a certain tool, Biograft could bring Subspace his trusty toolbox.

But right now, all Subspace needed was some comfort.

The duo trod back to the familiar snowy landscape of Blackrock in silence. Biograft knew that his creator just wanted to go home. He didn’t have the energy for this.

Back in the lab, Biograft listened to Subspace.

The lab was Subspace’s haven, the only place where he felt comfortable enough to let loose.

Subspace spent so much time in the lab, more time than in his own house so much so that Biograft would often worry for its creator. Subspace would then reassure it, saying that he’s just doing what he enjoys. Never once would Biograft ever see Subspace at his workstation without his concentrated expression, only changing when Subspace chuckled softly every time a component worked as intended.

But today was different.

Subspace was resentful of the player, and back in his lab was where he finally let out all his pent-up rage.

Upon entering the lab, Subspace collapsed onto a nearby chair, groaning in annoyance.

“That little sh-!! I did what I could to accommodate his stupidity, but what did he do?? Curse me out, that’s what!!”

Subspace got up, pacing around and stomping on the ground to emphasise his point.

Biograft watched his creator. It could hear everything the player said, and despite being on the opposite team, it could almost feel a sense of empathy towards his creator, deep down in his processors.

“And do I have a damn choice as to whether or not I get controlled?? No!! This crap is all part of a VIDEO GAME, and I don’t have a say as to whether or not I participate!! Can’t I like, call in sick??”

Subspace picked up a screwdriver and was about to hurl it at the wall…but he paused, looked at the tool, and set it back down on his workbench.

He collapsed back into the seat, groaning in annoyance.

“…apologies, Biograft. It’s been a rough day…and I finally get to let loose.”

Understanding his situation, Biograft’s processors whirred to life, processing the new information. The soft hum of the processor was the only sound in the lab as Subspace lay on the chair.

As Biograft’s processors grew silent, it walked over and put an arm around its creator.

For once in a long time, Subspace felt some warmth.

And it wasn’t from his usual coat.

-

thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed!

if you do have feedback, please drop it in the comments so I can improve my writing for you guys! :D

[blossomwritesthings]

𝐝𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝? 𝐢𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞. | 𝐧𝐨 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐞𝐥𝐬𝐞

part seven of do you feel my hand? it is there. | part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six | part eight | part nine | part ten | part eleven | part twelve

pairing: minho x fem!reader (afab)

genre: veterinarian!minho (this includes a few of the skz members working in his clinic). client!reader. hurt/comfort. angst. fluff. smut - MDNI, 18+ only. reader pov. strangers to lovers au. slowburn romance. lots of pining.

content & warnings: explicit & strong language. very thematic elements. minho is reader's vet. reader is now his past client. drinking alcohol and getting drunk/tipsy is mentioned. this is the first part of the spicy stuff. 18+ warnings under cut.

word count: 3.0k

summary: dr. lee minho is known throughout your area as the city's hottest veterinarian, and he's also the very man that's been taking good care of your two cats for the past three years. but one day, you're thrown down a dark path of heartache when the cat that you've grown up with - nyx - is diagnosed with an acute form of bone cancer. burdened with the hardest decision of your entire life, you come at a crossroads of what to do. and throughout it all, minho is the single most person who continually stays by your side.

18+ warnings: explanations of sexual fantasies/daydreams. minho and reader are extremely horny for each other. making out and some slight heavy petting. stripping/strip tease. softdom!minho. subby!femreader. slight teasing from minho. the beginnings of mutual masterbation. minho is pretty demanding but in a sweet way (don't get me wrong tho, his commands are hot as hell). pet names (sweetheart, pretty, darling).

a/n: I've got about 3 parts left to write of this (the next two parts are already done and edited), and I've decided to put this on a 2-day posting schedule. so I will post the remaining parts every two days. I'm doing this because 1.) I really want you guys to read the next few parts lmao- I ADORE all of your reactions to everything, and 2.) I want to move on to bigger and better things and I'm not the type of writer that can work on multiple creative projects at once. 💀 hope you guys enjoy this part, and let me know your thoughts in the comments/reblogs/asks!! 💞

🐈‍⬛ - ̥۪͙۪˚┊❛ other cool stuff ❜┊˚ ̥۪͙۪◌! ࿐ྂ

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. . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋ skz fic recs [sfw ver]! ࿐ྂ

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ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʀᴇᴘᴏsᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ sɪᴛᴇs (ᴛʜɪs ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇs ᴛʀᴀɴsʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴs). ©ʙʟᴏssᴏᴍᴡʀɪᴛᴇsᴛʜɪɴɢs ⤐ ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛs ʀᴇsᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ

He kissed you like it was something he couldn’t live without. As if he was suffocating and you were his only supply of oxygen.

 His lips felt plush in all of the right ways - just like how you imagined them - his practiced pace signifying his experience with such torturing displays of affection. 

 He kissed you as if you weren’t optional. Made you forget everything that had happened and everything that stood before and between the two of you. Suddenly, you were forgetting all of the past hurts, all of the past struggles. As his mouth moved against yours in that perfect, ethereal kind of way. 

 When he pulled away, he took the breath right out of you - grasping a tight hold over the thing and yanking it right out of your very being. 

 You were but a mere puddle of loose limbs and flesh underneath him, eyes wide with a mix of surprise and satisfaction. And as you ran a few absent fingers over your mouth, you noticed the puffiness there. The way he’d made you delightfully kiss-swollen. 

 “I hope that wasn’t-” He began, much to your demise, to question your pleasure over the fact that he just passionately made out with you.

 You silenced him with a few extra kisses for good measure, sliding away from the line of his mouth reluctantly, the seductive pull of his warm tongue. “That was everything I could’ve dreamed of and more.” 

 He rose a dark, manicured eyebrow your way, eyes shining with that distinct light of happiness and lust. “Oh? So you’ve thought about me in your dreams then?” 

 Feeling the sudden creep of a flush travel up the length of your neck, before pooling in either of your cheeks, you bit down hard on your bottom lip, reveling in the way that it was still puffed from his arduous torment. “I thought about you late at night for a very long time.”

 The hand that had been resting at your hip for so long gripped a little harder, bunching the silken fabric of your dress between nimble fingers. Minho pressed into you, the knee that was still between either of your legs hiking up a little further. Almost reaching that sensitive, warm spot of yours, but not quite. He bent forward, lips ghosting over the shell of your ear, teeth coming down on the lobe and biting gently.

 “And what kind of thoughts did you have all alone in your bedroom, hmm?” He mused in a low, guttural voice that you had never heard from him. Then again, you had never been in such a precarious position with him before. So everything was new. A tiny gasp fled from your lips upon the contact that his mouth made with the side of your neck, as he trailed feather-light kisses down your exposed flesh. 

 You were still donning your matching shawl, but at that moment, you wished for nothing more but for him to completely rip it off of your body in a desperate attempt to get at you. “I-I'd often fantasize about how you’d treat me… so delicate and loving, like how you always did when I had a visit at the clinic, like how I watched you treat all of the animals you took care of…” 

 Voice trailing off at the feel of his teeth nipping into the skin of your clavicle, you all but shuddered against him. The front of him was pressed so close to you, you could practically feel the growing bulge in his pants. 

 He laved his tongue over the spot that he had bitten down on, kissing the slight sting away, before continuing, “Go on, darling…” 

 The pet name was entirely something new. And if he didn’t have a firm hold over your entire being right then, you were sure that you’d have fallen right to the ground in shock. 

 Because Lee Minho…

 Calling you darling-

 And the worst part about it was that you knew it was only the beginning. 

“I’d touch myself, late at night, after a long work day… envisioning that it was you doing such sinful things to me,” you muttered between clenched teeth, as his lips continued to trace a burning path down the part of your chest that was exposed from your shawl. “I’d imagine that it was you- fingers deep inside of me, lips sucking me dry, hands grabbing onto me, hips thrusting into mine so flawlessly.” 

 This time, it was Minho who jerked against you. He backed away just slightly from your neck, offering you a dimly lit smirk. “I swear- you will truly be the death of me, sweetheart.” 

 Sweetheart, 

 Sweetheart,

Sweetheart. 

 It all sounded so wonderful coming from him - like an ancient, foreign prayer fallen from the lips of a beautiful, innocent angel. Expect the position the two of you were in - and the way his mouth trailed over your skin - was anything but innocent.

 You reached out, tracing a careful index finger down the center of his chest. Touching the one thing you had been focusing on all night long. Finally coming in contact with that bare flesh, that had been exposed for so many hours. “And what about you?” You questioned, peering up into his dark, blown-out pupils. They were darting across your face. Almost like, he had to capture this exact moment in his memory forever, lest he forgets it in his old age. “Did you ever think about me?” 

 “Fuck- every single minute of every single day, pretty,” that caused your tracing of his chest to halt, as your heart tripped over itself in surprise. In the back of your mind, you felt the hands that had been resting on either of your hips for so long migrate behind you, fingers grabbing palmfuls of your ass. “I thought about you as soon as I woke up, all day when I was at work, and especially- when I was home alone at the end of the day.” 

 Your nails raked down his exposed pecs, playing with the tiny silver zipper that was almost completely at his waist. “Really?” You flashed him a soft grin, as you leaned up and pressed a few kisses against the corner of his mouth. “What did you imagine in such moments?” 

 He turned his head then, pressing his lips against yours in a full kiss that soon turned breathless, his tongue slipping past your teeth and tasting you ardently. “I envisioned you in so many different filthy ways- beneath me, mouth hanging open as you screamed out my name in ecstasy, perfect fucking tits bouncing with every movement, legs coming around me every time I pounded into you so good.” 

 You clutched at his forearms then, moaning into his mouth and melting into all of the kisses and caresses that felt straight from heaven. “Please, Minho-”

 Minho grabbed at your ass a little firmer at the words that spilled from you. 

 Because finally- 

Finally, you were calling him by his name. 

 And it felt fucking good. 

 So good, that you almost felt addicted to it. You liked the way it curled around in your mind, falling from your mouth and sweetening your tongue all at once. 

“If you do that again, I won’t be able to stop myself.” He mumbled against your mouth, breathing in your scent and screwing his eyes shut in anguish. 

 “And what if I don’t want you to stop?” 

 Your confession came out hushed, something only meant to be kept between the two of you. 

 And all at once, you watched the emotions shift rather effortlessly in him - going from barely restrained passion to an outburst of ravenous hunger. His hands were clutching onto you harder and then he was hoisting you up into the air before you could even comprehend what was happening. Heart beating painfully inside your chest, you clutched at his neck and held on tight. Not a word was passed between the two of you as he moved with swift legs. 

 In but a few mere blinks, he had you in what you assumed was his bedroom. It was decorated simply, just like the rest of his house was. Then he was practically throwing you onto the bed, staring down at your barely clad form from the edge of the mattress. 

 “Take off the shawl. I want to see you.” He demanded in a steely voice. The one he had used earlier that night when he had been frustrated with everything during the party. 

 But he wasn’t frustrated now, and you came to realize that the steeliness had always been from... arousal. 

 When Lee Minho was fucked over with want, he turned cold and spoke with chilled venom in his words. 

 And that realization just made the pool of wetness between your thighs gather at a faster rate than ever before. 

Without a word of protest, you stripped yourself of the shawl, showing off the rest of you that had been covered up all night. Revealing the way that the neckline of your mini dress scooped so low, it showed more than half of your tits. 

 “Fuck,” he grunted out, running a frantic hand through his hair. He couldn’t take his eyes off of your chest, staring twin holes into the way your dress teased at the full exposure of your bosom. “I’m suddenly so glad that you never took that off- the guys would’ve surely gone crazy over you before I had any fucking chance.” 

 “That’s why I wore it in the first place,” you moved the thin shawl away, throwing it across the bed as your focus never strayed from his face. From the way that he fully took you in, eyes ravenous with so much love and lust. You felt your chest rise and fall with your short breaths, air constricting between your lungs as you tried to breathe through the arousal that was clawing up your throat in the form of an unchecked moan. “And besides, I never would’ve let any of them touch me even if I had taken it off during the party… I only wanted you to see this part of me. Only you get a taste of my most-sacred parts.”

 Minho tilted his head to the side then, bearing his teeth in an ominous grin. 

 It seemed like a wicked thought crossed his mind. 

 A shrewd and cruel one, but if the cruelty entailed him using you as his very own plaything, you were more than willing to give in to his cruelty. 

 The look of him- standing there, lording over you at the edge of the bed, so close, yet so far all at once, forced a shiver to run down the length of your spine. 

 “Dress off, now.”

 Just by the tonal shift, you could tell that his patience was wearing thin. He had been suppressing his desires for so very long, that he evidently couldn’t handle wasting another minute of not doing anything about his… predicament. It was as clear as day by the front of him, and the view of the hardening tent in the middle of his black trousers caused your stomach to flip over in a twirl of summersaults.

 You shucked your dress off in one fluid movement, laying back on one of the downy pillows in nothing but your lingerie set, which was designed in a simple nude lace. Minho audibly swallowed, examining you with those fire-lit eyes, a set jaw, and pursed, puffy lips.

 “Is this good enough for you?” You asked, fingers rising to twirl a lock of your hair between your fingers. Your legs were splayed out in a straight line before you, not giving away anything before he made his next move. Taunting him, in the best way you knew possible. By not revealing yourself. 

 Without another word, Minho was slinking away from the bed. Your eyes tracked his form, as he took a seat in the nearby armchair. It was placed off to the right of the bed, close enough that you were only a few steps away. The moonlight that shone through the curtained window cast across his form, painting his shoulders and cheekbones in a ghostly kind of glow.

 He leaned back in the plush cushions, folding his arms across his chest and leveling you with that sly smirk of his that you had never seen before. Not once, had he ever used it on you during your visits to the clinic. And not once, did it ever appear when he was dealing with others. 

 But all at once, it seemed so familiar to you. 

 Like you had lived your entire life acknowledging it, 

 Recognizing it, 

 And becoming roused by it. 

 “Show me.” 

 His words didn’t come out as demanding as before. Rather, they were grave and wavering. But they left an even bigger impact than the former. 

 Because in using such a soft, saccharine tone on you, he was demonstrating how he already knew you. 

 Knew you so well, like the back of his hand. 

 And how you absolutely melted whenever he’d speak to you in such a way- 

 Whether it had been at the clinic, during a visit, 

 Or when the two of you were on a late-night phone call before Nyx had passed, 

 Even when you guys had chatted together in the front office the night you had rushed over in a bumbling panic. 

 So no, he didn’t have to use strong words on you. Didn’t have to speak to you harshly, or demand anything. 

 Because you were already his. 

 From the very beginning, you had always been his. 

 The exact day the two of you met, all those years ago, during your first visit to the clinic, the two of you had known - whether subconsciously or consciously. 

 That there would be no one else. 

 So he regarded you with that same gentleness, eyes softening your way and limbs fluid as he sat there. He canted his head to the side, awaiting your next move. 

 He didn’t press, he didn’t rush, he didn’t do… anything. Just stayed silent, wondering how you would react to his words. 

 You felt the warmth of a flush creeping up the length of your neck, and you captured your bottom lip between your teeth as you tried to make sense of what he had just said. “W-What?” You didn’t mean to stutter. No, you meant to seem strong and in control. But then he was talking to you so smoothly, studying you with those deep brown eyes so lovingly, and you were a goner. A fumbling, stuttering goner. 

 “You said you like to touch yourself to the thought of me, so show me,” he said, raising an eyebrow your way from your obliviousness. But then the words hit the forefront of your mind, and it felt like your cheeks were on fire from how furiously you blushed. The heat pooling in the pit of your stomach shot down the middle of your body, swirling in your core and lighting the blood in your veins in a frantic kind of way. “Show me what you do to yourself when you’re all alone… show me how you touch yourself, while you have me infecting your mind.” 

 “I-I can’t.” You suddenly blurted out, heart pounding in your chest, as the butterflies danced a wild routine in the very depths of your soul. 

 That same smirk was pulling at the corners of his lips again, at your embarrassed state. “And why is that, darling?” 

 “B-Because…” Your voice trailed off, as your fingers played with a loose piece of string that you found in the bed’s thick duvet comforter. “I… the things I did, during those times, are hardly appropriate.” 

 Minho’s maniacal laugh, which was high-pitched and unruly, forced your eyes to shoot up at him. His irises were a little darker than before, but he still had that delicate look on his face. As if Everything you were saying sounded pleasant to him and this was all just a fun game to him. 

 “What’s so funny?” A cold sweat broke out across your brow, as you watched him regard you with mirth. You found yourself frowning at the outward display of humor. 

 Minho’s eyes raked down the length of your then, catching on the way that your bosom rose up and down with your hasty breaths. His lips parted slightly like he wanted nothing more but to come over to the bed and have a feel of them for himself. But then he was focusing back on your stare, offering you that easy, swoon-worthy smile of his. “I just find it hilarious, how you’re worried about propriety when you’re literally sitting there half-naked and I’m sitting here with a raging boner.” 

 At the mention of his hardness, you swallowed down a groan of agony. Because truly, you wanted nothing more but to see him - touch him, in so many different places. But he still had on those damn cargo pants and that damn shirt with the zipper on it. The thing was pulled so low that his stiff pecs peeked out every time he moved. 

 A beat of silence encased the room, 

 Trapping the tenseness between you, 

 Wrapping around the two of you and squeezing the very life out of your body. 

 And just like that, you found your hands moving on their own. Involuntarily, without any more arguing. Without any more talking. Without any more coaxing from him. 

 Because none of it was needed. 

 All he needed to do was speak - let the remarks flow from those beautiful, perfectly-sculpted lips, and you were heeding to his every demand. 

 Hell, if Minho asked you to kill for him, you’d probably do it. 

 If it meant having him flash you that easy smile, with those brilliant, pearly-white teeth, 

 If it meant having his chestnut-brown irises catch on your form every time you so little as breathed, 

 If it meant having those big, veiny arms holding you down, hands adoring you so wonderfully, 

 Then fuck yeah- you sure would kill for him. 

To be continued...

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©ʙʟᴏssᴏᴍᴡʀɪᴛᴇsᴛʜɪɴɢs⤐ ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛs ʀᴇsᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ

[zosonils]

Wait, no, actually, tell me about the Scribblenauts timeline. I must be real... I like it too. I love unifying timelines where things seemingly just happen, tell us!

scribblenauts fans rise up >:] to be clear this isn't an attempt to sort out the canon timeline [although if you asked i'd guess unlimited > scribblenauts > super > unmasked based on the few splinters of plot we get] but rather taking inspiration from the scraps of story available to build something new and coherent, although at this stage 'coherent' isn't super accurate lmao it's just islands of solid ideas amidst a sea of autism nonsense

basically i'm deciding that the doppelganger's presence in 10-5 of super counts as a plot and slapping that on top of the more consistently defined world and lore of unlimited and onwards [so kind of what unmasked and the subsequent comic did but batman isn't there], with an added sprinkle of the 'scribblenauts being an actual organisation that maxwell is involved in' thing that never made it past background details in the first game. while unlimited arguably has the most iconic and/or existent plot and for sure i want lily to be a deutragonist i'm not sure how much of it i'll retain because 1. turning your daughter into stone is bad parenting 2. let her tag along and be an actual character instead of a literal rock you cowards and 3. the more super-inspired storyline i have in mind with the doppelganger is probably enough to carry the emotional intensity of a mostly lighthearted story by itself and i don't want to bog things down with too many subplots lol

i'm absolutely reading too deep into this kiddie game but i think the doppelganger as an antagonist of maxwell's own creation reflecting all his worst traits would be super interesting in an environment that puts more consistent and deliberate thought into character writing, so that's the idea i'm basing this autism-powered rehash on. i don't think it's ever actually specified but when i was a little sporelet playing scribblenauts unlimited for the first time i somehow got the impression that starites grant wishes? which is cute so i'm using that as maxwell's motivation to join the scribblenauts and seek them out, that he wants to collect enough to wish for something cool and superficial that a 12ish [?????] year old kid would want. but then after lots of adventures and character development when he's in the dramatic final confrontation with his doppelganger and has matured enough to see him as a distressed kid in uniquely terrifying circumstances rather than just an annoying knockoff he instead uses his wish on giving doppelganger the chance to be a normal kid with a normal life because he wants to make kind decisions now. then i guess they all go home and nobody dies in a scripted ufo explosion

this post is getting toooooo long so i'm gonna try and wrap it up now but god i already have so many ideas rattling around my head for an autism reawakening that could be over in a week lmao. now i'm even sadder that my computer is busted because i want to replay unlimited and refresh my lore so badly..... there's a fandom page [breezewiki sweep though] for the series which has helped refresh my memory but none of the sources are cited it's a nightmare. what do you mean maxwell and lily are twins for the love of god give me a single screenshot or manual scan that mentions this

also i didn't have a good place to insert this but even though edgar and julie having 42 kids is obviously a Silly Joke and excuse to give unlimited some unique characters i am choosing to interpret it as them being experienced foster carers. i don't care to sort through every single character and decide which if any are biologically related to each other lmao but adopted/foster families are swag as hell and there should be more of them in media! it also adds a nice layer to the doppelganger plot - maxwell is more willing to reach out to him because he's seen 'angry bitter kid who will only get better with kindness' in a lot of his brothers and maybe himself, and it gives doppelganger an easy place to go for his happy ending because maxwell's parents are experts at taking in kids like him. didn't want to end this post without mentioning this because i'm already suuuper attached to the concept

[laladellakang]

dark moon: webtoon 13-17(?)

masterlist | wattpad

dark moon: the blood altar (webtoon ver.) chapter 13-17(?)

there were 49 votes for dara's special friend (the one in enha) and he'll be revealed in this chapter. thank you all for voting!

happy enniversary everyone 🤍 let's hope that i can make another chapter within a couple of hours lmao 

chapter fourteen

"Heli told me that on the night of a lunar eclipse, werewolves fall in love with the first person they see that night," Sooha explained to the vampire 'siblings.' "And that they love that person for the rest of their lives. Isn't that amazing? It's so romantic!"

Dara stayed silent as she listened to Sooha and the guys' exchange. What started off as the vamps shitting on werewolves slowly turned to Sooha's rant on her hatred for vampires.

From awkwardly playing with her hands to tightly squeezing them to the point where a crack could've been heard.

Does she hate us that much? We're not that terrible are we?

Dara painfully thought back to what Sooha said.

We have emotions. I feel hurt right now.

We know what love is. I feel it every day with the group. I love my brothers.

We're not cruel, cold-blooded monsters. You wouldn't have been friends with me if I was.

Vampires aren't the worse. The vampires that you know of don't define us.

Dara couldn't help but squeeze her hand tighter when Heli discarded Sooha's words.

Don't smile like that. Don't say that we understand.

Don't you want to defend us? Say you met a vamp who was nothing like that? No?

I should've kept my distance. I let my feelings influence me.

It hurts. It fucking hurts.

A hand immediately went up to separate Dara's hands and hold it in his.

She let out a breath before sending a grateful smile towards Solon's direction.

She read all these romance novels where the character learns to let go. That no matter how in love they were, sometimes the best decision is to justlet them go.

And it's time for her to start learning. No matter what the others decide to do.

chapter fifteen

"Who cares if we let her down?" Solon crossed his arms. "Are you guys not concerned about let down Dara is? She hasn't spoken a single word," he pointed at the girl who was playing with her fingers.

"It's fine, Solon- we're all grieving in our own ways. I'm not a special case or anything," Dara shifted her legs. "I don't wanna say 'I told you so' but this is why we're meant to stay with each other and only each other."

"But I wanna hang out with Sooha!" Shion pouted.

"Yeah well.." Dara sighed. "Attraction is attraction and you can't really force it to stop," she crossed her arms. "And it wasn't anyone's fault that we felt this way in the first place. I just wish we didn't."

❅◦❆◦❅◦❆◦❅◦❆◦❅◦❆

"HOW IS THAT A PLAN B?!" Solon yelled at his brothers.

"Guys guys- that's too mean," Dara broke it off.

"Thank you!" Solon sighed in relief.

"Instead just use both of us as sacrifice so at least he won't be alo-" a chorus of angry 'no's were shouted.

"I DON'T WANT YOU SACRIFICED! Might as well just be me!" Solon protested.

"We got him boys- Okay! Solon sacrifice it is!"

"Wha- DARA!"

chapter sixteen

(additional scene)

After gifting Sooha the picture, the four wolves noticed Dara entering a room.

Khan looked over at his brothers and found Enzy nodding his head slightly.

"Hey Sooha, I'm gonna head to the bathroom," he pointed his thumb behind him. "I'll be right back."

"Okay!" "Better yet, just don't come back," Sooha and Jaan said at the same time.

Dara could feel a presence as she walked through the hallway. She slowed down her pace before stopping completely.

She let out a shaky breath and turned around to see who it was.

"Oh my God- you scared me so much!" Dara sighed when she saw that it was only the familiar werewolf. "Thank God I didn't start beating you up right away."

"Sorry- I didn't know how else to approach you," he smiled softly. "I wanted to give you this," he revealed a small box in his hand. "Happy birthday."

"Khan, I told you to not get me anything last time," Dara accepted it with a warm smile.

"Does that ever stop me?" he smirked.

He watched as she opened the box and observed the bracelet.

"It's beautiful," she ran a hand through the charms. It was gold with stars and one crescent moon in the middle. The design should be discreet enough for no one to suspect that a wolf was behind it. "Thank you."

"Let me put it on you," there was a silence as Khan was clasping the jewelry on Dara's wrist. He was trying to think of ways to break the news. "I have something to tell you."

"What is it?" she looked up at him to make eye contact.

"During the recent lunar eclipse, I accidentally saw a woman..." he took a deep breath.

"Khan, that's great! You deserve to be with someo-"

"It was Sooha," and that was when Dara's face began to pale.

"Khan..." she spoke up after a few moments.

"I know what you're about to say," he had a determined look on his face. "But I can't let her go."

"If I couldn't be with the girl I fell in love with last time, then allow me to be with this one."

(chapter ends here. sooha finds out that they're vampires in the next chapter)

chapter seventeen

After a small recap, the chapter began with the backstory of Dara and Khan.

A heavily wounded Khan was sat against a building on the street. He was breathing heavily and partially in wolf form.

He had just lost someone very dear to him, and with the injuries and grief, he can't find the will to go on.

He didn't even move when he heard footsteps approaching, despite the fact that he was visibly half animal.

And that it was the night of a blood moon.

He decided to finally look at the person when they kneeled down to inspect him.

Big mistake.

It was a girl.

He started to thrash around, trying to make her step away.

She was a vampire.

He felt his heart grow warm as the inevitable feeling of a wolf falling in love crept in.

His eyes began to water at the thought of his day getting even worse.

Fighting or getting taunted by a vampire was nothing, but he was in love with her, injured and in a vulnerable state- he can't handle this.

"I'm not going to hurt you," she spoke out softly. "Let me help you."

"Get away from me!" he spat out.

"Forgive me-" she said before placing her hand on his cheek cut. He thrashed some more but didn't do much to stop her.

He started to calm down when the sting went away and a cool sensation replaced it.

I was stuck between a rock and a hard place.

I loved Dara.

I loved a vampire.

And I can't be with her.

❅◦❆◦❅◦❆◦❅◦❆◦❅◦❆

"B-but Heli... We-" present Dara doesn't know what to say.

Khan deserves love but, although I hate it, Heli also loves Sooha.

If Sooha hating vampires can't even push Heli away, then he's never gonna give up on her.

"I couldn't fight for you but I'll fight for her," he continued. "I won't let this one go. Not again," he turned around to leave.

"But I'll never stop loving you, Dara. This doesn't change anything for us. Our pack will always protect you."

so solon's the special friend and khan was (well.. kinda still is) in love with dara 🤍

taglist! @afiaaaa19 @riikiblr @one16core @toriluvsfics @i90snoo @danyxthirstae01 @seulgifted @clar-iii @hiqhkey @nichmeddar @jiwlys @duolingofanaccount @nvmbheart [@studioreader @sarang-wonie @fairydosii @hoonstrology @jaetint @4sahii @8-itsmee-8 ]

[lilac-5ky]

To Bake A Cake (Takasugi x Birthday Fem!Reader)

A/N: Last month was my birthday and I decided to write myself a birthday fic including my beloved, but due to certain annoying family situations, it took me ages to finish ;-; But it's finally done, and voila, I decided to post it even though my birthday was over 2 weeks ago lmao.

Plot: After a run-in with Sakamoto, Takasugi realizes it's your birthday, and decides to grant you a wish. Who could have thought such wish involved whisking and baking?

guest starring tatsuma and mutsu because i realized ive pretty much never included them in anything.

Warning: Comedic fluff with lots of smut :p

(here's a ss gif because im too much a chicken to dive in the final arc just yet ;-; but he looks fine af and ;-;)

���Takasugi?”

If there is one thing Takasugi Shinsuke has learned during his rather unpleasant sojourn in life, it’s that the sound of his name seldom accompanies a blessing. Everywhere he went, disaster followed, and this place was no exception.

Be it at Edo Mart or a terminal millions of miles away from Earth, a world renowned terrorist should never even dream of setting foot inside a tobacco store with such abandon. Still that was exactly what he did, and now, he was left with no other choice, but to face the consequences of his poor decision making.

With the smoke still in hand, Takasugi hurried out of the store. A head-on confrontation in the middle of the crowd wouldn’t do, and so he kept on walking, until the voice of his pursuer faded into existence. Had he misheard? Could it be that he’d grown paranoid enough to be chased by illusions?

Bewildered, he packed the tobacco inside his yukata, when a disturbingly familiar cackle reached his ears.

“Damn, I can’t believe it was actually you.” The silhouette of a man dressed in a red duster and a pair of dark circular shades said. “If I didn’t know any better, I would have assumed you avoided me.”

This was far worse than a rogue bounty hunter, space fighter or Naraku assassin catching whiff of him. Something he dreaded more than all three combined.

“What if I was?” Takasugi taunted.

“That’s not how you greet an old friend, Takasugi. Especially when we haven’t spoken in years!” Sakamoto pouted, awkwardly scratching the back of his head. “My letters haven’t reached the Kihentai?”

“They haven’t.” He replied in a stern tone, ignoring his friend’s comment.

In reality, Takasugi had gotten his hands on every single letter Sakamoto sent his way, though he never answered back any of them. That’s not to say he never tried to, more like he was incapable of doing so. What would he write? What was there for him to say when there was nothing piecing the two together?

Idle small talk was never his thing. He couldn’t just go back to the time when the four of them chattered about everything and nothing in particular all at once. The bonds of the past belonged in the depths of his mind, along with the memories they shared. No matter how much he yearned to traverse that limit, the only road for him was the one lying ahead. He had no time for distractions.

“That’s a shame.” Sakamoto said, buying into it. “Have you met with the others then? I hear Zura is in the same field you are.”

“Same field, entirely different agenda.” He scoffed. “Let’s just say Zura’s more like a prickle pointing at my side rather than an ally.”

“I find that hard to believe. Wasn’t he the one to always clean after your mess?”

“We’re old enough to be cleaning after our own messes. Times change, Tatsuma. I’m sure you know that best.” He sighed, taking a few steps further away from the crowd, and hopefully, away from this discussion.

“People don’t. When I look at you, I only see the same idiot who put his life on the line for a lost war. Same goes for the others.”

By the looks of it, getting rid or him wouldn’t be this easy. Even when Takasugi walked away, Sakamoto kept trailing after him, until the two made it past the quiet corner of a souvenir shop. As if anyone would want a memento to remember this god-forsaken land by. Other than a safe heaven for criminals and merchants to conduct their business in discretion, this planet offered next to nothing. The lack of sustainable tourism was enough proof for that.

At the back of the store, lied a handful of vacant chairs, one of which Sakamoto sat on and another of which Takasugi rejected. He had no particular intention to get all cozy by his side, not when the cold metallic wall felt far more welcoming.

“Was this supposed to come off as an insult or a compliment?” Takasugi sneered.

“Just an old friend’s insight.” Sakamoto chuckled, stretching his limbs. “I take it you haven’t been talking with Kintoki either.”

“I haven’t.” He admitted, the last time the two of them conversed -or, rather squabbled- still vivid in his brain.

“In that case, why don’t we plan a reuni- ”

“I’m busy.” He cut him off.

“But I never said when-”

“I’ll be busy.”

The last thing he needed was a get-together with these three idiots. Running into one of them was bad enough on its own, be it the lesser evil. Even if part of him wanted to gather around a campfire, tossing stories and insults as if nothing ever soured between them, there was no way he’d never admit it. Not to himself, and certainly, not to him.

“I should get going.” Takasugi said, looking to end this little misfortune, when Sakamoto jumped before him.

“Wait! I didn’t tell you why I was here in the first place.” Sakamoto exclaimed, revealing a rather large box from behind his back, one that Takasugi had failed to notice in prior.

“I don’t remember asking.” He smirked in an attempt to hide his curiosity.

“I was gonna have this delivered at your ship, but since you are here, you should take it.” He said, urging him to grab the parcel. “It’s for Y/N.”

“Y/N?” Takasugi asked, visibly intrigued. He was aware the two of you shared the same beginnings in life, but he would’ve never guessed you’d kept contact after the war.

“Takasugi, don’t tell me you don’t remember your own girlfriend’s birthday.” Sakamoto said in a semi-accusatory tone.

“She’s not my girlfriend.” He objected, the latter part of the sentence having yet to register.

He’d rather take his other eye out than let others define your relationships as that of a boyfriend and a girlfriend, but at the same time, Takasugi was unsure of what to actually introduce you as. The woman he slept with seemed too shallow, the woman he loved too grandiose. Perhaps the term partner was the closest at doing you justice. Still, titles meant nothing when he knew precisely what you were, and that was his.

His and only his.

“Is she not? Wow, then I suppose it’s not too late for me to shoot my shot.” Sakamoto declared with a grin.

“Not unless you want to get shot first.”

At his threat, Sakamoto couldn’t help but burst into laughter, nearly dropping the box to the ground. Which he would have done, had it not been for Takasugi successfully catching it midair. It was even heavier than it looked, he noted as he balanced it against his hip.

“I was just kidding! Well, not entirely, but I don’t suppose you plan on sharing, right?”

His silence was the only answer he could spare. A merchant should know better than to go after things that were never up for sale in the first place.

“Besides, I’m happy things worked out between you two. Y/N was a real knockout back home. I never worried about her hitting it off with someone, but you finding someone who can put up with your grumpiness long term? That’s amazing!” He went on, following his words with another of his distinct cackles.

Takasugi could feel himself getting increasingly irked with every word Sakamoto spewed, even when deep down he could see his point. It was true that he wasn’t the world’s easiest person and that you’d endured hell by choosing to stay around a guy like him. Maybe to others it looked as if you were the one who needed him, considering how you always clung onto him, but in reality, it was the other way around. You were the only one who could make these dark clouds disperse, the only one he truly needed.

“Remember how just about half the girls were in love with you, yet the second you looked their way they ran away? Or how you made that girl cry right after she confessed? Poor thing, she even made you a card! Or-or, how every time we went down to Yoshiwara, no girl managed to spend an entire night with you without-”

Just when he was about to mellow down a bit, Sakamoto started speaking again, his laughter constantly breaking his own sentences in half.

“Will you keep listing more unpleasant incidents?” Takasugi asked through gritted teeth, finding it impossible to maintain his composure.

“No, of course not! I was just pointing out how you seem to have found your one true match. Really puts the whole ‘there’s someone out there for everyone’ thing into perspective.” Sakamoto grinned earnestly.

“Then you are lucky more than half the population tends to your standards.” He mumbled, as he lowered his gaze towards the box.

Why did he not know it was your birthday today? No matter how busy he was, he couldn’t have possibly forgotten, unless he never knew about it in the first place.

Come think of it, you first met amidst the war. A merchant’s daughter with great prospects and an even greater future awaiting her, choosing to fund a war she wasn’t part of, and it was all because of him. Because ever since you met, you kept trying to earn his attention through whatever means necessary.

He remembered how persistent you were, suggesting he owed you so much as a mere talk when you’d burnt all this money on his cause. At first, he saw no reason for you to get too friendly with one another. All you were was a friend of a friend, and so, he’d brushed your advances, blatantly stating that no amount of yen was enough to buy him. However, you weren’t disheartened. You kept asking him to name his price over and over again, until he finally caved in and took you on a crappy date by the shore.

Truthfully, he sucked at dating, back then and right now. The right words never came easily, and getting involved with someone during such a crucial point of his life was a hassle. But even when he’d chosen to maintain his silence, idly tossing rocks into the sea, you’d chosen to grab a stone of your own, and join him without a single complaint. You’d stayed by his side until the awkward silence became comfortable, until the moon gave way to the sun, until your nights were filled with hasty kisses and unbottled chuckles.

And then the war came to an end. All survivors either returned home, or found a new place to call that, but he wasn’t among those. Perhaps he never survived that war, perhaps he never left the battlefield. He kept on dragging the horrors of the past with him, but worse, he kept dragging you along.

You were the person he valued more than his life, that was for certain. Every smile, every kiss, every night, even your own future, you’d given that all without asking for anything in return. But why was it that you’d kept something so trivial a secret? Why was it that he had no actual recollection of you ever celebrating a damn occasion by his side? Why was it that he felt as if the times you’d cried outnumbered the ones you’d smiled?

“But, Takasugi, you should know better than to disappoint her.” Sakamoto interrupted his thoughts. “Between you and me, women really do care about birthdays and anniversaries more than we do. You should also get her a little something while you still have time. Usually something shiny or pretty cuts it, but if push comes to shove, then you could always push or shove something else into her-”

Before Takasugi had the chance to truly grasp his friend’s explicit hints, a punch came raining down on him, sending his glasses flying and his head to meet the floor.

“I thought I heard a dog barking.” The voice of a woman spoke in a harsh tone, her presence revealed behind the man’s fallen body.

Long brown hair concealed by a straw hat. Fair complexion and cunning eyes. He’d only seen this woman once before, though such formidable persona was unforgettable.

“Mu-Mutsu?” Sakamoto squeaked.

“Didn’t you promise to stay put, Sakamoto? Do I really need to tie a leash around your neck?” She asked, rubbing the point of her shoe against his throat.

“Wh—what are you talking about? We were only catching up!” Sakamoto cried, attempting to lift her leg with both hands.

“Seems like your second-in-command is far more perceptive than you are, Tatsuma.” Takasugi smirked. “Too bad she’s wasting her potential. Although it’s not too late to reconsider.”

“I’m afraid I see no profit in terrorism.” Mutsu scorned, kicking Sakamoto’s palms off her while he rolled to the side in relief. “Besides, who knows what will become of this idiot, should he stay unsupervised long enough?”

“Fair enough. Although you should take care of yourself. Idiocy is highly contagious.” He said, lightly stepping over a writhing Sakamoto.

“After all these years, I’d like to think I’ve grown immune.” She replied, following his lead.

“There are no bigger idiots than the ones who claim they aren’t. Mix it up with someone like them once, and it’s already too late to go back.”

“Experience speaking?”

“Something like that.”

“Gu-guys, can you not have this discussion on top of me?” Sakamoto begged, trying his best to retract his hands.

With a light chuckle, Takasugi obliged to his friend’s wishes, turning his back on the two of them. “Well then. I’ll be taking my leave now.”

“Oi, Takasugi, don’t forget about what I said! Make sure to-Ouch!”

Once he’d distanced himself from the scene, Takasugi stopped a final time to look over his shoulder. Mutsu kept making use of Sakamoto’s hair as if it were a mop, sweeping just about every piece of dirt, until his pleas disappeared along with the two of them behind the crowds.

“It really was good seeing you, Tatsuma.” Takasugi smiled, his steps heavier than before as he marched in the opposite direction.

“I thought you said you’d buy some smoke before we take off, not harvest an entire field yourself.”

At the sound of the door opening, you set your book down. You’d lost count of how many pages you’d flipped up until Takasugi decided to make it back to his room. For all you knew, hours, or even days had gone by. There was no real telling in the vastness of space. Everything moved at its own pace.

Still, what he did was unforgivable. Subjecting you to the dullness of going through the same book over and over again, while he was out there, most likely caught up in some incredibly fun story you’d missed on.

“If only.” Takasugi stated in a dry tone, closing the door behind him. “Instead, I was made into a messenger by an old friend of yours.”

“An old friend of mine?” You repeated, propping your jaw against your elbows.

There were little to no candidates for him to meet up in space. With the majority of your friends being either at odds with him or straight up unable to afford such a trip, the obvious answer would be Sakamoto. Not because he didn’t belong in either category, but because on a day like this, he was the only with a reason to seek you out.

Your suspicions were confirmed the moment Takasugi presented you with a rather hefty looking box, one that he set onto the floor before making his way towards the window. This definitely was the work of your childhood friend, you concluded, though you couldn’t resist playing dumb with your guesses.

“Hmm… could it be Gintoki?”

A thin cloud of smoke spiraled from his direction, the silence serving as response.

“Zura then?”

More smoke.

“Nobume?” You insisted.

“Just how many old friends do you have?” He stated, rather than asked.

“Then… Shige Shige?”

“Since when you’ve gotten friendly with the Shogun?”

“Since you’ve been taking hours to shop for tobacco.” You taunted, finding enjoyment in your little back and forth.

“Charming.” He smirked, at last turning around. “Tatsuma asked me to bring this to you.”

“Then I guess I have no right to nag you any longer. I wonder what it is!” You gleefully exclaimed in a singing voice, while your hands fumbled with the tape.

Ever since the two of you were mere brats back in Tosa, you’d come up with this weird tradition of finding the wackiest birthday gifts for one another. From vagina scented candles for your eleventh birthday, to a calendar full of inappropriate seasonal pictures of Tamo-san for his twelfth, each year the competition grew more severe than before, with nothing but the sky serving as the limit.

Your anticipation grew bigger over each tape that came off, and you could tell you weren’t the only one. A keen orb of green kept following your every movement while its owner timed each step of his with another puff of smoke. To be fair, he was doing a great job concealing his interest, and if it weren’t for his pipe nearly dropping off his lips at the sight of your gift, then you wouldn’t have known.

Admittedly, it took more time for you to realize what the item in hand was, than for Takasugi to recover from his rapid coughing. The two circular objects at the base, the pink colored mushroomy tip, the vein-like lines engraved all around… Judging by its size alone, it resembled more that of a greatsword than of a sex toy. It was ridiculously big, both in length and girth.

“Is that…?” Takasugi asked, not daring to finish his question.

Picking the dildo up, you failed close your palms around its head. This was definitely not meant for humans, or, at least, not one of your physique.

“I lost.” You admitted, realizing there was no way to ever surpass him now. “I actually lost.”

“There is a note.” He pointed back inside the box.

“Oh? You are right. Let’s see,” you paused to unfold the paper, “ ‘Dear Y/N, I hope this letter finds you in good health, and I wish you a very happy birth-Autumn, from the bottom of my heart.” You quickly glanced up at Takasugi, though he didn’t say a word.

That was a close one!

“That’s quite courteous of him!” You awkwardly chuckled.

“Anyways, ‘In the past month we managed to expand our business in Rakuyo, and this is one of our first prototypes. With the majority of Yato warriors scattered around the galaxy, their women tend to wallow in loneliness and frustration. We hope that with time, they can learn to open their hearts, along with their legs to us.’ Typical Tatsuma.” You chuckled, while Takasugi scoffed.

“Hmm, according to him, its name is ‘Master Sword 69’ and-oh, the tip is detachable and, if you insert batteries, it also works as a foot massager! That’s thoughtful.”

“Is that all?” He sighed.

You unfolded the rest of the letter, finding a postscript right at the end.

“‘P.S. I sincerely hope Takasugi is not as big of a bore in bed as he used to be.’ Oh, Tatsuma.” You giggled, unable to contain yourself. “You haven’t changed one bit.”

“Idiots never change.” Takasugi mumbled as he returned to the window.

“But Shinsuke, what’s that thing he said about you being a boring lover? Is there anything I should know?” You asked, not bothering to suppress your amusement.

“Nothing in particular.”

“Oh come on, I bet there is a great story behind this.” You insisted, only to be treated with more silence.

You didn’t need to take a look at his face to know he was sulking. With his eye narrowing to a slit, and the pouty expression of his lips, you’d grown plenty familiar with that side of his. What others saw as menacing, you only saw as absolutely adorable, to the point of you refusing to spend another minute apart.

You really had missed him.

“It’s fine. No need to tell me.” You mumbled as you pressed your head against the nape of his neck.

He was insistent on facing the opposite direction, but you didn’t mind. As long as he gave you the freedom to wrap your arms around his torso, to take in on his wonderfully intoxicating scent, to pepper every inch of bare skin you could find in kisses, then it was all fine by you.

“You plan on using that?” He eventually asked, huffing some of the smoke your way.

“Not if I can help it. I’d still choose to use you over anyone and anything else.” You cooed, planting your lips near the shell of his ear. “Only you can make me feel this way.”

“And what would that way be?” He asked in a gentler tone.

“Just, you know.” You left a peck upon his cheek. “The best kind of way.”

Although he didn’t mean for you to see it, a tiny smile broke through his grave expression as he caved in to your touch. That was Takasugi for you. No matter the sharpness of his eye, and the shrewdness of his words, the way his free hand cupped over your own revealed all you needed to know. From the moment you first took hold of each other, to this moment here, he remained as enamored with you as he was back then.

The two of you stayed like that for quite a while, until Takasugi drew his kiseru away from his lips to store it inside his clothes.

“What do you want?” He asked, circling his thumb over your knuckles.

“Hmm?” You tilted your head.

“Is there anything you want for your birthday?”

“You knew?” You yelped, letting go of him at once.

“You take me for an idiot?” Takasugi inquired as he turned around.

“….No.” You sighed. Switching out ‘birthday’ for autumn had really done it.

It wasn’t as if you actively tried to keep your birthday a secret, but with the war and him turning to terrorism, there was never really an appropriate moment to mention it. You couldn’t simply show up one day with cake and balloons and surprise your own self, and being the one to casually announce it didn’t feel quite right either. In the end, you pushed this occasion to the back of your brain, the sole reminder of which became Sakamoto’s annual presents.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked with genuine concern.

“It’s not that I didn’t want to, it’s just that,” you lowered your head “I didn’t want to weigh you down with another responsibility. I know how exhausting everything is for you, I see it every single day when you collapse in bed without saying a word. I don’t want to be the one to add more to that, nor do I wish to pressure you into buying me a gift or pulling a surprise on me. Just getting to spend my every day with you is enough for me.”

“Y/N.” His voice commanded. “Our lives so far have been filled with more sorrows than I care to count. My eye has seen more horrors than I wish to remember. Do you really think that your birthday would add to either?”

“N-no…” You admitted, shying away from his gaze.

“Then I find no reason for you to be keeping that from me. We’ve each carried the other’s sorrows long enough. Let us carry a joy for once.”

He was right. If only you’d just mentioned it to him before, then you wouldn’t have to embarrass yourself like this in front of him. It was only right that he knew, especially when you’d never missed the chance to surprise him on his own birthday.

“So tell me. Is there anything you want?” Takasugi asked again.

“Are you serious about the ‘anything’ part?” You smiled in mischief, quickly snapping out of your own dejection.

Arching an eyebrow, Takasugi took a step closer until you stood eye to eye. You couldn’t tell whether he was trying to read your mind or intimidate you into giving up on your idea, but either way, you both knew it was too late for him to go back on his offer.

“You’ll really do anything I ask?”

He was most likely regretting ever suggesting that, though he didn’t show it. Instead, he merely nodded, perhaps his curiosity winning him over a second time.

“…Sure.”

This was all the confirmation you needed. “Then, follow me!”

“What kind of wish fulfilling involves a kitchen?” Takasugi asked the second you set foot in the ship’s kitchen.

Out of all the shenanigans you’d gotten him mixed up in, out of every bad idea he’d suffered through, this one would come to top them all. But it was your birthday, and he’d been so generous as to present you with an once-in-a-lifetime opportunity that you weren’t too keen on brushing off. Even if he protested, even if he tried to claw his way out, you’d make sure that by the time the two of you left the room, it’d be with your objective in hand; a cake.

“Shinsuke, what is the first thing you think about when you hear the word ‘birthday’?”

“Death.” He bluntly stated. “It’s a reminder that your time is running out.”

“Weren’t you the one who spoke against sharing nothing but sorrows?” You argued in disbelief. It wasn’t unusual for him to be grim, but that was beyond your expectations. “Let’s just skip to the point. A birthday without cake is no birthday at all.”

His expression had turned completely vacant, to the point of you being able to hear imaginary crickets chirping in the background.

“My wish is for you to bake me a cake!”

Even more chirping.

Had he not heard you? You weren’t too sure about that, though once he turned to the door, you realized he’d not only been listening to your every word, but was already planning his escape.

“You said you’d-ugh, do anything! You can’t-ugh, leave!” You exclaimed as you threw yourself to the door, blocking the exit with your body.

Just like he had no intention of honoring his word, you had no intention of letting him go either. A direct confrontation would result in your defeat, but when you managed to get hold of the door’s key, there was little he could do. It was game over. At least for now.

“You know, this won’t be enough to stop me.” Takasugi sneered, watching as you stuffed the key inside your kimono. “There are many ways for me to get that key back.”

“I’d like to see you try. The only way outside these holy grounds is through my satisfaction.”

At your declaration, he couldn’t help but quirk an eyebrow.

“Now, let’s get to work!” You said as you paced further inside the room, a groaning Takasugi following closely.

Truth is, you’d only been in the kitchen a handful times before. The Kiheitai already possessed designated personnel to handle everyone’s meals, and unless either of you wanted to snack on something specific, -namely, Takasugi on his beloved beverage- there was no need to spend any time in here, meaning, you had no idea where to find anything.

Starting with the fridge seemed like a reasonable idea, you thought to yourself as you tied your hair into a high ponytail. Eggs, butter and, thankfully, heavy cream. You laid everything on top of the counter before making your way around the drawers, checking the final ingredients off your list. So far, so good.

The real struggle came with finding the appropriate utensils. Bowls and cutlery were easy enough to locate. You even got yourself a light-pink apron in the process, yet no matter how hard you looked, the mixer was nowhere to be found.

“Where is the mixer?” You asked once you’d checked just about every cabinet.

“How am I supposed to know? What kind of faction do you think I’m running?” He snapped, refusing to help in the slightest.

Disappointed, you were about to call it quits when you remembered seeing a whisk somewhere in there, which wasn’t quite the same, but if a certain glaring samurai were to assist, nothing was impossible.

“There’s a whisk!” You announced, presenting it to him.

More cricket sounds. He looked at it as if he’d never seen another.

“You really haven’t cooked anything in your life, have you?”

“I have.” He lied.

“What was it?” You crossed your arms over your chest.

“Onigiri.”

“That doesn’t make you any less of a culinary virgin, Shinsuke. I bet Zura was the one to handle the majority of the work while all you did was boss him around.” You accused, waving the whisk at his face.

“Not a lie.” He smirked.

“It’s a wonder people follow you when you refuse to get your hands dirty.” You mumbled. “But fear not! Today, your cherry gets popped. As long as we are in here, you are no Kiheitai leader, but a rookie whose wish is my com-no, my wish is your command” You corrected. “Understood?”

Although evidently irritated, Takasugi ended up agreeing to your suggestion, going so far as to accept the whisk from your hands.

“Perhaps you could call me senpai while you’re at it-”

“Not a chance, birthday girl.” He interrupted.

“Fine, fine. Let’s start with the base.”

One by one, you tossed the ingredients in the bowl, while he mixed them together with just about zero enthusiasm. He was such a handful!

“You know, it will take forever if you do it like that.” You commented, slipping behind his back and then claiming his hand with yours. “Let me show you.”

Propping your chin on top of his shoulder, you started to vigorously shake his hand back and forth around the bowl, making sure that everything got mixed thoroughly.

“If you don’t do it this way, the ingredients won’t mesh well together and there will be lumps of flour.” You explained, unaware of how rather than paying attention to your words, Takasugi kept staring down your lips.

As he got the hang of it, his hand began moving on its own. “That’s it! Keep it up, and-”

Before you could finish your sentence, you took notice in how close the two of you were. With your bodies pressed together and his lips curling into a lazy smile, you forgot all about what it was that you wanted to say.

“Y-you can handle things from here.” You stuttered, pulling yourself away. “I’ll go bring the pan.”

Even after all these years, it was so easy for him to get under your skin. One look of his, and your mind was already filling up with intrusive thoughts that involved him using his hands on something else. He’d always been skilled with his fingers, be it at fighting, cooking, or…

Get your shit together, you scolded yourself, repeatedly patting your palms flat against your burning cheeks.

“What’s taking you so long?” His voice queried from the other side of the room.

“Coming!”

Once the pan was in the oven and the timer set, the time for the the filling came. Neither your supplies nor your skills allowed much room for creativity and so, you decided to keep things simple. Some heavy cream and sugar would do just fine, but even for that, his help was needed.

“Can you do this for me?” You brought a clean bowl forth.

“Is that a question, or a command?” Takasugi asked.

“A little bit of both.” You smiled as he took the bowl from your hands. “Do it harder than before. You’ll know it’s ready when peaks start to form.”

It was nice to see him take things more seriously. For someone who was fixed on destroying the world, to be baking cakes certainly was out of character, but at the same time, the image felt somewhat natural to you.

Back when the outcome of the war had yet to be defined, and the two of you had the freedom to dream, you’d pictured such a life countless of times. Instead of sneaking around between stranded beaches and hollow willow trees, you’d be greeting each other under the same roof. He’d nag about the different ways Gintoki -or another of his subordinates- got on his nerves that day, while you’d be setting the table, welcoming his every complaint with a warm smile.

Then after you’d finish dining, you’d move onto the couch under the pretense of watching some crappy show none of you cared about, just he could snake his arm around your shoulders. And at the first yawn, you’d lay side by side on the same bed where you’d be free to cradle his face in your hands and fawn over how beautiful your reflection appeared in his emerald green eyes. You’d whisper ‘I love you’s’ to each other with no fear for tomorrow, knowing that this life would not be taken away from you.

The Takasugi in front of you resembled that of your dreams a lot, except this one kept hissing in frustration at his sleeves. No matter how many times he rolled them out of the way, they insisted to fall inside the bowl, cutting his movements short. With a smile, you placed your hand on top of his. This version of him was perfect enough already.

“Need some help?” You teased, lifting one of his sleeves out of the way.

“I’m fine.” He didn’t sound convincing in the slightest.

You chuckled at his refusal. He was always like that, as if it would kill for him to receive the aid of anyone. If he could bring this world down by himself, then you had no doubt, he’d choose to do that without speaking to another soul. Be it his burdens or his sleeves, unless you forcefully lifted them for him, then he’d insist on doing things the hard way.

With some his frustration evaporating, Takasugi managed to bring the cream to its appropriate state; not too fluffy and not too thick either. You let go off his sleeves and he let go of the whisk, turning the bowl around so to inspect it properly.

“Looks good.” He deducted.

You nodded in agreement. “Let’s see…”

Dipping the tip of a spoon in, you took a taste of your creation. He really had a knack for this. It tasted wonderful!

“Mmm, it’s sweet.” You exclaimed, licking it clean. “Want some?”

For a moment, you saw him contemplate his answer before reaching out. You took it as an invitation, and so you dipped the spoon back in, though you never had the chance to deliver it. Instead, your hand was caught mid-air by his, with your unsuspecting lips falling victim to his own. You gasped, nearly letting go off the spoon as you closed your eyes, finding a taste far more wonderful than any cream you’d ever tasted.

“Indeed.” He breathed. “Very sweet.”

With his fingers pressing at your wrist, Takasugi pulled you closer, until you landed in his arms, and until the thought of holding onto that stupid spoon vanished behind a loud clang. He pressed a kiss upon your lips and then you pressed another, your tongues tugging and swirling in imperfect sync, as you both felt the heat rise in between your bodies. You wanted more, and he was more than willing to take from you.

It was only when you felt his palms dropping to your bum that you realized what he was trying to do. That bastard was way too damn good at this.

“Seducing me won’t work.” You whispered and he chuckled, not at your words, but at how you couldn’t bring yourself to pull away from him.

“It won’t?” He taunted, fully aware of the answer. Whatever it was that he was doing, you had no power to resist.

Without breaking apart from your mouth, Takasugi carried you all the way towards the closest unoccupied flat surface he could find. A cold sensation trickled down your spine as you made contact with the hard metal. Not in a million years would you ever think that you’d be doing this with him, yet there you were, spreading your legs wide open for him to nest in between.

His arm remained hooked around your waist when all of a sudden you felt him stop. You opened your eyes along with your lips, sheepishly staring at him with nothing but desire, of which he took advantage. His thumb trailed the outline of your jawline before swiping over your bottom lip. Without thinking twice, you puckered up your lips against it, pressing a peck so gentle as his smile. God, he was so beautiful in that moment, words he stole right out your mouth.

Letting go of you completely, Takasugi lowered himself until his knees met with the floor and the tips of his fingers with your thighs. You glanced down at him, watching as he balanced your knees upon his shoulders, his own gaze solely fixated at your entrance.

“Wh-what are you doing?” You asked, your voice coming out like a croak.

“You wanted to order me around, did you not?” His breath tickled as he moved his head closer. “Look where my hands are now, Y/N.” He demanded, squeezing at your skin. “And my lips.” He went on, leaving each thigh with a kiss. “And my tongue.”

A sharp inhale got caught up in your throat as you felt his wet tongue lap over your clothed slit, the feeling only amplified by the way his eye bore into yours.

“Go ahead and order.” He mumbled, running his tongue along your lips, lest you weren’t convinced already. “How should I use them?”

You had a hard time distinguishing between dream and reality right now. While he always made sure you got to have as much fun as he did, he’d never been this accommodating before, and in a semi-public space, least of all places. You barely believed in your eyes, but then again, the dripping sensation between your legs told no lies. This was all very much reality, and you wouldn’t let it go to waste.

“D-do that again,” you stammered. “I like it when you tease me.”

A faint chuckle followed your bashful confession, it feeding directly into his pride.

In less than a heartbeat, Takasugi complied with your demand. With his fingers squeezing lower, his mouth pressing firmer, and his tongue languidly moving across every inch of your folds, he left no spot untouched. You tried to look down, though your apron stood in the way of getting a clear view. All you saw was a head of purple peak underneath, and that certainly was not enough.

“I wanna see.”

Hands slid around your waist, his eye being the first to undress your body. One by one, the knots of your kimono and apron came undone, bringing both fabrics to simply drape over your bare figure, a sight not even he could resist.

Rather than going back down, his fingers snuck past your garment and onto your breast, trailing your hardened peak all the way to the soft curve of your skin. You smiled. After all, you loved that kind of attention from him.

Once he’d had enough, he returned to his knees, both of you having gained sufficiently better view of each other. You placed your feet atop his shoulders, prodding him to get back into business. A single finger hooked around the elastic of your underwear, with him seeking confirmation in your features. Perhaps you could get used to this compliant side of his.

“Take them off.” You instructed without hesitation, wiggling your hips to accommodate him.

The moment he rid of that final restraint, Takasugi plunged forward, his impatience showing every step of the way. If it were any other occasion, he’d have about zero qualm to push you down and take you however he pleased, but for now, you could tell he was doing his absolute best to remain tame for the sake of honoring his word.

Tentatively, he rolled his tongue outside his mouth and onto your entrance, his fingers spreading your lips for him to pepper the area with short kitten licks. You sighed, little by little feeling your clit swelling up under his touch. This was nowhere near what you’d imagined when you first walked ins that kitchen, but now, it was everything you craved.

“Give me your hand.” You asked, extending your own in his direction.

His hand found yours midway as he directed his attention to your fingers. You weren’t too sure whether he’d catch your drift or not, but it was worth a try. With your index, you traced the inside of his palm in a straight line, pressing firmly at the end of it before repeating the same gesture from the top. Not too gentle, but not too rough either. Just how you wanted to be touched.

In the same manner your finger brushed his skin, his flattened tongue came to glide over your slit only to stop short at your clit, following the same route all over again. For a second time, you sighed, your arousal gradually building with each stroke. The familiarity between you allowed no room for mistakes; he knew exactly what you needed.

“You taste better than any damn cake in this world.” Takasugi commented for the first time in a while, closing his lips over your clit.

“D-don’t insult our cake!” You felt him smirk at your objection, his teeth barely grazing over your sensitive spot, be it enough to make you moan.

“Want me to go a bit harder?” He asked, lazily swirling over your clit.

“I suppose you can.” You answered, hiding your embarrassment behind a pout. Years later and his effect on you had not worn off.

Lacing his fingers with yours, Takasugi began to follow a pattern of his own, the kind to set all your pretty sounds free. With his one hand rubbing at your thigh, he made sure you got to watch your clit disappear into his mouth, each kiss of his leaving it wetter than the previous one.

“F-fuck…”

You could feel every bump of his tongue massage your cluster of nerves, the warmth of his mouth making it feel as if he was attempting to rekindle a fire in you, one that had all but been extinguished. He wanted you to burn, just so he could burn with you. Just so you could feel every single emotion his tongue failed to describe engraved upon your body.

In no time, he had you moaning nothing but the sound of his name, occasionally no more than the sharp consonants of his initials coming out. It felt so good. Too good. He kept flicking and curling, while you kept tossing and turning, your hips squirming away while your fingers gripped closer, at his fingers, at his hair, anywhere you could find, anywhere you could anchor in.

Muffled sounds mixed in with your cries, as Takasugi kept gushing over you, his saliva and your fluids streaming down your throbbing holes. But the lewd sound of your squelching under his tongue, came only second to the far more obscene expression of his face. He looked so messed up, with his disheveled hair and bandages dropping over his forehead. So messed up that part of you couldn’t help but want to mess him up even further.

You weren’t even thinking straight anymore. Your judgment was completely clouded by primal instincts and sheer pleasure. All you knew was that you wanted him, that you’d spent every breathing moment of your life wanting and yearning for him, even when he’d always been by your side. You wanted to never let go, you wanted to become one with him. Now, and forever.

Your grip on his hair relaxed enough for you to push a loose strip of bandage that blocked his vision behind his ear. He hummed in response, his gratitude pouring in the way his hand held yours ever so lovingly. You tried your best to keep your gaze fixed on his, though the second he slid in one of his fingers, you had no choice but to fall back, your hips solely jerking forward.

You cursed again and again, until no word that made sense came out of your mouth, until the room began to spin, the bright kitchen lights and the buzzing of a bell filled in the void of your eyes. Briefly, you felt him pull out of you, his lips insisting on placing a series of tender kisses along your opening and thighs as if he were the one thanking you.

“Y/N.” The hoarse sound of your name fell on deaf ears. You were too preoccupied with your own bliss to answer him.

“Aren’t you going to get that?” He went on.

“Get… that?” Unwillingly you opened your eyes, completely clueless over what he was talking about.

The ringing had all but ceased inside your head, when you realized it had nothing to do with your orgasm. The cake!

In an instant, you flew to the other side of the kitchen, one hand attempting to piece your outfit together, while the other fumbled around the oven’s buttons. Were you a minute late, the cake would’ve gotten burnt to a crisp, and your entire struggle would’ve been over nothing.

“Couldn’t you handle it?” You protested, throwing a punch in the air as he approached you.

“Hmm? I don’t recall receiving such command.” He smirked, capturing each of your fists in his own before they got the chance to land.

“You!” You grunted and he grinned, finding your annoyed expression infinitely amusing, though perhaps, the funniest thing about this scene was the way a half-naked woman retaliated against him in the middle of a kitchen floor.

Maybe if you saw things from that perspective, you’d also be laughing, but for now, all you were was severely distracted and unsure of how to proceed. Your mind kept telling you to get things in order and finish with your cake’s assembly, while another less prim and proper part of you, kept urging you to jump his bones on the spot. Curse you, Takasugi Shinsuke and your stupidly stupid smile.

“Shall we wrap things up, or will you insist on attacking me?” He asked, his chin still glistening with your juices.

“…Get yourself cleaned up first.” You pulled your hands off him in defeat. There was no point of keeping this up.

After the two of you went back to appearing somewhat presentable, you explained how the cake needed some time to cool down, and how in the meantime, you could prepare additional toppings, such as those strawberries you’d previously located in the refrigerator.

Surprisingly enough, he seemed eager enough to assist without you having to ask. Where knives were involved, he found himself right in his element.

In no time, Takasugi made quick work of the strawberries, slicing them into smaller pieces, while all there was left for you to do was gawk at his broad shoulders. He seemed so focused, that even when you paraded back and forth, even when you forced a dry cough here and there, he paid no mind. Just what were you doing?

“What are you doing?” He read through your mind.

No answer could justify your actions. It was because of you that he’d found himself in this situation, but it was because of him that the insistent sensation between your legs wouldn’t go away. If your thoughts were that easy for him to read, then he’d know firsthand of how you felt right now.

His fingers had no reason to be busied with cutlery and fruit. They belonged around your hips, holding you down, lest you arch your back too high.

Be it against the counter, the table, the floor, or even the sink, you longed to see that familiar glint in his eye, the one he only showed when sheathed deep within your heat. You wanted the only sound in the room to be that of his husky breathing evolving to a singular growl right before he spilled in your guts.

If he could really read your mind, he’d know of all that. He’d know of how much you wanted him and how maddening that was. Screw Yato women, what were you supposed to do about your own frustration?

“You know, we’ll probably be in here a while longer.” You suggested, moving up behind him.

“And?” Amusement dripped of his voice as you rest your chin upon his shoulder.

“And we could have some more fun to ourselves.” Your arms looped around his exposed chest. “We’ve never done it in here before.”

Despite him continuously driving the knife down the cutting board, his pace had slowed down. He could act disinterested all he wanted, but his actions suggested otherwise.

“And?”

“And,” you lowered your hands round his nether area, elated to feel his hardened cock poking at your fingertips. “I can tell I’m not the only one excited by the prospect.”

“And?” He hummed, having let go of the knife.

“And I’m sick of playing games.” Your lips tugged at his earlobe, while you kept on palming him.

“Weren’t you the one who wanted to play house?”

“I was,” you admitted, “but now, I want you.”

“You grow more shameless with each year.” He accused, flaunting the kind of smirk you wanted to bite right off his lips.

“Can you blame me?”

“I guess not.”

One step was all it took for you to be pressed against the counter, the soft sensation of his mouth overriding the sharp edges of the drawers. It felt uncomfortable and rushed, but you couldn’t care less. The way his tongue wet over your bottom lip was enough to soothe the pain, enough to quell the thirst you had for him.

It’d always been like this. Every time Takasugi kissed you, you were brought back to that moonless summer night by the coastline, the place where you’d first gotten taste of each other. It felt as desperate as the sea’s foam clinging to the shore, and as certain as the promise of the incoming tide, liberating and drowning you all at once.

Deft fingers came digging at your waist, barely undoing each garment for him to ravish what was rightfully his. You helped him remove the kimono, though when it came to the apron, he didn’t allow for you to take it off. He loved the sight of you in it, but more importantly, he loved the fantasy of normality that came along, the manifestation of what your lives could have been.

Enveloped in his warm embrace, you took the opportunity to run your fingers over his skin, trailing them down his chest, his abdomen, and eventually, his crotch. He’d been in such hurry to leave that he’d neglected to wear an underwear. It was a wonder he’d never gotten arrested for public indecency, you mentally chuckled, wrapping your fingers around his shaft and then slowly pumping him.

A hand caressed your own, before moving onto your chest, drawing a tit outside the apron’s coverage. His hot breath replaced his fingers as he dipped forward, sucking your nipple right into his mouth. The sensation made your grip tighten, inducing a soft sigh to fall against your skin. He glanced at you, the green in his eye hazy while he moved higher to leave his mark, making sure that today would be more than just a memory to reminisce.

You dragged him closer, driving his cock to your slicked entrance. Playing around was nice, but definitely not as nice as being filled, a sentiment he seemed to share.

Takasugi placed his hands below your thighs, giving you little time to react when he lifted you up. You gasped, quickly knitting your fingers behind his neck to support yourself, while he held you close, shoving your hips together.

“Where to?” He rasped in between heavy breathing.

“Right here.” The second you gave your answer, you pressed your lips against his, unwilling to stray from his touch any longer.

With great care, he sat you atop the counter, his palms prompting your legs to dangle over the edge for him to position himself. You backed away ever so slightly, keen on watching his thumb continuously swipe over the head and your clit up until he allowed your lips to swallow him. You bit a moan back and he smiled, slowly pushing deeper, replacing your neediness with ecstatic pleasure.

“This is much better than Master Sword 69.” You jested, forcing him to shush you with his mouth, lest he let himself laugh at such a horrid joke.

You felt his tongue roll around yours in sync with his hips, the firm sensation of his pubic bone pressuring your clit whenever he slammed his cock inside. You moaned, nibbling at his lips while he grunted, digging his fingers at your hips to push you further against his thrusts. You loved it when he handled you like that, though you both knew he wouldn’t last much at this pace.

Eventually he slowed down, resorting to merely sheathing himself within your folds. He was already throbbing, his seed begging to spill inside your womb. You rocked your hips a tiny bit and he pulled away halfway before sinking back in, unable to truly part from you. Panted breaths mixed in with soft chuckles, the two of you finding great amusement in how naturally your bodies were drawn together, palpitating with desire.

“I can’t believe I’m yours.” You breathed, ghosting your lips over his. “Even after all these years, I can’t believe I was fortunate enough to have met you.”

“Hopefully you got your money’s worth.” He smirked.

“You make it sound as if you are a prostitute.”

Takasugi rolled his eye, returning his attention to your lower half. Even when he was balls deep inside, you couldn’t help but poke fun at him. Getting on his nerves never got old.

Faster than before, his hips snapped against yours, as if he was trying to fuck you into becoming less of a vixen. You paid no mind to that, fully enjoying the way his cock rammed in your sweet spot, until all of a sudden, sharp pain had you yelping. He stopped, a look of concern spreading to his features while you rubbed at the back of your skull. He’d gone so hard that you’d banged your head against the cabinet.

“So clumsy.” He mumbled, guising his mistake as yours.

You were about to complain when he started moving again, only this time, rather than feeling the cold metal boring into your head, you only felt the softness of his palm shielding you from harm.

“Shut up.” He hushed before you had the chance to say a single word.

Not that you really could, either. With how hard he pounded you, the only sounds you could make were whimpers, little by little being driven over the edge.

Stars still flickered past your shut eyelids as you used your last bit of energy to embrace him, propping your chin upon your arm. His hands searched for support against the counter while he began to fall out of rhythm, his thrusts leading to him cumming deep within your walls.

“Happy Birthday, Y/N.” He was still throbbing as he said those three little words, words you never knew how much you longed to hear.

All these birthdays had gone by without a single gift or wish, but even if you could receive any gift, even if you could make any wish, you’d still choose him, you’d still wish for only him. In the end, all those forgotten gifts and wishes amounted to nothing. What was most important to you was right there in your arms. The most precious thing in life, your partner, your lover, your…family.

“Can you keep being my gift?” You asked, nuzzling in his shoulder. “Next year, and the year after that, can I keep asking for you?”

Takasugi spared no answer. Not because he didn’t want to, but because part of him knew there was always a possibility that the very first birthday you’d spent together might as well be the last he’d ever get to celebrate with you. And so he said nothing, choosing to splay his hands over your lower back in a tender motion.

“I don’t want anything other than you. There’s no one else I’d rather share such moments with, so can you please keep on being my present?” You insisted, demanding for a lie he was not too keen on giving.

A sigh heaved up his chest as he slowly moved away from you. “Quit being this mushy.” He mumbled, turning around.

Part of his cum poured down your thighs as you propped yourself against the counter.

Maybe you shouldn’t have said that. Maybe you shouldn’t make him commit to a promise he’d be unable to honor, but then again you had a hard time holding back when you loved him this much. The mere idea of spending a birthday on your own gave you goosebumps. It had to be with him. No matter what, he had to be there.

Takasugi returned a minute later with a couple of paper towels in hand. He took in your sour expression, realizing you probably took this short time to reflect upon the future, one you weren’t guaranteed to share.

“You’re such a mess.” He sank to his knees, gently cleaning after the mess he made between your legs.

“As long as I can help it, I promise.”

Following the rather eventful time you spent inside the kitchen, you’d made sure not to leave any traces of your little adventure behind, while he’d made sure to remind you of how easy it’d been for him to claim the key. You didn’t even notice he’d taken it from you until it was time to head out. That sly piece of…

But, you couldn’t complain. Not about his mocking, and not about his refusal to help clean either. The cake turned to be a great success, both in taste and appearance, and you could now finally reap your rewards in the comfort of his bedroom. Bit by bit the platter emptied with only about half the dessert remaining. You hadn’t eaten a single thing all day long, and the unscheduled ‘work-out’ had taken its toll on your poor legs.

Once the two of you finished eating, Takasugi brought forth his shamisen to tune it, while you fished out a piece of paper and a pen to write Sakamoto a letter. There was so much you wanted to tell him. About your trips, the Kiheitai, and of course, about Takasugi.

Outside your letters, Sakamoto never got to hear a word about or from his old friend. You’d seen Takasugi scribble some words, but they never reached his ears. All were torn into confetti.

You knew how much he missed the past. How deep his longing to meet with his friends again ran within his heart and how hard it was for him to express his innermost feelings. You knew all that, and although there was nothing you could do in order to help bridge the gap, letting Sakamoto know of his friend’s well-being wouldn’t harm. Behind his back, or not.

“What are you smiling about?” He asked without lifting head from his instrument.

“Nothing in particular. Just disproving some false claims.” You hid a dry cough behind your fist as you begun to read. “Dear Tatsuma, all’s well here, thanks for asking. I hope your business keeps expanding and you don’t get thrown out in space by Mutsu again. Your gift brought me great joy, but don’t assume I’ll let you win that easily. P.S. Don’t underestimate Shinsuke. He is an incredible lover and really great at-”

Before you could finish reading the supposed letter, Takasugi grabbed it from within your grasp, only to scoff at the lack of ink.

“You are incorrigible” He returned the paper to the table while you chuckled, earning yourself another of his infamous glares.

Rather than picking up the pen, you opted for the spoon, digging back in the remaining piece you’d left in your plate. “It’s true though. You really are an incredible lover and great at cooking.” You swallowed. “You know, it’s not too late to change career, Shinsuke.”

He shrugged, tightening and then striking one of the strings. “I’ll consider leaving the world with just a stove.”

“So what did you think of today? What was it like to make something from scratch?”

“Harder than watching Zura make onigiri.”

You laughed and he smiled just a little bit, the sound of his playing as mellow as his features.

“You’d rather just sit back and watch?”

He nodded, first setting his tuner and then his shamisen to the side. An invitation for you to scoot closer, one that you gracefully accepted by laying your head against his shoulder. For someone who lifted such a heavy burden, he surely felt lightweight as a pillow.

“Let’s just say I wouldn’t mind seeing you in an apron more often.” Takasugi said, picking up his own plate. He was never big on sweets, but he’d at the very least eaten half of what you’d served.

“Makes you resemble a proper housewife.” He smirked after shoving a bite.

“Calling me a housewife when you haven’t even put a ring on my finger.”

Your joke failed to land any chuckles apart from your own. If anything, it had the opposite effect on him, with his expression instantly turning sour.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that-”

“Except you did.” He sighed, dropping the plate along with the spoon back on the table, while you sat up to look at him.

“Y/N, I’ve halfed-assed many things in life, us included. Years later, and I still don’t know how to do this properly. But what I do know is that when we share a bed together, when we share what little’s left of our souls with one another, when we share a life, then that makes us as good as married, does it not?”

At the sound of his words, you felt your cheeks radiating with heat. How could he speak in such nonchalant way? He’d never called you so much as a girlfriend or a partner, and now went around addressing you as a wife? His wife?

“What? Scared to be called a terrorist’s wife?” Takasugi taunted.

“Terrorist? What terrorist?” You brought a hand onto your forehead, pretending to look around. “I see nothing but a samurai, and that would make me into a samurai’s wife.”

Your answer seemed to satisfy him enough to crack a smile, one that you eagerly returned.

“An idiot, a terrorist, and a samurai. I’ve been called all three in just one day.” He absently trailed over your fingers with his own.

“Only an idiotic samurai could ever turn to terrorism. To me, Shinsuke, you are the same boy I met back then. The one who’s unafraid to raise his sword in the name of a lost cause.”

You meant to assure him, but he only ended up snickering in amusement.

“I really haven’t changed, have I?”

“Not at all.” You expressed with a nod of your head. “But If I may say so myself, you’ve gotten a tad grumpier. It’s as if your grumpiness increases with each passing year.”

His amusement turned to irritation in a moment’s notice, though that did not dishearten you from making further comments. It was always amusing to see how far his tolerance would reach, but when he finally boiled over, your sounds turned muffled.

“Shut up and eat the damn cake already.” Takasugi huffed, having shoved a spoonful of cake in between your parted lips.

Once he felt you swallowing, he pulled his hand away, only for your mouth to follow it, seeking to be fed again. He glared and you insisted, drawing out a long ‘A’ sound until he caved in.

“Such a lousy wife.”

The next morning found you alone in bed, with Takasugi having seemingly disappeared from your side. This was hardly unlike him. Come morning light, he always had this tendency of running off with Bansai, handling the kind of issues you failed to wrap your head around. Can’t be helped.

Your eyes shut once more, refusing to open up just yet. It was so early and there was nothing for you to do, other than to spend another dull day in space. Or at least, that’s what you thought until you stretched your hand onto the pillow beside you, your fingers meeting with the cold roundness of a foreign object; a ring of gold.

“Such a lousy husband.” You exclaimed with a smile brighter than the sun itself.

[hekateinhell]

For Dungeon Anon. ♥️ Inspired by some of the stuff that's been going in my ask box lately lmao.

Teenage delinquents Lestat and Armand are dating Louis together while navigating their own situationship, when Louis leaves them to their own devices for two weeks and certain permanent decisions are made.

Modern Human AU, Lestat/Armand/Louis (Louis is there in spirit and also to dom through FaceTime), 5k, rated E (oral sex, video stuff, Lestat's praise kink makes an appearance). X-posted to the ao3 because this is lot for me (RIP).

9:02 PM: I'm bored. Everyone else's gone, come hang out if you want?

9:12 PM: K.

K?

What did "K" even mean? "K, you're bored"? "K, I'm coming over"? "K, I got the text"?

Lestat rolled over, phone on his stomach, annoyed and out of sorts. Leave it to Armand to say everything and nothing at once.

Were his bedroom lights always this bright?

It was never easy when Louis wasn't around. Lestat knew who he was with Louis; he more or less knew what Louis was with Armand, and he knew what he and Armand were with Louis around. But like this, on their own for the first time when Mrs. de Pointe du Lac had inexplicably decided her kids could stand to miss two weeks of school to visit her family in New Orleans. Sick Grand-mère perhaps, Lestat couldn't remember.

–

"Try and spend some time together. Please. Get to know each other without me," Louis had whispered to them both as he pulled away from Lestat's embrace to kiss Armand outside his apartment building while his sister slammed the Taxi trunk shut. "Please? For me?" he squeezed one of their hands in each of his, smiling the demure smile that he knew made them both weak in the knees and tight in the pants.

"Of course, anything for you, my love," Armand, damn him, beat Lestat to the punch.

Disgustingly, cloyingly sweet.

"Yes, yes, of course," Lestat acquiesced, stealing a last kiss for himself as Armand rolled his eyes and not-so-subtly kicked at his ankle with a combat boot. The little gremlin.

Lestat was of the opinion he spent plenty of time with Armand – too much, in fact! Armand on the other side of Louis during class, at lunch, on the steps of their school! Even every Sunday in Louis's bedroom, a 'shared day' when time didn't lend itself to being split neatly down the middle.

An experiment, was what Lestat had told himself as a consolation.

A few months of this before it all came to a head. Armand had cornered him alone in the music room, veritably hissing about how Lestat was purposely trying to shove him aside and drive a wedge between him and Louis and that he, Armand, wasn't going to allow it. Almost comical it had been, what with Armand's head barely reaching Lestat's chest on a good day, and he'd still managed to back him into a wall like a rabid little raccoon.

At first, it had been funny, but then it was simply ventured on annoying. Lestat had had Louis first, after all! Yes, fine, they had technically been "on a break" when Louis met Armand. And yes, there was that little aggravating detail of Louis insisting that he would only give Lestat a second chance if he were still permitted to date Armand. Lestat had given his trademark jovial, "Oh, course, mon chèri!" So confident was he that Armand would be yesterday's news by the end of the week.

But that hadn't happened, and now he had 5'6, 125 lbs of cranky Eastern European theater kid on his ass.

He couldn't hit him, it wouldn't be a fair fight, and the brat would probably spin it to Louis to make himself look like the victim. Never one to back down, Lestat had done the second next-best thing. He'd grabbed Armand's jaw tight in his hand, stunning him into silence, and bent down to kiss him as violently and punishingly as he could - the way he never dared to nor desired to do to Louis. Not a single loving touch in it.

"There, finally shut you the fuck up," Lestat murmured as he caught his breath, delighting in how bruised and busted Armand's already plump lips looked now.

See him complain to Louis about this.

Armand blinked those dark eyes at him, processing the words he'd spoken but making no move to pull away. Something akin to hurt flickered across his face, at the same time he shifted from one leg to the other, and Lestat smiled when he realized exactly why.

The second kiss was a lot gentler, sweeter, wetter, almost as though Lestat were trying to repair the damage he'd done with the same instrument that had done it – his lips.

Armand's hand came up to tangle in Lestat's hair, grinding himself against his thigh as he moaned while his other came to rest over his crotch, squeezing Lestat's raging hard-on through his jeans. Kissing Armand was so different to kissing Louis... Each person always so unique. Armand's mouth was smaller yet more commanding, aggressive yet simultaneously yielding, the cool silver stud in his tongue bumping against Lestat's top teeth with every delicious back-and-forth push and pull.

Didn't realize what was happening until Armand suddenly shuddered and broke away to slump forward, pressing his head to Lestat's bicep as he finished trembling through his orgasm.

A bit of an awkward moment until Lestat's cock decided to remind them both of its rather prominent presence and twitch against Armand's hand.

"I didn't..." Lestat panted, "I haven't..."

Swore he felt Armand smile against his skin. "Give me a second," he squeezed again for emphasis, "I'll take care of it."

And so he had, rather spectacularly – no gag reflex that one – while smugly maintaining eye contact the entire time. He knew how good he was. Louis knew how good he was. And now Lestat did too.

–

Fuck.

The doorbell ringing snapped Lestat out of his reminiscences. "Shit," he mumbled, quickly adjusting himself to right the situation going on in his leather pants just now, thanks to the memory from two months ago.

Think unsexy thoughts, think unsexy thoughts... Don't think about what we've done together, with Louis, since then.

"Hi," Armand looked almost shy for a moment, backing up a few steps so he didn't have to tilt his chin up to look into Lestat's face.

Lestat's instinct was to kiss him, depravedly, right there in the doorway where the neighbors and God might see. But they weren't dating, nor were they even established fuck buddies. A handshake would be too formal, a slap on the shoulder too "bro." He wasn't used to seeing Armand without Louis as a buffer; he'd never actually had to greet Armand as his own person before.

Armand made the decision for him, leaning up to press a quick kiss to the short, day-old scruff along Lestat's jawline before dropping back down and stepping into the house as though it weren't his first time there.

"So... What do you want to do?"

There were several things Lestat wanted to do, to him, just then. But most, if not all, of them would defeat the purpose of "getting to know each other" the way they had promised Louis that they would.

"I still have some booze? We could hit that and throw on a movie?"

Armand gave him a funny look, one Lestat couldn't quite decipher. "You invite me to the afterparty but not the party?"

Oh.

"I wouldn't call it a party," Lestat ran his fingers through his hair, tugging on the ends the way he did when he was starting to get uncomfortable. "Just me and the guys from band, you know. I didn't think you'd vibe with them."

The truth was he hadn't thought about Armand at all. Lestat wasn't a fan of his worlds colliding.

"But Louis 'vibes' with them, yes?"

It's a trap; Lestat can feel it as he's walking right into it.

"Occasionally, maybe. He's very easygoing!"

Armand scoffed. "Louis, easygoing? Just how high are you right now?"

"What's the fucking point of this conversation anyway, Armand?" Lestat's patience quickly found its end. "I invite you over, and you're being bitchy because I didn't ask you to hang out with my friends that I know you'd hate?"

"I'm 'bitchy' because you always act like you're ashamed to be seen around me!"

Oh.

"That's not-! I'm not-!" Not sober enough to even be thinking of having this conversation is what Lestat was.

He's about to tell Armand to forget it and go home; he'll sleep this off and text him in the AM.

"Where's the booze? I want to get messed up."

Gabrielle wasn't home, and wouldn't be home until Monday. She didn't care. Who did?

"Down that way, cabinet on the right."

Armand's a lot sweeter when he's drunk, kissing at Lestat's face and collarbone in an overly excitable, almost childlike way as he bounced on the bed.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, staring into Lestat's eyes before bursting into a fit of giggles. "You should fuck me."

Lestat choked on the bottle. "Yeah, I don't think so." The look on Armand's face... "Not that I don't want to," Lestat hurried to correct his mistake, "I’d want you to remember it, you know? I've been told I am quite the experience." Couldn't resist punctuating that statement with a wink.

Armand snorted, his humor making a quick recovery. "Oh, I'm sure."

Lestat took another swig and passed the bottle. "Have you done it yet?"

"'It'? Really, Lestat? Am I a virgin? Have I fucked, banged, screwed, you mean?"

"Jesus. Yes, that's what I meant! I know we fool around, and I imagine you do the same kind of things with Louis when it's just the two of you."

Bitter, bitter thought.

"But are you a virgin?"

"Why do you want to know?" Armand seemed defensive all of a sudden, peering at him in that creepy, unblinking way that Lestat found vaguely threatening.

Something-something unpredictable and unsettling.

"No reason," he shook his head. "Just curious, that's all. And quit looking at me like that! It's very off-putting."

Rather than being insulted, Armand appeared to take it as a compliment. He smiled and leaned back against the headboard, satisfied. "Good, you should be put off."

"You literally just asked me to fuck you!" Lestat's booming laugh sounded more incredulous than anything else.

Armand stared down at his jeans, worrying at the seams of the dark gray denim.

"To answer your question: no, I'm not a virgin, but also, I have never..." He trailed off, his gaze darting around the room before settling on the helm of Lestat's maroon t-shirt as he lay propped up beside him.

Never what?

"Never what, Armand?"

"Forget it." He lifted the bottle to Lestat's mouth, tilting it back and holding it in place for him when he accepted. "Let's do something fun, yeah?"

Lestat nodded as he chugged the equivalent of three shots before pushing the bottle away, ran a hand down Armand's inner thigh, and reached over to kiss and suck at his throat.

Armand liked it, and Lestat liked doing it. "I do you and you do me?" he asked, having had yet to find his groove with Armand when Louis wasn't in bed with them, telling them what to do to each other.

Armand sighed as his hand curved over Lestat's shoulder, clearly finding the prospect attractive. Lestat already had a hand under the mesh top, grazing the soft hairs on Armand's lower abdomen, dipping two fingers below the waistband, ready to yank down his pants and slide into position when-

“Wait,” Armand smacked at his back and Lestat groaned in frustration, burying his face onto the giant paisley pattern on the duvet beside Armand’s hip, keeping his fingers right where they were until further notice.

"You're killing me, Armand. You're really killing me," he grumbled, humping the bed once for good measure – which predictably had the opposite of the intended effect and did nothing to alleviate the problem.

Armand shoved his shoulder this time, hard. “And you’re so melodramatic! Are you this whiny when it’s just you and Louis? Unbelievable.”

Lestat peered up at him through his hair, trying to force his body to cooperate with his brain and vice versa. “He likes it,” he countered back, feeling and sounding not unlike a chastised child. “Now, getting back to business,” he adjusted to nestle his forehead against Armand’s ribcage, “Was that ‘Wait, let’s pause,’ or ‘Wait, let’s stop’?”

A pause.

“It was a ‘Wait, let’s FaceTime Louis and let him watch.’”

Lestat scrambled up as though Armand had said, “The house is on fire.”

“You little minx… That’s fucking brilliant.”

Armand beamed at his approval, a tad too pleased with himself. "Here, call him," he shoved Lestat's own phone in his direction.

“Don’t boss me around,” Lestat quipped, as he did just what Armand had ordered, hitting the video call button and listening to it ring.

“Please. You like it,” Armand countered, ducking as Lestat made to grab his hair in response.

Declined.

“Ouch.”

“Oh, shut up, you little devil! I’m sure he hit the wrong button by mistake. Louis doesn’t decline my calls.”

Declined.

“Sure, keep telling yourself that.”

Smack!

“Did you just hit me?”

“No,” Lestat rolled his eyes, preparing to hit FaceTime again, “Technically, the pillow hit you. The force was all mine, though."

11:45 PM: I’m out at dinner with my family right now. Everything okay?? Love you.

“See,” Lestat crowed, “He’s not ignoring me!”

11:45 PM: Everything’s fine, beautiful! Armand’s here… We want to show you something ;)

Two minutes. Two minutes of Armand and Lestat staring at the little screen while the three little dots came and went several times.

“Too much?” Lestat’s insecurities began to flare up.

“No,” Armand snatched the phone out of his hand and opened the camera app. “Not enough… Now kiss me and make it dirty.”

Lestat didn’t have to be told twice. It was filthy, obscene, borderline pornographic-

“And… send!”

11:48 PM: look how much we miss you call us xx A

"He's not answering!" Lestat was aware of how juvenile he sounded then, and he couldn't care less.

“Give him a minute! And try to use the brain that I’ve heard you supposedly have… I’m sure he doesn’t want us to meet the rest of his family like this.”

Lestat took a minute to take Armand in – cheeks flushed from alcohol, eyes wild from excitement and arousal, hair mussed from rolling around Lestat’s pillows. He imagined he looked a lot like himself. “You’re right, mon petit,” he replied, unable to resist the endearment that he knew Armand would perceive as a slight to his height.

FaceTime Video.

“As always,” Armand remarked as he hit Accept Call, transforming the haughty, belligerent expression on his face into something downright innocent and wholesome. What an actor. “Hello, lover!”

Lestat leaned over Armand’s chest to ensure he was still in the frame, occupying most of it, in fact. “Bonjour, mon amour!"

Louis on the screen laughed, his green eyes exceptionally bright due to the lighting. “Bonjour to you too, my loves.”

“We miss you,” Armand complained with an exaggerated whine as Lestat interrupted, “But I miss you the most!”

Oh, how beautiful Louis was when he blushed – and it was ridiculously, delightfully easy to make him blush. “It’s not a competition,” he chided, “But I miss you both so much, of course. I can’t wait to be home.”

The rush from the alcohol was fading and Lestat cuddled to Armand’s side, dropping his head to his shoulder to settle his nerves. “I’m glad you picked up,” he whispered. Finally.

“Me too,” Armand nodded. “Where are you, sweetheart? I can’t quite tell.”

"Oh," Louis shrugged. "Hiding in the bathroom. I didn't know what to expect… after that photo." He blushed again and looked away.

Amazing that this was the same person that could have Lestat on one side and Armand on the other every weekend, a cock in each hand as he worked them to completion while murmuring sweet nonsense in a combination of English, French, and Creole.

The memory had Lestat subconsciously bucking his hips against Armand's leg and biting down on his lip to suppress a moan.

“That reminds me,” Armand shifted to sit up as he passed Lestat’s phone back to him. “We wanted to show you something.” Quickly freeing himself from his pants and underwear before snatching the phone right back, patting his inner thigh for Lestat’s benefit. “Go on then,” he told him.” He touched the screen and leaned back at an incline, “Camera’s on you, brat.”

Heard Louis gasp as he watched Lestat kiss his way down Armand’s navel, the tip of his cock grazing Lestat’s chin as he whimpered and squirmed in anticipation. “Don't drag it out,” he begged and when Lestat raised an eyebrow, he added, “We can't keep Louis in the bathroom all night.”

“Yes,” Louis sounded breathless, “Do it, Lestat.”

"Just where do the two of you get off, speaking to me this way?" He teased, drawing out the moment, knowing good and well the vision he presented to his captive audience. Hair escaping from the low ponytail to frame his face, the black eyeliner smudged around his eyes, making them appear massive and more mysterious, lips red and shiny and glistening from spit and precum.

Fluttered his long eyelashes shut and focused on taking Armand down to the hilt in one fluid movement, relaxing his throat and willing it to cooperate. Louis was watching, after all, and Lestat always performed better with a crowd.

“Good, so good, Lestat,” Louis cooed, and Lestat preened at the praise. “Isn't he good, Armand?”

"Uh huh," Armand moaned. "Really good. I'm not gonna hold out, baby. I'm sorry," he apologized to Louis, already linking his ankles over Lestat's back, using his free hand to tug on his hair.

You asked for quick, I'm giving you quick, Lestat wanted to say, but settled for smiling around the cock in his mouth, hyper-aware of both sets of eyes. Hollowed out his cheeks and hummed in the back of his throat, knowing he loved it when Armand did that to him.

"It's okay, love. Let go when you're ready." Fuck, that man's voice could hypnotize a lion.

Armand moaned again and shook his head at nothing in particular – the little obscene noises escaping his mouth and increasing in pitch with every merciless suck Lestat gave. “Oh yes, you will,” Louis soothed, “And Lestat will take it all, won't you, darling?”

He felt Armand’s thighs quivering on either side of his head and knew he wouldn't even need to answer Louis either way. He pulled back to grin at the camera, at Armand looking through it, mouth open and tongue lapping at the slit before closing his lips over the head once more as Armand groaned and went rigid, spine arching off the bed while Lestat's hands on his hips pinned him into place.

Lestat took it all, every drop Armand had to offer. Gave his softening cock one last suck for good measure, which earned him a cry from Armand and a "Good boy" from Louis before collapsing onto his side.

That was new. Interesting. Hot. He wouldn't mind an encore later.

“I'll do you now?” Armand's shaky voice cut through his thoughts.

"I don't think you have to," Lestat grimaced, noticing for the first time the mess he had made in his pants. He'd be so single-mindedly focused on putting on a good show, and hadn't realized he'd gotten himself off by grinding into the mattress.

Embarrassing.

"There," Lestat grabbed his phone back, holding it close so Louis would see just his face, see the proof of his labor. "I swallowed your boyfriend's load just like you told me to. Does that prove how much I love you or what?"

“How did this become about that? I know you love me, silly goose.”

“Not silly,” Lestat pouted while Armand narrowed his eyes at him, still too wrung out to move. “I wanted a chance to prove my love,” he grumbled as Lestat swatted at his hand.

“You're both so drunk! Sleep it off, my loves. I have to… clean up… and get back to the table before they start wondering where I am.”

Damn. "Alright," Lestat allowed, feeling the victor if nothing else. "I love you."

"I love you too," Armand's voice sounded small as he pulled himself up, using Lestat as leverage. "Call me later?"

"You'll be asleep! I hope. I love you both. I'll try to text you later." He blew them a kiss that they each pretended to catch, then the screen blinked and the call was over.

Lestat sighed and gently pushed Armand off in favor of getting up and stripping down, rummaging around the dresser for something clean to wear.

“You know what we should do?” Armand spoke loudly to the ceiling.

"What?" Lestat yelled from the adjoining bathroom, lowering his voice as he reentered, appreciating for a moment the fucked-out tableau Armand made.

At least Louis chose well based on aesthetics.

"What should we do?"

"Let's go into the city, it's Friday, and we have nothing better to do."

Not the worst idea Armand's ever had - the antics on the late-night trains in and out of Manhattan were worth the fare alone.

Midnight on Friday meant that most people were either on their way to the graveyard shift or just out and about and looking for a good time like Armand and Lestat. They ambled out of the bus at Port Authority and made their way to the subway at Broadway & W 41st. Lestat tried and failed to drunkenly serenade Armand around the Grand Central stop before bumping into a steel pole, much to the amusement of their fellow passengers.

“We,” Armand twirled around a pole and then dropped himself into Lestat’s lap, “Should get tattoos.”

Quelle surprise from the little imp. “Tattoos? Now? At midnight?”

“Yes.” Armand pursed his lips momentarily. “Tattoos to prove our love to Louis, as you so eloquently put it.”

“What, you’re feeling put out you didn't get to enthrall him tonight and you want to overcompensate?”

Mean, but Armand could handle it.

“I enthralled him plenty!” Armand snapped, arms crossed over his chest. “I just think it would be fun, you know?” tone softening, head to the side in a feigned gesture of submission. “C’mon, Lestat. It would make a great story." He sneered then, and the illusion dissipated, "Unless you're too chicken to do it."

"Chicken?! Who do you think you're talking to?" Lestat's left hand on his lower back kept him from losing his balance at a hard turn.

Intriguing, seeing as Lestat looked like he wanted to shove Armand onto the disgusting subway car floor himself. He settled for yanking him up to his feet by his wrist as though he were handling a toddler, heralding him to the nearest exit.

“If it’s a tattoo you want, we’re getting off here then,” Lestat announced, his voice dripping with irritation and perhaps a tad bit of excitement.

Armand gave him an icy look but made no move to separate his wrist from Lestat’s grasp, following him out of the subway and up the steps to Union Square. The January air cold and unforgiving, and he shivered in Lestat's leather jacket.

Hadn't been paying attention when they left the house – Lestat hadn't mentioned it, but Armand was sure he'd noticed and hoped he wasn't reading into it. Yet Armand was thankful for it now as it hit him at precisely mid-thigh and was infinitely warmer than his own unlined one would have been.

"It's a ten-minute walk to the place where I got mine done. They don't ask for ID if you pay upfront. Cool dude," Lestat seemed to be warming up the idea as they walked hurriedly.

“You have a tattoo? Where?” Armand demanded to know, evidently shocked, as he thought he had already seen every square inch of Lestat’s naked body.

“Guess.”

“I don’t know! Just tell me, for once!”

“You’re such a baby, Armand, I swear,” but there was no malice in it, and Lestat indulged him by pausing long enough to pull down his lower lip, revealing the BRAT tattooed on the inside. “Hurt like a fucking bitch too!”

Armand couldn't help it – he clapped his hands and laughed out loud. "Of course you would!"

“What did Louis think?”

"Told me I was a 'damned fool,' and I was lucky it was where nobody would see it or he would've dumped me for good right then and there."

“Hmm, such a shame it wasn’t on your forehead then.”

“Imp.”

“Idiot.”

Pretty Devil’s Ink was everything one might expect from a tattoo parlor that operated well past midnight and accepted minors as clients. Still, Armand felt a thrill of adrenaline as Lestat held the door open for him, waving him in dramatically.

“Hey, hey! The brat is back!” a big guy boomed in a decidedly Italian-American accent. “And he brought a little friend!”

Armand was about to open his mouth and challenge that statement when Lestat stepped around him to embrace the guy, clapping him on the back. “Hey, Nico! What’s up? Yeah, Armand here was ragging on my ass about wanting a tattoo, so here we are! He has the same problem I did, but you’ll hook him up, right?”

A dashing smile, a wink, an extra $20 on top of the cash Armand procured from his tattered old wallet, and they were going through Nico’s catalog.

More to the point, Armand was going through it while Lestat almost literally bounced from one end of the shop to the other and back – taking a swig from the half-full whiskey bottle he'd stashed under his coat earlier and touching stuff he probably had no business touching.

"So, what do you have in mind?" Nico asked. "And is it one of youse or the two of youse, because you only paid for one."

“I’m not sure yet… But it’s both, right, Lestat? We’re doing it together, right? For Louis?”

Perhaps it was the booze, perhaps it was how all of Armand’s confidence seemed to abruptly disappear at different points throughout the night, perhaps it was because Lestat never could say no to a grand gesture even when he very well should, but Lestat heard himself say, “Yes,” before he realized he’d done it.

Took a seat on the table next to Armand and picked at the black polish on his nails while Armand flipped to another page. “We should call Louis again,” he smirked, phone already out of his pocket. “Get his input.”

Declined.

“Oh, this is rich!”

“Maybe he’s still with his family, Lestat. And wouldn’t it be better as a surprise? As long as we don’t get on our faces… or somewhere equally ridiculous.”

“Whatever. Let’s leave him a voicemail.”

Declined.

“You’re breaking our hearts, mon chéri! …Armand, say something…."

“… going to prove our love to you!”

“… that’s right… prove our love to you!”

“… and then you’ll never leave us again!”

"… that's right! I must say, Armand, you have a dazzling way with words…."

"… both of youse are really drunk…  I don't know if I should be doing this…."

“… we’ll pay you double!”

“… yes, we’ll pay you double!”

“… Lestat, pay the man…."

–

Much more painless this time, given how much more cushioning that particular region of the body contained. Armand still had winced and reached for Lestat’s hand more than once – it was a different kind of pain compared to the ones he enjoyed, and he didn’t do well with the unfamiliar.

Lestat hadn't said much, having now reached the "quiet drunk" stage, but he lingered by Armand's head, allowed him pick of the music ('70s glam rock), and let him play with the tangle of bracelets on Lestat's wrists to distract himself.

Afterward, when Nico had proclaimed the job almost done ("just have to do the bandage"), Lestat took a selfie for Louis. His temple pressed to Armand's left butt cheek, next to the red half-heart – the kind that joins with another to form a whole on a friendship necklace – that had Louis written on it in cursive.

“And… send!”

“Same thing?” Nico asked when Armand stepped off the table and gingerly pulled up his pants. “Opposite heart piece, opposite side? And what goes in it again?”

“That is such a dumb idea, Lestat!”

"No, it's not! It makes perfect sense. Winner gets Louis's first name, loser gets last name! You just don't think you can win!"

“The odds are 50/50!”

“Exactly! So, heads or tails?”

“Fine… Heads.”

“Fuck!”

“I win!”

“Like hell you do, Armand… Last name is the married name anyway. It’s better.”

“That’s the booze rotting your brain, Lestat. Soon there’ll be nothing left.”

“Shut up.”

Armand appeared equal parts entertained and apologetic as Lestat struggled to answer. “It’s a long name, another ridiculous French name.”

"What about just 'DPDL'?" Armand volunteered helpfully. "He'll know what it stands for. So will you, and so will I. Who else is going to see, really?"

The unintended implication that no one besides Louis and Armand would ever see him that intimately again made Lestat's chest ache in a funny way, in a way he didn't want to acknowledge just yet.

“Yeah,” he nodded, climbing onto the table, hiding his face from Armand’s scrutiny. “Yeah, that works.”

–

"I'm going to pass out," Armand complained as they staggered back to the subway station. More so from exhaustion than anything else, the alcohol long gone and having since worn off.

He looked it too, and Lestat caught his elbow as he swayed in place. “You can sleep at my place if you’d like. Nobody’s home till Monday.”

"Thanks," Armand sighed as he linked his arm through Lestat's, both out of a desire to be closer and a need to stay upright. "My 'parents' don't even notice I'm gone. Or they don't care, you know? We're just government checks to them. Yay, foster care."

Lestat didn't know what to say, so he said nothing, but squeezed Armand's hand and hoped the sentiment came across.

“Hey, Lestat.”

They were outside the station now.

“Yeah?”

“I-”

“… You?”

“I-”

An ambulance sped by, the red and blue lights reflecting off Armand’s anguished face.

Oh.

“You don’t have to say it.”

“Why? Because you wouldn’t say it back?”

"No," Lestat brushed Armand's hair back off his face, tucking the thick strands behind his ears, taking a moment to free a rogue curl away from a little earring. "I would. I love you, Armand."

A radiant smile, a sloppy kiss, a sharp nip at his earlobe.

"Prove it then."

[softpine]

Okay. Absolutely insane question. How would each of ur characters answer the trolley problem? (Standard setup, train heading towards 5 complete strangers, if you flick the lever it moves towards 1 complete setup instead)

If u don't want to think abt the trolley problem for each individual character, could I at least get Jada and Alisa specifically? They're who made me think of this lmao

OOOH interesting, i hadn't thought of it before!! i'm just gonna answer this for the supernatural girlies because they're the ones who would realistically be in this situation

finn: starting with him because well.... he's already DONE the trolley problem. in his eyes, he killed aileen to save asa and his friends. he didn't hesitate. he feels guilty, of course, but he would do it again if he had to (and not just for asa; he would always choose to save a group of people over 1 individual. it's pretty clear cut for him).

asa: in theory of course asa would like to save as many people as he possibly could, but i'm not sure he'd have the ability to pull the lever himself. he's never been directly responsible for anyone's death before. i'd say there's a 60% chance he'd chicken out, and a 100% chance that he'd never forgive himself regardless of which decision he makes.

jada: i had to think about this one for a very long time, because jada basically answers the trolley problem every time she has a vision, meaning her answer is constantly changing. she was willing to save her mom at any cost, even after she began to realize that other people were dying in her place. but most of the time, she lets fate decide who lives and dies. the only other person she's saved is sylvia, who was a stranger to her, and she only chose to save her because she was right there. meaning in a traditional trolley problem, i honestly don't know what jada would do. i don't think jada knows either. the other issue is that the "strangers" in the trolley problem can't be truly random. whether we like to admit it or not, we all place value on certain people more than others. like if it were 5 children vs. 1 adult or 1 child vs. 5 adults, the answer would be wildly different. jada has had to consider these factors every single day. she often thinks about how she saved a teenagers life but took a middle aged person's life in return, and whether that was the morally "correct" thing to do. can we measure a life's value in years alone? tldr: jada is the person who would agonize over the ethics of the trolley problem the hardest.

alisa: she would absolutely NOT touch the lever. she believes what's meant to be will be. occasionally, she uses her abilities to interfere in people's lives, but only with small nudges/suggestions (she mostly just tells people things they already know), never something this drastic. any time she does interfere, it's almost always because she's curious about the outcome, not because she has any particular end goal in mind. so if she knew that pulling the lever would change the course of fate/history/lives, she would not go anywhere near it! now if she was blindfolded or something and had no idea what the lever would do, she would absolutely pull it, because she would want to know what will happen. i hope that makes sense jfkjsds

[pocketgalaxies]

I agree with many of the points you raise about the last episode (I really enjoyed most of the moments we got in isolation, but as a whole... not so much, at least for now). I have no problem with how inevitable the fate of the mission may have been. Since I got the impression that perhaps what the Bells could influence the most was the position of certain players before and after the Apogee Solstice began. But how essential Keyleth and Vax seemed to be to carry it out the final plan… Did Ludinus have had a backup plan?

Because from what we know (or at least the impression I got after episode 49), Keyleth didn't even know where the plan with the Malleus Keys would take place. She explicitly asks Orym to tell her where to go ("Please let us know where this Vanguard makes its work."), which I think is leaving too much to chance (??). Especially when it doesn't seem like other Ashari agents have anywhere near the same level of knowledge as Orym. So everything would depend on the decisions of a person motivated by guilt and duty, who the Vanguard don't even know that he's still on the trail of their assassination plot until the first confrontation with Otohan.

I love the idea of a revelation like that, a manipulation to such a level. But it doesn't make much sense to me with what we know so far, so it's kind of confusing and not entirely satisfying as it is. Like... was Ludinus so sure that Orym would decide this mission was worth mortally endangering the Air Ashari head of state, again, rather than form a plan where Keyleth didn't need to participate directly?

hmm yeah that's an interesting point, i dunno! i wonder if any champion would've worked, but yeah i agree that it's strange for ludinus to not already have that figured out and accounted for. maybe he did and we just didn't get to see it! someone or something else hidden in one of the many unexplored caverns or alcoves? who knows

to me a big part of the frustration with seeing keyleth and vax get absolutely shafted like that is just that they didn't even have a chance to act. like i understand that ludinus is an archmage, but keyleth is an archdruid and vax is the arm of the goddess of death. i think it could've very reasonably been stretched out over a few rounds, at least to give our actual players a chance to do something substantial with their turns lmao. every single character i love got fucked one way or another and ludinus didn't even get a papercut idk idk

[my-soul-sings]

ahhh i would love a a sequel!!! would also love to hear your thoughts on artem’s birthday card as well if you’re up for it

ahhhh thanks anon! ok i'll get cracking haha <3

on his birthday card... I think I just didn't get the whole conflict thing. If anyone wants to explain it to me please feel free, perhaps I'm just not understanding this right.

So a couple things:

Firstly, the whole thing about Artem needing help to resign from Themis Law Firm as the cover story didn't make any sense at all lmao. It's not something that a third party like Ellice White can help with since he's literally not in the law firm. And resigning is just something the partner/associate can decide to do on their own. Unless, the issue is whether Artem will be allowed to take his clients with him (since the firm will technically be losing its clients to him if he does that) - but that's not what was mentioned in the story so I really don't know what they were trying to do here. I just don't think this game understands how law firms work? Or maybe something was lost in translation. Idk. But yeah they could have come up with a better cover story than this (eg. needing Ellice White's help to influence the outcome of a case).

Secondly, Artem seems to be concerned about things that aren't actually related: (1) The fact that people around him (including the people he looked up to) could change for the worse and (2) what MC thinks of him (because he was able to play the role of the villain so well i guess).

I mean (1) is fair, although it seems like a very juvenile thing to be upset about at his age. With the things you see as you grow older I think you just kind of accept that people can / will change as a matter of fact, and that many people aren't actually good people (idk as a lawyer I've seen shit and I imagine Artem would/should have as well). So yes maybe someone you looked up to might change down the road but it's also not something he should have to consider because it's all hypothetical. I get being shocked by the fact that eg. Ellice White changed so much, but I can't really see why it would cause such a seismic shift in his mood.

As for (2)... really didn't understand this part because by now Artem and MC have been dating and you'd think he'd know what she thinks of him and his character already?? WHY IS THIS SOMETHING HE'S QUESTIONING AT THIS STAGE. THEY'VE WORKED WITH EACH OTHER FOR SO LONG, IF THE RIGHTEOUS JUSTICE-FOR-ALL SAINT MC THOUGHT HE WAS A BAD GUY SHE WOULDN'T HAVE CHOSEN TO DATE HIM AT ALL. AAAAAAAHHHHHHH. It's like I'm reading a shoujo manga and with the female lead constantly second-guessing the male lead's feelings for her at every single plot point. Did not like this!! And then he was also scared that maybe he might change? That, well, I mean, going rogue is a conscious decision you make and it's hypothetical and just... don't be corrupt..? You'll be fine Artem. Trust me.

And for my last point it's actually more of a question because MC gets shocked when she sees the video interview of Artem when he just won that old case as a young attorney because it's different from what he told her but ??? I didn't get it. At all. I don't even understand how different it was from what he told her. Maybe someone with a full brain can explain this to the half-brained me haha.

So yep. These are my thoughts on Artem's birthday card. If anyone is better able to break this down in a way that makes this story make sense please do share!! But yeah overall I remember being SUPER disappointed with this card story and just annoyed because one of the reasons I like Artem is because he's supposed to be more mature, notwithstanding his hilarious lack of experience in his love life. But the things that he gets worried about in this card story just seem so juvenile and not very well thought out. Feels like the writers just decided to give him an internal conflict for shits and giggles instead of the usual "here's a secret talent you never knew Artem had, now go off on a new, different activity today for this card story" approach. T_T

[thebramblewood]

Thank you to @venriliz for tagging me! I'll tag @thecrumblingisle, @sweetbeagaming, @cactusblossom, @simatomica, @10000dreams, @solarlemonade, @lotuso3o, @cinnamonferns but feel free to ignore! I know it's a long one.

1. What’s your favorite sims death? Oh my god, I forgot the running with scissors death in TS2 existed until @venriliz mentioned it, but that made me remember I once killed off an unwanted legacy heir using that method. :/ Don't ask me why I couldn't just move him out and leave him to his own devices. Anyway, I think death by cowplant is pretty classic.

My LEAST favorite Sims death is freezing because I had a really traumatic experience in the second generation of my legacy where my Sim Phoebe made the bright decision to host a birthday party for one of her housemates at the Bluffs in Windenburg in the dead of winter and everyone decided to start swimming and like three people froze to death, including the birthday girl. It remains a horrifically vivid memory to this day, lmao.

Putting the rest under a cut!

2. Alpha CC or Maxis Match? Maxis Match for the most part. I find that anything alpha just ends up looking too out of place unless it's closer to the Maxis side of the spectrum.

3. Do you cheat when your sims gain weight? If it fits their lifestyle, I'll have them work out/eat healthier, but I try not to interfere otherwise.

4. Do you use move objects? Absolutely, it's permanently activated!

5. Favorite mod? MCCC is obviously essential, as well as anything that makes CAS better looking and more efficient. I also wouldn't play without Sunblind these days! I can't get enough of those gorgeous sunrises and sunsets.

6. First expansion/game/stuff pack you got? I think I got City Living and Seasons at the same time. I was kind of a late adapter to TS4 but fell very quickly down the rabbit hole.

7. Do you pronounce “live mode” like aLIVE or LIVing? I want to think I pronounce it like LIVing because I know that's technically correct, but I think half the time I still pronounce it like aLIVE in my head.

8. Who’s your favorite sim that you’ve made? Oh, this is so hard... If we're going solely on Sims who originated in CAS, there aren't really many options! Most of my Sims have been born in-game. I am really proud of Helena, and I think everyone can tell how attached I've become to her. Hmm, I need to make more Sims, I guess.

9. Have you made a simself? Noooooooooo. The Sims for me is very much an escape from myself, so I don't think I ever will.

10. What sim traits did you give yourself? I would probably give myself music lover, perfectionist, and socially awkward.

11. What is your favorite EA hair color? The lightest blond, I think? The one that looks almost platinum and isn't quite as yellowy as some of the others.

12. Favorite EA hair? That short choppy hair from Cottage Living (the one the Creature Keeper has). For a while, I was absolutely eating up every single variation I could find.

13. Favorite life stage? If I'm being honest, young adult. I find that my gameplay is most varied and interesting when my Sims are in that stage because they're traveling, meeting a lot of people, trying new things, etc. Once my Sims settle down and start a family, it's easy for me to forget places and people outside their home lot exist and everything becomes more routine.

14. Are you a builder or are you in it for the gameplay? Me, a builder? That's a funny joke. I'm definitely more in it for gameplay and storytelling. I'll do everything I can to avoid building a lot myself. I don't mind redoing interiors, but it takes me forever, so I try to limit how often I do that, too.

15. Are you a CC creator? No. I've done a couple very basic recolors/edits for myself. We're talking kindergarten level stuff. I don't really have the willpower for learning anything more complex right now.

16. Do you have any simblr friends/a sim squad? Sim squad is such a weird term to me. I do still feel like a bit of an outsider in the Simblr community at times, but I also have a handful of mutuals who I've enjoyed connecting with, and it always makes me happy to see them in my notes and on my dash!

17. What’s your favorite game? The only games I've ever been heavily into are The Sims and those Nancy Drew computer games... I think you can guess which one is my favorite. But if we narrow down the franchise, The Sims 2 has a very special place in my heart.

18. Do you have any Sims merch? No.

19. Do you have a YouTube for sims? No, and as someone who can't stand hearing or seeing recordings of myself, it would be a nightmare.

20. How has your “sim style” changed throughout your years of playing? I've honestly wondered about this myself! I don't think it's really changed so much as become more refined. I don't make a ton of Sims, so I don't think I have an obvious aesthetic style. But my play style has definitely changed in that it's more storytelling-geared, which does mean I spend less time actually using gameplay mechanisms and more time setting up. My visual style (e.g. composition, editing, etc.) has definitely evolved a lot even over the past few months.

21. What’s your Origin ID? Going to pass on this one! My sister and I share an account, and I don't upload anything on the gallery anyway.

22. Who’s your favorite CC creator? Oh, so many! I will download basically anything that sforzcc or softerhaze upload. My absolute favorite hair creators are simstrouble and okruee. And I've been using a ton of stuff from awingedllama and leaf-motif when decorating lately. But those are just a few that come to mind.

23. How long have you had a simblr? I only just started my Simblr back in January or February. But I've been on Tumblr itself way too long to admit out loud.

24. How do you edit your pictures? I try to let Reshade do the heavy lifting, but I also like using a few of these actions in Photoshop to make them pop a bit more.

25. What expansion/game/stuff pack is your favorite so far? City Living because San Myshuno is one of the only worlds that really feels "alive" to me and I think it does festivals best, and Cottage Living because it's the complete opposite but the slowed down, quiet, countryside aesthetic is so serene and relaxing.

26. What expansion/game/stuff pack do you want next? I don't trust EA to do it right, but all I want is bands and another super dense and populated urban world and more apartments! I would also never like to see another world inspired by an American suburb again.

[walkinginland]

my entire personality at this point in my life is this car accident lmao like that is All I Am Thinking About and my only piece of conversation. I want to apologize to every single person I interact with, my head is simply full of the phone calls I need to make and the car/insurance research I need to do and the decisions I don't know how to decide. I'm trying to intentionally set aside time periodically to turn off my brain and watch something/read a fic/listen to a book so I don't fall apart at the seams but 🙃 like I was unhurt, I'm only a little sore now, things have been progressing fairly smoothly, I have so much support, there are SO many things to be thankful for. But it is still taking up my whole personality and my only topic of conversation and if I'm annoyed with myself about it then I can only imagine what everyone else feels about it 🙃 so apologies!! but this is where I live now, fair warning.

[blossomwritesthings]

𝐝𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝? 𝐢𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞. | 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐯 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

part nine of do you feel my hand? it is there. | part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six | part seven | part eight | part ten | part eleven | part twelve

pairing: minho x fem!reader (afab)

genre: veterinarian!minho (this includes a few of the skz members working in his clinic). client!reader. hurt/comfort. angst. fluff. smut - MDNI, 18+ only. reader pov. strangers to lovers au. slowburn romance. lots of pining.

content & warnings: explicit & strong language. very thematic elements. minho is reader's vet. reader is now his past client. this is the third part of the spicy stuff. 18+ warnings under cut.

word count: 3.3k

summary: dr. lee minho is known throughout your area as the city's hottest veterinarian, and he's also the very man that's been taking good care of your two cats for the past three years. but one day, you're thrown down a dark path of heartache when the cat that you've grown up with - nyx - is diagnosed with an acute form of bone cancer. burdened with the hardest decision of your entire life, you come at a crossroads of what to do. and throughout it all, minho is the single most person who continually stays by your side.

18+ warnings: minho and reader are extremely horny for each other. softdom!minho. subby!femreader. teasing from minho. the beginnings of fingering/oral (f receiving). pet names (pretty, darling, kitten, good girl, baby girl, nothing degrading tho). hints of dirty talk. this one isn't too sexy as the others, and more on the fluffy side of things in the beginning, as the big smut scene is built up to... 😍

a/n: I literally almost forgot to update this part for today lmao since I've had a very busy start to my week (what's new?? 💀). anyways, this one is kindaa giving ya'll a break from the past 2 parts that were just completely hot smut all around lol. but trust me- the next 3 remaining parts will be well worth the wait and veryyy sexy!! 🥵 enjoy, you guys, and let me know your thoughts! ❤️

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ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʀᴇᴘᴏsᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ sɪᴛᴇs (ᴛʜɪs ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇs ᴛʀᴀɴsʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴs). ©ʙʟᴏssᴏᴍᴡʀɪᴛᴇsᴛʜɪɴɢs ⤐ ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛs ʀᴇsᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ

Ever since that night of the party - of the night when the two of you had revealed such inner, vulnerable parts of yourselves to each other, you and Minho had been virtually inseparable. 

 You dropped your new veterinarian like a hot cake and decided to start visiting Starry Skies again, using Minho as your primary veterinarian. Taffy was more than happy about the change, and her temperament at home visibly improved upon getting to see more of Dr. Lee. 

 And you had to say that your mood improved too. 

 Maybe it was the gentleness and care that he still used on your cat. 

 Or maybe, it was the make-out sessions that the two of you would get away with during your visits. 

 And in just three months after the infamous party, almost everyone in the area knew of your relationship. You made it so abundantly clear, from how you’d meet Minho outside the clinic after he closed up shop to go out to dinner with you. Or how, whenever you sat in the front office, you were on the edge of your seat, just waiting to see him again, even though you saw him - and talked to him - almost every day. The boys were incredibly supportive of your newfound relationship, with Chan being the most vocal about his approval, claiming that he thought ‘the time would never come.’

 It turned out that Minho had been in love with you since the very beginning, even before you even had a chance to recognize your feelings. He confessed to you one night when the two of you were in a deep conversation over an Italian dinner that the moment you had walked through the clinic’s front doors, he was head-over-heels. And it soon became abundantly clear to you how agonizing it was for him to deny his feelings in fear that you would reject him because of your position in life. 

 He told you about how after your visits, he’d find his mind infected with the very thought of you as soon as he was done with work. He’d lay awake in bed all night, tossing and turning and dreaming about you. 

 Just like you had done with him. 

 Even still, the two of you never took anything too… far. 

 And the times that you guys had done anything sexual were few and far between. Minho kept telling you that he wanted to take things slow and do things right and not rush into the sexual part of the relationship. And you respected and understood and agreed with his wishes. 

 But it was sometimes so hard - so annoying - to have to face him every single day and suppress your urges once more. 

 Sure, the two of you had had plenty of make-out sessions, which sometimes turned into quite heated moments, but nothing went any further than that. 

 This is why, on that particular Saturday night, you had jumped at the opportunity to have a night in at your place with him. Maybe, you’d finally get a chance to taste him after so much waiting and longing. 

 Throughout the three months that you had started dating, you rarely went over to each other’s places, instead opting to see each other at the clinic when you’d stop by for an appointment or just to chat, or when you’d go on dates around the town. 

 So he had never seen your apartment. 

 And now here he was, standing on your doorstep. 

 You had taken great care that weekend to clean it up as best as you could, but since it was in such an old, shitty building, there wasn’t too much you could do. The small living room was picked up and your bed was made and the ingredients for dinner were laid out across the kitchen counter. Because you had recently stumbled upon the knowledge that Minho was an amazing cook and it was one of his biggest hobbies outside of work and the gym, you made it one of your #1 goals in life to get in the kitchen with him. 

 So it turned out to be perfect timing then- since you had planned to have a date night out on the town that Saturday night. But instead, you suggested making dinner together in your apartment’s kitchen. Minho had jumped at the chance of seeing your skills with a knife, but also getting a glimpse of your place… so it truly was a win-win situation. 

 “It’s not much, but it’s home,” you said, awkwardly rubbing the back of your neck and stepping away from the threshold of your place so Minho could take off his shoes. 

 He shut the front door behind him, locking it in place before offering you one of those warm, comforting smiles. The ones you had grown accustomed to over the years. The ones that caused that gooey, lovely thing to stir in the pit of your stomach. “Baby- it’s really nice, I love it.” He said, slipping off his shoes and hanging up his jacket on the nearby coat hanger that you had placed in the door. Although it was the beginning of summer, he liked to carry a jacket around with him wherever he went, a habit that you had quickly picked up on the more you started dating.  

 You shrugged, making your way into the kitchen and positioning the vegetables onto the cutting board. You had decided to make homemade black bean noodles for dinner. It wasn’t too complicated, and one of your guys' favorite meals. You looked up from the daikon you were washing in the sink at the sight of Minho placing a small box down on the countertop. 

 “I thought we said we weren’t going to cheat and do takeout.” You laughed, as you finished washing off the radish and placed it back on the cutting board. 

 Minho shrugged, “It’s not takeout… I picked it up on the way here at this cute little place just down the road.” He motioned with a tilt of his head for you to open it, and you lifted a questioning brow his way as you unfolded the small white box. 

 Inside it were two perfect slices of cake. They were a dark green colour with swirls of creamy white frosting and flecks of edible gold across the top. You stared up at him with a smile already stretching across your mouth, “Wow- I didn’t expect cake.” 

 “They’re matcha flavour, thought we could have them after dinner…” Minho’s voice trailed off, as he reached out to you and pulled you into his grasp. 

 Immediately melting into him, you reached up and carded a few fingers through his hair, giving his lips a chaste peck. “Thanks so much, babe, I love matcha.” 

 He smiled against your mouth, returning the kiss tenfold and holding onto you a little tighter. If you continued to stay in that position, things would surely escalate into a makeout session and then dinner wouldn’t be made. So against his whine of protest, you pulled away from him, slapping his shoulder rather playfully. 

 “Now c’mon and focus on helping me with dinner, I’m starving here.” 

 In no time at all, you had the veggies - which consisted of squash, potatoes, onions, and radish - cooking in a large wok over a single burner. While you were busy whipping up a quick thickening paste for the sauce, Minho was preparing the cooked noodles by blanching them in cold water at the sink. 

 “I’m honestly surprised by how good at this you are.” He said in a light tone, just as he strained the noodles and placed them in two separate bowls. 

 “Why? Because you just assumed I lied to you about my skills?” 

 “No- I mean, in the past, women have told me that they're adept in the kitchen, but then when they finally get in it they’re… clueless.” 

 “So you admit that you’ve dated a lot of women, then?” You eyed him as soon as you were finished with your task and washed your hands under some warm water. The subject of his exes hadn’t come up too much, but you just assumed that he had been with many women before you - or at least a handful - since he was such a good catch. 

 “Actually, no,” he started, leaning back against the kitchen counter and watching you with an intense stare - the one he only ever seemed to use on you - while you stirred the cooking veggies with a wooden paddle. “I don’t count one-night stands as dating so, I’ve only long-term dated three women before you.” 

 “And I’ve dated a whopping one man before you.” You threw back at him, flashing a smile his way. His eyes scanned over your face, catching at your lips. 

 Then he was moving towards you, kissing you so suddenly that you stumbled back a few paces. His tongue swiped over your bottom lip, and when you pulled apart just enough to catch your breath, a small smirk adorned his face. “Yeah, but I wish that I was your first… first in everything, for that matter. I hate the thought that some man has already taken all of you. It makes me angry, to be honest.” 

 His dark confession danced across your ears, fluttering into your chest and causing your heart to stir restlessly. You reached up, tracing your fingers against his right cheekbone. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t count… that man as an actual relationship anymore. He was just a fling of the past during my university days.” 

 Just before Minho could say anything else, or kiss you anymore, the timer for the veggies was going off. The loud beeps rang across the whole of your small apartment and you yanked away from him to turn it off. 

 The dinner activities were once again taken up, as the two of you prepared the final stages of the meal. And it was only a few minutes later that the two of you were sitting on your living room couch, tv switched on, and paused at the start of one of your comfort rom-com films. Two steaming bowls of black bean noodles sat in front of the two of you on the coffee table, with small dishes of pickled radish and kimchi on the side. 

 Everything looked fucking amazing, and you found yourself digging in as soon as you sat down. Minho let out a hearty chuckle at your ravenous hunger as he took small bites out of his bowl. You mostly ate in silence, only commenting on the food when necessary, since you were engrossed in the film playing on the tv. 

 It wasn’t until you were finished with your dinner and laying back with a contented, full sigh that Minho made to turn down the volume on the tv. You tipped into his side, snuggling up to his arm as you pulled the fuzzy blanket around you a little tighter to your chest. 

 Minho’s hand found your knee underneath the blanket soon after, and your heart skipped a few beats at the feeling of his fingers drawing nonsensical, languid shapes into your skin. Since the date night was inside your own place for once, you felt no obligation to dress up, so you stayed in your usual attire for the weekend - tight, black yoga pants and an oversized, baggy rock band t-shirt. It was nothing special, but Minho always claimed that you could be wearing a paper bag and he’d still find you attractive as hell. 

 So there you were, dressed in your comfy clothes. Minho looked quite similar, outfitted in a matching set of navy-blue sweats and a hoodie. He utterly surprised you the first time you had seen him dressed down in casual clothes, since every time you had ever witnessed him before, he had been in his doctor's coat and formal slacks. 

 The casual style suited him quite well. And honestly, it was a turn on too. 

 To know that he was comfortable enough around you to let his guard down, 

 To not have to dress the part all of the time. 

“I remember that night at the party - when you sat down beside me on my couch for the movie - and how crazy it all made me,” his voice was deep and a little gravelly from disuse. His words cut through the faint sound of the movie playing, and you completely froze up, trying to understand the meaning behind it all. “Like- you smelled so fucking good, and that dress… shit, I still can’t get the sight of you in it out of my head. I remember how it rode up so much when you sat down beside me, flimsy hemline pushing towards your upper thighs and hinting at everything that lay just beneath the fabric.” 

 You swallowed down the moan that was suddenly trying to force its way up your throat. And then you felt the hand on your kneecap moving, inching up ever so slowly. Past your knee, and drawing close to your thighs. 

 But you couldn’t find the right words just then, too breathless and needy to formulate any kind of coherent sentence. 

 Because you had been needy. 

 Since the very day you realized your feelings for him, you had wanted nothing more but to be fucked senseless by Lee Minho. 

 And then he revealed himself to you that night, after all of the confessions, 

 Unraveling irrevocably underneath his fingers. 

 But you never wanted him to come undone just beneath his fingers, 

 No- you wanted him to lose it all with you under the surface. Under him. 

“When Chan called you darling that night I silently wanted to wring his neck,” he chuckled darkly, just as his hand crested across your upper thigh. Fingers played with the thin material of your black yoga pants, whispery tips pressing into sensitive flesh there. “Because he knew what he was doing- knew he’d get a reaction out of me if he used such a word on you.”

 The breath flooded out of you at the feeling of his hand coming in contact with your right hip. The two of you were laying on the couch, facing the tv, but he was turned slightly towards you and you could feel his stare boring into your face, watching for any reaction you had to his movements. You kept your eyes trailed on the flashing tv screen, hanging on every word that fell from his lips. 

 “And did it?” You finally found your voice, asking in a shaky tone. The air shuddered out of you, halting in your chest as his palm just barely ghosted over your clothed core. That was hidden away by two fucking layers. “Did he manage to get a rise out of you?” 

 One beat of silence, 

 A brush of fingers. 

 Two beats of silence, 

 Toying with the drawstring of your yoga pants. 

 Three beats of silence, 

 Stretching the waistband away from your hips. 

 “Yes, it sure fucking did,” he began, practically grumbling. You could feel his warm breath fan across the shell of your ear, he was suddenly that close to you. You completely froze up, limbs growing rock-stiff and mind racing a mile a minute as you anticipated his next move. “Almost combusted right then from the thought of me getting to call you darling.”

 His hand dipped into the front of you then, fingers playfully dancing across your insubstantial lace panties. Agonizingly, just tracing the outlines of the silhouette of you. 

 Not giving in to anything yet. 

 Not quite.

When he stopped moving altogether, you were afraid that he’d yank his hand out and thwart whatever he had originally planned to do. You had never gone this far - the make-outs had never gone as far as wandering hands. But suddenly, it felt like you couldn’t live without it anymore. 

 It was a necessity, you deemed. 

 To have him fully and wholly. 

 Panicking, you reached for his hands and slotted your fingers between his, which were halfway stuffed down the front of your pants. Your head snapped his way, and you registered the lustful look on his face. The way his lips were pursed in that way whenever he was horny, and the way his eyes shined with liquid fire. 

 “Please, Min-” You whimpered like a cat in heat, ready to go to any means necessary to finally get a feel for him. “Need it so bad- I’ve waited so long for you, please-”

 His other, free hand reached out, thumb brushing across your bottom lip, tracing the outline of your mouth. You were desperately holding onto his other hand, fingers between fingers as you willed him not to move away from your entirely. “And what do you need so badly, hmm?” He was asking, but he already knew what you were insinuating. He knew, yet he was still willing to push you enough to admit your innermost wants. “What does my baby girl need so desperately that she’d stop me from doing anything else?” 

 “Y-You,” you whined out, eyes widening at the way his thumb was slowly pressing between your lips and past your teeth. You swiped at his digit rabidly, tongue-sucking as best as you could. “Your cock- need it so much, Min-”

 Throughout the months that you had been dating, you had quickly learned of his turn-ons. 

 And one of the biggest ones included begging. 

 Groveling, on your part. 

 And lots of it. 

 You had used the trick many times before on him for innocent things, like when you wanted an extra scoop of ice cream or another teddy bear at the spring fair while out of a date. 

 He liked to see you desperate for him- in any capacity. 

 But sexually? 

 That really got him going. 

 So you did just that. 

 Softening your eyes as you peered up at him, the tv casting a dim blue light across his sharp-toned face. “B-Been wanting it for so long, I can’t wait any longer…” You all but pleaded in a wavering voice, words muffled around his thumb that was still stuffed between either of your lips. 

 You watched, as something flipped in him. 

 A coin was tossed, and you landed on the dark, sensuous side of things. 

 In one swift movement, he was brushing your hand away from his, leaving only his fingers buried deep inside your pants. He leaned into you then, mouth hovering so close to yours, but not close enough. 

 Minho breathed out, the hot air hitting your face and forcing gooseflesh to erupt across your whole body. “Take a deep breath for me, kitten.” Once again, he said the command in that sweet, saccharine tone. The one he had used on you in his bedroom, late at night after the party, when you had mutually come undone while watching each other. 

 You did as you were told, drawing in a billow of air as he slipped his thumb from your mouth. When you were finished breathing, his lips were coming upon you and capturing you up in a heart-stopping, heated kiss. 

 “Good girl… you won’t be able to do such a thing for a long time...” He said in between the swipes of tongue and clash of teeth. 

 And you had no time to register what his cryptic message meant. 

 Because his hands were moving again, one coming up to your face and grasping at your chin, angling your head just so.

 While the other- 

 The other was finally slipping past the thin band of your panties. 

 Fingers catching on sensitive skin and instantly turning slick with so much arousal. 

 And just like that, you began to unravel. 

 Just like that, you understood his words. 

 Because so suddenly, it was getting really fucking hard to breathe. Lungs constricting in pain, heart pounding against your ribcage, throat shrinking with the shock and pleasure of it all. 

To be continued

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©ʙʟᴏssᴏᴍᴡʀɪᴛᴇsᴛʜɪɴɢs⤐ ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛs ʀᴇsᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ

[rottenbrainstuff]

BG3 playthrough: continuing through the underdark

Spoilers.

Finished the arcane tower, read all the books and notes, got a hug from the automaton that’s been programmed to comfort Lenore. Dang every single NPC in this game is sad and lonely and haunted. Is there any NPC here that isn’t horribly tortured?... so many sad little notes and journals and books lying around, so many sad little stories that are just footnotes at the bottom of the main plot. And I’ve only just started, the REALLY sad stuff hasn’t even HAPPENED yet. Sigh.

Man. The more I think about it though, the more sad Lenore makes me. All her lonely little notes, the sad little poems she wrote, all the things she lost, lost her partner, her friends, even her dog, so lonely she programmed herself a clockwork friend, and who knows what even happened to her in the end. Oh Lenore. Oh this game.

Kudos to the most confusing corpse I’ve talked to in the game yet! (which would be the half-crushed drow by the wall of mushrooms) After looking around, it was quickly apparent what he was talking about, but I loved the few minutes where I had no fucking clue what the hell he meant about how throwing his backpack caused him to fall because it was too light and mushrooms and things disappearing and what?... I liked the little easter egg journal he was carrying that mentioned Drizzt Do’urden’s mother. And of COURSE all of that mushroom bullshit is Ethel’s doing, even from beyond the grave she’s still messing me up, lmao.

I just realized the lyre I looted from Minthara’s corpse after the siege is the fucking harp that calls Kar’niss in the shadowlands. It was pretty so I equipped it. I’ve just been running around playing my bard tunes on it this whole time lmao. Wouldn’t it have been funny if I only found that out when I went to play it later in the game and suddenly a goddamned drider shows up for my performance? (btw can’t wait to meet him, he sounds absolutely heartbreaking, like, fuck, game. Why are you trying so hard to make me so specifically sad??????)

After backtracking and NOT torching the entire bibberbang field, I decided to give the noblestalk to Derryth. It sounds like I’ll be able to buy more from her later in act 3 if I do that. (dark urge gets some flavour, haha, if you eat it. Apparently you can also give it to Shadowheart, but I wasn't able to... bug? not sure. Will worry about the noblestalk later.)

I’m at the Grymforge now, getting overwhelmed by how much stuff there is and how many areas there are. There continues to be interesting little pepperings of special dark urge dialogue options, but I do wish there were maybe just a litttttttle bit more… closer to the beginning of the game I liked how there was a dark urge option for so many dialogues, it really was like having these horrible intrusive thoughts constantly whispering to you to do the horrible thing. It’s slowed to a simmer now. Still fun though! The duergar are absolutely terrible and it’s hilarious. Once again, I have my murder-is-fun team of Astarion, Shadowheart and Lae’zel with me, who are approving of every mean dialogue option I choose - you guys know I’m NOT really going to buy a slave, right? You’re approving of my clever manipulation of the dialogue, right? RIGHT GUYS???

Couldn’t help but notice though that Astarion is already getting noticeably less cranky about my decisions to help people out, even if he still has to make a token show about disagreeing (ie, his hilarious reaction to me saying I intended to free Nere), and he even approved of me refusing to help Glut attack the myconid colony. I really don’t quite get the people complaining that he’s hard to romance without playing an evil route. What are y’all doing / not doing that’s messing things up? I’m at 97 approval currently and haven’t left act 1 yet and haven’t picked any evil options that I didn’t want to pick. I HAVE sent him back to camp a few times when I knew he wouldn’t like what I was doing, ie agreeing to help the tieflings, but honestly I do that for all the companions. I send Shadowheart and Astarion away when I’m going to agree to help. I send Gale and Karlach away when I’m going to pretend to be the big mean drow in the enemy camp. Even if I didn’t do that, I would still have a high approval for him. Besides a couple specific spots, dialogue disapprovals are almost always just a -1, and that’s not a large enough amount to seriously mess up your romance if you’re not making the effort to switch the team around. I dunno what you guys are doing that makes it so hard?.....

I know everyone talks about how sad it is that Astarion can’t walk in the sun anymore at the end of the game… I dunno. I totally understand missing the sun, but damn if my drow boy isn’t going to try his hardest to show Astarion everything beautiful and colourful and brilliant in the underdark, how beautiful life can be even without the sun.

Shovel is hilarious, 11 out of 10 A+++ would recommend, I wish I tried her scroll ages ago. I have her following around Astarion right now and I’m sure he’s absolutely delighted by his horrible little henchthing.