#it’s so fun writing for both of the in contrast lol

[idiotgojo]

eye fucking satoru <3

tags; gojo x reader | fluff, suggestive (?) | jealous (?) insecure (?) reader

note; here's some comfort before the next chapter leak... gojo comeback 😩

"I'm not jealous, I'm just—" you waved your hands in frustration, unable to put words to match what you were feeling. That was all you could manage. Gojo, on the other hand immediately understood. He smirked, narrowing his eyes at you.

"You really don’t realize the effect you have on me, do you?"

And that was how you ended up on top straddling him, both of you still fully clothed. The heat of his body radiated through your thighs as you sat on top of him.

“What are we even doing? I’m tired. Let’s just go to bed,” you sighed, trying to lift yourself off his lap, though a part of you wasn’t entirely convinced.

"While my princess is mad at me? I'd rather die than let you sleep upset with me," he murmured, his voice low and teasing. His hands tightened on your waist, keeping you locked in place, as his gaze softened just a little with a pout.

Suddenly, a wave of insecurity hit you out of nowhere. You were usually confident—quick-witted, and perfectly aware of your beauty. But something about the way that other woman had flirted with him earlier stirred doubts. She was a contrast of you—different hair, a niche style, a whole different vibe. Was Gojo craving something new? Was he tired of you?

Just as your mind began spiraling, his palm faintly tapped your thigh, bringing you back to the present. You bit your lip, refusing to meet his eyes, knowing if you did, you might just fall apart in front of him.

"Look at me," Gojo said softly, yet firmly, as he gently tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. Your eyes remained fixed on your fidgety hands in your lap. But Gojo wasn’t the type to let things go so easily. He leaned in close, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered,

"I dare you to look into my eyes and see what happens."

You hesitated, but curiosity, or maybe just him, got the best of you. Slowly, you met his gaze.

In seconds, you felt it—him hardening beneath you, unmistakable and sudden. You gasped, instinctively glancing down at his growing length pressing against the thin fabric of your clothes. Heat rushed to your cheeks as you blushed furiously.

Gojo chuckled, reaching up to grab your chin with one hand, tilting your head up to meet his eyes again. His other hand slid up your thigh, teasing.

"Now do you see the effect you have on me?" he asked, his voice loud with excitement, eyes locked on yours that sent a shiver down your spine. The corner of his mouth lifted in a sly smile as he waited for you to respond.

Words failed you, your brain fuzzy, buzzing with the intensity of the moment. Instead, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him into a searing kiss. His lips claimed yours, biting gently on your lower lip, eliciting a moan from you. The pressure of his body beneath yours, the friction as you rocked your hips against him—it all made your pulse race, drowning out every thought but him.

Both of you groaned softly into each other’s mouths, hands roaming feverishly. The heat between you was undeniable, and the tension finally snapped as you deepened the kiss, tongues tangling, breathing ragged and needy.

That night, Gojo didn’t just show you his desire—he made it clear that you were the only one he ever wanted. Every touch, every kiss, every whispered word left no room for doubt. You were his one and only.

disclaimer (?); a lot of ??? in the whole post, which is probably because I'm not even a real writer. I just write for fun, a place to collect and keep my scenarios I create in my head before I go to bed lol. This is my first written piece! Enjoy :)

© idiotgojo 2024 do not steal or translate. if you wish to use the idea and create a better fic please tag me :)

[loganslowdown4]

Patton: I’m a bit chilly

Roman: Here, have my jacket, love.

Virgil: I’m cold too.

Janus: *tosses him a lighter* Here. Go nuts.

[stardial]

this year rly has been an actual rollercoaster it’s kinda crazy

[leftoverpages]

Loyalty’s embrace

Pairing 𓅪 Benjicot "Davos" Blackwood x betrothed!reader

Tags 𓅪 jealous and protective Benjicot, small fight scene (no gore), fluff at the end, romance, reader uses she/her but no physical description

Notes: i have been writing for years without posting anything so i have a insane number of fics to post, enjoy lol

Wordcount 𓅪 1.3k

likes, comments, reblogs are much appreciated!

The grand ballroom of Blackwood Manor was awash with warm candlelight and the soft hum of conversation. The air was filled with the scent of roses and the clinking of crystal glasses. Lady Y/N stood at the edge of the room, a vision in her resplendent gown. Her dress, a masterpiece of crimson silk and midnight velvet, flowed around her like a river of fire and shadow. The bodice, embroidered with intricate patterns of gold thread, clung to her form, highlighting her grace and strength. Across her chest and shoulders, the Blackwood sigil was proudly displayed, a symbol of her new allegiance and her own fierce spirit.

The fabric shimmered in the candlelight, every movement sending ripples of light and shadow cascading over her. The skirt, full and layered, swirled around her feet like a tempest, the deep red contrasting beautifully with the inky black. A delicate gold chain rested at her throat, drawing attention to the elegant curve of her neck.

She stood there as her betrothed, Benjicot Blackwood, engaged in conversation with several lords and ladies. She found herself alone for the moment, sipping a glass of champagne and watching the festivities from afar.

Despite the grandeur, there was a nervous flutter in her stomach. Being betrothed to Benjicot, the fierce and enigmatic heir of House Blackwood, was both an honor and a daunting reality. Their engagement was more strategic than romantic, a union meant to strengthen alliances and secure power. Still, she had hoped to find some genuine connection with him, something to hold onto amidst the political machinations.

"Lady Y/N, you look ravishing tonight," a voice interrupted her thoughts. She turned to see Lord Cedric, a notorious flirt and known for his less-than-honorable intentions, standing far too close for comfort.

"Thank you, Lord Cedric," she replied, forcing a polite smile and taking a small step back.

He didn’t seem to notice—or care. "It's a shame you're tied down to Blackwood. A beauty like you deserves better," he said, his eyes raking all over her in a way that made her skin crawl.

"I am perfectly content with my betrothal, Lord Cedric," she replied firmly, trying to edge away. But Cedric persisted, moving closer, his hand reaching to touch her arm.

"Come now, Y/N, you can’t tell me you’ve never wondered what it would be like to be with someone else," he murmured, his breath hot against her ear.

Before she could respond, a strong hand gripped Cedric's wrist, pulling him away from her. "I believe the lady has made herself clear," Benjicot’s voice was low and dangerous, his dark eyes blazing with anger.

Cedric paled but tried to maintain his bravado. "I meant no harm, Blackwood. Just a bit of fun," he stammered, taking a step back.

Benjicot stepped between Cedric and Y/N, his posture tense and protective. "Your idea of fun is clearly misguided," he said coldly. "If I ever see you bothering her again, I will not be so forgiving."

Cedric sneered, his fear giving way to indignation. "And what will you do, Blackwood, uh? Throw me out of your pretty little ball?"

A dangerous glint appeared in Benjicot’s eyes. "No, Cedric. I’ll do much worse."

Before Cedric could react, Benjicot’s fist connected with his jaw, sending him staggering backward. The ballroom fell silent, guests suddenly turning to witness the confrontation. Cedric, recovering from the initial shock, lunged at Benjicot with a roar, swinging wildly.

Benjicot dodged, his movements controlled and precise. He landed another punch to Cedric's midsection, doubling him over. "You don’t know to quit, do you?" Benjicot muttered, grabbing Cedric by the collar and lifting him to his feet.

"Enough!" Cedric spat, struggling against Benjicot’s grip. "You think you can control everything? Even her?"

Benjicot’s eyes darkened further. "I don’t need to control her, Cedric. I trust her. Something you clearly don’t understand."

With that, Benjicot shoved Cedric away, causing him to stumble and fall to the ground. Cedric, breathing heavily and bruised, glared up at him. "This isn’t over, Blackwood."

"It is," Benjicot replied coldly. "And if you value your life, you’ll stay away from her."

Guards approached then, at Benjicot’s silent command, hauling Cedric to his feet and escorting him out of the ballroom. The guests slowly resumed their conversations, the tension dissipating, but whispers of the altercation lingered.

Benjicot turned to Y/N, his expression softening as he reached out to her. "Are you alright?" he asked, his voice gentle.

She nodded, but her composure faltered, and tears welled up in her eyes. "Thank you, Ben. I didn’t know what to do..."

He stepped closer, his hand tenderly cupping her cheek. "You never have to face such things alone. Not while I'm here."

Y/N looked up at him, searching his eyes for any hint of insincerity. Instead, she found a depth of concern and protectiveness that took her by surprise. She had always seen him as distant, a warrior hardened by duty, but now she glimpsed the man beneath the armor.

"Why do you care?" she asked softly, her voice trembling.

Benjicot sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. "I know our betrothal was arranged, but that doesn't mean I don't care for your well-being. I've come to admire your strength and grace, Y/N. I want us to be more than just a political alliance."

Her heart skipped a beat at his words. She had longed for some indication that he felt more than obligation towards her. "I want that too, Ben," she whispered.

He smiled then, a rare, genuine smile that made her heart flutter. "Then let's make it so," he said, taking her hand in his. "Together."

As they stood there, hand in hand amidst the glittering ballroom, Y/N felt a warmth spread through her.

Benjicot glanced around the room, the tension in his shoulders easing. He looked back at Y/N, his eyes filled with a tender resolve. "May I have this dance?" he asked, his voice soft and inviting.

Y/N felt her breath catch. She nodded, unable to speak, and he led her to the center of the ballroom. The musicians, sensing the moment, began to play a slow, melodic waltz.

As they took their positions, Benjicot's arm encircled her waist, his hand warm and steady. Her hand rested on his shoulder, and he guided her with a grace that belied his warrior's demeanor. They began to move, their steps perfectly in sync, the world around them fading into a blur of light and sound.

The music swirled around them, a symphony of emotions. They glided across the floor, each step a silent conversation. Y/N felt as if they were floating, the dance a magical respite from the political intrigue and uncertainty that had shadowed their engagement.

Benjicot's eyes never left hers, their dark depths reflecting a myriad of emotions. In that moment, she felt a warmth spread through her chest, a burgeoning hope that perhaps their union could be more than just a strategic alliance.

The music swelled, and Benjicot spun her gracefully, her dress flaring out like a crimson and black flower. When they came back together, he held her a little closer, his gaze softening even further.

"I meant what I said," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "I want us to be more than a political alliance. I want to know you, Y/N. To truly understand you."

She smiled, her heart fluttering with a mixture of nerves and excitement. "And I want to know you, Ben."

As the final notes of the waltz echoed through the ballroom, they came to a gentle stop. The guests around them erupted into applause, but Y/N and Benjicot remained in their own world, their gazes locked.

"Thank you for the dance," Y/N said softly.

Benjicot brought her hand to his lips, pressing a tender kiss to her knuckles. "The pleasure was mine," he replied.

In that moment, surrounded by the approving smiles of their peers, Y/N felt something shift. The alliance they had been forced into was beginning to transform into something real, something hopeful.

The future was uncertain, but for the first time, she felt truly seen and protected. And perhaps, just perhaps, they could find love in each other’s arms.

[k0yaz]

I loved your parent Arle headcanons ahh <33

May I request something similar but instead it’s oneshot Arle finding out fem reader is pregnant? I was thinking reader is a harbinger too and they both find out together while on a mission in another nation but it’s up to you !

with you.

Pairings: arlecchino x fem!reader

CW: sfw, moderately but also slightly suggestive, female reader, pregnant reader, arle referred to as husband, wlw, GIRLS KISSING OH MY GOD?? it’s their biological child bro don’t even ask how don’t ask and just hc whatever u want there’s like baby magic, arle’s real name mentioned blah blah yk this, harbinger reader, mention of sex, fluff, lazy writing toward the end, not proofread.

A/N: I want to write so badly but my homework says no anyway guys my brain loves cooking so much omg also my tea tastes EXTRA good today—update the second half was done the next day I have no tea :(…actually I’m just too lazy to get the giant jug out of the fridge and I’m finishing this so I can go get bubble tea instead lol🕯️

Heaps of fluffed blankets bunched up at the edge of the bed, messily piled below yours and Arlecchino’s feet. Her hand was draped over your loosely covered shoulder, the black gradient trailing up her arms contrasting with your skin dimly brightened by the illuminating candle filling the room. Small shivers surged through every vein of your body as you slumbered, stomach churning as you felt your muscles tense roughly even in your sleep. Arlecchino carefully blinked one eye open, her cross marked eyes eyeing your scrunched up expression of discomfort.

Soft fabric of your undershirt brushed along your shoulder decorated with goosebumps blistered across your skin, the shoulder strap of your undershirt sliding a bit lower past your shoulder as her hand brushed up and down to ridge along the blooming bumps decorating your skin. The constant jabs continued to rack your body over and over, a swelling ache seeming to stiffen every joint in your body and making you stir in your curled fetal position. Hunching your shoulders, you rolled over onto your side once more, the tip of your nose lightly grazing Arlecchino’s neck.

Honestly, couldn’t even think up a single reason why your body continuously harbored a pang of soreness spread through every small compartment of your body. It had initially crept in as a few light cramps, starting off bearable and only irritating you every now and then. Musing all the possibilities, you shrugged off the periodic stings stabbing at your abdomen as muscle cramps or mild injuries from your mission. After all, mild injuries weren’t anything of concern to a harbinger of your status.

Ever since you had been dispatched on a mission along with the Knave, or rather your dear husband Arlecchino, everything had gone smoothly up until the present. The two of you had carried out the Tsaritsa’s orders accordingly, and found a lavish inn to stay the night at in order to replenish your strength. Golden light shadowed across the hall endlessly, the bright glows of the looming chandelier swinging back and forth carefully above your head gave quite the nice impression of the inn the two of you had come across. After all, you deserved a nice, opulent stay for a night after getting through a tedious mission around the outskirts of Snezhnaya.

Even now as you looked back on it, the receptionist’s expression didn’t make much sense as she slid a polished room key across the wooden table in your direction, the quiet grate of steel on wood bristling across the wood in sync with her morphed smirk. You simply exchanged confused glances with Arlecchino, who was equally puzzled with the receptionist’s words of: “I wonder if the Fatui shake entire rooms…have fun in there!”

Of course you could shake entire rooms, you had one of the highest rankings that any member of the Fatui could bear.

You and Arlecchino stepped foot into the warmly lit room, a comfortable bed with draped silk covers spilling off the sides situated square in the middle along with a spruce bedside table and porcelain decorations standing proud on the other desk tables across the room. Sure enough, the lighting clearly wasn’t the only thing in the room that was warm. Your body was suddenly flooded with an unshakable heat, raising the temperature of your neckline as pores of sweat accumulated at the base of your neck. The faint scent of jasmine grazing your nostrils was too strong to ignore, enveloping you in a sense of fervor and mild passion. And surely enough, Arlecchino was affected too.

The next thing you knew, the two of you basked in the dimmed lights and gentle air tickling your skin within the cold darkness, movements intensifying as you took in each other’s unclothed form. Arlecchino clawed at your side with each breath you drew in, nails raking along your plush hips as the two of you were lost in the thick heat clouding the atmosphere around the two of you.

By the next morning, you both continued with your day, heading back to the Fatui’s headquarters as if this was a normal occurrence between you two. Upon creaking open the heavy doors to the Tsaritsa’s well furnished chambers, you and Arlecchino had knelt before the Cryo Archon, the black fluff of the coat’s neckline feathering against your cheek with each sway of wind slipping in through the small crack of the opened window.

A near frustrated groan came dangerously close to pushing past your lips as the Tsaritsa commanded a mission for the two of you once more, ordering you both to take care of matters somewhere around Fontaine once again. Of course, you two couldn’t deny a mission from the Cryo Archon. It was significantly less tedious compared to the one you had just returned from, so why not?

However, as you and Arlecchino wavered through the sea parting the way to Fontaine, you couldn’t shake off a gnawing sense of nausea clawing at your belly as the ship rocked along the currents. A few droplets of ocean water trickled onto the ship, the clear liquid stilled on the edge of the boat as it seemed to glare at you despite being a mere inanimate state of matter. Your mind couldn’t help but race with unnerving possibilities shrieking like a parasitic voice thickly buzzing around your skull. You had clearly never felt so agitated before, nor paranoid over seemingly nothing.

“(Name). Seriously, are you alright?”

Ah. Peruere’s firm, yet collected tone always washed a sweet comfort over you. Especially when she seemingly showed concern over your well being.

You simply nodded, palm running along your side in circular motions as a way to soothe the throbbing pain which thankfully subsided a few solid moments later. By the time you were already in Fontaine, the pain was almost always present. You began vomiting quite frequently, often removing yourself from diplomatic relations to go throw up somewhere else. If not that, then you sure as hell were drowsy 24/7, feeling like you were about to break and collapse onto the earth at any moment.

In this very moment as you huddled into Arlecchino’s neck, you drew in a sharp breath quickly as your hand rested atop hers, which was currently thumbing at the strap of your undershirt. Her sweet scent momentarily distracted you from the ache in your stomach growing to pester you every moment of the day? Sure, they stopped, but it felt as if something was landing blows on your gut from the inside, kicking vigorously at your swollen stomach. Thankfully, Arlecchino finally arose beside you, her body tilted forward as she sat upright groggily. The soft hue of the dimmed lights warmed the tone of your face, your drained expression on full view for her to see.

She simply quirked an eyebrow in concern. She was aware you could handle yourself, yet your fatigued form couldn’t help but fill her with a sense of worry upon seeing you stir in supposed pain. The past week had plagued her mind with constant anticipation and uncertainty about you, wondering if she should contact the doctor situated not too far from your accommodations in Fontaine’s main city.

“About 3 weeks, Miss (Name).” The doctor replied, pressing his forefinger down onto the middle of his glasses to lower them as his eyes glided along the scribbled paperwork in his hand. You blinked in surprise, hand resting on your own thigh as an awkward silence fogged the room for what felt like centuries. Carefully, you rose to your feet as to not exert yourself too much, before delivering a thankful wave to the doctor who examined you. Swallowing down the nervous rise piling in your chest, you creaked the door open to exit the office, mind racing with what Arlecchino’s reaction would be.

Would she be happy? Upset? What if she isn’t ready to have any children with you in particular? Would she feel tied down?

The pestering questions continued to eat away at you as you slowly paced to your quarters, growingly anxious about how she would react to such major information being dropped onto her. You simply shook your head as you reached the foot of your shared room, shaky hand resting upon the doorknob. It didn’t matter how she reacted. You were 3 weeks pregnant and that was for sure, it was just a matter of what the two of you would agree to do.

As you turned the doorknob with a soft click, creaking open the door, your body suddenly felt heavy and sluggish. Each trudge forward felt like you were opposing gravity when you set your foot down in a single step. Arlecchino was situated on the bed, sitting on the edge as she remained lost in thought while tracing her own cursed hands. She didn’t take long to notice you, and her head snapped up to meet your gaze once she caught sight of your form standing at the corner of the wall.

“Ah. Love. How did the visit go?” She inquired, her voice gentle and soothing. You felt frozen in your spot, staring at her like an unmoving stone statue as your fists opened and closed slowly. By this point, your hands piled up a small amount of sweat between them as you clasped your fingers close, breaths coming out slowly in your perception.

“Arle, I’m pregnant.”

The atmosphere of the room was stunned just as silent as it was when the doctor revealed the same information to you, your anticipation growing as Arlecchino stood up and started walking toward you. You began fidgeting with your own hands, thumbs slipping against each other as her tall stature slowly drew closer and closer to you. Within seconds, she was right in front of you, hands raising to rest onto your shoulders gently.

“What do you want to do with the child, my love?”

You found yourself almost immediately relaxing, tense muscles resting upon hearing her sweet tone brushing against your ears. It was as if the world around you slowly cleared your vision, alluring you into Arlecchino’s arms as she wrapped you into a soft hug. Her blackened hands pressed along your back in circular motions, massaging you comfortingly as her lips ghosted over the shell of your ear.

“I…was thinking of keeping it.”

Arlecchino simply smiled, a rare occurrence that crossed upon her expression…unless she was with you. Her arms hemmed around your waist carefully, drawing you in against her chest as she rested her chin onto the top of your head. She simply let out a quiet hum in response, closing her eyes to rest against you. You followed suit, closing your own eyes slowly as you relaxed in Arlecchino’s grip.

“Very well. We’ll finally be able to be at peace together.”

A/N: I am sorry BUR IM SO SKEEPY RN IM NOT GONNA BOTHER ANYMORE WITH THE END IM SORRY

[ponett]

Do you have any advice for people making OCs/sonas? Yours are really well rounded and unique and I'd greatly appreciate the insight of someone who got a passion project off the ground!

So this is a very broad topic, and it varies a lot based on your own creative goals, what kind of characters you're creating, and where you want to use them. Creating an OC to be used in furry pinups is a little different than creating one for a dramatic story. But I'll try to give some general advice on how I do things for the types of characters and stories I tend to work with

Heads up: this will be kinda long lol

The germ of an idea

For me, I'll generally be inspired to create a character starting with a small number of core traits. These could be anything. A color scheme, a body type, a job, a hobby, a personality archetype, an outfit, a visual motif, a functional role in a story I'm working on, a noteworthy facial feature, a weapon, a relationship of some sort to an existing character, a single scene or joke I want to use them for. For furries and fantasy characters, species is usually one of the first things I'll have an idea for, which tends to get the ball rolling fairly easily since we have all sorts of cultural associations with different animals and fantasy creatures.

Any standout character trait like this that you find compelling can serve as that initial spark. The inspiration can come from anywhere, but it's often just a matter of knowing yourself and your own tastes. What do you like? What are the people in your life like? What really speaks to you in a character? What's an existing fictional character that you'd like to rewrite and take in a different direction? What's an aspect of yourself that you would like to see represented more often in fiction? It doesn't have to be something super deep or fleshed out right from the start, though. You can start with something as simple as "I want a black cat character" or "I want a character who dresses like an arcade carpet" or "I want a character who looks scary but is actually nice." Whatever it is, it's something that differentiates the new character from the ones I already have, because otherwise I'd just be using them.

Contrast

From there, you can start brainstorming other traits that might go with those core traits. Some of those may be traits that naturally complement each other. Continuing with the black cat example, maybe you wanna play into the common cultural perception of black cats and say that this character brings bad luck, or is associated with witchcraft. However, I often like to give characters contrasting or even seemingly contradictory traits, which can help elevate a character beyond a stock archetype. Real people tend to be a walking ball of contradictions, after all.

I've talked a lot about how I did this with the main cast of SLARPG. Melody is a fox, traditionally a crafty and untrustworthy predator, but she's extremely introverted and gentle. Allison is a bunny, but instead of being a meek and cuddly little prey animal she's an outgoing fighter who loves a challenge, and she has a muscular build. I think this kind of thing gives characters some fun flavor, and can be really effective for both comedy and drama. For an example from something I didn't write, take Senshi from Dungeon Meshi. He's a dwarf, and he embodies certain stereotypical aspects of dwarves - he's a short, buff man with a big bushy beard, he lives underground, he's stubborn and doesn't like elven magic - but he also goes against some of them. Instead of being an expert on mining and blacksmithing, Senshi is a culinary expert who has a deep appreciation for the natural ecosystem of the dungeon. He's a weirdo among dwarves for not caring about the wellbeing of his axe and for using his super awesome shield primarily as a giant wok. And that's what makes Senshi fun and interesting.

So going back to our example, instead of going with the stereotype, we could make a black cat character who has comically good luck, or who's superstitious and afraid of witchcraft, or who's an extremely rational person who always believes in science over superstition. Or maybe you roll with the bad luck angle, but instead make the black cat be the victim of their own bad luck in some interesting way. Maybe this black cat has terrible luck with love and can't hold down a relationship. Maybe this black cat is an aspiring speedrunner who consistently gets the absolute worst RNG possible in every video game due to their own bad luck. Maybe this black cat has accrued a horrendous gambling debt after a long losing streak and has loan sharks coming after them.

These are all just hypothetical examples, of course. I don't exclusively make characters with ironic contradictions like this. The idea is just to build on those core traits you started with in interesting ways, and that's one of my favorite ways to do so. But honestly, a lot of the time execution is more important than the sheer originality of an idea, and sometimes really putting your all into playing a trope you love straight is the right move.

Specificity

Regardless of what direction I take a character in past that initial seed of an idea, the key ingredient tends to be specificity. To give them specific details beyond the most stock possible version of that core idea you started with.

This is something I internalized from Tim Schafer, via a blog post in the behind-the-scenes backer material for Broken Age. Sadly I'm not sure if that stuff is still available, but I did save this particular post about creating characters since it really helped me, so I'll directly quote a chunk of that post here:

No two characters would approach a problem or react to events in the same way. At least, not if you’ve designed the characters well. If you’ve left them too vague or superficial, if they are merely functional elements in your story instead of individuals, then they might react in the same way. And that’s a problem. So to avoid that, I’m going to talk about one the most important parts of character development: specificity. Making sure your character is a specific individual, not a stereotype. A unique character, different from anyone else in the world. It doesn’t mean that they have to have wacky gimmicks, eyepatches and crazy accents. It just means they have to be specific. For example, let's create a new character. Let's say your story has a scene where your main character gets in trouble in school. So you’re probably going to need a school teacher. Imagine a school teacher for a bit. Do you see her in a little red schoolhouse? Maybe a bun in her hair? An apple on her desk? Thick black glasses? Let’s put a ruler in her hand for good measure. Done! We have our teacher character. She’s ready to be in the scene where our hero goes to school and the teacher sends her to the principal’s office for passing notes. Right? I mean, this character doesn’t have too many lines, so why develop her character any more? The problem is that this teacher is a very shallow stereotype of a teacher. She has no specific attributes that make her memorable. She’s the teacher you would get in a set of free clip art. She might not have many lines, but if all your supporting characters are this way, your story will be more bland than it should be. Even if this teacher is only onscreen for a minute, she should be unique and different from any other teacher in the world. Luckily, it's not actually that hard to make her so. You just have to ask some very basic, specific questions.

Tim goes on to explain how simple exercises like filling out character sheets with basic questions about your character (there are a million of these online) can help push a character beyond a stock archetype, even if it's a minor supporting character. Questions about where they're from, their likes and dislikes, their beliefs, their goals in life, that sort of thing. For minor characters especially, a lot of these details may never actually come up in a story, but just asking even a few of these questions and giving them specific answers helps you see them less like an archetype and more like a real person in your head. Maybe you never bring up your character's backstory or their favorite sport or what kind of music they listen to, but just having a specific answer for questions like that might help color the way you depict that character in subtle ways. It makes it feel like they aren't defined by just that one core trait you started with, and helps make the characters and world feel more alive, like there's stuff going on with them beyond the bounds of the story or the drawing.

It's a careful balancing act, though. It's easy for a character to feel like they're a collection of too many unrelated gimmicks and quirks. Again, like Tim said, these specifics don't have to make for the craziest, most original character ever, there just has to be something there.

Let's go back to SLARPG as an example, where I combined broad character archetypes I liked with more specific personal elements that I felt like I wasn't seeing enough in the fiction I liked. Melody is riffing on the common idea of the reserved healer character in the RPG or MMO party and the shy girl archetype, but she's the main hero instead of a supporting player in another person's story, and she's also a fat bisexual trans woman who draws a lot of little details from my own life. Her interests, her relationships, her opinions on things, her personal hangups and dreams, these all set Melody apart from other fantasy healer characters and define her as Melody Amaranth. Specificity!

But it doesn't always have to be super deep, especially if you just want some characters to draw for fun and aren't planning on writing a story with them. Take my fursona. I've always loved dogs, so I made my fursona a dog. I chose a Samoyed in particular because I think Samoyeds are the cutest, and I hadn't seen hardly any anthro Samoyed OCs at the time. I leaned into the breed's signature fluffiness to help my fursona stand out from other canine OCs. She has simple identifying traits like being fat like me, wearing glasses like mine, and having a hairstyle kinda like mine (when I tied my hair up in a bun, at least). And there you go. Fursona achieved. She's not a wildly high concept character, but she doesn't need to be

Anyway I realize that this is mostly about the writing aspect, so here's a few quick bullet points about designing a character's appearance:

Face and body type variety are good, but personally I would say lack of body type variety is worse than same face syndrome

Knowing some stuff about shape language is good, but you don't have to be completely beholden to the "circles are friendly, squares are sturdy, triangles are scary" shit. I'm generally more interested in using repeated shaping in different parts of a character's design as sort of a shape motif. Melody's body, hair, and tail are all made of round, swooping shapes, for example. (This is more applicable if you're designing cartoonier characters as opposed to realistic humans, obviously.)

Knowing some basics of color theory is also good. I like using complementary and contiguous color schemes on characters and generally try not to use too many distinct colors on one design. Black and white and grey and various browns are good as neutral colors to balance out the colors of the rainbow, and gold can be a nice accent color

A small handful of identifying accessories can be fun, but don't rely on those to make a design stand out. Ideally your character should still be identifiable even when not wearing their default outfit, or even in silhouette

Aaaaaand I'm gonna call it a wrap there! This is a huge topic, so hopefully this helps with at least some of the basics! At the end of the day, though, don't beat yourself up if you can't sit down and force yourself to come up with the most crazy awesome OC ever. Just have fun and be yourself!

[ask-geralt]

You guys want to know one of my favorite things about Edwin? He loves how smart his friends are. He gets so excited and outright a w e d whenever they think of something clever, make a keen observation, or offer a solution to their problems. All I ever want to write is Edwin who eloquently gushes and praises his friends' intelligence and skills. Edwin who, when the occasion arises, gases them up when they get self deprecating, because to him it's not an opinion, it's a FACT that they're smart, and good, and kind, and brave. That they're all equals. I would even go so far as to say he, himself, feels he has to continuously work and study so hard to keep up with them, to continue contributing.

Genuinely I feel like it's a pretty big factor in his hostility towards Crystal in the beginning. When Charles and Edwin first talk with her post-exorcism, she's unimpressed with the work they did to save her, and she insults the name of their agency, which Edwin and Charles are both clearly fond of. Charles, who's used to laughing at digs far more hurtful than that considering his life before death, let's it roll off him easily, but Edwin takes it more personally. From there, he grows jealous because of the attention Charles is giving her, made worse when Crystal proves her powers ARE faster than the methods the boys used before meeting her. Edwin feels like he needs to prove he's better, or at least still useful where Crystal isn't ("We all have talents.") to Charles, because if Crystal can do everything Edwin does, and does it better, then why would Charles keep sticking around? And of course, Crystal returns his hostility beat for beat, as she should. I feel like her subtle attempts to smooth things over and get along with Edwin aren't talked about enough, like she lets him get away with so many snide and openly rude comments before she starts biting back again in episode one. But Edwin holds a grudge and she shouldn't have to take his attitude towards her lying down, not forever, and neither of them are willing to, say, try and ask the other why they're so snippy towards each other, or apologize lol. Honestly their dynamic is so layered and fun to pick apart!!

What really seals it for me is the contrast in his reaction to Crystal compared to Niko. He warms to Niko pretty much immediately, calling her charming and quickly getting down to business on saving her, without even a token protest about helping yet another living girl. And I think that comes down to her attitude towards their assistance, what she brings to the table for the group's dynamic, and her willingness to let them do their thing without rocking the boat on methodology. She doesn't come across as a threat to Edwin's friendship (repressed and unacknowledged crush absolutely not helping either) with Charles, since she and Charles don't interact much, especially not one on one the way he and Crystal do, so she doesn't ruffle Edwin's feathers at all compared to how instantly and repeatedly Crystal gets under his skin.

All this to say I love all four of them, I love that they've all got their strengths and skills, I love that there's also that overlap, that they all get to do detective-ing and that Edwin doesn't get that petty protectiveness over that role. Yes he feels threatened by Crystal, but that has everything to do with Charles and nothing to do with her being competent, in and if itself. He doesn't see himself as a Sherlock Holmes with three Watsons following him around. He likes it when the others are clever, when he's not being a petty bitch (affectionate) who hates change/new things lmao

[topperscumslut]

Kiss Me With Your Eyes Closed (Sejanus Plinth x Reader)

Summary: (Y/N) is the victor of the 9th Hunger Games and the beloved girlfriend of Coriolanus Snow, though she’s secretly in love with his best friend (in this au the hunger games progressed more quickly, for example mentors were already present before the 10th games etc etc). title inspired by Hot Freaks’ Puppy Princess!

Warnings: not much rlly tbh, a wee bit of angst but mostly FLUFFY FLUFFFFF. might write a smutty sequel if this does well (or just if i feel like it lol) but even then it would be more fluffy smut, like sweet love making rather than getting absolutely railed lmao yk? (i probably will so stay tuned if u like this and lmk if u wanna be tagged!)

spoiler free apart from references to coriolanus x lucy gray!!

ok actually it is a pretty good amount of angst nvm lmao

Word count: 2k

You sigh as you run your fingers over the tattered poster, so shiny and new only a year before, reading the now barely legible words. (Y/N) (L/N) Victory Tour, In Honor of the 9th Hunger Games, Arriving Soon in Your District. You remember your victory tour all too well. Despite the traumas you had endured as a victor, you’re grateful for how far you’ve come. Sure, you still have nightmares of your games every now and again, yet even still you have the best fate a girl from District 3 could ever hope for - you had fallen in love with a boy from the Capitol.

From an outsider’s perspective, it was the perfect love story. A doomed romance from the beginning; star crossed lovers, one might say, a Capitol boy and a District girl. When you had arrived at the Capitol for the 9th Hunger Games, near certain you had no chance of winning, your dashing mentor Coriolanus Snow had immediately taken a liking to you. He took you under his wing and coached you through your games, and when you had miraculously emerged victorious and returned to the Capitol, he decided that he wanted you for his own, and who were you to say no? Not even a few weeks before, you were just another girl from District 3, completely unknown, barely scraping by. Now you had been thrust suddenly into a lavish lifestyle with a handsome suitor to boot, adored by all of Panem; the nation’s sweetheart. After your games, you could have left it all behind. Sure, you would never be granted total anonymity being a victor, but you could have gone back to your beaten down home in District 3 and lived a relatively quiet life. After all, it’s not like the Snows had the finances to buy your freedom from your district and turn you into a full fledged Capitol citizen.

But the Plinths did.

You never particularly enjoyed Strabo Plinth as a person, but you couldn’t help but be grateful to him for what he had done for you. You had, however, immediately taken a liking to his caring wife, as well as his juxtaposition of a son, Sejanus, who clearly took more after his mother. In contrast to your rugged, analytical lover, Sejanus was gentle, complex. The two of you had become fast friends while Coriolanus had helped you prepare for the games.

And so before you knew it, this was your new life. At first you were anxious, concerned that your becoming a Capitol citizen and Coriolanus associating so intimately with a girl from the Districts would be seen as an act of rebellion and put you both in danger. However Coriolanus assured you that the nation loved you, both as an individual and as a couple. Sure, it was unexpected, yeah, it broke the (admittedly unwritten) rules, but that’s what made it oh-so fun to watch. Because at the end of the day, the games weren’t a competition - they were a show, and everyone loved an underdog.

There was only one minor flaw. You had fallen in love with a boy from the Capitol, yes, but it wasn’t the one you had so publicly given your heart to.

Your relationship with Coriolanus was practical, and that was about the only positive thing you could truthfully say about it. Neither of you were particularly wealthy or powerful individually, but together, you had potential. If you could keep all of Panem tuned in to your epic love story, you could almost certainly ensure mutual survival. You offered Coriolanus the opportunity to be known as not only a mentor to a victor, but a lover as well. And though nearly a year later his eyes had started to wander, the dapper blond had been quite infatuated with you when the courtship had begun, and Coriolanus was notoriously possessive. While his family was in the midst of financial hardship at the current moment, becoming a Capitol resident gave you the opportunity to get by still much more comfortably than you had in your impoverished home district. And who knew what volatility Coriolanus was capable of if you had rejected his advances? You had been coaxed into this very moment and had no other option but to grin and bear it. After all, all the girls you knew back home would kill to be in your position. A handsome sweetheart, financial stability courtesy of the Plinths, and the whole country all but worshiping you. Coriolanus Snow had offered you not only fame and fortune, but more importantly, security. Safety, in return for your undying affection.

Coriolanus was sweet at first. Charming, for sure. He was certainly attractive, yet he had never really had much of an effect on you. Maybe it was simply intuition. Or maybe it was the fact that he could never compare to his best friend, Sejanus Plinth.

Kind, pure Sejanus. The type of boy that, unlike Coriolanus Snow, truly made your head spin. The chemistry between you and Sejanus was unspoken, yet undeniable. However, you had already reluctantly sworn yourself to Coriolanus, and knew running off with his best friend would certainly put both you and your not so secret admirer in a treacherous situation. Sejanus Plinth was a risk you simply couldn’t afford to take.

What stung the most was that in any other situation, it could have worked. Sejanus was certainly more wealthy and influential than Coriolanus, not that that was what truly mattered to you. If you had been just a bit more fortunate, you could have had the boy you truly loved as your mentor and still have the same security and more that you were now so gracefully granted, if you had simply found your way to Sejanus before Coriolanus had set his sights on you and claimed you as his own. But unfortunately for you, your current romantic relationship was one built upon the grounds of survival rather than love.

If you were fully honest with yourself, you never truly loved Coriolanus - well, not romantically, at least. There was once a time where you had loved him as a dear friend, but in the time you had known him, he had become cruel and vitriolic. You knew from the start that he had always had it in him to become this way, though you had always naively hoped that he wouldn’t, that he would control himself, but the poison within his soul had soon taken over his cold, uncaring heart. He had become hardened by the misfortune of his family and gradually more complaisant in the ways of the Capitol, as well as secretly resentful of the great fortune of his supposed best friend and honorary brother Sejanus.

Now just over a year since you had met, the 10th Hunger Games were nearing to start. You had heard the whispers of Coriolanus sneaking around with his newest mentee, your replacement in more ways than one, Lucy Gray Baird; however it never bothered you. Lucy Gray knew that your relationship with Coriolanus was nothing more than a facade, and the two of you had become unlikely friends. You weren’t sure just how much of his affections for Lucy Gray were genuine, or how much was motivated by a desire to flatter her in an attempt to gain another victor to further his own career. Though Coriolanus’s mood was recently heightened by his new lover, he was still resentful of being assigned such an impoverished district for two years in a row and was prone to fits of rage over this perceived insult. While your home of District 3 was never much of a spectacle, Lucy Gray’s District 12 was miraculously even more down trodden, the poorest district of them all. You couldn’t help but wonder if this assignment was actually made to compliment Coriolanus, to show that if he could made a diamond in the rough out of you, that perhaps he could do the same for Lucy Gray.

As you sit alone in Coriolanus’s bed, still running your fingers gingerly along the photograph, you hear a knock at the door.

“Sejanus?”

“Oh, hey. Is Coryo around?”

You shake your head. “He’s out right now.”

Sejanus’s jaw tightens at your response. “With her?”

You nod unenthusiastically and can see the disgust and anger wash over his face as he makes his way over to you.

“It’s not her fault, Sejanus. She’s actually really sweet.”

He sits down on the bed next to you, careful to leave enough space between the two of you as to not make you uncomfortable. “I know it’s not. It’s his. Does it really not bother you at all?”

“Not particularly.”

He chuckles to himself. “You’re better than me, (Y/N). I don’t know how you put up with it. If I truly loved someone, it would kill me to see them with someone else.” He’s subtle, but you can tell exactly what he’s implying.

“Well good thing I don’t have to see it.”

“Fair enough.”

Sejanus looks sympathetically at you for a second, blissfully unaware that his kind, beautiful brown eyes are making you melt, before noticing the poster in your hand.

“Is that-”

“Yep.” You shiver, remembering your games, the things you saw… “I don’t think it ever occurred to him, the things I had to do in there.”

“It occurred to me.” He gently places his shaky hand on your knee, carefully surveying your expression to make sure you’re okay with the contact, to which you nod slightly, nearly involuntarily. “Look, I’ll say it since no one else in this screwed up place will, I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

You bite your lip, feeling butterflies in your stomach once again as he gives you that look and it takes everything in you not to lean in and kiss him right then and there. Your boyfriend could come home any moment, after all, and you quickly compose yourself, breaking Sejanus’s gaze. “It’s okay. I won. It’s the Hunger Games. It’s an honor.”

He inches carefully closer to you before speaking up again, his deep voice barely above a whisper. “(Y/N), you don’t have to pretend around me.”

You shake your head in denial. “I’m not pretending.”

“Then why haven’t I seen that light in your eyes that I love so much since you’ve left the arena? Why don’t you care that he’s always off with Lucy Gray? Why are the rules different for you than they are for him?”

And suddenly it hits you all at once. Sejanus is right. If Coriolanus is sneaking around with your friend everyday, even when they aren’t training, then what’s to stop you from doing the same to him? What do you owe him when all he’s ever done is keep you like a bird in a cage?

You don’t stop yourself, you don’t even think as you lean in and kiss Sejanus. He gets over the initial shock quickly and melts into it, cradling your body in his arms and pulling you in by the small of your back. You both pull away at the same time, not quite sure what’s gotten into you, but whatever it is, you like it.

“Coriolanus has never kissed me like that.”

“Go figure.”

His nerves kick in once again as he starts to stutter an apology before you shut him up by kissing him softly again.

“Since I first got to the Capitol… Sejanus, nothing here has felt right, except for you.”

“I could say the same about you,” he muses as he leans in once again, kissing you slow, both of you pretending the moment could last forever. If only…

[noemilivv]

Taking advantage of the fact that my man Saint Peter is a requestable character now so—

If it’s not too much to ask, could I get some (wholesome) first time headcanons with Saint Peter?

Like first time we held hands, first kiss, first I love you, first moment he realized he’s crushing on reader, ect stuff like that! Ik it’s a lot, I’m so sorry 😭😭 even just doing two is fine I swear I’m just craving some Peter content 💕

𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭 𝐩𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫’𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞(𝐬) 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

a/n: OMG CHITO YOU SCARED THE SHIT OUT OF ME 😭😭 while reading this i thought it was gonna be a smut request and i don’t write smut so i got so scared. but yeah, ofc!! enjoy !!

warnings: use of yn

proofread: nope LOL

tags: saint peter, hazbin hotel, fanfic, x reader

𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐳𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬

“hi, welcome to heaven! can i get your name please?” a grinning blonde asked you, slicking back his hair, a book in his hands.

“oh, yn.” you smiled back at him, so calmly, which contrasted to how his stomach was feeling right now. you seemed so cool.

“oh! uh, yeah, ok!” peter replied, whistling as he scrolled through the pages of his list, “ah! here ya are, r-right this way.” peter smiled, leading you to the gates, before sighing right as you were out of sight. you were really pretty.

𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬

over the course of your time in heaven, you and the saint had grown significantly closer, which eventually resulted in a first date after a few months.

you had suggested an ice skating date, which was fitting, due to heaven growing a more wintery vibe due to christmas being mere weeks away. but saint peter couldn’t help but (silently) disagree, he had no idea how to ice skate, and even worse, he told you he was amazing at it!

the day came sooner than peter would’ve liked it too, you both met up with eachother at the rink, by the time he got on the ice, you would already there.

peter went to approach you, before fumbling across the ice as he attempted to skate before bashing his face into the glass wall, looking at you with an embarrassed grin.

“here..” you say, taking his hand, “i’ll teach you!”

𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬

the night of your first date came to an end sooner than peter would’ve liked it too, despite the rough start on his side, he walked you home, dropping you off at your door, the sky a bright pink-yellow from the sun setting just below them, the night sky would be arising any time now for earth.

“thanks pete, tonight was really fun.” you smiled, standing just infront of your door, “it was no biggie, hehe. t-totally fun!” peter said, going to walk off, before you reached for his wrist, pulling him closer to you.

your lips were inches apart, you could feel his hot breath fan your face, you grabbed him by the neck and pulled him into a kiss. peter’s eyes snapped shut tightly, as he rested his hands on your shoulders, his lips were so soft, so heavenly.

you both pulled apart in sync moments after, peter chuckled breathily, pressing his forehead against yours, “does this mean i could maybe steal you for another date next weekend?”

i do not permit for my work to be reposted, translated, or stolen. all rights go to signedmio. characters are not mine, unless stated, and belong to their rightful creators.

[skywalkerslvt]

https://www.tumblr.com/skywalkerslvt/755200840017526784/rough-ride-so-rough?source=share

ok so… this but with anakin but reader doesn’t know this time (u don’t have to rewrite that part since we can just imagine Leon as anakin anyways unless you wanna change it up for his characterization. ANYWAYS this is the part where it gets into the cnc territory 😭) so later when everyone is sleeping, anakin goes to readers tent and sleeps with them and reader allows it and anakin tries to make her cockwarm him but ends up cumming instead. Reader wakes up and punishes him 🥰

a/n: tysm for the request! i had so much fun writing this u have no idea. ngl i was very sleep deprived while writing this so plot/spelling might be a bit iffy- i plan on editing this later. but in the meantime i hope u enjoy!! (btw i tried my best to stay on course with the request but lmk if i missed anything lol)

CW: 18+ smut, CNC, somnophilia, orgasm denial, cumming in pants, dry humping, p in v, unprotected sex, mommy kink, sub anakin, 1.9k words

Anakin paced outside of your tent, the cool night air doing little to soothe the burning heat inside of him. Your soft, even breaths could be heard from outside, signalling your slumber, though Anakin already knew you were asleep. He could feel the serenity through the force, such a stark contrast to the raging turmoil currently inside of him.

This was all your fault, really. It had started earlier, while the two of you were on a mission to infiltrate the Separatist communication relay and sabotage it. It was successful and went without too much trouble. However, the journey back to base was a different story.

The Republic Gunship they were using was overcrowded with troops and equipment, leaving little room for comfort. With no other choice, you ended up sitting on Anakin's lap, your back pressed against his chest as the vehicle jolted and swayed through the turbulent atmosphere.

At first, it was just awkward. But as the minutes passed and the vibration of the engines hummed through both of you, the close proximity started to affect Anakin in ways he hadn't anticipated.

His breathing became heavier, but you remained oblivious his growing arousal pressing against you.

You were oblivious to his discomfort, focused instead on the mission and the journey back. Anakin, however, was fighting a losing battle with his desires, trying to control his reactions as you shifted slightly in his lap, your movements unintentional but torturous.

By the time you reached base, Anakin had cum in his pants, and was on the verge of losing control. While the other troopers filed out of the ship, you lingered for a moment, completely unaware of the effect you had on him. Whispering something about getting to your tent to rest, you left Anakin to deal with the aftermath of his suppressed desire.

But before you could make it to your tent, you were dragged away by General Kenobi, who insisted on a debriefing. Anakin had been left aching and desperate, his mind swirling with thoughts of what had happened and what he wanted to happen.

To top things off, Anakin had attempted to make a move on you, asking if he could sleep in your tent that night. You, of course, had agreed, but fell asleep before Anakin could even attempt suggesting the activities he had in mind. The heat of the tent mixed with his arousal was stifling, so he stepped outside of the tent to gather himself.

Now, standing outside your tent, the memory of your innocent touches and unaware proximity played on a loop in his mind. He couldn't take it anymore. He needed you.

Taking a deep breath, Anakin steeled himself and quietly slipped inside the tent. The sight of you lying peacefully on your cot made his heart clench with longing. He approached slowly, his eyes fixed on you as if you might disappear.

He stealthily slid into the cot beside you, making sure not to rouse you from your sleep. You had chosen to sleep in only an oversized shirt that night, the heat in the tent too warm for anything else. Anakin’s cock twitched at the sight of your bare legs, and he knew he wouldn't last long. Good–that was good. The less time this took, the better chance he had at not waking you up.

He pressed himself against you, clothed cock brushing against your ass as he lightly trailed his fingers along your upper thigh and under the hem of your shirt. He bit down on his lip, suppressing his whimpers as he began lightly grinding against your ass, fingers trailing higher until they found your breasts, lightly tweaking your nipples until your body responded to his touch, your nipples pebbling under his fingers. It was enough to make him grind harder, needing to feel the rough friction against his leaking cock.

Anakin felt so dirty, rubbing off on you while you were asleep, completely oblivious to how needy he was for you. But he just couldn't help himself, not when you teased him every day, leaving him stiff and wanting. Not when the sight of you alone could make him stiffen in his boxers.

Anakin, still kneading your breasts, was panting against your neck. He wanted–no, needed–to cum so bad, and his current movements against your pliant, sleeping body weren't working. He needed more.

Slowing his hips, he reached a hand between your bodies, and pulled his pants down just far enough for his cock to spring free and slap against his stomach. He positioned his flushed, leaking tip between the top of your thighs, and slowly pushed in, nearly moaning at the feeling of the plush flesh of your thighs squeezing around his cock. He was like a dog in heat, desperately fucking your thighs just to feel something–anything.

His movements only faltered once, his hips stuttering and the grip on your breasts loosening as you shifted and mumbled sleepily, but once Anakin realized you were still fast asleep, he continued.

His cock was grinding against your cunt, the thin panties being the only barrier between him and what he so badly wanted, and as your body reacted to his touch, Anakin could feel your panties dampen with every thrust.

God–it wasn't enough. Anakin needed to feel you–feel the warm, wet walls of your cunt squeezing around his cock. So he reached down and slid your panties to the side, positioning his flushed head at your entrance and pushing in.

It felt so good–too good. He stilled inside of you, panting as he reveled in the all consuming pleasure your cunt gave him. But poor Anakin was too pussy-drunk to notice your shifting, the protrusion in your cunt rousing you from your sleep.

“Oh, Anakin. I knew you were a desperate slut, but I didn't think you were this desperate.”

Anakin froze at the sound of your voice, a deer caught in headlights. He flushed from head to toe, stammering out a bunch of incoherent excuses. Not saying a word, you slipped his cock out of your cunt and moved to straddle him, pinning his hips beneath your own.

“You've been a very, very bad boy, Anakin,” you scolded as you positioned his cock at your entrance once more. “Did I tell you today that you could fuck me?”

Anakin shook his head, unable to form words at the feeling of you sinking down on his cock once more. You left a harsh slap on his cheek, then grabbed his face, urging him to meet your eyes. “Use your words.”

Anakin's breath hitched as he struggled to speak, his voice barely a whisper.

"No, you didn't," he managed to say, his eyes wide and pleading.

"That's right," you said, your voice low and dangerous. "And yet here you are, playing innocent and asking to stay in my tent, then using my body for your pleasure. You must really be desperate."

Anakin whimpered as you began to move, slowly at first, grinding down on him in a way that made his head spin. "I'm sorry," he breathed, his hands gripping your hips in a futile attempt to control the pace.

"Sorry isn't good enough," you hissed, slapping his hands away. "You need to learn your place, Anakin. You're mine to use, not the other way around."

His eyes rolled back in his head as you picked up the pace, riding him with a relentless rhythm that had him teetering on the edge of sanity. "Please," he begged, his voice breaking. "Please, can't-"

"Oh, you can," you interrupted, your voice dripping with condescension. "You're going to take everything I give you, and you're going to thank me for it."

Anakin could only nod, tears of pleasure and frustration mingling in his eyes. He was completely at your mercy, and he loved it. The way you controlled him, used him, made him feel like he was nothing more than a toy for your pleasure-it was everything he craved.

"That's right," you purred, leaning down to capture his lips in a bruising kiss. "Good boy, Anakin. Now, let me hear you say it."

He choked on a sob as he thrust up into you, his voice trembling with need. "Thank you," he gasped. "Thank you, Mommy."

You smirked, pleased with his obedience. "You're welcome," you whispered, your movements becoming more frantic as you chased your own release. Just as he was on the brink of release again, you suddenly stopped moving, lifting yourself off him and leaving him desperate and throbbing.

Anakin's eyes flew open in shock, a pitiful whine escaping his lips. "No, please," he begged, his voice breaking. "I need to cum. Please, don't stop."

You smiled cruelly, enjoying his desperation. "You think you deserve to cum after sneaking into my tent and using me? I don't think so."

His hands gripped the sheets in frustration, his body trembling. "Please, I'm sorry," he pleaded. "I’ll do anything. Just let me finish."

You leaned in close, your breath hot against his ear. "You're going to have to earn it," you whispered. "And right now, you haven't earned anything."

Anakin's body ached with need, but he knew better than to disobey you. "Yes, Mommy," he whispered, his voice trembling. "I'll be good. I'll do whatever you want."

You sat back, smirking down at him. "That's better," you said. "Now, let's see if you can behave yourself."

You moved off him completely, leaving him lying there, desperate and aching. "Get on your knees," you commanded.

Anakin scrambled to obey, positioning himself at the edge of the cot. You sat on the cot in front of him, lifting your foot to rest on his thigh.

Slowly, you began to stroke his cock with your foot, the rough feeling of your skin against his making him shiver.

He moaned, his hips bucking involuntarily. "Please," he whispered. "Please, I need to cum."

You chuckled softly, continuing your teasing strokes. "You think you can just cum whenever you want?" you asked, your tone mocking. "You're going to have to beg for it."

Anakin's cheeks flushed with embarrassment, but he did as he was told. "Please, Mommy," he begged. "Please, let me cum. I'll be good, l promise."

You stopped your movements, making him whimper in frustration. "Good boys get rewards," you said, reaching down to grab his chin, forcing him to look up at you. "Bad boys get punished. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Mommy," he whispered, his eyes filled with desperation. "I'll be good. Please, let me cum."

You released his chin, stepping back and allowing him to collapse onto the cot. "We'll see," you said, a wicked smile playing on your lips. "But for now, you're going to have to wait."

Anakin's body trembled with unfulfilled need, but he knew better than to disobey you. "Yes, Mommy," he whispered, his voice trembling. "I'll wait. I'll be good."

You smirked, pleased with his obedience. "That's better," you said. "Now, let's see how long you can last."

As the night wore on, Anakin's desperation only grew, but he knew that he had to earn his release. And as he knelt there, waiting for your permission, he couldn't help but feel a twisted sense of satisfaction. He was yours, completely and utterly, and there was nothing he wouldn't do to please you.

[ranger-elizabeth]

So, I don’t think I’m dying, or anything, and it’s probably not that serious, but... I’m kinda bleeding. A lot.

Lol this one's a bit of a mess, but these prompts are great because they make me write things outside of what I would usually do! Have a fun little post-war domestic Clegan for your Wednesday night :) Thanks for the ask anon! I hope you enjoy it.

Prompt: "So I don't think I'm dying, or anything, and it's probably not that serious, but... I'm kinda bleeding. A lot."

Word count: 892

After dismissing his undergraduate class for the day, Gale begins the ritual of packing his materials into his worn leather bag when his doctoral supervisor pokes his head into the classroom.

“Gale, there’s a phone call for you in the main office. Seems urgent.”

A jolt of anxiety shoots through Gale. No one ever calls him at the school. Hastily, he crams the remaining papers into his bag, for once not caring if they crease. He hurries to the office where the secretary nods towards the phone, prompting him to pick it up.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Buck,” John’s voice comes through the receiver, steady yet tinged with a slight urgency that spikes Gale’s panic. His hand grips the phone tighter, knuckles turning white.

“What’s wrong?” Gale cuts straight to the point.

“So, I don’t think I’m dying, or anything, and it’s probably not that serious, but... I’m kinda bleeding. A lot,” John says.

“What?” Gale’s voice rises in anxiety, drawing a concerned glance from the secretary. He winces, trying to soften his volume when he speaks again. “Bucky, what the hell happened?” 

“Cut my hand by accident. Tried to stop the bleeding but it won’t quit. I think I might need stitches, and I would drive myself but you’ve got the truck,” John explains, sounding impossibly calm.

Gale’s racing heart steadies slightly, reassured that John isn’t actively dying, but the thought of him alone at home with a profusely bleeding hand still unsettles him.

“Jesus, okay. I’m leaving right now. Just… keep putting pressure on it and don’t bleed out before I get there,” Gale says, running an anxious hand through his hair.

“Don’t count on it,” John teases lightly.

“Not funny, Bucky,” Gale huffs. “See you soon.”

Replacing the receiver, Gale stumbles out a hurried explanation for his abrupt departure, then practically sprints from the building to the parking lot. He drives well above the speed limit, exhaling in relief when he finally pulls into their driveway and sees John sitting on the porch. He’s got a rag wrapped around his left hand that looks far too blood-soaked for Gale’s liking. 

Once the truck stops, John stands and makes his way to the passenger seat, greeting Gale cheerfully despite the circumstances. Gale’s glad John’s so calm, a stark contrast to his own internal worry. Of course, they’ve both seen worse injuries during their time together, but Gale thought they had left such emergencies behind with the end of their service.

“You doing okay?” Gale asks, reaching over John to secure his seatbelt for him, considering his hands are a bit full at the moment. As soon as it’s done, he throws the truck in reverse, backing out of the driveway to head for the hospital.

“I’m fine, Buck. It’s barely a scratch,” John reassures him with his usual bravado.

“Right. A scratch that had you calling me at work to come drive you to get stitches. No big deal,” Gale retorts, rolling his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” John says quietly, sounding slightly chastened.

“Hey, no. I’m glad you called,” Gale hurries to reassure him. “Just scared me, is all. Never gotten an ‘urgent’ phone call to the main office before.”

At the hospital, John receives eight stitches across his palm. Gale stays by his side throughout, John gripping his arm tightly during the more painful moments. As he works, the doctor questions the nature of the accident, and John reveals that he accidently cut himself while handling a knife. Then, he wraps John’s hand and assures him he’ll be right as rain in a couple of weeks.

Driving them back home, Gale can’t help but ask, “So, what exactly happened? I thought you knew your way around a knife without almost chopping your hand off.”

John looks sheepish, fidgeting in his seat. “I uh, tried cooking us dinner.”

Gale arches an eyebrow. When they had moved in together, it quickly became evident that John’s culinary skills were severely lacking. After a series of less-than-successful attempts, they had mutually agreed that cooking would be Gale’s domain.

“Okay,” Gale says slowly, confused.

“Did you realize it’s been a year since we’ve been home? Since we moved in together?” John asks suddenly, his tone softer. 

Gale’s heart warms, the pieces beginning to fall into place in his mind. John’s next words confirm his suspicions.

“I just wanted to do something special for you, especially since you had to work all day. I’m just sorry it ended with you driving me to the hospital,” John sighs, his voice tinged with regret.

Gale smiles warmly at him. “Well, you know what they say. It’s the thought that counts, right?” 

John huffs out a laugh, leaning his head back against the headrest, shaking it in amusement at the entire situation. “I guess so.”

“Anyway,” Gale continues playfully, extending his arm over the console to rest a warm hand on John’s thigh. “I can think of plenty of other ways you can make it up to me once we get home.” 

The implication catches John’s attention immediately, prompting him to sit up straight in his seat. He raises an eyebrow at Gale. “Oh, is that so?” he replies, his tone teasing in return.

Gale simply keeps his eyes on the road, a mischievous smirk playing on his lips.

“Hey, Buck?” John says suddenly, causing Gale to glance over at him curiously.

"Yeah, Bucky?"

“Drive faster.”

[cosmitton]

seeing a cute boy outside of a restaurant at night

Johan Seong x F!Reader (foreigner)

A/N: I haven’t written in so long and this is the first thing I’ve ever written for Lookism, so I’m nervous lol. The reader in this is described to be a foreigner, but I don’t describe what she looks like, so I hope that’s okay. She’s based off of one of my Lookism OCs but I thought it’d be better to write it as a Reader instead. I also won’t be using (Y/N) or anything like that bc I think it takes away from the flow of the writing/dialogue. Also, I think this takes place a little after the God Dog arc where Johan’s on his own again.

It’s not really romantic in this, but I’m thinking of making this a sort of series of one shots with this Reader specifically. Please lmk if Johan is OOC, bc I’m not confident in writing him haha. Anyways, hope you enjoy! c:

The nights are still cold at this time of year in Seoul. Not that you can really feel it at this point from where you are, starting the process of cleaning up and closing the restaurant. After having been cooped up in the small kitchen in the back of the hole-in-the-wall building you work at, finally done cooking after several hours, the space is well and truly stuffy by now. You were even a bit sweaty, in contrast to the people you can see pass by the windows outside that are trying to stay bundled up against the wind chill.

“Alright,” your boss walks into the back to join you, “you’ve been holed up in here long enough, I’ll take care of this. You go deal with the front.”

As if it’s ingrained in his mind as instinct, he swats at your back with the hand towel he grabs before you can protest that you can do it yourself and he should rest. You laugh slightly at the older man, deciding that you’re too tired anyway to argue with him right now.

You leave behind what you were working on to go out into the front of house in order to count down the register and go about cleaning and packing up the floors and tables. You work silently, comforted by the sound of your boss cleaning in the back and the distant hum of life filtering in from behind the windows and locked door.

“Mr. Terrence,” you call as you walk toward the back doors, “I’ll take the trash out now.”

“Thanks, kid.” He replies as you grab the black bags in both hands.

It’s as you walk outside, hit by the cold and slightly regretting not grabbing your jacket first, that you see him. A slim, brown-haired boy sitting by the mouth of the alley between your workplace and the building next door. He’s curled up like he’s trying to hide, in a way, with his knees drawn up tight and facing slightly away from you. When you glance over at what he’s looking at, you see two small dogs not far from him.

You try not to stare as you pass by, but it is weird to you. There’s not usually anyone out here, especially at this time of night and in this weather – and if there is, they’re usually not here for any good reason. It’s not your business, you try to remind yourself, and you can’t afford to be getting caught up in anything bad that might be happening.

Although, that doesn’t seem right, either. This boy is just sitting alone on the ground, watching – presumably – his two dogs and still hasn’t even looked up at you. He doesn’t seem the type to be here for any salacious reason, which makes the only other conclusion that comes to your mind much more heartbreaking – he’s here because he has nowhere else to go. You could be wrong, but the way he was dressed (yes, he had a jacket, but not thick enough for this cold) and had only his dogs and a single backpack sat at his side just hit your instincts in a certain way. You couldn’t see his face, but he looked slim – probably not starving, but clearly not eating as much as you preferred for a young person to be eating. (Distantly, you think about how Mr. Terrence would make fun of you for thinking this despite the fact that you are also a “young person”.) His dogs also looked skinny, and even if you didn’t care about this boy, you couldn’t in good conscience let animals go without food.

With that thought, you made up your mind and quickly threw away the trash and made your way back into the restaurant to head straight toward the kitchen.

“Mr. Terrence,” your boss jumped as you burst back into the room again, “sorry. I was wondering if you finished packing everything up?”

“Nearly there,” the older man watched as you scuttled about the kitchen to grab a to go box from under the counter and start filling it with food. “Oh, no,” he scoffs lightly, “not another stray. If you keep feedin’ ‘em, they’ll keep comin’ back expectin’ more.”

“A stray and his strays, yeah.” You continue, ignoring his scoff because you know he could stop you if he was really that bothered by it.

“What?”

“Some guy and his dogs.”

“Ohhh~” you don’t need to look up to face him, because you can hear the smug smile in his voice, “a boy, huh~? No wonder you’re so eager.”

You resist the urge to fling some of the food at him, “shut up. You know it isn’t like that.”

He’s already stopped listening to you, having made up his mind about your intentions, “uh-huh, sure.”

You don’t bother to reply, finished with packing up the to go box now and not trying to play his games. You make your way back toward the doors, hoping the boy and his dogs hadn’t left already. He’s still there, thankfully, when you get outside – again regretting that you forgot to grab your jacket, but somehow remembered to grab the dog treats you keep in your bag for any stray you might come across – and still not looking up. You make your way over to the boy with your shoulders hiked up in a weak attempt to shield yourself against the wind, trying to walk around into his sight so that you don’t sneak up on him.

One of his dogs notices you first, a little thing with pink ears, and seems to watch your approach cautiously. The boy notices and whips his head around immediately, as if he was trying to catch you, and you pause for a moment at the way he looks at you like you might be a threat. He looks to be around your age, with a pretty face and puppy eyes, but he scowls at you in a way that makes him seem older – weathered and weary from past experience. Oof, you think as you try to figure out how best to approach him, a standoffish one, then.

“Hey,” you greet lightly, “sorry to bother you. I work at this restaurant and I was wondering if you wanted to take these leftovers off my hands so we don’t have to waste them by throwing them away.”

You don’t actually have to throw away the leftovers, of course, but you’re banking on him not knowing that because he seems like the type to not take handouts unless it’s phrased as if he’d be doing you a favor instead. Before the boy can answer, though, the dog with pink ears walks up to you first. You kneel down to its level, putting your hand out to let it sniff you before you try to pet it.

“Hi, puppy~!” You can’t help the high-pitched baby voice you use to talk to animals, it’s instinct at this point and you refuse to feel embarrassed about it.

The other white dog that’s wearing a sweater is still hanging back, looking like it’s shivering, but you can’t tell if that’s from the cold or if that’s just natural. You set the to go box down beside you, petting the pink-eared dog with one hand while you wrestle the dog treats out of your pocket with the other. The pup is fully excited now, tail wagging so hard that it’s almost throwing the dog off its feet, while you feed the treats to it, eagerly.

You realize that you pretty much forgot about the boy when his voice makes you jump, “her name is Miro.”

You look over, and he doesn’t seem to be scowling at you anymore, just watching you interact with his dog – still cautious, but not threatened.

“She’s cute,” you smile, “and your other dog?”

“He’s Eden.”

“Can I give him some treats?”

“He doesn’t like strangers much.”

“Well,” you shift slightly, waiting for permission to approach, “I’ll give them to you and you can give them to him, then.”

“Why?” He’s suspicious again - not in the same way that others here are when they see your face and know you’re an outsider - and you recognize it and it breaks your heart for him. (It seems a bit ridiculous for you to hurt for him, given that you don’t know him at all, but you do because you’ve seen it before and you know it at your core.)

“Because they deserve it. They all do.” You mean his dogs, specifically, but you also mean him and every other person like him.

He watches you for a moment more, and you let him, but he doesn’t respond verbally – just shrugs and makes the smallest movement of his head to nod. You grab the to go box again, dog treats in the other hand, and rise to move toward him. He rises too, probably more comfortable with being at eye level than sitting – just in case. Miro is following at your feet, and you stop with a bit of distance between yourself and the boy. You hand him the dog treats first, glancing at Eden shaking a bit behind him, and he stuffs them into the pocket of his jacket. You try to hand him the to go box and that’s when he becomes suspicious again – obvious when you look him in the eye.

“I know it might be an inconvenience, but it’d really help if you could take these. It just seems like such a waste if we have to toss them.” He doesn’t believe you, you know he doesn’t just by how he looks at you, but neither of you are going to say it aloud.

He stares at you for a moment again, seeming to battle in his mind over whether to take it or not, but the hunger that you’re sure he’s feeling seems to win out. He takes it from you and, despite how reluctant he was to accept it in the first place, he immediately holds it close to him and slightly away from you as if you’re going to snatch it back.

You want to say more, but you’re not sure what and you don’t really have any more reason to since you accomplished what you came out here for. You think to ask his name and give him yours, but you feel like you might be pushing him with that. So, with nothing else that you can come up with, you start to back away.

“Thanks,” you smile at him again and look down at Miro and Eden, “bye puppies~!”

You think anything else would bother him, so with one last glance at the boy – who seems to be waiting for you to leave before he goes on with whatever his plans are – you fully turn back to the restaurant and go inside. You wish you had gotten his name, or had some way of checking up on him and Eden and Miro again just to make sure they’d be okay, but you just have to accept that it’s left up to fate now.

Who knows, you might meet him again one day.

[changeling-fae]

You know, thinking about how Raphael and the Emperor fill similar roles but with different methods and how Raphael’s “better the devil you know” takes on a double (triple?) meaning. Raphael straight up tells you what he is and uses that as leverage against the Emperor who deceives you pretty much the whole time.

And for a lot of people it works, people in general prefer honesty up front and while Raphael is absolutely a shady devil, most people would respect his candor over being lied to from the start. Not everyone of course, the Emperor’s tactics still seems to work on a lot of players, given how many never learn he was manipulating them from start to finish.

But I really do like the scene of Raphael laying out all his cards and giving you an opportunity to compare them against the Emperor.

The Emperor could argue he lied about who he was because no one would trust an illithid (which is likely true) but he now has the disadvantage of another shady being persuading his target because said shady being was up front with who he was.

I do vibe way more with Raphael (obviously lol), and I recognize a lot of it is, yeah he was upfront about who he is and his motives. And while arguably headcanon territory, it’s still pretty clear that Raphael has some “affection” (in his own way) for us versus the Emperor who the moment you break through his facade, clearly cannot feel affection.

When he tries to seduce your character and if you turn him down, the narrator actually makes a pretty clear note of planting suspicion about how fast and suspiciously quick the Emperor changed tactics and words despite 5 sec prior talking like he cares about us.

Actually I wouldn’t say it’s that headcanony that Raphael has an attachment to us, all the jokes aside about him having a crush, we get the evidence that he has an attachment from other places aside from Raphael’s mouth.

The diaries and plaque (if you sign the contract) proves it in the sense that in game, Raphael never expected us to see his writings or his vault. And the archivist in the vault says something along the lines about how special we are to Raphael and how Raphael has a “softer spot” for mortals than most, and the archivist says all this to us thinking we’re just some random devil in disguise. Information that wasn’t meant for our ears technically.

Meanwhile you got the Emperor over here who is very good at faking affection and sympathy until you start to examine him more. Then he drops it like a rock, it’s almost scary how quick he can.

Raphael is oddly relatable because he is kinda pathetic in his own way. You can see where and how he got to being who he is. The Emperor is, well, alien. He’s definitely very good at utilizing his old memories of when he was mortal to his advantage, but that mortal is dead and he’s basically just another illithid, just one who happens to be more independent than most.

And while this is all speculation on my part, it’s clear that Raphael both hates but is attached to mortals, likely because of his own existence. He’s half mortal but lives and is bound by the rules of hell like a devil. I think he envies some of the freedom to choose that mortals have, and that’s why he’s so insistent that mortals don’t have choice. He wants that freedom to choose but can’t because of his nature (“hell, hell, hell has its laws”) and he’s trying to convince either himself and/or mortals that they don’t have a choice either, to cover up that envy he feels.

Imagine being the child of one of the big bad archdevils who rules over a layer of hell. There probably is a level or feeling of helplessness that he never had a choice but to be what he is.

And you can contrast that with the Emperor who is no longer mortal and while definitely fighting for his own independence and freedom, is quite content to be what he is.

Considering the whole game has strong themes about choice, fate, and freedom, it’s just fun how even the antagonists shares those struggles same as our characters and the companions.

[chrysanthemumandthesword]

I'm going a little nuts. I've just read the Odyssey (they only had me read the Iliad in high school, so I'm correcting that oversight, lol). I've looked at multiple different translations because the library/Guttenberg Project are free so comparing/contrasting is easy and fun! I've also listened to EPIC. And like... it's an adaptation with an obvious set of themes drawn from the original they want to explore over others more predominately present, so there will be differences. It's also a modern interpretation? So like... it's not going to 100% adhere to ancient Greek values? Like a modern audience is going to have some qualms about baby murder, so if you want to adapt it that's going to have to be addressed (if you don't take the coward's way out and just shove every war crime on Neoptolemus - or go the full historian route and fully write from an ancient Greek perspective which may alienate new readers but could also be dope? It's subjective).

Like, we all should know an adaptation (especially a modern one) is never a substitute for reading the original work. But adaptations can also bring new or expanded perspectives on the original work, expand on or address themes from the work in a new way, as well as inspire people to read the original. And honestly? A popular adaptation should motivate people to read/watch the original - this is exactly what kicked my ass in gear to read the Odyssey!

I'd also say don't hero-worship the original. Especially if you haven't read it in a while and have a knee-jerk negative reaction to any new adaptation. The original works should still be read but let people have fun! Don't criticize, just say if you want more content/context read the original! I would, for example, never criticize someone for loving Muppets Treasure Island or Treasure Planet even though they don't stick one to one on the original Treasure Island story - even though it was my favorite book growing up. I think they both are made with a love of the source material, but are changed for the medium + the specific themes they want to address.

I don't know. If an adaption makes a story (especially and old one) more accessible it should usually be celebrated and met with encouragement to look deeper into the source material instead of acting superior - especially if you haven't read the source material in a while either. Let people have fun and encourage them to explore! Don't shame them for liking an adaptation, especially when it's made to expand the reach of a wonderful work to a younger, wider audience.

[prince-liest]

D Y I N G over vox having a belated crisis over the way he sprung hardcore kinks on alastor as his first ever experiences in bed lol. like it's oddly sweet how shocked and appalled he was about it, especially contrasted to how nonchalant alastor was acting in return. makes me wonder how vox would have /actually/ reacted in that first installment, had alastor let it slip that it was his first time - ✨

In an aaaaabsolutely deranged way that Alastor would have made fun of him for very intensely, hahaha.

If Vox knew ahead of time, he probably would have done the whole chocolates and roses thing while actively thirsting after the fact that he's the one who gets to "show Alastor the ropes" and "take advantage of him." He still saw Alastor as a goal to achieve at that point, not an actual person, and this would have slotted into his general desire to assert dominance (even if in a way that secretly thrilled him and made him feel special).

If he'd found out in the moment, it would have flipped a new, very horny switch in Vox's brain, which in turn opened the door to raunchy dirty talk about Alastor's virgin ass. Vox would have immediately slotted himself into feeling like some sort of authority on the subject for Alastor despite Alastor not actually being interested in said subject.

Either waay, Alastor would have laughed himself even sillier than he already did. The funniest bit for me to write about Vox being vaguely appalled at his recollection of the high risk shit they did was that, like. Vox knows what Alastor does to people on the radio for funsies in his free time. He probably listens to it as bedtime ASMR on the days he can handle the screaming. Just because it's not a sex thing for Alastor doesn't make a bit of choking any less vanilla in comparison.

But! That's what made it a fun reveal to happen right now, because Vox's current reaction is very much informed by his changed perspective of both Alastor and their relationship as a whole. So it ended up, like you said, oddly sweet! I'm really happy you liked it, thank you! <3

[wellofdean]

Okay now I’m wondering what they told Jensen about that ‘secret’ that Dean has because it wasn’t Dean’s need for a ‘normal’ life and relationship, so to speak, because we had the dream sequence with Lisa and the picnic in season 3 (not to mention Cassie), and Kripke was pretty open about how Sam and Dean both put on masks about what they want with women, Sam is the secretly horny one and Dean is a secret romantic. So the secret has to be something else. If it were to be his bisexuality, which given that his character is queercoded from the very beginning of season 1, isn’t implausible.

From what I’ve seen, there’s multiple ways they do this, sometimes they tell the actor the secret (that their character is queer) and the actor plays it that way. Sometimes they just tell them “okay your character has a secret” and don’t tell them what it is (see Jensen’s character, Eric on DOOL) and sometimes they don’t tell an actor at all and just write it that way.

Hypothetically if the secret was Dean’s bisexuality (I mean, Dean Moriarty, James Dean? very bisexual), and they hadn’t told Jensen, I wonder at what point he would’ve figured it out. Because as much as people like to rib him, he’s not stupid and he’s a very intentional actor (maybe that’s why him and kripke get along).

Anyways that ask got away from me lol, fascinating topic, it’s fun to still be learning things about the show 4 years after it ended.

That IS an interesting question... Linking to the posts that likely prompted it. I would bet that he knew it was part of the DNA of Dean that he was not straight. I think Jensen knew who Dean was named after, and probably knew or was told it would always be subtext, and also that Dean was closeted, so...not admitting it to himself. How could he in that family? I think he knew the character backstory and what the writers were working from.

We know Jensen doesn't read scripts too far ahead so that he isn't too influenced by what is coming and can react to Dean's moment cleanly, so...If I had to guess, he knew it was in there, but bisexuals are able to blend and play straight. But, I think he knew, because otherwise, why that face when Sam clocks him for being butch and over-compensating? Why his full clown approach to tropey women? Why do they so obviously contrast that to how Dean treats women who aren't performing femininity as hard as he is masc-ing? Why say Dean is a 'promiscuous guy' when he demonstrably isn't? Wherefore Jensen's 'who knows how Dean scares up money' headcanon? Wherefore A LOT of things, honestly.

And, let me just add that nothing I have ever heard or heard tell of Jensen saying actually contradicts this if you realize that what he does is basically refuse to comment on anything that has not been explicitly shown on the TV screen. So, someone point blank asks him: do you play Dean as queer? And Jensen says No. Ok. Yeah. Dean is not ready to admit that to himself and Dean's vessel plays him straight.

If he elaborates, hesitates or prevaricates AT ALL, then suddenly Dean is queer, and the secret character note is no more, and it would blow the ability to let that thread of Dean's story develop in response to events in the narrative. So...

I mean, I'm only guessing, but that's my guess.