#like the mind games that would go back and forth between them would be fascinating to examine

[phtalogreenpoison]

Reynie Muldoon Part 2

To start off this second post about my blorbo Reynie Muldoon, I would like to correct a former vagueness.  To credit the person who mentioned the Heart and Leader roles, I would like to give a shoutout to @sophieswundergarten!  I would also propose that this contributes to why Constance is so kidnappable and chased after, but I digress. 

So besides Reynie’s roles in the society, something that I find absolutely fascinating about him is that he is repeatedly described as a completely “average boy” and easily the most personable of the four (with maybe Kate coming as a close second in a different kind of people smarts way though).  But though he is seen as the most “normal” of the group, not everything adds up.  Before the Mysterious Benedict Society formed, he really didn’t have any lasting friends, and the only people he could maybe count as friends would be Seymour the orphanage cat (meow!), the significant portion of time he spent alone with himself, and his teacher Miss Perumal (I love her, but this is more of a mentorship/parent role).  Even considering them, one is a nonhuman animal, and Miss Perumal is not his age, certainly does not give any cool points for people his age, and has not been in his life until more recently.  But yet the fact remains that he is still able to appear friendly.  All of this is not to say I don’t think Reynie is a good person (because he really, really is a good kid), but it points to the fact that he gets his people skills from something a little more mentally ill.  And to me, that points to neglect.  As someone expected to be a golden child situations paraded out for the orphanage in certain situations, with his further development being ignored by the director until Miss Perumal, and as someone who is also able to evade his longtime bullies (for being a nerd or something I don’t remember) by seemingly being uninteresting and boring, he learns to adjust how he presents specific aspects of his personality to people.  Again, most people have different sides of themselves they show to different people, but this errs more on the side of having different masks for survival.  On a related note, as an emotionally neglected child myself, you learn that if you want something done, you have to do it yourself and cannot ask for help, contributing to Reynie’s desire to control the situation he’s in and in a weird way, forcing him to develop his leadership skills.

I feel like to some people, this could seem that I am painting him in a bad light.  I am not, merely that he is a deeply hurt child who has found certain ways to cope.  Obviously, once he meets Miss Perumal and the society, he begins to develop these coping mechanisms in a way that is healthier for himself, which really points out the fact that how people develop is so tied to what support they receive in childhood or adolescence.  Again, while the other kids have had to fend for themselves in similar ways, it is specifically this that brings out Reynie’s traits of intelligence, even though they could have developed in better circumstances.  Anyways, I am trying to say here that his ability to read a room is tied to his life experiences, which leads me to my next point that Reynie’s form of intelligence is often tied to cleverness.  For example, I heavily relate to the way that Reynie took the entrance test for the Mysterious Benedict Society, in that he viewed it as a puzzle to solve.  He did not know all of the facts straight up, but he did know how to use the information provided to him and extract what he needed out of that.  While he is also a certain level of book smart, he uses what knowledge he has available to him a shrewd manner. 

While I won’t finish in this post how this all ties in, he occasionally uses these abilities to manipulate the situation around him.  This for the most part is redirecting his bullies (considered acceptable), working information out of Mr. Curtain (considered acceptable), and later throwing the radio out from his friends (considered not acceptable).  But remember the false dream he has which causes him to fear that he would side with Mr. Curtain in the first book and betray his newfound friends?  This fear roots out of the fact that he is unsure of where to draw the line with his manipulative abilities early on, but he is ultimately different because of his care for the people around him.  While he may make mistakes, he is doing this for the people around him, and he is able to listen to others’ opinions.  He does not always think that he knows best, and if there is a better, easier way, he will probably take that route.  And as I hinted before, I do not necessarily think this is a bad thing to utilize, but the key thing that makes its usage a mistake is if he rates his opinion higher than the people he trusts.

This is all a really long way of saying that I love Reynie, and he is a nuanced individual who learns how to direct these same impulses in a far healthier way once he receives proper support, leading him to grow into a wonderful person.  I may seem a little morally gray here, but I just want to emphasize that sometimes, it is the situation that pushes a kid in a certain direction with their natural abilities.   (Next up will be parallels to Mr. Benedict and Mr. Curtain!  Among other things!)

[eldritch-spouse]

HI AGAIN. Ever since I found your blog and also sent a totally normal ramble abt cannibalism I've been just. Gently tossing your guys back and forth in my head. You're a wonderful writer and I'm always excited to see you on my dash!!

Gonna throw my hat in as asking an actual question- How would your guys fare if their obsession had a particularly weird or morbid interest? I get the vibes that some of them would most certainly encourage it but I also feel like Vinnel would hit me with a hammer if I panic infodumped about ebola-

[Hellow, glad to see you again! Also, I know you probably just forgot, but "your guys" encompasses way too many characters to talk about at once, so I'll assume you were going for TCE staff.]

Morell especially likes hearing about your cannibalism infodumps. They're actually useful to him, since he's going to be living with you, and he needs to know what he can and can't feed you, as well as a possible child between you. It's actually interesting stuff, he'd like it if you talked about it to his family too, you're a smart piggy. Any other topics are usually met with less enthusiasm (unless kitchen/food related), and he'll ask you to quit it if you start talking too much about mushrooms. Overall, it's nice background noise to work to.

Patches is all about infodumping. In fact, you're subjected to it often too, even if he doesn't always stop to explain basic concepts you'd need to understand his rambling. He'll give you a recorder he has, so he can keep the sound of that boundless enthusiasm in your voice forever. He's much more participative than the others, asking various questions and tossing random scenarios at you that'll prompt you to learn even more. There's a potential he'll get distracted and stop working to just research this with you the whole day.

Gallon loves a weirdo -No offense- Feel free to dump all that morbidity on him, he soaks it up like a sponge (so does Martin, be careful). Although he prefers to let you speak unhindered, only egging you on when it seems you're getting passionately angry about things, there's a chance Gallon may begin his own little tidbit sharing regarding a variety of poisons and toxins. He's selective with what he lets slip, but figures it could interest you.

Santi likes listening to you. Doesn't matter what it's about. There's only one thing he doesn't want you to morbidly talk to him about, anything featuring kids. Other than that, you think a rant about the intricacies of cannibalism's effects will kill his mood? Hah, nice try. He usually doesn't have anything smart to say, but may actually pitch in with some first hand details if you mention something sexual and morbid.

Let's face it, this is going in one of Grimbly's eardrums and out the other. Unless, you can talk like you're in a true crime podcast, then he's all ears. Grimbly typically responds to these interests by bragging to others about how his Mommy's "so smart" and "cultured" and he learns so much with you! You should start a YouTube channel!

Nebul likes to hear what you think is morbid. He'll let you ramble when you've been good enough to earn his attention, or if it allows you to keep obeying him. He has his own morbidities to share with you, as a wraith who has seen the darkest parts of many a mind. Surely, you of all people would be fascinated to know how the brain reacts to very invasive types of trauma only some monsters can inflict...

Vinnel will use this to his advantage during shows. You're placed in dangerous games where the whole goal is for you to explain said morbid concepts to the audience while Vinnel or Jingles try to destabilize you so you'll fall into painful contraptions or get cut/bruised/undressed. Sometimes Vinnel pays attention to your infodumps, other times he openly doesn't, it's a coin toss.

Belo sincerely discourages you from seeking such dark information in your brain. A lesser's mind is like a canvas, and it shouldn't be furnished with such desolate knowledge... If your morbid interests somehow can shine a glimmer of positivity or utility, the angel will be a little more inclined to letting you keep pursuing these topics. Otherwise, Belo actively attempts to distract you.

Sybastian doesn't understand about 80% of what you're about to tell him, but he has all the time in the world to sit and listen to his favorite person spit words. He's not verbally communicative during these episodes, but he may clap depending on how impressive the information is, and he remembers things you say enough to sometimes present you with paraphernalia vaguely related to the topics of your morbid interests.

Fank-e is a good bet because he can add onto your information in real time, or correct small detail you may get them wrong. He's generally happy to give you links to more information sources and try to match your level of knowledge, uncaring of how dark the subject theme may be.

If there's one thing you can infodump to Krulu about, it would be diseases. Plagues and ailments of several types are his specialty, the chances of him imparting bits of knowledge you absolutely should not possess on this matter are high. Another thing you may infodump to him about is corvids. It gets him in very favorable moods, surprisingly.

[applesontheground]

hope you don't mind, anons, but these two requests kind of went hand in hand for the idea i was drawing up, and overlapped a bit too much ... so i'm combining them! 🤗

knock you down, you just come back running 💼

NSFW | Word Count: 718 | Patrick Bateman x GN Reader

contains HEAVY MASOCHISM/self-destructive themes, choking, scratching/marking

He could talk for what seemed like seven separate work conferences in a regular context, but when Patrick was behind bedroom doors, most of the speaking was off the table.

In its place sat well-polished tools.

It was an impossible game, because if you caved in too soon, he would become bored with you. If you held out too long, he’d probably tear you down until you were close to death.

You had kept your grip up until he decided to get downright evil with it. It was as though he made sure you were at least being honest with the tough act. He had been going back and forth with his movement. One moment, he was tearing his nails over your skin in thorough, long rakes across your back and shoulders. When that didn’t yield anything besides a shiver and a grit of your teeth, the distance to fall into his chest and cower a world away in your mind so much so that you refused to even look at it, he then resorted to curling his fingers along your skin in a more frenzied way, not shy to start wrapping the work around your ribcage and begin to rake over your chest. You had dared look into his determined glower, and when faced with those relentless, pristine brown eyes you spat out, “Your nails better be clean.”

His hand, which had started to lavish in some of your blood and raw skin from his intricate handling, clasped around your neck until the sound that came from your tightened throat was involuntary. Pushing against your windpipe, he muttered in response, “What do you take me as, [Y/N]? Besides, you don’t exfoliate. I’ll be washing under them again after you go home.”

You wondered if he meant that; not the first thing, but if you’d be leaving this penthouse somewhere close to alive. The hot burning along your back when you tried to gasp for air again was drawing that hollow pain that was starting to make the corners of your eyes twinge shut, and when you stopped fighting for air he released you.

Still, you refused to crumble. Instead, you closed your eyes, trying to catch your breath and still refusing to touch him. You knew in the way the tie was draping over the back of your neck, then pulling tight against your throat as his hand came down to hold your jaw steady, that his new fascination with watching you choke was far from over.

“Watching you struggle to breathe is something I can’t get out of my thoughts. It’s like every waking hour, I find the same answer I’ve been looking for in that fear you wear so well.” He was trying to say it in a positive light, but it was more like a lament as he pulled the tie with a closed fist, wrenching your back to a straighter posture again.

This time, the fabric was pinching the soft skin of your neck in a way that finally made you crack. Through the first lone, warm tear that welled in an eye, the other one not far behind and growing just as fast, like a rush of a river. Your hands curled around the perfect fabric, not pulling it but rather bracing just in case it actually did you in.

Your eyes never left his, not even as you started to breathlessly wrench forward, shudder in silent sobs. You weren’t weeping for mercy, but rather a knowledge that no matter how it was cut everything between you and him was going to end horribly.

He smirked at the gesture, like he knew the same thing – but he was rather excited to take you to a demise at a speed that was too fast for either of you to try and stop. Normally, he was too obsessed with the notion of control to consider even faltering from letting you waste away in front of him.

Releasing you slightly, you let out a half-pained and half-drowned moan to him, and the raw humanity only caused him to pull tight again and watch you suffer for a third time.

Anything to help paint the picture of what it looked like on you better, so that he could think of it in the morning.

[mikey180]

Hatz and Khun x reader like Bayonetta

head cannons

type- fluff

Hatz-

He likes seeing how you fight. He finds the techniques you use to be quite fascinating.

Enjoys the silent moments you have together and how he knows you care about him without smothering him in physical affection.

ya know, like, how you two can share sweet moments instead of overbearingly intimate and invading ones.

Don't get him wrong though, he loves it when you two end up hugging or cuddling and he wouldn't give them up for the world, but when looking at other couples he finds their "special" moments to be suffocating.

Doesn't really like how impatient you are, but he finds how fast you put other people that show romantic interest in you down, that's the only time he enjoys your attitude.

You should expect a lot of sparing, not for him to beat you, but to help him understand how to block and evade other kinds of attacks.

You know that since you're in the tower there has to be other people like you in the tower.

While you are sparing though, all of the sarcastic and flirty remarks you make never fail to make him blush.

He once again failed to dodge your attack, your sword stopping just bearly an inch away from him. "What happened Hatz? I thought you said you had it this time?" you smirked at him not making any move to lower your sword "do you need an incentive to do better? I could start cutting it just a bit closer."

He felt the sharp, cold blade dig into his skin and goosebumps form along his neck. "No, I just need more practice." he stepped to the side."Maybe we should switch back to my whip, hm?" he shot you a questioning stare

"well it looked like you enjoyed working with that one quite a bit more, Hatz." Your teasing smile returned when you saw him try to process your words. Suddenly a look of realization crossed his face as soon as he look at you, quickly turning around to avoid your gaze and hide the light blush adorning his cheeks.

It didn't work very well as he refuses to believe that his ears turn red as well, so of course, you noticed.

Khun-

he's a lot like Hatz in the sense that all of the quiet moments and quality time mean a lot to him. (so I'm sorry his is short)

however, he counters your teasing with his own.

the back and forth, ummm, not child-friendly comments, that would embarrass anyone else, is spoken freely between the two of you. If you really want to see him blush though say one of them in public. ya know like in the back of a crowded spencers (those who know, know)

Takes a huge interest in your demons.

Asks you to introduce them all to him, but the entire time you're talking about them he's just kind of wondering how you got them all

"And this is Madama Butterfly," you say gesturing to one of your summons, as you turn to look at Khun, only to see him still bent over looking at one of your smaller demons. He hadn't looked at any of the other two you had brought since the first one.

"Khun?" you asked a little bit of annoyance lacing your voice "Are you listening?" He slowly tore his eyes away from it, head facing you before his eyes followed.

"yes beautiful, I am listening. please go on." You sighed as you watched him slowly put all of his attention back on the first one. "Khun? Whats on your mind?" "hmm?" he looked at you again "what did you say y/n?" his eyebrows furrowed as your face started to show more signs of annoyance than you would have liked it too.

" I asked what was on your mind, Khun. what are you thinking about?" Khun took his time, trying to find out how to word his thoughts in a way that would make sense. "I'm wondering how you got all of them."

"ah well...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

sorry if the reader isn't what you wanted, but I've never played one of her games. I do apologize for how long this took to write, I got a bit of writer's block on Khun's part. @jaycenicolasluver

[tavyliasin]

ATG 14 - Fury? Scorned.

In which an enemy becomes a bedfellow...

Pairing: Mizora/Tav SPICE Rating: 4/5 Content Warnings: Oral sex, light Bondage, rough sex, mild hate-fucking, mild neck grab, light whipping, tail whipping, manipulation, temperature play     

Spoilers Act 3, Wyll's storyline Canon Compliance Canon adjacent with Mizora's offer though some divergence in the scene and what happens after.   Other Notes The names and descriptions of the hells are mostly canon, the feelings when they are used may vary in some ways from the game descriptions but hopefully that is forgivable to just indulge in a little fun with it all. I also headcanon Mizora as feeling cool to the touch in general, both from personality and from her skin being blue to be honest it's just a simple shorthand for "thing is cold colour therefore feels cold".  Click here to read the same chapter on AO3 if you prefer~

Mood/Song Freak Like Me by Halestorm "I'm on the train that's pullin' the sick and twisted Makin' the most of the ride before we get arrested We're all wasted And we're not going home tonight

Covered in black, we lack the social graces Just like an animal, we crawl out of our cages They can't tame us So if you're one of us, get on the bus

If you're a freak like me"

--- --- Full Chapter below the cut! --- ---

Tav paced back and forth across the empty room, floorboards creaking beneath her feet. Was it a mistake? Had she finally made a decision that couldn’t be taken back? She paused. Shaking the thoughts loose from her head, resuming her restless footsteps once more, she turned her mind away from problems and towards solutions. Every devil has a catch, they stick to their laws so you simply have to read between the lines and- “FUCK!” Her own voice surprised her as she cursed the chair that dared to get in the way of where her toes were supposed to be. “Fucking Mizora…” 

“Well, there’s an idea~” That horrible voice that Tav had been trying to avoid crept into her ear.

“Speak of the devil and she shall appear?” Tav turned on her heel, staring daggers at the intruder and sorely tempted to throw some too.

“Oh hush now, there’s no need for hostilities. I’m not here about Wyll, let the pup run and play while he still has the time - we shall call that one a mercy. See? I can be nice, if I want to.” Mizora’s smile was unnerving as she spread her hands and wings in a disarming gesture.

“Then why the fuck are you here, devil?” Tav made no attempt to disguise the disdain in her voice. The others had left to fetch supplies and to begin looking for more signs of the prison that held Wyll’s father. She had remained behind - “to plan” she had told them - but in truth she couldn’t bear to look at the conflict in the Warlock’s eyes any longer. Karlach would look after him, along with the others, but she had been the one to push him too far, to make a decision she knew he would see as selfish.

In the moment of silence, Mizora had stepped closer, circling around the rogue with interest, clawed blue fingers reaching out but stopping short of her shoulder. “Truth is, I’ve had my eye on you.” The smile beneath blazing eyes was ever more unnerving as she continued. “You’re a fascinating little thing, and you’ve been on quite the adventures now haven’t you?”

Tav bristled as she felt herself being undressed by the cambion’s gaze, and not the one she might usually prefer to imagine her naked…although… “Reading my diary, are you? That’s considered poor form, I thought you demons liked your rules.”

“Devils.” Mizora corrected her. “Fiends, if you must. But who has need of your precious little words when I can simply watch ?” With one clawed nail, the devil indicated an eye that burned just a touch brighter for a moment.

“Wyll…his eye.”

“Obviously. I must keep track of the pup lest he wander in front of a carriage or into the jaws of a stray dragon. But enough of him - it’s you I’m here to see.” The fiend’s hand reached out again towards Tav’s cheek, and when she didn’t pull away the cool touch caressed her with a gesture somewhere between a lover and the prospective owner of a prized animal examining the quality of the livestock. Tav gritted her teeth and smiled. This was a game she could play, and she couldn’t deny that - at least on a purely physical level - the bitch did have some level of allure. “Tell me then, Mizora, what is it you think you see in me?” “I knew you were curious, pet.” The smirk that accompanied the mocking term of endearment betrayed the hint of fangs behind soft lips. “Don’t you feel it? There’s something missing. You’re hungry for pleasures beyond this plane, something more satisfying than mortal flesh, blood and bone.” “And that something is you?” Her eyebrow raised, pretending to take the bait. “How very observant! Quick little thing, but not quite. I am your key to that door, if you’re brave enough to open it, of course.” Blue wings stretched up for a moment as she withdrew her hand. “Although, if you’d rather I just leave you to your brooding-” 

“I didn’t say to go, yet.” Tav was wondering if being poetic and overly-dramatic was a specific cambion trait, or if it was instead just coincidence that Mizora shared a few things in common with Raphael. She chased off the thought, Raphael usually had the good grace to play fair even when he obscured the rules of the game. “If you really think there’s something I’m missing, why don’t you show me?”

“An excellent choice, pet.” Mizora’s wings spread wide this time, the circle appearing beneath them both - that familiar and horrifying bubbling tar seemingly made of darkness itself. It was simultaneously boiling and freezing, the essence of every level of the hells distilled into an infernal pool at their feet.

The liquid rose, climbing and surrounding them, enveloping the pair in an instant before falling away and leaving them in a space between worlds.

—

Tav wasn’t sure where they were, or what to make of it. Everything seemed coloured with a hue she didn’t recognise, something beyond her comprehension, the echoes of music she had never heard tickling the edge of her senses. She couldn’t tell if it was singing or screaming, but there was something hauntingly beautiful.

“There, you see? Can you smell it?” Mizora breathed deeply, as if inhaling the most delicious scent imaginable.

Tav tentatively followed suit, noting something very familiar.

“Avernus,” Mizora confirmed her suspicions, “home of the river Styx, the sweet aroma of spiced wine and rotting offal. Forget the heavens, pet, this is paradise .”

Tav wasn’t certain she agreed with the sentiments, but as she looked around, trying to make sense of the endless void around her she felt the fiend step in closer behind her.

“ Home .” The cambion’s voice carried a note of pride to it, purpose and belonging stirring a loyalty that no living being would ever hear directed towards themselves. “Take your time, take it all in - let me show you the true wages of your sin.”

Wings drew in around her shoulders as Tav felt the stirring of an undeniable lust in her core. Much as she loathed the woman behind her, the feeling of talons caressing her throat, running along her sides and following the curve of her hips… Even the tip of the cambion’s powder-blue tail teasing at her wrist was enchanting her senses.

“I can offer a taste of any of the hells you wish, you know.” The voice in her ear purred with sweet warmth, eloquently suggesting far more salacious ideas than the words alone would suggest. “The blackened elysium of Dis, Minauros the rotting bog, Phlegethos with its molten seas and soil, the frozen oceans of Stygia...”

Tav shivered as Mizora’s hands continued to travel across her body, cool lips pressing deceptively soft kisses along the line of her neck. Sharp teeth and claws nipped and pricked her exposed skin, gentle for now, but the edge of threat lingering. The decidedly unwise rush of adrenaline only served to increase her curiosity and arousal. Each hell that was named came with a swirl of different coloured flames at the cambion’s fingertips, licking at Tav’s senses not with heat but the very essence that each contained. “The infinite desolation of Malbolge, Maladomini’s long forgotten ruins, the mountains of ice across Cania, and finally Nessus, the seat of infernal power that rules over all of them.” Mizora withdrew her touch, wrapping her arms around Tav instead, hands cupped in front now with the illusion of all 9 fires dancing in her palms. “Take your choice, and I will allow you a taste of the satisfaction you have been denied for so long.” Tav reached up, bringing her hands around Mizora’s, letting her fingers drift through the flames as she considered the proposal. “This is…quite the feast.” “A buffet the likes of which most mortals never even get to witness, let alone sample.” The fiend chuckled, kissing her ear and dropping to a seductive whisper. “Go on then, pet, the decision is yours.” “All of them.” She made her decision easily, enclosing her hands around cool blue fingers. “If I have truly been so starved, then I should taste every single one.” 

“You are such a bold little thing, but very well. If you believe yourself able to handle every agony of countless tortured souls, I will show you a bliss beyond that suffering that your frail mortal mind could never conceive of alone.” It was the work of a simple gesture from the fiend to dissolve the clothes from both of their bodies into nothing. “Can you feel it? The heat of Avernus, the fires that consume countless lost souls that stray from the river.”

Tav closed her eyes as the fiend’s hand snaked across them, Mizora’s other hand dancing along the nerves of her skin with heated flames just on the edge of burning. She could hear - almost sense - the Styx, bare toes just touching the water’s surface and finding it to be neither warm nor cold, yet just as intense as if it were scalding her. Pain linked arms with adrenaline, pulling a hint of lust along for the ride as her senses filled with everything that was Avernus.

Tugging at the very edge of her mind, for just a fraction of a second, she felt the slightest hint of cherry and cinnamon like a far off memory that vanished the moment she tried to catch hold of it.

“You wished to taste everything, so let me reward your avarice.” Mizora’s claws raked a line across Tav’s abdomen next, drawing pinpricks of blood to the surface as their surroundings shifted. “Dis, can you feel the darkness now?” Tav nodded silently. Even without Mizora’s hand over her eyes, she could sense the complete lack of light, something deeper than darkness itself. Her skin prickled with the shadows crawling over her like living beings, the fiend’s fingertips chasing the sensations with a teasingly light tough that rose to cup her chest. “The iced mountains of Cania - fitting, don’t you think?” The chill accompanying her words was painful, freezing Tav’s own peak in an instant before thawing her again with a warmer palm massaging across frost-seared skin. “Phlegethos, the molten soils…” The sudden change in temperature drew a gasp from her lungs, words long since forgotten, listening only to the voice in her ear, feeling only the embrace of the hells and the hellspawn who brought her to each one in turn. Mizora lifted her hand away from Tav’s eyes, leaving the vanishing warmth of her palm and the unspoken command to keep them closed. She also withdrew the rest of her touch, stepping back as the atmosphere shifted once again. “The desolation of Malbolge… Can you feel it, pet? The unbearable longing , the yearning for anything but the emptiness.” The fiend was teasing, using the essence of the hells themselves to make Tav needy, to make her desire whatever it was the devil could offer - and it was beginning to work. She almost moaned when those devious hands returned to her body, taking hold of her hips and sliding around behind to dig vicious claws into soft flesh. “Maladomini’s forgotten ruins - ah but you are no ruin, are you? And you certainly won’t be forgetting this.” Indelicate touch shifted, raking lines into her skin and leaving deeper marks. “The rotting bog of Minauros, like the petulant souls of mortal pets who do not know their place.” The breath whispering on the back of Tav’s neck was growing hotter, just as her own body grew more heated with desire. “Stygia’s frozen ocean…” Wicked fingers found her own ocean, slipping inside with a hint of that same cold as Tav felt the bitterly cold air sting her face with mist whipped up from the waves somewhere beneath her feet. “Though far from frozen here. That’s it, sweet little thing, give yourself over to the infernal~” Honeyed poison coated salacious words, fingers beginning to press inside with well practiced motion. Tav felt her strength waning a little, leaning back against the fiend without a second thought. Her head rested against cool skin that carried a bitter scent - something between soured citrus and the hiss of lightning. “And last but never least,” Mizora’s other hand drifted down the rogue’s stomach, her destination matched to her words, “the seat of infernal power itself. Nessus, the most intense, where all rule is decided and control is held.”

Tav whimpered from the intensity. Held in the arms of the devil, her nerves being mercilessly stimulated as the sensations of all nine hells rushed around her like a monsoon. She clung to her fraying sanity like a liferaft, focusing on every whisper and movement, picking apart everything she could use. It was becoming a battle of wills, with only one knowing that she was in the fight, the other just indulging in idle curiosity tainted by a fiendish ego that had a need to prove that none could compare. It would be easy to lose herself, to let Mizora completely take her over, but that essence of Nessus…the power itself coursed through her consciousness, the hint of ambition that drove her to seize the chance. Holding back the edge of her climax by biting the inside of her cheek, Tav let the taste of blood whet her appetite for that same power, the control, the chance to get the upper hand over a fiend who was hellbent on winning. And that started with a lower hand. While Mizora was focusing on Tav’s body, she slipped her hand behind her, tracing along the path of the cambion’s hip to the top of a warm thigh, finding that the woman was not quite as calm and unaffected as she wanted Tav to believe. 

“Cheeky little pup,” Mizora’s voice was coloured by a tint of lust, as Tav felt the response to her touch. “Are you certain you want to play this game?” 

She leaned her head back further, finding a deeper well of hunger for power, lips reaching Mizora’s ear. “Are you going to let me taste all the hells have to offer, or are you going to hold back?” Tav withdrew her fingers and brought them to her lips, finding the cambion’s taste to be complex, almost burning but with a feeling more of ice than fire. It was…intriguing. 

“If you insist, pet, I will indulge your thirst.” Mizora withdrew the touch that had been working so hard to bring her to an overwhelming climax, hands moving to Tav’s hips, turning her around so they were facing one another.

Tav couldn’t tell if they had begun to float or if the ground beneath them had simply fallen away. They were weightless, drifting, the cambion’s wings closing around her like a trap.

“Is this what you want? To resist the pleasure I could give you?” Mizora sounded on the edge of frustration and curiosity, sharpened claws raking across Tav’s skin - a challenge met. 

“You think me so selfish as to not make this a fair trade?” She pushed her luck as far as she thought safe, lifting her leg to wrap it around pale blue hips, pressing their bodies together as the sensations of the hells continued to lick across her own body with invisible flames. “Or are you afraid you might want me back?” 

“I should have put you on a shorter leash.” The fiend growled, pulling her in closer, tail coiling around her knee with a snake-like grip. “Foolish creature, even as prey you’re barely an ant to the appetite of a wolf.” 

“So it’s my appetite you’re afraid of?” Tav smirked.

“Fear, pet, is not in my vocabulary.” Mizora swiftly pulled Tav’s leg away and threw her with a sharp motion of a tail that was stronger than it seemed. Tav felt the rush of air, adrenaline spiking through her body as she was powerlessly flung through the empty space. She didn’t have long to worry for where she might land, however, as the cambion was swooping through the air with wings back like a diving bird of prey. The wicked grin might as well have been a razor sharp beak, the glint of danger shining on the edge of painted lips. 

Mizora caught Tav easily in mid air, arms curling around her thighs and parting her legs. Likewise, she found a grip on cool blue hips, locking the two of them in a new battle of wits. Although this time, sharp tongues were turned to new purpose…

Tav wasted no time, quickly getting another taste of the cambion while feeling the fiend’s hunger already finding a feast between her own thighs. Mizora was relentless from the start, lavishing her senses with more of the essence of the hells. Heat, cold, and even some trying to drain away the strength from her body…but she pulled back to Nessus, using the same power against the woman who was so desperate to bring her to ruin. Sparks of the Weave flickered at the tip of her tongue as she directed the magic into her “attack”. She brought her hand around to thrust inside, curling to find any further weak points in the only part of the cambion that could truly be described as either soft or warm. Tav kept a brutal pace, not concerned for the comfort of a woman who was just as merciless in sex as in the contracts that bound foolish souls to her whims. Mizora almost paused for a moment, tail curling around to take hold of Tav’s arm. Though instead of pulling her hand back, the cambion seemed to encourage her to press deeper, rougher motions. Just like her… Tav thought to herself, redoubling her efforts, digging the nails of her other hand into the base of the fiend’s tail hard to make her point. She felt the grip on her forearm release, but quickly followed by a swift strike to her upper back from the arrow-tip appendage. There was a pleased chuckle that vibrated through Mizora’s tongue as Tav moaned at the sting of pain. The contrast between the pain and the ecstasy kept the ebb and flow of pleasure’s tides moving through both of them as neither was willing to cede defeat. There was nothing but the sensations, the experience, the overwhelming combination of the essences of all the hells distilled into a battle that was more of pride than of flesh. Neither cambion nor elf knew which one broke first - both biting back the sound of their climax, though unable to hide it completely.

Before she had even a chance to regain her breath, Tav felt Mizora’s tail slide around her waist, pulling the two apart and whipping her around face to face again. Taloned narrow blue fingers gripped her throat with just enough pressure to make the point without crushing. “You play with fire, pet. I like that.” 

“Fire? This is a matchstick to a furnace. Is that all you are, Mizora? A sputtering flame?” Tav pushed her luck, licking the taste of herself from the cambion’s own lips, following with a kiss that shared like for like, ensuring Mizora could swallow her own ‘medicine’. “Hm. Perhaps you are merely a rabid beast who needs taming after all.” Mizora caught Tav’s lip in sharp teeth, drawing hot blood as the elf’s pale wrists were twisted behind her back, quickly bound by a coiling blue tail. She struggled momentarily, but with her arms behind her Tav didn’t have the strength to get free. Not that she was particularly inclined to. 

Mizora’s fingers flickered with a myriad of colours, the flames licking around her whole hand, summoning the essences of the hells once more, tracing along Tav’s body. “That’s right, pet, writhe and whine, for the rest of our time your body is mine.” The part of the rogue that wanted to argue was silenced and overpowered by the lust and intrigue that still burned hot. Blue wings enclosed around her as they continued to float in…she wasn’t sure it even mattered. “That’s it, surrender.” Mizora had no intention of being gentle. Continuing to bind her hands with the strength of her tail alone, three fingers thrust inside Tav without warning.

She whined at the intrusion, unsure if the burn was from the stretch or the hells weaving around wicked fingers. The cambion clearly had experience and was willing to play her every nerve to tease out the little gasps that left her mouth hanging open, eyes closed as the sensations threatened to devour her whole. Even the copper-sweet taste of her own blood trickling from her lip onto her tongue was doing little to reduce the heat building deep within her again with the memory of her lover’s sanguine kiss. Although…there was the shadow of something else, the phantom feel of lips where Mizora’s most certainly were not. The quiet echo of her own laugh in her mind, a sending without the stone. “Interesting game, Little Thief, to steal from one such as her… Say the word and we stop, or nothing and we will give you more.”25 words in her own voice, the simple sending betraying the incubus and their game - somewhere in Avernus they had taken her form, and they weren’t alone. She could even feel the edge of the devil’s greed as she pointedly answered the spell with her silence. Mizora had no idea that Tav was leaning back into pure self indulgence, her mind drifting to other tails that could bind her, other lips that could press against her neck, other hands that could thrust with a merciless pace inside her, another thumb that could circle overstimulated nerves- 

The cry that left her lips was not for the woman driving her over the brink, nor even the games of two fiends in Avernus; it was one born from the decision to just take what she could from the experience. It mattered little if Mizora thought she had won, that her sharp voice rang out with a mocking laugh, whispering the gloating of a false victory. Tav had what she wanted, and then some.

—

It was some time before Mizora was satisfied, and Tav’s legs were barely able to stagger as the cambion brought the ground rushing back up beneath them, the circle of magic bubbling up with the unsettling tar-like liquid that washed over them. While the cambion had ensured her own clothes were returned, Tav was left bare, her outfit appearing instead in a heap next to her bed Mizora deposited her on the ground beside them.

“Really? That is where you were?” Astarion’s voice cut through the silence, though thankfully his was the only presence in the room besides Tav and the gloating devil stood above her. 

“Oh don’t you fret now, I have returned your little toy unharmed. Mostly .” She grinned, sharp teeth bared at the pale elf who continued to pointedly ignore her presence. “Well, I hope it was worth it, darling. Did you enjoy yourself?” He continued only addressing Tav, helping pull a blanket around her shoulders before the cold could bite through to her bones. 

“Trust me, pet, she won’t be forgetting me any time soon~” Mizora crooned, her wings spreading slightly with pride. 

“It was…acceptable.” Tav shrugged, equally ignoring the devil in favour of her lover. “I admit I couldn’t resist trying at least once. She did offer me a taste of the hells, after all.” 

“And that was not something that your other cambion lover would provide?” He raised an eyebrow, a slight smirk playing at the edge of his expression. “Or the incubus? They seem more than willing to let you experiment, after all.” 

A pleased shiver ran down Tav’s spine. “I don’t doubt that, but what’s life without some variety? You did tell me to sample anything on offer, after all. It would’ve been a waste of a chance.” She finally turned to Mizora. “Although, I can’t see what all the fuss was about, honestly. A fun evening, but I shan’t be pining after your touch for the rest of my mortal days. You can leave.”

“I can WHAT?! ” Mizora snapped, wings rising and flames gathering around her fingers. “Oh, you impudent little-” 

“What in the hells is going on in here?” Wyll’s voice cut across the room like a blade, stopping the cambion before her spell could unleash itself. “Maybe I will leave, I’m sure you’ll have fun explaining to my little pup why you reek of his mistress~” Mizora’s smile returned, cruel and cold, as she turned her back on the two elves now sitting on the edge of the bed. She stalked across the room, clawed fingers tracing along Wyll’s chest as he stood motionless and furious. “Ta ta, pet. Have fun playing with your friends, while you still can.” With a laugh and a swirl of acrid smoke, she was gone. A moment later, Astarion and Tav were laughing so hard they nearly fell to the floor. “You think this is funny? That you were foolish enough to cavort with a devil who would devour your soul faster than you can snap your fingers?” Wyll stormed across the room, eye blazing with anger. “I thought we were at least friends and here you are sleeping with my enemy after convincing me to…to…” 

“Wyll…gods…no it’s not like that. I’m sorry. Astarion, please-” Tav wiped the tears from her eyes struggling to regain her composure as her lover took over the explanation. It took a moment longer for the pale elf to find the words himself, even as Wyll glared down a the pair. “Listen… You should have seen her face. This darling little thing over here looked the bitch in the eye and told her she was forgettable .”

“You… I’m sorry, you said what? ” Wyll’s anger was mixing with pure confusion, the emotions fighting for control over his expression and neither one winning. “She actually thought,” Tav took another few breaths to calm herself. “She truly believed I was going to be some pathetic whining thing desperate for more. I won’t lie, it was unique, but the best part wasn’t anything we did while undressed. It was stripping off her pride and watching her completely lose it.” “She could have killed you!” The anger was winning again, this time with concern rather than rage.

“No, she wouldn’t.” She steadied herself. “Even Mizora has a healthy fear of what we’re up against, she’s not willing to put that at risk. Once it’s over…well, we might have a problem on our hands. But it was still worth it to see that look on her face!” “You are an absolute menace.” Wyll shook his head. “And you shouldn’t encourage this either! Gods, the pair of you…” His frustration, however, was beginning to ease a little. “She really did look more unsettled than I’ve ever seen her before.” 

Tav grinned. “Right? That’s not even the best part, when I-” “Alright, I get it. Spare me the details, please. I don’t need more nightmares.” The warlock seemed at least willing to let it go for now, turning around to leave the pair to their own devices for now. 

“Suit yourself,” Astarion smirked. “Now, about those delicious details…” “At least let me leave the room first!” Wyll complained, quickening his pace to the door. Once it had closed, and the footsteps receded, Tav nudged her lover. “Maybe we should’ve said less, at least while he was here.” “When he realises that you just managed to get right to the heart of his greatest enemy’s weakness, I’m sure he will see the greater good in your heroic sacrifice.” Astarion put his arm around her, reaching down for the book and quill. “Care to fill some more pages, my love?”

---------- ---------- ENDING NOTES ---------- ----------

I am so sorry it has taken me this long to update ATG - I may have been a little distracted by events, one shots, requests, and other series that leapt to my mind from nowhere. I hadn't forgotten, and in all honestly I found this chapter more challenging to write. But it is here, and more will follow again in a few weeks~

I shan't promise a regular schedule, but I do promise that it will continue again. The next chapters will bring Astarion back in as the main romance, and begin to resolve our remaining plotlines to find our way to the ending.

To those who haven't been following my other works, there are a couple of side stories tied to this continuity, and I would love to go back and work in some things like Abdirak who I missed the first time through, and likely some more side stories. The FicFeb works, both the SFW and NSFW ones, contain more of the ATG Tav's backstory and alternate scenarios which I might copy in here at the end as an "extra lore" chapter, and in the series version of ATG as well.

And honestly to those of you who have been on this journey with me since the beginning, I want you to know how very much I appreciate every interaction, every kudos, comment, and piece of encouragement that brings me back to this story not out of duty but out of a very real love and adoration for it~

[ermbabyel]

Hi! I just saw your submission to my matchup trade and I'm more than willing to do it with you! Here’s my half for the trade (Mystic Messenger/Stardew Valley)!

• Name/Nickname: Kaitlyn / Kit

• Age: 20

• Sexuality: Lesbian (However I don’t mind being shipped with fictional men at all!!)

• Pronouns: She/Her

• Age Range: 20-30

• Likes: Gardening, Cats, Ocean Life, Video Games, Coffee, Disney Movies (Frozen, specifically), Fall Out Boy (favorite band) || Dislikes: Fireworks, Hospitals

• Hobbies: Journaling, Writing, Reading

• Love Languages: Gift Giving

• Ideal Type: Someone to joke around with, who listens to me, who hypes me up 24/7

• Personality: I’m very shy at first and it takes some time for me to get used to new people. I tend to be very outgoing when in my friend circle and never really go out of my way to meet new friends, they always just come to me somehow. I like to believe I give good advice and am a good listener, and I back my friends up 100% of the time. I love to laugh and make jokes, and pretend arguing over stupid stuff that doesn’t matter is one of my favorite activities. I could ramble on and on about my favorite activities and I can tend to be stubborn when it comes to my favorite things.

• Astrology Sign: Scorpio

• Aesthetic/Style: My style fluctuates based on my mood of the day. Some days I will be wearing band t-shirts (usually Fall Out Boy) and ripped jeans, paired with a cat beanie, and some (silver) jewelry. Other days I could wear nothing but pastels and pink, paired with lots of sanrio and hello kitty accessories.

• Anything else you can think of: Appearance wise I wear glasses, have green eyes, blonde hair thats a little past shoulder length, and I’m 5’2.

(I’ll have your matchups posted within the next day!!)

Hello~! I’m so excited to do their matchup trade with you. I hope you enjoy your matchups~

Your Mystic Messenger Matchup is…Saeyoung~

I think this man would love you to bits~!

He would be SO flustered when he meets you, but tries to play it off by cracking jocks. But we know this man will eventually FOLD hard lol.

Seven is your #1 hype man, constant praises and compliments every single minute of every day lmaooo. This sweet boy just wants you to know how much he loves you!

Absolutely LOVES your Hello Kitty/cat accessories! He will ask you from time to time if he can wear some of your accessories and will give some fashion advice here and there.

Playful banter all day long…this man is not holding back! Sometimes Yoosung will watch you two banter and tease back and forth as a form of entertainment lol.

He’d also be the type of person to ask if he can try on your glasses lmao and have you try his on just for the fun of it.

We all know Seven likes to invent gifts and let me tell you this boy has a few ideas up his sleeve! He wants you to use his gifts as mementoes of his love for you.

I believe Saeyoung would love how much of a good listener you are. He has gone through SO much and appreciates being able to confine in you when he gets flashbacks from his past. You are his safe place~ 💜.

Your Matchup in Stardew Valley is…Abigail~

I was debating between Leah and Abigail, but ultimately chose Abigail! I just think you two would mesh really well~

You caught Abigail’s eyes the first time you walked into The Stardrop Saloon. She’d be absolutely fascinated by your piercing and would ask you so many questions about them lol.

She’s also the one to try to hide her feelings and might get annoyed when Sam or Sebastian tease her about it. But she’ll build up the courage to ask you out on a date!

This girl does not mind your ramblings at all and actually finds this trait of yours quite charming! She’ll ask you what your writing or journaling and will watch you with a gentle gaze as you get lost in your ramblings~

She can be a bit of a spit fire, but I think that’s something you can handle pretty well. I mean you’re not afraid to fire back when Abigail gets a bit sassy…all in good fun though!

You’ll be the type of couple who share each other’s clothes lmao. I think you’d be the one to get her hooked onto listening to Fall out Boy…so expect someone your band shirts “mysteriously” disappear.

I think you’d be the mom of the friend group with Sam and Sebastian. Sam is a bit of a dumb-ass and would appreciate someone to watch out for him lol. And Sebastian also needs a listening ear when he feels troubled by what he’s been dealing with at home. Abigail just appreciates how kind-hearted you are with her friends as well as with her.

I think Abigail would love your more outgoing side. I can see her trying to get caught up in some of her adventures like going to the mines, for example. She’d also would love to lay in bed, snuggled up with you and listen to your writings at the end of the day.

I hope you enjoyed doing this trade as much as I have! I hope you have a good day/night~! 🥰

[demonfuck]

thinking about making art that is patient

being the way that i am, this maybe kind of comes naturally to me

as a teen i found it interesting to make art with no audience in mind. as in, NO audience. it will sit on a server somewhere gathering dust

and it doesn't try to make you feel guilty for its isolation. it was never your responsibility to find it and interact with it and understand it. it's patient. it makes peace with itself

i'm happy with that process making it kind of timeless. there were never any references or details that demanded that it be read this week, or this year, or within this lifetime. i've always been fascinated by outsider art, including stuff that doesn't get found until after the artist has passed away

it makes MAKING art feel less urgent to me. to be able to make something, "put it out there", and then continue making it. i feel the URGE to get wrapped up in expectation and disappointment. to say, why did i make this if no one saw it? should i continue making it? if i continue making it, will resentment seep in to the text? what good are my good ideas if no one is looking at them?

i think there's a part of me that deliberately tries to avoid the pain of disappointment and unpopularity by expecting to be discovered long after my death. to say, well, wouldn't it be exciting if someone discovered my weird art blog or my unfinished book sometime in the future? i know of lots of comics and anime that have meant the world to me, that i didn't get to participate with in real time

still. it's all too possible to go too far with this sort of thing. i appreciate when this way of thinking let me work on art one piece after the next without stopping myself and forcing myself to try something different because this wasn't Doing Numbers. but doing it like this forever would cut me off from lots of wonderful experiences within my lifetime. to be able to learn what works and what doesn't. what's too difficult to parse, what's boring, what's annoying. unintentionally anyway. i don't mind making something difficult, boring, and annoying, but i rarely want to make something impossible to parse that puts you to sleep

when i was making art for myself, for my own needs, i'm glad i made it in a way that was criticism agnostic. and while i'd like to allow myself to maybe, advertise myself more, consider an audience more, i really want to retain the lessons i've learned in making patient art

idk. i want to push myself more this year ! because there's a major keystone of motivation in the back and forth conversation between audience and creator. i work faster when i know, specifically, that someone will see and respond to my work. and criticism plays a major role in becoming more effective at achieving whatever your art was meant to achieve. comforting someone, discomforting them, sharing a lesson, imparting a warning, or just helping them lose track of time safely in a world full of demands and danger

and then there's the money game. the "make something that will fund your next something" type game. make a portfolio of things that communicates what you're about, what your capable of now, that makes people imagine what you would make in the future if you're allowed to continue creating without starving to death. this basically runs in the opposite direction of my entire spiel about patient art, but i don't think it contradicts it. potentially, anyway

generally i think i've turned myself into that portfolio. when i talk to people, i'm showing them my Self as the thing i'm capable of. my problem solving, my comfort, my patience, my passion. i practice being valuable as a person and i hope sometimes that maybe that will be the avenue which sees my life get funded. "if you like talking to me today," i imply, "you should buy me dinner so that i am around to keep talking tomorrow!" is this normal? is this moral? join my patreon

[chandramurty]

The Evolution Men.

Two million years ago, deep in the savannah lands of Africa, lived an ape named Edward with his horde. His life and travails have been chronicled by the author, Roy Lewis, in his brilliant novel “The Evolution Man”.

How Edward brought down his horde from the trees, how he made them graduate to bipedal mode of locomotion, how he motivated his horde to move up the food chain by adding meat to their diet, how he tamed the fire to go up the jungle hierarchy, cooking of food items to make them easily digestible, how he cleared and cleaned up the caves for their own safe habitat, how he introduced exogamy among his horde, systematic game hunting, cultivation of crops, domestication of animals.. all make for a very riveting, thoughtful and entertaining reading.

Particularly more so, when you understand that Edward was already in the know of the whole chain of evolution and was introducing It in it’s natural order and in well thought out phases !

Edward was like a benevolent dictator, who brought order to the savannah forests of Africa and prepared his folks for the cultural shock of evolution with calibrated precision, guiding them through every step. Subsequently, the evolution, as curated by Edward, diffused all over the world !

I read this novel when I was a student and was fascinated. The character of Edward was like as if someone from the modern age was teleported by a time machine to that Pleistocene era ! Just imagine, if someone from our era is teleported to, say, the medieval ages! It would have been a history changing incident and the resultant effect on the present would have been just mind boggling !

We have seen the various sequels of the movie ‘Terminator’ wherein the lines between the past, present and future become blurred. The ‘Terminator’ keeps saying “I’ll be Back”(!!) and keeps shuttling back and forth between the past, present and future in the sequels, in a bid to change the history and its resultant effect on the future.

Well, fantasy apart, If we can have a system of transferring the crystallised collective experience and knowledge of the older generation to the younger generation in their purest form, we may make for a wonderful future. In the joint families of yore, this was taken care of by the elders of the family. With disintegration of the joint families, now this advantage is no longer available with us.

Same is the case with the Organisations, employees of around 30/35 years of experience are retired and they go out of the system with the treasure house of their invaluable experience.

Organisations are yet to develop a system to utilise their collective experience/ knowledge after their retirement.

If a system can be devised to remedy the lacunae, a lot of time spent in reinventing the wheel could be better utilised. A system of ‘Mentoring’ could be kept in place to help the young employees in an Organisation . But the senior colleagues may not always be good Mentors, for they might see their juniors as their future competitors ! Then they might not be having either the time or the inclination for mentoring.

I have also seen so many young employees maintaining close contact with their retired seniors on their own, and benefiting from their guidance. Can this practice not be institutionalised in a suitable form ?

The retired colleagues, or the elders of our family, can be our real “Evolution Men”,if we manage to tap their experience and guidance properly.

[chainofclovers]

Ted Lasso 2x9 thoughts

It’s no secret that I absolutely adore Coach Beard; he’s one of my favorite characters on the show, and he’s so well-written and well-acted that somehow I tend to be both perfectly satisfied with the details we see and truly curious to understand more about the way he thinks, what’s really happening re: his professional and personal devotion to Ted, where he comes from and where he’s going. I don’t need to know his name beyond the name he wants to be called, but I want to know why we don’t have any other names for him. And I don’t need him to be a bigger focal point of every episode, but I very much needed this episode’s world-exploding reminder that every single character on this show has a rich inner life, full of joys and troubles.

“Beard After Hours” is like a movie, but one that scatters its climaxes and puts off its resolutions...because it’s not a movie. It’s episode nine of a twelve-episode season of TV. When the episode ended, I felt this almost frantic “But he needed to break up with Jane for good before the end of the episode!” feeling. I was so pulled in by the idea of being able to tell an entire story in one night, of going on an odyssey alongside a complicated hero, that watching Beard and Jane find each other in that club felt as intense as the fact that we don’t know if Ted responded to Rebecca’s voicemail and we don’t know what’s going to happen with Rebecca and Sam and we don’t know who isn’t getting married and who is having a funeral in 2x10 (I mean, I have my strong suspicions, but still!) and we don’t know if Richmond will be promoted back to the Premier League. And on and on. I didn’t mind feeling desperate for the story to resolve even though I understood after thinking about it for ten seconds that of course it couldn’t resolve yet. Or ever. Or yet.

I’m a big fan of the TL episode recaps/reviews Linda Holmes writes for NPR, and I have to quote something from this week’s directly because it so perfectly explains my feelings:

The power of the scene where Beard dances in the club isn't that it's a beautiful romantic climax. It's that it's an explanation of why he cannot seem to extricate himself from this bad relationship. What makes the worst relationships so dangerous is that they have elements that feel good that are very hard to get elsewhere. Beard knows that; he tells it to God. What's concerning isn't that Jane makes the world seem more interesting; what's concerning is she's the only thing that does. That doesn't take away from the joy of the dancing; it just tells you that even happiness is complicated.

I love Holmes’ perspective here so much, because it articulates something I was struggling to figure out: how it can feel so legitimate, like such a (temporary but nonetheless powerful) relief, for Beard to find Jane in that club and to have this moment of euphoria as his night nears an end. How it is possible to experience that relief on behalf of a character while fervently wishing it could end differently, because it’s so clear from the abusive text messages and the toxic calls and the manipulative interactions that Jane is terrible to him and they’re terrible for each other. But Beard knows this. He knows it when he hugs Higgins in the parking lot after Higgins is honest with him in a way Ted and Rebecca and Keeley have not learned how to be, and he knows it when part of his prayer includes the clear articulation that Jane isn’t the cure for what “ails me.” He’s inching closer to greater self-knowledge just as Ted is.

And the two big resolutions that really, really needed to happen did. I didn’t know I needed Paul, Baz, and Jeremy to get to wrap up their own night out on the pitch at Nelson Road, but I did. It brought actual tears to my eyes. And the other resolution was Beard showing up with the other coaches’ coffees for their meeting to watch the game film. As interesting as it would have been to see what Ted would have done if Beard hadn’t shown up, I’m so, so glad that he did. He’s got a messed-up face and some truly epic pants on, but otherwise this is just Beard showing up for work, showing up for his friends. It was incredible to realize that Beard and Ted haven’t been exaggerating when they’ve referred to his sex-and-drug proclivities in the past. The night documented in 2x9 might have been particularly scary and violent and euphoric and awful and meaningful, but this type of all-night adventure isn’t a foreign concept for this guy. In all the other episodes of this show, when we see Beard we’re seeing someone who might have been out all night, who might have spent the hours the sun was down desperately pushing himself closer to whatever edges he could find.

I don’t really want to touch upon all the allusions in this episode. They are abundant, they are well-documented, and also I haven’t even seen the movie After Hours. I enjoyed this episode for its allusive qualities and I enjoyed this episode for what it was and I feel like I have to be at peace with the fact that I’m never going to pick up on every single reference on this show and that is okay.

So, yeah, if this entry on my tumblr dot com blog seems remarkably devoid of references and allusions, it’s not because I’m not into it but because I find it too overwhelming to actually write about.

Very into the Misplaced and Discovered box at the Crown and Anchor. (That’s what Mae wrote on the Lost and Found box at the pub, right? Whatever it is, it’s so funny.)

Beard hallucinating Thierry Henry and Gary Lineker was truly upsetting and a great indicator not only of how broken things are between the Richmond coaching staff right now but also how deep Beard’s self-loathing might go. If you’d asked me before Thursday if I thought Beard loathed himself, I would say no. That deepening of knowledge alone makes 2x9 worth it.

James Tartt and his friends in the alley. Such a nightmare. I go back and forth on how much of the night was real, and part of me has decided all of it is, short of the images of Henry and Lineker. (And even that is real to the extent that it was a way of articulating what was in Beard’s head.) But watching Beard in physical danger brought on by the same abuser who had him so upset in the first place. It was a lot.

I’m so excited that Paul and Jeremy and Baz got some spotlight this episode. It was so wonderful to see them out of the pub. I love that they ended up telling the Oxford snots who they really were. They got to see Beard going to bat for them and smoothing over the situation socially, and that actually made it more possible for them to end up being truthful about themselves. Because they have nothing to be ashamed of, and they deserved the magic of that night. (And for it to end on Nelson Road. Every feeling. Oof.)

I feel like I barely have anything to say about the trouser-mending lady or the many places Beard goes or his key-dropping or the nightmarish feeling of wanting to be home and being unable to be home. It all happened and we all watched it and again, it was a lot. But I do feel incredibly moved and fascinated by the fact that Beard very obviously still hasn’t been home when he brings in the coffee. He’s had to sleep at the club for Jane- and key-related reasons in the past, and this time it’s not that he’s slept there but it still feels like a kind of homecoming he was robbed of for the entire night. Ted and Roy and Nate are there. He’s gotten their coffee orders correct. Ted is growing and evolving (he wants to learn from what’s happened, he’s insisting upon it even when the others resist) but he’s done a really perfect (almost romantic in its loveliness) thing by presumably spending his evening following a breakdown of his own speeding up the game film to 10x speed and adding Benny Hill. Ted is not OK and Beard is not OK and Nate is not OK and Roy is pretty OK but could very easily be not OK because he’s just joined a coaching staff with a whole lot of not OK. But they all showed up.

I am very into the realism of the lights being off in the club other than the coaches’ office (@talldecafcappuccino pointed this out!), and the way we’re seeing their desks from a different angle because this episode is unfocused on Ted. It really added to the mindset of being hungover and exhausted and unable to go home or even to know exactly what home should be; even this warm, familiar place feels off even as it’s a relief to be back there.

I am excited to return to our regularly scheduled programming with the full cast of characters, but I really adored this episode for what it taught us about Beard and what it illuminated about the humor, pain, and complexity of each person who inhabits this universe. Beard may not be loud about his long-standing beliefs or about the things he’s learned, but there’s a lot happening in there and I appreciated getting to spend 43 minutes with him and (in the case of the ticket he scrawls on a piece of paper so the pub guys can get into Nelson Road) the moments he sets in motion.

[abybweisse]

Stop the fighting, addendum

Oh, there’s something I left out in the previous post.

When I mentioned the lockets, I forgot to talk about their own item parallel in Mother3, which is the “Courage Badge”… which turns out to be the legendary “Franklin Badge”. If our earl or someone else uses Cloudia/Claudia’s locket (or any of those lockets, I guess) to convince real Ciel to stop, that also works as the plot parallel to Mother3.

You see, in the game, after Hinawa convinces Claus to stop fighting, Claus makes one last attack. However, he aims his last PK Flash directly at the Courage/Franklin Badge Lucas is wearing, knowing it will ricochet off the badge and hit him instead. And this attack is lethal, so Claus uses his last breaths to apologize to Lucas as he dies (again?) in Lucas’ arms.

Keep in mind that Claus is the older mirror twin brother, he had apparently died earlier, and he was turned into a “heartless” Fascinating Chimera. It really is just like real Ciel being the older mirror twin brother, dying, and being turned into a “soulless” Bizarre Doll…. Claus is also the more outgoing of the two, trying to protect his younger brother, just like real Ciel.

Anyway. In Black Butler, the mourning lockets could be used in a couple different ways:

Whoever holds the lockets displays them and convinces real Ciel to stop fighting. I mentioned this in the previous post. Again, it might not be too convincing, since neither of the twins met their paternal grandmother. And we don’t even know who the other six people were. Will they mean anything to the twins? Likely not. Our earl saw their death certificates, and he didn’t react to them. Real Ciel probably wouldn’t recognize them, either.

Like in the game, the locket becomes a physical protection against attack. The badge is able to reflect lights and lightning attacks, like PK Flash, but that’s not what would be used in this manga. Here, we could end up with a locket stopping a bullet. Clichéd, I know, but it would still be a cool way to both use and destroy the locket. I mean… even if the lockets don’t have souls in them, they still remind me of the horcruxes that Voldemort intended to make (one of them was even a locket). 😆 But seriously, who else here thinks that Undertaker’s mourning lockets will pretty much need to be destroyed in order to make Undertaker let go of the obsession that has such a hold on him?

Something else I like to remind people when I talk about the mourning lockets paralleling the Courage Badge/Franklin Badge: If Undertaker is Cedric, then Cedric K. Ros— probably is a character parallel to Cedric of Rotherwood from Ivanhoe. And Cedric of Rotherwood is a Saxon lord. The Normans called these Saxon landowners “Franklins”. Meaning they were “free” (as opposed to feudal peasants or slaves) and owned land and their own titles. And Francis/Frances basically means the same thing….

In Black Butler, Undertaker calls the lockets his “treasure”. In Mother3, Nippolyte says the “Courage Badge” is Flint’s “treasured” family heirloom. Flint is the twins’ father; he’s alive, but he’s not actively involved in Lucas’ quest for revenge. Instead, Flint obsesses over Hinawa’s death and Claus’ disappearance by going back and forth between visiting her grave and searching for Claus. He doesn’t find any closure until he finally sees Claus (returned as a Fascinating Chimera) with his own eyes.

[worth-more-than-two-thousand]

Omega’s Observations

Request:  Congrats on starting the blog!! Pumped to have a new writer's work to read 🥰 If you need some requests, how about an echo/gn!medic reader who he develops a crush on, for a little of that sweet sweet mutual pining action✨ Dunno if you write pre-citadel or just BB echo, but I'm happy with either. Have a good weekend!! :) (@krussyfed)

Author’s Note: Whew! This took a while for me to get to a place where I felt good about posting it. Honestly, as most of my writing does, it got a bit away from me, but that’s because I love fleshing out a story, showing-not-telling, and building on events from the canon. But if I saw this through until the end, I probably wouldn’t end up posting this for months! So I hope what I have here is worth the wait, and if you want more, let me know! 

Story Notes: Unbeta’ed, no obvious warnings. 

🖑 🖑 🖑 🖑 🖑 🖑 🖑

Ask her brothers to describe her, and ‘still and quiet’ would not be two of the words any of them would use. 

Hunter would call her curious to a fault, then ruffle her hair to let her know that he meant it in the nicest way possible. 

Wrecker would boom with laughter, proclaiming her one of them (“Always ready for action and adventurin’! Let’s go get those gundarks!”). 

Tech would probably consider for a moment, then use a four-syllable word. Like effervescent.

Echo would call her young and energetic, but his brow would furrow as though this might be a bad thing. Then he would inevitably follow up with a reminder to stay within sight and keep out of trouble. She didn’t mind. She knew he just worried about her. Omega would always reassure him that she would keep close to her brothers. Of course, whether it actually happened was usually another thing. 

Crosshair, if he was with them, would probably call her troublesome. 

But really, this was a tactical advantage. Her brothers never expected her to be still and quiet, so she could settle in and be observant when it was least expected of her. 

Omega was actually quite accustomed to being taciturn, at least when she needed to be. Her time with Nala Se, after all, was mostly like this. 

Watching over like a stone guardian as Nala Se pored over the capsules containing her modified brothers…

...being as unobtrusive as possible during another endless meeting with Lama Su…

...laying noiselessly and without complaint as Nala Se inserted a needle into her arm for yet another blood sample…

 These days, Omega could be as boisterous and vivacious (two more words Tech had taught her) as she wanted to be, so long as there was no chance of enemies being around. The only time she was obediently still by choice during these times was when she was being treated by Y/N, Clone Force 99’s on-board medic. 

Again, this was mostly out of habit from her time with Nala Se, but it wasn’t as bad. For one thing, Y/N fielded all of Omega’s questions with unending patience. And their hands were less clinical, more gentle than Omega was used to. Nala Se was efficient, not a movement wasted in her examinations. Y/N, however, always offered a comforting touch on the back after a scary encounter, and would gently but firmly place their hands on Omega’s face to look her in the eye to assess emotional well-being. 

The first time Y/N had done this was on the Ordo Moon, as Y/N was finishing wrapping up Omega’s small scratches on her hands and knees from her misadventures in the underground tunnels. 

At this point, not used to such close eye contact, Omega averted her eyes and looked over Y/N’s shoulder for something to distract her from the unusual awkwardness she felt. 

Her eyes met Echo’s. 

Her awkwardness vanished as he seemed to startle, a faint flush appearing on his neck, as he coughed, crossed his arms, and turned away, suddenly much more interested in examining the ship’s ceiling than anything else. 

What an interesting reaction. Her brain filed it away, curiosity piqued.  

Then, over the course of a few weeks, Omega confirmed her suspicions. 

Echo was always watching Y/N. Echo liked Y/N. 

Omega caught him absentmindedly gazing at Y/N’s hands as they tapped thoughtfully on a datapad while Wrecker carried new medical inventory aboard the Marauder during a supply run. 

After Wrecker’s successful inhibitor chip removal on Bracca, and Tech volunteered to go next, Omega watched Y/N’s hands fly across the medical controls, fierce determination sharpening their features. Glancing up, she saw that Echo’s attention was similarly arrested, a look on his face that was bordering very close to adoration. 

He seemed most captivated by Y/N’s hands, however, whenever they were treating him personally for any ailments or injuries. Echo always sat pin straight, almost comedically robotic (it would be funnier, but his history brought a sort of cruel irony to the thought) and allowing Y/N to turn his body and maneuver his prosthetic arm however was needed without any fidgeting or complaint. 

But his eyes were another story. Darting back and forth everywhere their fingers touched, such a stoniness to his face that Omega was certain he was committing every graze, every feather-light touch, to memory. Y/N, as always, was so focused on the medical work that they never seemed to notice. 

Omega saw things, though. Echo was like Y/N’s shadow, often slipping into the same room or area Y/N was in, like a ghost. She observed with fascination how he always angled himself to face her whenever there was a conversation in the cockpit. It didn’t matter if it was just the two of them, or if the entire squad was there and discussing a mission, it was as though he had attuned himself to wherever Y/N happened to be and was drawn to them.

Like a sunflower always facing the sun. 

She saw in the field how Echo, not Hunter, was usually the one to call the Marauder to check in or alert Y/N to any injuries that would need to be treated when they returned. How the space between his brows would crease whenever they would radio in but only receive the static of communications interference. 

Or worse, no answer at all. 

Echo wouldn’t say anything, but Omega felt that her brother’s steps would quicken, just a little. And she wasn’t sure she was just imagining a sudden sense of urgency in the air as they completed the mission, with just a bit more efficiency, a bit more ruthlessness than was usual. 

Omega saw how Echo always let out a tiny breath in relief, as though he had been holding it the whole time, whenever they returned to the Marauder with its medic unharmed. 

And she would never forget that one time they had returned to the Marauder, doors blasted open, interior trashed, with no medic in sight and droplets of blood leading away from the ship. 

Omega had never been in war, had only heard about it passively from the conversations between Nala Se and Lama Su, then a bit more directly from her brothers once she was allowed out of the private lab. 

She had once asked Tech about the war, but his response clearly paled in comparison to the dark look on Echo’s face, as they battled their way through enemy after enemy to rescue Y/N.

Omega felt as though she understood war a little bit more after this. At least its motivations. 

It took longer for Omega to figure out whether her brother’s feelings were reciprocated. Y/N’s affection wasn’t as obvious, but the trick was to watch more for their actions than in body language. 

Since Y/N and Tech slept the least, they would swap bunks and so were usually on opposite sleep schedules. This meant that Y/N would stay up late into the night well after the rest of the boys had retired to their bunks, face alight in the glow of a datapad. They would concentrate fiercely, chewing on their thumbnail and pausing often to tap notes into the margins. 

Omega eventually managed to snatch and break into Y/N’s data pad, and saw that they were working their way through a series of medical journals, detailing the latest treatment for prosthetics. There were also several articles on treating post-traumatic stress disorder for former prisoners of war. 

Omega had even checked Y/N’s search history, and discovered that they had been using an encrypted channel to search for chatter on the whereabouts of the former 501st legion and its various members. Unfortunately, it didn’t seem like Y/N had much luck so far, but if the number of searches were any indication, they weren’t giving up. 

Omega wondered incredulously how none of her other brothers had yet caught on to the two’s clearly mutual affection for each other. Until she realized that no, they already knew.

Once, when Omega had offered Echo some of her Mantell Mix, Echo had sniffed it, much to her amusement. Her giggles subsided immediately when Echo murmured apologetically that he sometimes had trouble digesting pretty much any food that wasn’t nutritional paste, due to half his digestive system being completely artificial. 

Of course, this meant that he must have been experiencing constant abdominal discomfort, as they hadn’t had any nutritional paste on the ship since their escape from Kamino. Hunter once mentioned to her that even the plainest of rations seemed to bother him, but he gamely never complained.

One day, Hunter was giving out rations in the cockpit, and had already given Tech and Wrecker their usual. Then he pulled out a green, unlabeled squeeze packet instead of the usual rations bar, and handed it to Echo, who took it with some confusion.

“What’s this?”

“New brand. It should be easier on your digestive systems than the usual stuff. Tastier, too.” 

Echo glanced at the packet skeptically, unscrewing the cap and sniffing at its contents. 

“It smells...fresh?” 

“Try it,” Hunter urged him, to which Echo obediently tried a small amount. 

His mouth rounded in a surprised ‘oh’. Omega wished she could have captured the look on his face with a holovid. He stared at the packet in his hands, with a look that was a bit like wonder and amazement. 

This didn’t escape Wrecker’s notice, who immediately stood up in protest. “What? Why does Echo get something new to eat?” He glanced forlornly at the slightly crumpled, stale rations bar in his hand. “I want some!” 

“They’re too expensive for your appetite, Wrecker,” Hunter replied, just a bit too quickly, though none of the others seemed to notice. “Besides, you probably wouldn’t like it.” 

“I’ll be the judge of that!” Wrecker proclaimed, swiping the packet from Echo’s hands despite Hunter’s attempt to chastise him. Wrecker took a giant slurp. 

...and immediately spat it out, some of it splattering on poor Gronk. 

“Blech! That tastes weird.” 

“Probably because it’s made of fruits and vegetables,” Tech said dryly, “Your palette likely isn’t sophisticated enough to appreciate the subtle bitterness and natural sweetness that are characteristic of those food categories.” 

Echo eyed Hunter skeptically. “And we have the money to keep buying these?” 

Hunter hummed, closing the rations box and turning away from the cockpit. “Omega’s paying for it from her holochess winnings.” She startled at the sudden mention of her name. “We have extra to spare, for now.” Hunter subtly winked at her when the others weren’t looking. 

“Oh. Thank you, Omega,” said Echo, looking at her with true gratitude. Omega flushed a bit, but mostly because it actually didn’t have anything to do with her. She played along, however, and insisted it was no problem. It did seem to make him happy, so there was no harm in a small lie like that, right? 

She cornered Hunter later, though, and insisted on him telling her the truth. After wearing him down a bit, he finally relented.

“Okay, but you can’t tell the others, all right? Believe me, I’ve already tried to talk them out of it. But Y/N has been doing some medical work on the side, working at one of the clinics near Cid’s bar. They’ve been using the money to buy these.” 

Omega’s face screwed up in confusion. “Why can’t you just tell Echo that?”

Hunter sighed. “Because they don’t want Echo to know. Figures that Echo wouldn’t like them going out on their own to work in the slums for his sake. They’re probably right, of course.” He rubbed at his forehead, a sure sign of an impending headache. 

Omega frowned, then decided to go for it.

“You know they like each other, right?” 

Hunter blinked at her, looking surprised. At her determined stare, he gave a sigh and muttered something like, ‘I’m getting too old for this’. He proceeded to explain patiently to her that perhaps Echo and Y/N liked each other, but pointed out how awkward or difficult it could be to have a romantic relationship in such close quarters, especially when they as a team also had bigger things to worry about. 

It sounded like Hunter had given this exact speech at least twice before. 

So Tech and Wrecker knew, then, but were being polite about it (or, in Wrecker’s case, had probably gotten an earful from Hunter earlier about tact and ‘minding one’s own business’). 

Well. That wouldn’t do. 

By the time Echo got up the nerve to say anything, he’d probably be old! (Omega wouldn’t, but she tried not to think too hard about that particular fact.)

So, she began to scheme. Quietly. 

She had the tactical advantage, after all. 

[dxrkluvie]

SHALL WE CHERRY?

JEAN K. x EREN x FEM READER

threesome 18+ smut

Full story available on my ao3. Click here.

Story name : " Shall we cherry? "

If you like my stories, please support me on insta --> @/llllenaj

You: I am bad at first impressions. 

Eren: Do you want me to drive you home?

 

You nodded and let him lead the way. When you reached his car, he held the door open for you. It made you blush lightly. 

When he sat down on the seat next to yours, his shirt lifted a little bit, revealing his well-toned abs. You looked away immediately. 

 

Eren: Are you okay?

You: Yes.

He started driving. The lights were reflecting on his face, you noticed how well sculpted it was. A few hairs were falling on his forehead. 

 

He was just so fine. 

 

You: How old are you? 

Eren: 19. And you?

You: Me too. Thank you for giving me a ride tonight. 

Eren: It's nothing. By the way, the offer still stands.

You: What offer?

Eren: Mushes and wee- WHO GAVE YOU YOUR FUCKING LICENCE FUCKING PIECE OF SCUM?- the boy yelled as the driver in front of you who took a right turn without flashing their indicators. 

You: If you don't cuss on the way, you're doing it wrong.

Eren: I would love to crucify those fuckers. 

You: I wonder if they paid their instructors. 

Eren: Perhaps.

You: I've never done shrooms. What is it like?

Eren: It depends on how much you take. Typically you see the colors a lot more vividly, they're A LOT brighter and sometimes they'd move. Also, you could get an intense body high. It enhances your feelings and messes with your head but in a very beautiful way. 

You: Oh, weird. Have your friends done it?

Eren: Yes. I am not into fake shit. Natural all the way, there's no such thing like dying from weed or mushes. UNLESS you've mistakenly picked the wrong shroom, but I'm not dumb. 

You: I don't know...

Eren: You don't have to be afraid, I will take care of you. 

You: Oh...- you looked down, blushing once more. Being all shy and mushy was so not you. But damn, this charming brat. 

The boy shook his head and looked for his parking spot.

You: Wait, we are here already?

Eren: I assume you were too busy daydreaming.

You: Oh, sorry. 

Eren's phone buzzed. It was a message from Armin saying: 

 

' Hello, Jean drove me home, I would appreciate it if you let me rest for a little while on my own and not come home yet as this whole gathering thing was too much for me. Thank you, Eren.' 

The boy texted back: 

 Okay, is Jean home though?

A: No, he went out.

E: Okay, rest well - he said and drifted away from the parking lot. - Change of plans. If you don't mind.

 

You: What happened? And I do not.

Eren: Something's up with Armin, he's just so sensitive like that. It will be fine. 

You: I don't feel like going home yet...

 

Eren: Where do you want to g- before he could finish, he received a call. It was Jean. 

 

J: Where the hell are you?

E: I should be asking the same. I am in the car with y/n. 

J: Armin kicked me out of the dorm. 

Eren rolled his eyes. 

E: I am not sure what we could do.

 

You, mouthing: Maybe we could try a motel?

 

E: Y/n is suggesting a motel, are you down?

J: Yeah, just give me the address whenever.

E: Okay, cool.

 

They hung up. The boy looked at you, his eyes were beyond stunning. - Why a motel? 

You: You know I am new here, I'd like to see what it is like outside of this city. Just curiosity. 

 

One of your fantasies was to have sex in a motel with a hot stranger. And today's events were working in your favor. You thought it was oddly romantic and you'd always make up fake scenarios in your head where this was happening.  You drove outside of the city for about half an hour. Eren was slowly losing patience. 

Maybe we could try this one? - he suggested, pointing out to a random building. 

You: Sure- you replied, googling the place- it has 4.7/5 stars and breakfast is included. $130 a night. 

Eren: Sure. - he said and got out of the car. Next, he opened the door for you and waited for you to get out, before locking it. 

You found those gestures cute.

When you entered the place, the receptionist gave you a weird look. It made you feel unwelcome. Eren did not bother reacting, he just took out his card out and tapped it on the pin pad.

Room #16 is for you - the old lady spoke - good night.

Eren: Night. 

You walked to the elevator.

It fascinated you how unbothered he was.

You: Did you see that?

Eren: She's probably sick of random teens renting a place to party/fuck, cause they don't have their own places yet. 

You laughed - I will give it to your cash. 

Jean called again. The phone call consisted of him asking for the location, and Eren simply giving it to him followed by the questions '' Should I bring cherries and alcohol? '' to which Eren answered ''yes'' and hung up. 

 

While you were walking past the other rooms, you could hear noises of all sorts. Sweet moaning, people fighting, loud music, and people yelling. 

Eren unlocked the door slowly. You stood behind him, carefully observing his hand movements. It was oddly arousing. His hands were big and had some veins slightly popping out. 

The smell of his expensive cologne was spreading into the air. He took his tie off and threw it across the room. The same happened to the hair tie that held his hair up. 

Neither of you was talking. 

You sat on the bed, and he did the same. Both of you had your backs turned on one another. 

15 minutes passed in silence when Jean suddenly opened the door with a bang. 

Jean: HELLOOOOOOOO!

Eren: Ew.

Jean: Get lost - the boy shook his head and placed the bag he carried with him on one of the nightstands- I brought what you wanted me to. 

Eren: So, shall we cherry? -  he asked, no one in particular. 

You: What is that? 

Jean: Kind of like a drinking game but not exactly. The rules are really simple. You dip a cherry in vodka and place it in-between your lips. The other person has to take the cherry without touching your lips OR they'll have to give you oral.

You looked away, squeezing your eyes and lips. 

Jean: All good?

Eren: It's fun. You don't have to, though.

Jean: Yeah if it's not something you think you could have fun with.

You: No I would actually try that.

Eren: Oh? - his tone changed. The boy took one of the already washed cherries. Jean handed him a plastic cup where he poured some vodka and dipped the fruit in it. He placed it on top of your lips and you aimed to eat it right away.

Jean: You broke the rule.

You: Fuck, I am sorry it wasn't intentional. 

Eren: It's okay. How did it taste?

You: Sweet and slightly bitter. 

His eyes narrowed at you. It almost looked like he was putting a lot of effort into getting the fruit in between his lips, that you've been dying to taste for a while.

You leaned closer to him and he purposefully pushed the cherry away with his tongue - Oh shit it fell. 

You: This was on purpose.

The boy placed his hand at the back of your head- I will give you a head if you want.

Jean: Can I join?

You nodded, embarrassed.

Another thing that has been a common fantasy of yours was to be fucked by two guys, but you never thought it would ever become reality.

Eren slid your right leg up. Jean did the same with your left one.

You laid on the bed, breathing heavily.

Jean lowered his voice, making it appear huskier - Relax, baby girl, you'll enjoy that tongue.

Eren lazily lifted your dress up, and Jean slid your pants down.

Both of them were taking turns to kiss on both of your thighs. You could feel your skin get more sensitive after every touch.

Blood rushed down and you felt warmth between your hips.

Jean spread your pussy open using his middle and index finger & Eren gave your throbbing clit a slow teasing lick.

Jean: She's getting wetter it's so hot.

Eren: I know.

This small dirty talk was causing your thirst for them to grow.

Eren: She is dying to get her hole licked, aren't you, y/n?

You let out a loud ' yes ' & shortly afterward you felt both of their tongues lick up and down on both of your pussy lips.

It made your toes curl.

Eren's finger started to slowly pump in and out of your hole as Jean's tongue was eagerly gliding up and down on your wet cunt.

The room got filled with your sweet " ah's " and "oh's".

At one point you felt both of their tongues battling one another across your clit and it was nearly leaving you breathless. 

The boys stopped and looked up at you.

Eren: Have you done this before?

You: As in a threesome?

He nodded. You replied with a '' no '. 

Eren: How is it going so far?

You: Amazing. I actually want to return the favor. 

Both of them stood up. 

Now you were off the bed, kneeling before them. You could see the lust in their eyes. Especially Jean's. 

Both of your hands took a place on both of their dicks. They were gently stroking them as your mouth was giving them licks and sucks on their tips, going from Jean's cock to Eren's back and forth, in a pattern. 

One thing you've noticed was that Eren was tenser, his body language was more indicative. He was rock hard, his pupils were dilated and he was thrusting in your mouth slightly when given the chance. 

As for Jean - he was more vocal. He'd let out some quiet groans here and there and you would occasionally hear some ' fuck yes '.

Eren: Go lay down. 

You did as ordered.

Jean: Hold on - the boy said and laid down first, leaning against the bed frame - you can lay on me.

You hesitated for a bit. Eren walked up to you, lifted your chin up, and kissed you. His hands slid down to your boobs and squeezed them gently. His thumbs massaged on your nipples. It made you wetter. 

" Okay... " you said and crawled on top of him, having him face your back. 

Jean placed his hand around your neck and kissed on it - Have you done anal? - he asked, whispering. 

You: No. 

Jean: Would you be interested? 

You: Yes. 

He placed his thumb on your lips, you licked it. 

Jean: Shitt...- he grunted and slid both of his hands down on your body, as yours were surrounded his, supporting your whole upper half. Your legs spread open and Eren made his way to you once again. 

His lips were on top of your clit, sucking and licking on it. 

His thumb moved down to your asshole and he carefully massaged on it in circles. He stopped for a second and looked at you - I am going to insert it in... - the boy spoke quietly while doing so.

Your body tensed up. You felt full but in a good way.

To your pleasant surprise, he was good at giving oral and a bit more gentle than his friend was.

Jean: Should I stick it in? I want to fuck you so hard, y/n.

You: Go for it.

Eren got on top of both of you. He leaned forward to give you a passionate kiss. He did the same to Jean. You noticed how attractive he looked up-close.

You: Fuck that's so hot...

Eren's cock slid inside your wet pussy as for Jean's, in your back entrance. Slowly.

You moaned as both of them started to push themselves inside you.

Eren was about an inch and a half bigger than Jean. It made you leak. He smirked - You're that wet for me?

You: Yes - you whispered against his lips and kissed him.

Both of them started thrusting inside your holes at a quicker pace.

You moaned loudly and leaked a bit more.

The pressure was building up rather quicker than you expected it to as your sweet spots were stimulated at the same time.

You: Fuck I'll squirt all over you.

Eren stopped moving and placed his lips on your neck, slowly kissing down on you.

His tongue teased your nipples. They hardened even more. Every touch of his, or Jean's was making your skin more sensitive.

The view of you and Eren indulging made Jean stop for a second as well and enjoy the show.

Your hips moved against Eren's.

He bit on your lower lip - That eager, huh?

You: Yes...

Jean's hands were firmly holding your butt, viciously slamming it down on his while Eren was filling you up from the front.

You were nearly reaching your climax and soon you squirted.

Both of them mentioned how hot this was.

You giggled a bit. - I am pretty sure we will ruin the mattress.

Eren: Who gives a shit...

Jean: Y/n...

You: Yes?

Jean: Can I cum in you?

You: Yeah...it should be okay.

Eren stopped and took a chair, sitting in front of both of you.

Jean used you for his own pleasure, as for Jaeger - for his entertainment.

He began to jerk off to the view of you being fucked.

Your hole was tight and it made Jean cum instantly.

Eren: Oh shit... -

You: Can I get off? - you asked Jean.

He said ' yes '. Before leaving though, you gave him a kiss, which he returned.

Next, your lips transferred to Eren's. He held the back of your head. Your fingers ran through his hair. Your eyes locked.

You: Do you need help?

Eren: Sure.

Once again, you kneeled down. Your tongue licked on his whole length. Your mouth was on his balls now, taking each one in as your hand was stroking him.

His breathing got heavier and his precum leaked.

You: Are you enjoying that?

Eren: Very much so fuck...

You: Cum for me, Eren.

The boy grunted and shot out a few loads - Enough! - he said and gently pushed you away.

You looked at him.

Eren: You should try sex on shrooms, it makes everything × 10 better.

You: I don't see why I wouldn't.

You blushed. Both of your wildest dreams have combined in one in just one night and you felt somewhat satisfied. Both- sexually and emotionally.

Eren: How are you accepting what just happened?- the boy asked as he stood up and handed everyone a tissue.

[toxicjayhoe]

We don’t have to dance

Explicit

Shinso / Reader(OC)

M / F

Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot

I mean there's some plot in my head but y'all don't get to see that haha

Cunnilingus

Blow Jobs

Hitoshi is a good boy

he asks for consent

Brainwashing

Oral Sex

Vaginal Sex

Unprotected Sex

Aged-Up Character(s) obviously

Light Dom/sub

Choking

Ahegao

Smut

He glanced across the overcrowded room, observing acquaintances and strangers as they socialized and sipped their drinks, swaying to the beat of the music. The open space of the hero office had been rearranged as to accommodate as many individuals as possible for this year’s Christmas celebration.

Shinso had never really been the type who partied, but he thought it was important to attend, if only for appearances sake. As a new Pro-hero, he believed it was a necessity to demonstrate he was a team player.

He took a mouthful of his cider, feeling it burn down his throat as he swallowed the effervescent drink. He never really drank either, but he enjoyed a nice glass every once in a while.

The couch he rested on was quite comfortable, he thought to himself as he settled back into it. He was more than content in just sitting here all evening until he believed it was acceptable to leave. He wasn’t interested in idle conversation about the weather or whatever these people were gossiping about to one another.

However, the universe had other plans for him it seemed, as Denki quickly approached him, shots in hand.

“Hey bestie, down this and let’s go get some ladies.” The blond handed the liquor towards him, urging him to take it, waggling his eyebrows and winking.

Shinso sighed, ignoring the offending alcohol currently being offered to him. “What ladies, Denki? We are at the bottom of the food chain here.”

“My dude, it’s a Christmas office party. Have you never seen a movie in your life? Things always get spicy at Christmas office parties.” He cackled, downing one of the shots and throwing the empty cup behind him. He pulled another from behind his back.

The purple haired man made a face, before chuckling quietly. “Where did that one come from?!”

Denki shrugged, shoving the two shots into Shinso’s hands. He rolled his purple eyes, giving in to maybe the only true friend he had.

He brought them to his lips, one after the other, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and placing the empty receptacles on the table by him. Of course Denki had chosen peppermint schnapps.

“I’m only going to be your wingman, and only because you could really use the support.” He said with a bored tone to his voice as he pushed himself up from the sofa. Denki whooped enthusiastically, rushing off to where Shinso could only assume the ladies were.

He unhurriedly trailed after him, making his way between the gatherings of individuals, being vigilant as to not come into contact with anyone as he passed them. He wasn’t fond of strangers to start, much less being touched by them in any way.

He was terrific at communicating when he was obligated to, which was merely when he was required to use his Quirk. He still had issues with it and, even now, citizens still told him it was better suited for a villain, but he’d come to terms with not being able to please everyone. As long as he did a respectable job as a pro-hero and protecting the populace, then he would be happy.

Once he finally made it beyond the crowd and to where Denki had run off to, said man was being rejected by yet another woman.

Jaw clenched as not to show any suggestion of a smirk, he clapped the blond on the back in sympathy.

“You’re aiming way too high, Denki. And you try too hard.” He said simply, unsure if it was the right thing to say or not. Nonetheless, the shorter man smiled up at him, seemingly undeterred by yet another loss.

“Let’s go play foosball!” Denki hollered, forcing him in the direction of the tabletop game, stealing two additional beverages as a waiter walked by them.

They played a few rounds, one versus the other. Shinso loathed to admit it, but he had struggled to keep up with the innate talent Denki appeared to have at the game.

Just as he began to genuinely start enjoying his night, Denki sprinted off, declaring he needed to piss. Shinso took the moment alone to survey his surroundings once more, taking in the sight of people’s inhibitions all but forgotten as alcohol started influencing their behaviors. He took another sip of his own drink, finishing it in one gulp.

If he was being honest with himself, he was also starting to feel the affects drinking had on his body and on his mind.

He leaned onto the wall behind him, arms crossed on his chest as Denki came into sight, marching towards him, arms intertwined with the two women at his sides.

One of them he recognized as Jiro, whom he was relatively convinced Denki had a major crush on. The other, however, he could not recall ever having the pleasure of meeting.

“Shinso, don’t be rude, say hi!” He rolled his eyes before nodding silently at them both. “Good enough. Okay! Me and Jiro against the two of you. Let’s do this.”

/\*\/*/\*\/*/\*\/*/\*\/*/\*\/*

Shinso was sure Denki had let him win for some odd reason his mind could not fathom.

As the two of them argued over why they lost the game, he cleared his throat, offering his hand to the shorter woman by his side

“I’m Shinso. Hitoshi Shinso. It’s nice to make your acquaintance”

She smiled, giving him a firm handshake.

“I know who you are, Brainwashing Hero.” His eyes widened, astonished anyone, let alone an alluring young woman, would know who he was. Was she not frightened of his quirk like everyone else had been? “My name is Aruna Ai.”

He heard himself hum before the words spilled from his mouth like word vomit.

“The moon does not fight. It attacks no one. It does not worry. It does not try to crush others. It keeps to its course, but by its very nature, it gently influences. What other body could pull an entire ocean from shore to shore? The moon is faithful to its nature and its power is never diminished.” He finished, taking a deep breath after such a long-winded sentence.

“Did you just quote Deng Ming-Doa’s Everyday Tao: Living with Balance and Harmony at me?” Aruna stared at Shinso, brows furrowed as her lips quirked up.

His hand found the back of his neck as heat rose to his cheeks in mortification, unable to look directly at her.

“Sorry, I don’t know where that came from, heh.” He continued to look everywhere but her, feeling crushingly stupid. Aruna chuckled, placing the palm of her hand on his muscular arm and squeezing.

“Don’t worry so much. I’m already a fan.” An overwhelming sense of calm overtook him then, like something paranormal was causing him to relax.

“What’s your quirk?” He blurted. He scratched his skull, once again mortified that he seemed to not have a filter tonight.

She squeezed his arm again before dropping her hand to her side, smiling brightly up at him.

“Well aren’t you just the most perceptive man?” She crammed her hand into her pockets, rocking back and forth on the heels of her shoes, seemingly deep in thought.

He patiently watched her.

“I can manifest emotions in others if I have direct skin contact with them. My power varies depending on the cycle of the moon though.”

He felt his eyebrow arch in curiosity. It was sort of similar to his own quirk, when he thought about it.

“That is truly fascinating, Aruna.”

She huffed and laughed. “Not as fascinating as being able to brainwash someone. I wonder what it feels like.”

“Care to find out?” He couldn’t believe the words leaving his own mouth.

“I would love to.” No hesitation in her voice, only a slight blush stained her cheeks.

His eyes narrowed as he stared into hers. “Are you sure?” His voice low.

She rolled her eyes “Of course I’m sure, Shin-“ Her eyes glazed over as her mind went blank.

“Follow me.” Came the command.

Although she had no control over her own movements, her mind was still aware enough to realise what was happening.

She was led across the crowds and through the halls. He silently guided her into an unoccupied office, small cots lined up on the walls.

He released his hold on her mind, allowing her a moment to turn around and leave, if she so chose.

His gaze never left her face, eyes concentrated on the way her cheeks darkened. Mortified, no doubt.

They remained standing, unmoving for long moments. Hesitation welled in him for a second, unsure of himself. Aruna’s breathing came out in a sigh as she strode forward, toward him in quick steps. When she reached him, her hands grasped his clothed shoulders as she pushed herself up onto the tips of her toes, raising her lips to meet his in a sweet kiss.

Purple eyes widened at the unexpected contact.

“I just… wanted to do that of my own accord first.” She whispered as she stepped back, breathing heavier than moments before, smile on her lips.

“You look at me like you think I’m someone else.” He said simply.

Her eyes narrowed, a look he could not read painting her features.

“How do I say this… We don’t have to talk, and we don’t have to dance around it, we don’t even have to be friends. I’m attracted to you…I want you to brainwash me. And…” She paused as Shinso slowly approached her.

Eyes peered into hers, pupils dilated. “And?”

“And… I want you to use me as you wis-“ Her mouth hung open, no words coming out as Shinso gained control once again. If she could smirk, she would have.

“Come here.” Her feet pulled her to where he was now sat on one of the cots.

Large hands grasped hers. The softness of her fingers in comparison to his own, rough and calloused, felt like heaven.

Shinso had never done anything like this before and the thrill of it all made blood rush through his entire body, his heart hammering in his chest.

He looked up into her blank eyes, dick twitching against his slacks at the sight of her. He couldn’t wait to see her ruined by him.

He couldn’t get enough of her soft skin, gliding his fingers up her arm and to her neck while the other hand drifted lower, reaching under her dress.

A devilish smirk formed on his face when his fingers tightened around her throat, a soft gasp leaving her mouth.

Hiking her dress up, he dug his fingers into her hip, pulling Aruna closer, lowering his head to kiss just above his tight grip.

Teeth grazed against her skin, eliciting soft moans from above as he nipped and kissed and sucked, marking her. He hoped the resulting bruises would last weeks, reminding her of tonight.

Despite that most thought that, while under the influence of his quirk, his victims couldn’t remember what they’d done under Shinso’s control, it all depended if he wanted them to remember or not.

He most definitely wanted Aruna to remember tonight, needed her to feel and see everything he would do to her and have her do to him.

“Spread your legs.”

A hum left his lips as she did what she was told, legs far enough apart for his face to fit nicely between soft thighs.

“Good girl.” He whispered, looking up into those blank eyes, her pupils now dilated, a look of lust filling them.

He kept his gaze fixated on hers as he released her neck, hand gliding to her breast, squeezing it gently. Fuck, he couldn’t get enough of her body. Her soft curves and her even softer skin. The breathy moans that left her lips at every new sensation.

Perhaps she was the one ruining him.

Both hands were on her hips, fingers slipping under the hem of her panties, dragging them down her legs and around her feet. He placed them in his pant pocket. They were his now.

As he pressed his nose to her, he inhaled deeply, a groan ripping through his throat. Absolute heaven, the scent of her driving him crazy with need.

His tongue met her folds, licking up to her clit before bringing it into his mouth and sucking. He felt her knees go weak, the only thing holding her up straight now were his strong hands at her hips.

She tasted absolutely amazing. Shinso’s eyes squeezed shut as he devoured her. He was sure his fingers were leaving bruises. He hoped they were.

Leaving her pussy for air was torture, but he could feel his control over her slipping as he got lost in the taste of her.

“I’m going to let go of your hips now. Don’t fall.”

He wiped his chin of her juices with the back of his hand, tongue darting out to gather the droplets on his lips. He pressed his palm down onto his cock, needing some kind of touch to release the pressure building inside him.

Nimble fingers unbuckled his belt, releasing his cock from its confines. Aruna glanced down, eyes lidded.

Her own tongue slipped from her mouth, licking her lips at the sight of him slowly stroking his cock, tired eyes locked on hers.

“Come taste me.” The commanding tone sent noticeable shivers down her spine, clearly trembling where she stood.

She could feel herself resisting the request, his control wavering as pleasure began to overtake his senses.

“ Obey me.” Aruna’s knees hit the floor, palms resting on his thighs as she positioned her mouth over him.

One calloused hand cupped her cheek, guiding her lower, the other gripping the base of his cock.

The sound that rumbled through his chest was unholy as she took as much of him into her warm mouth as she possibly could, hallowing her cheeks the instant the head hit the back of her throat.

“F-fuck. Aruna” His fingers fisted into her hair, staring down at her as drool dribbled down her chin. He gently pushed her down on his cock, face fucking her softly. He didn’t want to hurt her, but fuck if her wet tongue across the underside of his dick didn’t feel like paradise.

She moaned around him as he thrust into her mouth, sending delightful vibrations through him, dick twitching in her mouth. He was losing control. He could feel it.

Her tongue swirled around the head of his cock and- he was sure it would be the end of him. This girl. How did he get so fucking lucky?

Aruna’s fingers dug into his thighs as she came up for air, his quirk weak enough from the pleasure to break out of it.

His eyes widened as she quickly rose to her feet, pushing his chest down as she settled onto his lap, sitting on his cock, sinking down on it in one swift movement.

Strong hands grasped her hips once more, furiously fucking up into her. Every moan from her lips sent heat through him.

“You like that, baby?” He asked, voice hoarse and husky.

“Y-yes. Hah. You feel so good, Hitosh-“ Her pussy tightened around him, losing herself to his control once more.

“Silly girl. Stick your tongue out for me, and don’t stop fucking yourself on my cock.”

Her eyes blank again, tongue sticking out, drooling down her face. It was absolutely stunning. So fucking beautiful, and it was all for him. He had never seen anything so breathtaking.

He stared into her face, bringing his thumb to her clit, gently pressing circles into it and watched as she shuddered, grinding on him harder, breaths coming out unevenly, whimpers escaping her lips every time he bottomed out in her.

“You’re so beautiful. Aruna. Fuck. The way I fit inside you, like we were meant to be like this.”

The words left his mouth, any shame he might have felt discarded, pleasure overwhelming his every sense. She looked amazing, tasted amazing, smelt amazing. She was perfect.

He grasped her throat again, other hand on her ass as he met her thrust for thrust. She was close, he could feel it in the way her walls clenched around him, in the way her eyes crossed, tongue still lolling from her delicious little mouth.

“Come for me, my lovely moon. “

She stilled above him, walls clenching tight one more time as her insides fluttered around him, sending him over the edge, cock spurting deep inside her, a growl leaving his throat, fingers tightening painfully around her neck.

She collapsed against his chest as he released control over her, breathing heavily in the crook of his neck as he gently caressed her back and played with her hair, calming her as she came down from her orgasm.

Shinso adjusted her dress to cover her body. His heart felt full for what seemed like the first time in his life.

“It’s so nice to meet you, Aruna.”

He felt her smile against his neck.

There was no point in saving the world if it meant losing the moon.

Art by Me

[fruitcoops]

I love your babysitting jules fic and the tell me how you know your boyfriend won't cheat on you fic. I was thinking, like remus and sirius have a day off and spend it with jules, and sirius goes somewhere and comes back to find remus and jules sleeping on the flour and they look similar and he just smiles.

Idk, hope this makes sense, I love all your fics.

It totally makes sense and it’s super cute! Thanks for such a wonderful suggestion <3 This is Part 4 of Adventures in Babysitting (1 2 3)

Sweater Weather credit goes to @lumosinlove!

As much as Sirius loved hockey, he had to admit break days were his favorite part of the week. Most weekends, he and Remus would roll out of bed sometime around eleven, have lunch, go for a walk, and then turn into total couch potatoes if they didn’t have anything important to do.

But they had a kid now, so that plan had to change.

They managed to stay in bed until nine before soft rustling sounds began in Jules’ room—Remus’ aggressive cuddling delayed them for a bit longer, which Sirius did not have any complaints about, but eventually they knew it was time to move.

“Dinner’s at six, right?” Sirius asked as he washed his face while Remus tracked down a t-shirt. Shirtless mornings were another tragic sacrifice while Jules was around.

“Yep. Dumo said we could get there at five-thirty, though. Apparently, Katie’s been dying to see Jules again.” Remus kissed the back of his shoulder as he reached for a toothbrush. “I was thinking we could just let him choose what we do today.”

“Makes it a lot easier on us.”

“And it makes it extra special for him,” Remus mumbled around a mouthful of toothpaste. “We still get veto power, though.”

“That’s probably for the best.”

Jules was still in his bedroom when they went downstairs and for a fleeting moment, Sirius wondered if they had woken up early for nothing. “He’ll be down soon,” Remus said as if he could read his mind, pressing two coffee cups into Sirius’ hands. “All those cool knickknacks in the guest room will keep him distracted for a bit.”

Sure enough, excited footsteps followed a sharp gasp less than ten minutes later. Remus smiled over the rim of his coffee cup and walked over to the pantry to pull out the pancake mix. “Morning—"

“Is it true you won the regional All-Stars when you were in high school?” Jules blurted as he skidded into the kitchen and shoved a small trophy into Sirius’ hands, panting like he had run a mile.

Sirius squinted down at the little figurine; in all honesty, he had forgotten he even had it. “Where did you find this?”

“In the nightstand. Is it true?”

“Uh, yeah, it is.” He set it on the counter with their other random items. “Thanks for finding it, bud.”

Jules glowed under his approval and Remus bit his lip to stifle laughter. “Re, can we have chocolate pancakes?”

“We don’t have any chocolate chips, sorry,” Remus said as he mixed the batter. Liar. Sirius shot him a look, and he stuck out his tongue playfully behind Jules’ back. “We’ve got some fun news, though.”

“What?”

“There’s no practice today and you get to decide what we do.”

Jules’ jaw dropped. “Really?”

“Mhmm.”

“Awesome! Mom and Dad never want to see the cool stuff because they’re busy with museums and games and friends but there are so many places I wanna go,” Jules said in one rushing breath. Sirius blinked in shock, but Remus seemed unfazed as he handed the spatula over. “Thanks!”

“Sure thing.”

“Sirius, what are your favorite places?” Jules turned to him, still licking the spatula like his life depended on it.

Sirius took a moment to think and suppress a smile. “I like the roller rink, and the aquarium, and the park.”

“We already went to the park.”

“We can go again if you want,” he laughed. “You made friends, right?”

“Yeah, but I probably won’t see them again.” Oh, to have a child’s nonchalance when it comes to friends. “The aquarium sounds really neat!”

“It’s pretty cool,” Remus agreed as he ladled out batter into the pan. “They put in a new exhibit recently.”

“Sweet! Can we go now?”

“Don’t you want pancakes?” Sirius asked. “I know I do.”

Jules nodded rapidly. “I do, too. Can I ride on your shoulders?”

“Now?”

“At the aquarium.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“How tall are you?”

Sirius paused, then gave him a conspiratorial look. “Eleven feet tall.”

Remus burst out laughing and nearly burned himself on the pan; Jules rolled his eyes. “Come on. I’m ten, that doesn’t work on me anymore.”

“Sorry, sorry.” Sirius took a sip of coffee. “I’m 191 centimeters tall.”

“Huh?”

“Almost two meters.”

Jules looked over to Remus, who shook his head with a smile. “He’s six foot three, Jules, and he’s messing with you by being fancy and Canadian.”

“How tall are you?” Jules asked, folding his knees under himself to reach the butter with his fork as Remus passed him a plate of pancakes.

Remus sighed. “Five foot eleven and a half.”

“Ha! Short.”

“Shut up, you’re still an Oompa Loompa.”

“I’m more than a foot taller than Oompa Loopmas,” Jules said haughtily, shoveling pancake into his mouth. “I looked it up the last time you called me that.”

“Look at you go! Gold star!”

Sirius cheeks were starting to hurt from holding down his laughter and Remus winked as he passed another plate over. “Thanks, love.”

“Why do couples have nicknames?” Jules asked. “I always thought it was a little weird. Mom and Dad have actual names, but they never really use them. It’s always honey, darling, other sappy stuff.”

Remus shrugged as he sat down with them. “Why do you call me Re? That’s not my full name.”

Jules thought for a second. “Partly because ‘Remus’ sounds like a stuffy old museum name.”

“Oh, and ‘Julian’ doesn’t?” Remus teased. “Usually, people give nicknames because they care about each other. Couples just have an extra level to that.”

“I don’t really like it when people call me by my full name, either,” Sirius added.

Jules frowned. “But people call you by your first name all the time.”

“They do. But my friends usually don’t. There’s Cap, Padfoot, whatever your brother comes up with that day…”

“I call you Sirius.”

“I don’t mind as much when you say it.” Because you’re adorable and I would literally do anything for you. “You can call me whatever you want.”

Jules seemed satisfied by that answer and turned back to his pancakes; Sirius caught Remus quickly looking away when he glanced back up and smiled, giving him a quick nudge with his foot. Baby, Remus mouthed with a slight smirk. Sirius rolled his eyes.

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

The aquarium was busy, but it was a weekend, after all. They only had to wait in line for ten minutes; during that time, Jules made three new friends and every single one of the parents thought he was their son. Even the ticket salesman offered them a family discount that Remus politely declined.

But…it wasn’t a bad thought. Sirius let it ruminate in the back of his mind as he helped Jules onto his shoulders and Remus grabbed a map from the kiosk for when they inevitably got turned around. Definitely not this year, or the next, but someday Sirius did want to say ‘yes’ to the parents and kids discount, though he couldn’t place his finger on why.

And then they reached the whale exhibit. A huge humpback skeleton hung from the ceiling in a smooth curve, its mouth open to reveal perfectly preserved baleen. Jules reached up and trailed his fingers through the space below its massive ribcage—he was too short to touch it still, but the pure awe on his face took Sirius’ breath away more than any deep-sea creature could.

“Baby, can you get a picture of us by the glass?” Remus asked. Ahead of them, a huge tank stretched into a tunnel that lead to the tropical exhibit; Sirius nodded and bent to let Jules down.

“Race you there!” he called, running across the well-worn blue carpet at full tilt. Remus followed him with a laugh and caught him just before they reached the glass, swinging him off his feet by the armpits and turning to face Sirius.

His throat tightened a bit as he took his phone out for the picture. They beamed at him with almost-identical smiles, right down to the dimples. That. That right there, he thought. That’s what I want. “Got it.”

“Awesome, your turn.” Remus put Jules down and began walking over, but an older man motioned to Sirius just before he put his phone away.

“Excuse me, would you like me to get a picture of all three of you?” he asked. A little girl—his granddaughter, perhaps—watched them shyly from behind his legs.

“Oh. Yes, thank you.” Sirius handed him his cell phone and went over to the glass, wrapping one arm around Remus’ waist and draping the other over Jules’ shoulder. They smiled, backlit with blues and greens and aquamarine.

“Alright, I took a few.” The man gave Sirius’ phone back and patted him on the arm as the little girl tugged his sleeve. “You have a beautiful family. Have a good day!”

Sirius didn’t fully snap out of his daze until they were in the tropical tunnel, where fish in colors he could never dream of darted back and forth and fascinated Jules. The aquarium used to be his favorite place in Gryffindor; now, it was probably his favorite place in the world.

Remus led them through a series of corridors, pausing every now and then when Jules scampered toward the next tank, though he seemed to have something on his mind. When Sirius shot him a questioning look, he kissed his cheek and held his hand instead of answering. They wandered past the sting rays, the turtles, and the sharks, until Sirius recognized the multicolored lights from the next room over and stopped in his tracks. “No.”

Remus grinned. “Yeah.”

Jules looked between them in clear confusion. “What?”

“I gotta show you something, c’mere.” Sirius crouched down and helped him back onto his shoulders, then ducked into the adjacent exhibit. Immediately, he heard Jules gasp as jellyfish surrounded them.

“Woah.”

“Isn’t it cool?” His smile was staring to hurt his cheeks. “Here, this in my favorite part.”

Sirius walked to the twelve-foot arch near the middle of the room and stood beneath it, basking in the warmth of the bright lights below as jellyfish of a billion sizes floated overhead. He sighed and leaned his head back slightly to get a better look.

Jules stretched his arms up, trying to touch the glass. “Wow,” he breathed.

When Sirius looked back down, he saw Remus lowering his phone with a small smile. “Had to get a good one,” he said as he stepped under the arch with them and leaned into Sirius’ side. Jules reached down and flipped his baseball cap backwards. “Thanks, buddy.”

“I’ve been waiting to do that for ages.”

“Good to know,” Remus laughed. “Ready to move on?”

“Just a second,” Sirius said, pulling Remus’ arm around his waist. “Just a bit longer. We’ve got nowhere to be but here.”

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

They did, in fact, have somewhere to be, though Sirius didn’t remember that until 3:30 pm. He also remembered that they were supposed to bring dessert that night and unless Remus wanted to out himself as a liar by busting out the chocolate chips in the cupboard, they needed a plan B.

The grocery store was blessedly empty when he arrived, which meant he could use self-checkout for the two containers of cookies he bought—thank god. As much fun as the aquarium was, there were so many people, and they were everywhere.

I need a nap, he thought as he walked back out to the car and watched his breath steam in the December air. And, like, half an hour by myself to listen to music.

The first thing he noticed was that the house was quiet. Hattie didn’t bark when he got out of the car, or when he unlocked the front door, or called out a hesitant “hello?” while he took his shoes off. Nothing seemed amiss, other than the fact that Jules had been bouncing off the walls when he left.

The living room held the answers to all his questions. Hattie was passed out on the couch, splayed with her belly to the ceiling. Jules and Remus were asleep on the carpet with The Fellowship of the Ring between them; clearly, they had been mid-chapter when they dozed off. Sirius set the cookies on the counter and carefully slid the book out of Remus’ hands, setting it on the coffee table before pulling the thick knitted blanket off the couch.

Hattie grumbled at him and cracked an eye open. “Shhh,” he said softly, kissing her forehead before laying the blanket over the other two. They looked so alike—their hair was nearly the same shade, and Jules’ jaw was only slightly narrower than Remus’. Sirius bet that in ten years, it would be hard to tell them apart in photos.

He crept upstairs and set a timer for 4:30. James had recommended a new band ten minutes before midnight, and Sirius figured he should at least give it a shot if it was so important. He grabbed his headphones, pressed play, and let out a deep breath as he sank back into the pillows.

Half an hour went by too fast, and before he knew it the alarm was ringing instead of the steady bass of the new song. He squinted at the clock, praying it would be wrong, and sighed when he saw that technology had won out once again.

Remus and Jules were still asleep on the floor, though they had cuddled closer at some point and the blanket nearly covered Jules entirely. Sirius crouched down next to Remus and brushed his hair off his forehead before gently shaking his shoulder. “Re. Sweetheart, it’s time to get up.”

“No,” Remus murmured.

“Come on, mon loup, dinner’s in an hour.”

“ ‘m tired. C’mere.”

“I would love to, but we promised Dumo we’d be there.”

“Sirius?” Jules blinked up at him sleepily.

“Hey, buddy.”

“We hafta get up?”

“Don’t listen to him,” Remus said without opening his eyes.

“Love you, too,” Sirius laughed quietly. “I got cookies.”

“Cookies?” Jules sat up fully at that and rubbed his eyes; Remus groaned and rolled onto his back.

“Technically, they’re for after dinner, but an exception can be made.”

Remus stared at him for a moment, then sighed and held his hands up as Jules hurried into the kitchen. “Alright, fine.”

Sirius pulled him to his feet and kissed his forehead. “We’ve got about forty-five minutes before we need to head out, okay?”

“So we could’ve napped for thirty more.”

“You could, but then you’d both be cranky.” Sirius leaned back to look into the kitchen. “Just one, Jules! Save some for Katie and the others!”

There was a beat of silence, then a heavy sigh. “Okay.”

“Thank you.”

Remus wrapped his arms around Sirius’ waist and leaned his forehead against his chest, nuzzling into his sweatshirt. “You’re so soft. And warm.”

“It’s a gift.”

“Perfect place to take a nap.”

“Oh, no you don’t.” Sirius carefully detached Remus’ grip and he exhaled slowly.

“Thank you for picking up cookies, baby. Was there anything else we needed to bring?”

“Just ourselves.” He placed another kiss to his cheek and Remus stretched his arms over his head.

“Oof. Okay. I’ll go get a different shirt on and wrangle the kid if you want to find a plate to pretend the cookies are ours.”

“You read my mind,” Sirius said, earning himself a proper kiss before Remus turned and headed into the kitchen.

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

They pulled into Dumo’s driveway at 5:40, which wasn’t bad, all things considered. Jules and Katie disappeared in a hurricane of excited rambling as soon as the door opened and Dumo burst out laughing the second he saw them. “Welcome to parenthood,” he said, pulling them each in for a hug. “How are you liking your free trial?”

“I’ve never been more exhausted in my life.” Remus shook his head as he took his coat off. “But I love it, for some reason.”

“That sums it up.” Celeste stood on her tiptoes to kiss each of Sirius’ cheeks. “Did you bring dessert?” He wordlessly held the plate out and she raised an eyebrow. “You remembered at…4 pm.”

“3:30.”

“You’re getting better, mon fils. Marc, Adele, come set the table!” Upstairs, two different sets of footsteps tumbled over each other as they came running down the stairs; both crashed into Sirius for hugs, just like they had when he first moved in.

“Bonjour,” he laughed, squeezing them tight and planting kisses to the tops of their heads. “I hope Regulus hasn’t been driving you too crazy.”

“I think he’s still asleep,” Adele said as she stepped back. Celeste shooed them both toward the dining room as Sirius raised his eyebrows.

“Un moment, s’il vous plait.” Dumo and Remus wandered off to supervise the kids while Sirius headed for the basement door. Regulus was nearly twenty years old—it wasn’t like he needed those blankets at six in the evening, anyway, and Sirius was only too happy to give him a rousing wake-up call. It was his right as an older brother. 

[feysandfeels]

Little Lucien Headcanon

Right so this is the first time I’ve done this in years years years, but since the only talent I can claim besides acting (and I can hardly post a Lucien monologue) is an appreciation for words, this is how I can participate in Lucien’s week. 

Here is my little headcanon @lucienvanserraweek. 

Lucien kept his eyes to the fire burning, his hand around a glass with hard liquor, Vassa and Jurien were off doing what between themselves - the only ones who thought they were stealth were both of them-. He cherished the silence right now, nothing but the fire burning to accompany his thoughts. It was not unusual for him to visit Velaris, after he still worked for them, and why deny it he enjoyed seeing The Cursebreaker and his mate -  stalemate filled with longing-.

Velaris always sat on his shoulders for a time after each visit, sometimes he could shake it off after a few hours, sometimes, sometimes it took longer. The mortal queens, Vassa’s curse, Koshei, Hybern, uniting Prythian, court politics, his mate, his friend, secrets, alliances, power, Nesta Archeron: no wonder he needed that drink. However the fire suggested only another topic of conversation.

Cauldron! it had been ages since he thought of his name without feeling distaste and anger coming only from deep sense of betrayal. The last few months he thought of him as an ally, which was indeed a step forward, but ally did little to add warmth to his name when he thought about centuries past when his name could only bring forth a secrete smile and eagerness, maybe even love if he let himself be truthful about him for a change. 

Rhysand

Mother be dammed Rhysand! And a smile crept up on his face. Lucien wondered what their earlier versions would think of their situation now. He was going to be a father, mated with the one who saved them all, and he himself, mated to her sister. The Cauldron certainly had an odd sense of humor. 

The fire took him to paths he had not walked on for more time than he can actually remember. Nonetheless the memories were waiting for him as bright as the day they had been made. Dancing through his mind, the first meeting when his father brought him along to stay with the Lord of the Night and his court in an effort to make amends and strengthen an alliance based solely on a power fed only by a wicked ruthelesness.

There he was, seeing him had been like stepping off a cliff.

Rhysand the first born of the High Lord of the Night Court. Rhysand in his black clothes staring at him across from the table during the feast. Rhysand smiling as a challenge when he entered the meetings. Rhysand with eyes dancing in starlight. The fire to the night, a hand brushing past the other. The court inviting him further and further. A challenge, one that came in a purple gaze. A challenge met, returned in a bright red agains the dark pillows. 

Had it only been the nights, but the days too. Days in libraries, in treasure rooms. Hours of conversation laced with drinks. Lucien putting Rhysand against the bookshelves when no one was looking, eyes falling to the lips, hand traversing low low lower. Careful prince of autumn, you cannot treat an heir like this. Should i kneel before you then you highness?. 

A week gone by in a haze and it all had his name. Confusion laced with expectation because no agreement, no further promise had been made, but Lucien knew and so did Rhysand. Their eyes could not shine like this if they had not known. 

Lucien remembered all then. He remembered Rhys.

Rhys who taught him about astrology, Rhys who had read the same books as him; Rhys whose fascination with history was thankful for Lucien’s long talks about wars and emperors gone by; Rhys with the curiosity to learn the Autumn Court’s dialect; Rhys who listened, Rhys who understood; Rhys who would meet him up in his own court, in the the woods, in the Day Court, Winter Court; Rhys who had tried and failed miserably to braid his hair; Rhys who started wearing suits with a subtle golden and deep red embroidery; Rhys who always held something back; Rhys who always danced between a mask and bare skin; Rhys who couldn’t simply be with Lucien; Rhys who could only offer him stolen moments. 

What’s a week when you’re immortal. What’s a year of hidden weeks, hidden hours. Had it only been the nights, but it had also been the days. 

Maybe he wanted more or at least the possibility of more, more than weeks, more than the masks, more than double meaning. Maybe he had wanted it all. To see where no one else could, to catch more than just the glimpses of what lay underneath the wicked game Rhysand played. He had known it, in his heart he had known that Rhys was more and he wanted it all to be his present. 

It was hard to hold on to an ethereal proof when after it all ended the masked settled in, the borders tightened and the performance picked up. When rumors started flying about the new High Lord of the Night Court; when whatever performance Rhys loved to put on for everyone else became the only face Lucien saw of him. Cauldron it had been hard to believe who he had known. It had stung. Deep betrayal: now Lucien was part of the charade, part of the audience. 

The fire crackled startling Lucien. The Cauldron certainly has an odd sense of humor because now, Lucien admitted, now he had seen all of the picture he had craved to see centuries ago even without knowing exactly what the brushes would create: Velaris, his wings, his true court, his house, his library, his unrestrained smile, his morning look when he has breakfast, hell he even had seen him celebrate solstice and starfall. Now Lucien had seen and understood everything he ever wished during those years of his youth.  

There you are, Lucien thought allowing the smile to claim his face again. There you fucking are... better late than never. 

Still he could not help but wonder, had he arrived on time, had Rhys shown this when it would have made a difference for them...well who knows. They certainly never will. Time, he knew, was wicked like that. But never as wicked as the first time Rhys looked him in the eyes. 

[maxwell-grant]

i have been watching old (and sometimes new) gmod animations and i grew up watching enough ytps to know the general idea behind them, and i recently gained a sort of fascination for them. there's something special about them that i couldn't quite put into words, but i think you got it down perfectly in your post about grand guignol. basically, thanks a bunch for that.

Well thank you! And, yeah, I pretty much grew up watching GMOD and YTP constantly and even today I still come back to those a lot when I'm restless and taking a break from work, and I think there's genuinely a lot that can be learned or discussed from them as uniquely 21st Century art forms.

I've been rewatching a lot of Raxxo's content lately and I think it was his content in particular that kind of convinced me that the "GMOD/SFM - Grand Guignol" analogy wasn't nearly as much of deranged word salad as I assumed it was, because in all honestly, if you had to try and condense his videos into a genre or definition or something of the sort, what the hell else can you possibly call this that in any way comes close to describing what you experience?

Like, all of his videos are described as "GMOD animated in SFM", because SFM is usually associated with more straightforward dramatic content while GMOD has been cartoon madness from the start (and it's fascinating to watch just how tame even the early Rubberfruit videos are compared to the kind of stuff Eltorro64 or Dr Lalve are putting out), and Raxxo is the latter in the style of the former.

And his videos are not just a non-stop barrage of brain-breaking, because they have weirdly dramatic pauses, and moments of straightforward action, or simple sentence mixing, and there's continuity between his videos, and incredibly smooth and natural gestures following by the characters stretching and deforming like jello monsters on the next second as their screams warble to drown the soundtrack and then everything's back to normal, and then they start doing things that kinda even make some sense as a narrative, but you cannot even begin explaining properly why, and I've watched these so many times that I even kinda start to see what makes sense and what doesn't, even though literally no one other than Raxxo is ever going to guess why he made the choices he did, and god these jokes must have taken hours if not days to render, why does the scretching Soldier head saying "Sputnik!" shows up in everything he does, and oh did I mention he also makes up the soundtracks he uses himself and they don't match in the slightest most people's perception of his content?

And for the finale of the Soldier Dispenser saga he created maybe the most batshit collaborative animation effort on Youtube, which is about an hour's worth of 200 animators all creating their own little batshit mini-stories in reference to his own and, seriously, who the hell could have possibly predicted something like this existing back when computer game Team Fortress 2 was announced in 2007? Or when Youtube was created?

Who could have possibly predicted something like this existing at any point in human history? Where else could anyone possibly experience this much audiovisual chaos anywhere? I can't even bring myself to watch the video in full again, but that this exists at all, and that it's far from the only one of it's kind, and that Team Fortress 2 fan content has spiraled so hard past anything the creators could have possibly predicted that it has self-sustaining meme ecosystems (Remember when smexuals were a thing? Or the Freaks?), that it's still fucking going 15 years past the game's debut, is, it's kind of a lot, is what I'm saying.

Like, I'm speaking as someone who studies a lot of pop culture and combs through it's most obscure and weirdest recesses to find stuff to write about, I'm still just as baffled by how far these things have gotten as I was when experiencing it for the first time. And you can find a lot of stories like these digging through Youtube Poop and the specific styles of certain creators or certain developing memes for franchises that grow and grow and permutate.

Think about what has to have happened to make a video like iteachvader's What'll It Be? happen.

Long John Baldry, blues musician extraordinaire, voiced cartoon villain Dr Robotnik in a Sonic cartoon. Said Sonic cartoon and performance was lucky enough to survive through Youtube clips. People noticed one of said clips of his performance has him saying a word that sounds like penis in a funny way, so they start making jokes about it, and parodies, and then literally hundreds of parodies popularizing the concept as a source of comedy, some of which take the form of music. Said music is done by cutting, remixing and splicing audio from said performance over music beats, which can be a PAINSTAKINGLY LONG PROCESS as someone who's tried doing that several times now, all this to make something with "Poop" in it's name (which I guess isn't that different from pulp writers spending weeks and months breaking their fingers to put out a novel's worth of content every month, for newspapers and magazines that were literally going to be used as toilet paper later)

These parodies catch on a bit and die out for a bit, until iteachvader comes along, and he proceeds to build a career not just by making funny parodies of said cartoon, but also knocking out genuinely really, really good musical parodies, editing voice clips of said performance to make it sound like the villain's singing (and additionally, he also creates his own tunes, and he's shown that literally every sound he uses is taken from the show, which is just, absolutely mind-boggling effort). He's also created over the years a running joke of Tails being Dr Robotnik's son that people liked enough to ask for more, and then we come to the video above, which is a song about Dr Robotnik spoiling his son Tails asking him what he'll want, which is not at all in line with how the two characters are canonically. And said remixes would eventually get remixed even further, even with crossovers with other characters or musicians, and so forth.

And that is the story of how dozens of creators working separately, and with little intent other than goofing around, single-handedly revived a dead man's music career, as the voice of the fan reinterpretation of a animated adaptation of a videogame villain, popular to the billions if not dozens of billions of views over a decade in the making, on a broadcasting platform said man didn't even live to see being created.

I think sometimes we like to think of ourselves as advanced and jaded enough that nothing surprises us anymore, and if we went back in time and showed an iphone to our great-grandparents they'd start screaming in sheer confusion. And, maybe they would, yeah, but imagine if you were Long John Baldry at any point in his life, even after he finished recording his lines as Robotnik, and someone showed up to you and explained that all of this was going to happen to you, to your voice, to your performance. Imagine if you were one of Valve's lead developers working on Team Fortress 2 during the nine years it spent in development, and someone showed you Raxxo's work and Soldier's Dispenser Quest and just, everything that had happened to characters you hadn't even fully created yet.

I imagine Long John Baldry would have taken it well enough eventually, by all accounts he was a fun person who loved to try new things, and he was an openly gay British vocalist in the 1960s when it was literally illegal to be gay in Britain, so I imagine nothing could possibly rattle his cage that deep in the long run.

But can you honestly tell me you wouldn't freak out at least a little trying to understand just what exactly the future was showing you? Can you honestly tell me your cynicism and world-weariness would be worth anything in the face of all this knowledge about what the world was going to do with your creations and work?

Can you honestly tell me, just now, that you have any idea what the hell is your legacy or reputation as an artist, or even what your art is known for, going to look like in a decade or two from now? And that things aren't going to get weirder than they are now?

I find that fact both frightening and strangely assuring at points, and exciting above all.