#we just. wouldn't have anything without him

[lostfracturess]

In the backseat? Or on the stairs?

ღ pairing satoru gojo x female reader

ღ summary you and satoru have been driving each other crazy all night with your constant teasing. just your luck, the only seat left in the car is right on his lap. with every bump and turn on the road home, you can't help grinding against him and with his moans in your ear, it's only a matter of time before something more happens right?

ღ wc 6.3 k

ღ warnings 18+ ONLY. porn without plot, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, friends), penetration, fingering, public sex, kinda breeding kink, praising, needy female lol, overstimulation, edging, oral (both male and female), satoru is a bit insane as always.

ღ author's note idk what to put here. not that people really care, we all know why you're here so enjoy. it's basically a continuation of this. & pls like or repost if you enjoyed, it means the world !! ♡

Satoru Gojo's lap was absolutely the last place you expected to find yourself tonight. Yet here you are, perched on his muscular thighs, the crowded car speeding towards your place after the party.

Trying to get comfortable, you shift your weight, accidentally brushing against his crotch. Satoru sucks in a sharp breath.

"Easy there." His hand grips your waist tighter, pulling you flush against his chest. "Or are you trying to start something?"

"You wish," you fire back.

"Oh, I do wish." He smirks, fingers toying with the hem of your shirt "Been wanting to get my hands on you all night."

You merely huff, pretending indifference even as your heart races at his words, his touch. Satoru Gojo is the biggest tease on campus, and he fucking knows it.

Tonight's party was no different.

From the moment you arrived, Satoru was there, looking infuriatingly handsome in his tight shirt that clung to his every muscle, flashing that cocky grin whenever he caught you staring. Which was often.

Now, crammed in Suguru's car, the only seat left just had to be Satoru's lap. Before you could protest, Suguru hit the gas and the car lurched forward.

Satoru's arm snakes around your waist to steady you. "Careful there," he murmurs, his deep voice sending shivers down your spine. "Wouldn't want you to fall."

Biting your lip, you stare out the window, trying to focus on anything but the way your bodies are molded together. Every bump, every turn presses you against him in the most maddening way.

Heat pools in your core as you fight the urge to grind down onto him. Blame it on the alcohol, but it was damn hard to think straight when you were rubbing against his rough pants.

But then a glance at Satoru nearly makes you gasp. Head thrown back, eyes closed, lips parted. His arm tightens around you, pulling you impossibly closer.

Then, he dips his head, lips grazing your ear. "Keep squirming like that, love, and we're gonna have a situation." His other hand finds your thigh, fingertips dragging over your skin. "Not that I'm complaining. Grind on me all you want."

Your breath catches. Heat courses through your veins, and it's only partly from the alcohol. Maybe it's liquid courage, maybe it's weeks of pent-up frustration. But now it's payback time.

Slowly, deliberately, you roll your hips, relishing his sharp intake of breath.

Satoru shifts beneath you. Unmistakable proof of his hardening length brushes your backside, a whimper nearly escapes him.

"Fuck, you feel what you do to me?" Satoru's groan is quiet in your ear. "Been hard for you all damn night."

"Yeah? What are you gonna do about it?"

"Oh, I've got plenty in mind." Satoru's fingers dig into your hip. "But not sure you could handle it with an audience."

"Try me. I dare you."

"Don't tempt me. When I get you alone, you're gonna regret being such a tease."

Boldly, you rock your hips against him, teasing him just a little bit more.

His hips buck up involuntarily, seeking friction. His cock presses against your backside. He dips his head, burying his face in the crook of your neck. Another moan falls from his lips, this one deeper, needier, muffled against your shoulder.

"Keep moving like that and I won't be able to control myself," he warns, his words hot against your shoulder. "Gonna end up taking you right here in this car, audience be damned."

And oh, how you wanted to take him up on that challenge.

You shift again, this time with clear intent. You grind down against his hardness, rolling your hips in a slow, deliberate circle but subtly to avoid drawing attention from the others in the car, the flowing fabric of your skirt thankfully providing enough coverage to conceal your movements.

His fingers dig into your waist, a strangled groan escaping his throat. You feel him grow even harder beneath you, straining against the confines of his pants, his thick length digging into your backside.

Biting your lip, you reach back and palm him through his pants, squeezing gently. You can feel him throb through the layers of clothing separating you.

Satoru jolts, a high, needy whine catching in his throat. His head falls back against the seat, eyes squeezing shut as he tries to maintain control.

"Shit, shit, wait," he pants, fingers circling your wrist to stop your teasing touch. "Stop that."

"What's the matter, Satoru? Can't handle a little teasing?"

"You're going to regret this," he warns, voice thin with strain. "You're in so much trouble when I get you alone."

Wetness pools between your thighs, soaking through your underwear. You've never wanted him more than in this moment.

Satoru's mouth finds your neck, teeth grazing the sensitive skin. "But you know, two can play at this game, love," he rumbles against your throat. "And I play to win."

To punctuate his point, his free hand slides up your inner thigh, fingers brushing feather-light over your feverish skin. Even that small touch makes you gasp, hips pressing against his.

"Better be careful. Keep up the teasing and I might just make you come right here, audience or no."

Your breath hitches, body torn between the desire to let him do just that and the knowledge that you're very much not alone.

But Satoru seems determined to push things further. His fingers grow bolder, wandering further up your thigh, skimming over the sensitive skin with feather-light touches that have you squirming.

Higher and higher he goes, until finally, finally, he reaches your clothed core. Your pulse pounds in your ears as he traces the lacy edge of your underwear, the barest hint of a touch.

"Satoru," you whisper, half plea, half warning. You're not sure if you're begging him to stop or keep going, but it doesn't matter. He does what he wants anyway.

"Shh," he murmurs, lips brushing your ear. "Just keep quiet and let me make you feel good."

With that, he presses his fingers more firmly against you, rubbing slow, lazy strokes over your clothed clit. Biting your lip hard, you try to stifle the moan rising in your throat. But then his fingers slip beneath the waistband of your underwear, and the first direct touch of skin against skin has you shuddering in his lap.

"So wet," Satoru marvels, fingers gliding easily through your slick folds. "All this, just from a little teasing? You're going to be drenched by the time we get home."

"Satoru," you whimper. "Please..."

"Please what, love?" His fingers circle your clit, applying just the right amount of pressure to make your head spin. "Tell me what you want."

"I want—" you start, only to cut off with a gasp when the car hits a pothole, causing his fingers to slip lower, teasing your entrance.

"Sorry guys," Suguru calls over his shoulder, "road's a bit bumpy."

"Yeah, no problem," Satoru replies, voice surprisingly steady for a man with his hand between your legs. "We're good."

Good is an understatement.

The way his fingers are moving against you, dipping just slightly into your entrance before sliding back up to your clit, has you seeing stars. Your hips rock against his touch, desperate for more.

He traces the very edge of your entrance, circling you with a barely-there pressure that makes you want to scream. Dipping just the tips of his fingers inside, he gathers the wetness before gliding back up to your clit.

His touch is maddening. You're desperate for more, for the thick slide of his fingers deep inside you, for the delicious stretch and fullness. But Satoru denies you, keeps his touches feather-light and fleeting, never quite giving you what you need.

"Please," you whimper, hips canting shamelessly against his hand. "Please, Satoru, I need..."

"What do you need, love?" he purrs in your ear, fingers continuing their torturous movements. "Use your words."

"Your fingers. Inside me. Please, I need you inside me."

Satoru hums, considering.

His fingers dip into your entrance again, just slightly deeper than before. Your breath hitches, walls fluttering around the teasing intrusion. But before you can grind down, before you can take him deeper, he withdraws, sliding back up to circle your clit.

"Satoru," you whine plaintively.

"Patience, love. I'll give you what you need. Eventually."

His fingers glide down again, tracing through your slick folds, teasing at your entrance without ever breaching. It's torturous, the ghosting pressure where you're empty and aching.

Up and down, up and down, never pushing inside but just hinting at the pleasure of it. Your core turns molten until you think you can't take it any longer.

You're so wet you can hear it, the obscene sound of his fingers gliding through your arousal seeming impossibly loud in the close confines of the car.

"Fuck, you're dripping. I've barely touched you and you're already this wet for me."

As if to emphasize his point, he circles your entrance again, dipping just the very tips of his fingers inside, stretching you open around him for a fleeting second before withdrawing.

"So desperate to be filled. You want it so bad, don't you, love?," he marvels, pressing just slightly deeper on the next pass. "Want my fingers buried deep inside you, want me stretching you open and fucking you until you scream."

"Yes," you sob, head thrashing against his shoulder. "Yes, please Satoru, please..."

He rewards your begging with another barely-there thrust, the very tips of his fingers breaching your entrance before retreating again. It's simultaneously too much and not enough, the fleeting fullness stoking your desperation to a fever pitch.

"Satoru, please. I can't... I need..."

"Shh, I know. I've got you, love. Going to give you what you need now."

Slowly, torturously, he sinks one long finger into you. The slide is smooth and easy, your body offering no resistance. You moan low in your throat, head tipping back in relief and pleasure as he bottoms out, buried to the knuckle.

"Fuck, you're tight," Satoru whispers, sounding almost pained. "And so wet, fuck. Can't wait to feel this perfect little cunt wrapped around my cock."

The thought makes you clench hard, walls rippling around his finger. Satoru groans, hips grinding up against your ass, the thick line of his cock digging into you.

Slowly, he starts to move, pumping his finger in and out of you. But it's not enough, the stretch too slight to truly satisfy the ache inside you.

"More. Please, Satoru, more."

He obeys with a second finger, the added thickness making you gasp and arch. Satoru sets a deep rhythm, fingers curling to stroke that spot inside you that make you bite down your lip.

"Fuck, Satoru. More, please, more..."

You feel his answering groan more than hear it, the vibration of it rumbling through his chest pressed against your back. "Such a greedy girl, always needin' more."

He punctuates his words with a particularly deep thrust, before you can do more than gasp, he's withdrawing, ignoring your whimper of protest. But it's only for a second, just long enough for him to add a third finger on the next plunge.

The stretch is maddening, bordering on too much. It tears a gasp from your throat before you can stop it. It's loud enough to make Suguru glance back briefly. "Everything okay back there?"

You bite down you lip to keep from whimpering. With his fingers still inside you, Satoru keeps his expression impressively neutral, even as his other hand grips your thigh hard enough to bruise.

"Yeah, we're good. Hey, can you turn up the music? I love that song."

Suguru shrugs, seemingly oblivious to what happens in the backseat. "Sure thing, man." He reaches for the volume dial, cranking up the pounding bass until it fills the car.

You've never been more grateful for loud music in your life. As the beat thrums through the vehicle, you pray it will drown out any further sounds you might make. Especially considering Choso and Kento, passed out drunk were literally sitting beside you.

Satoru bottoms out, three fingers buried as deep as they can go, stretching you impossibly full. For a moment he stays like that, let's you just feel the perfect ache of it, the way your inner walls ripple and squeeze around him.

"Oh fuck." You grind your hips down to take him even deeper. "Satoru, yes..."

"That's it, take it. Take everything I give you like a good girl."

Slowly he begins to move. It's a smooth, deep glide, his fingers stroking you from the inside with devastating precision. He curls them just right, rubbing over that sensitive spot he found as if he knew it by heart.

Your head falls back against his shoulder, mouth open in a silent moan as he works you closer and closer to the edge.

"God, the sounds you make," Satoru groans, pumping his fingers faster, harder. "Sexiest fucking thing I've ever heard. Could listen to you moan for me all damn night. I wonder why he didn't do that sooner?"

Every thrust of Satoru's fingers, every glancing brush of his thumb over your clit, drags another broken whimper from your throat. Pleasure builds rapidly fast, your body climbing higher and higher, chasing the release that shimmers just out of reach.

"Satoru, please," you gasp. "I'm so close, I need... fuck, I need..."

"I know what you need," he rasps, doubling his efforts. His fingers piston in and out of you. "Need to come, don't you? Need to soak my fingers, drench my hand in your cum until it's dripping down my wrist."

"Satoru. Need you. Please."

"Shh, I've got you," he soothes, even as his thrusts grows harder, faster. "Just let go, love. I'll catch you."

Thank god for the loud music and low lighting. If not for that, everyone in the car would be clearly aware of exactly what Satoru is doing to you right now, how you're trembling and writhing in his lap.

His fingers speed up, his thump rubbing firm circles against your clit. You're close, teetering on the knife's edge of release.

"That's it. You're being so good for me, staying quiet while I make you feel good. You gonna come for me, love? Gonna soak my fingers while trying not to scream?"

His words make you clench hard around his fingers. Your thighs start to tremble. You're so close, body drawn tight.

Satoru feels it too. "That's it. Come on my fingers, love. Wanna feel you let go."

But just as you're about to tip over the edge, just as your eyes are fluttering closed, the car rolls to a stop. Satoru's fingers still deep inside you, a frustrated groan rumbling in his chest.

"We're here," Suguru announces, glancing at you through the rearview mirror.

It takes a moment for the words to reach you through the haze clouding your mind. You blink dazedly, struggling to catch your breath as Satoru carefully withdraws his hand form you.

"Thanks for the ride, man," he says to Suguru, voice strained but level. "I'll make sure she gets in safe."

"You sure you don't need a ride too? I don't mind, it's on my way."

But Satoru is already shaking his head, one hand reaching for yours, lacing your fingers together. "Nah, I'm good. I'll walk or catch a cab later."

He doesn't wait for a response, practically yanking you out of the car and slamming the door shut behind you. Satoru's grip on your hand tightens as he drags you to the door of your house, impatient to get you inside.

You fumble with your keys, doesn't help that Satoru is pressed against your back, the hard length of him digging into you, making it difficult to concentrate.

"Hurry," he urges. His lips find your neck, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses along the heated skin. You gasp, head falling back against his shoulder as he sucks at your throat.

Finally, blessedly, the door swings open.

You barely have time to step inside before Satoru is on you again, kicking the door shut and pinning you against it. His mouth on yours in a bruising kiss, tongue delving deep, claiming you.

He kisses you like a starving man at a feast, consuming you, devouring you. It's all you can do to cling to his shoulders as the onslaught continues, feeling dizzy and breathless.

Large hands roam your body, pushing your skirt up around your waist, squeezing your ass. He grinds against you, the rough fabric of his pants creating delicious friction against your sensitive core.

"Satoru," you gasp as his mouth trails down your neck, teeth nipping. "Bedroom. Now."

"Takes too long." In one swift motion, he grasps your hips and lifts you up, turning to set you down on the stairs instead.

Your breath catches as your back meets the cold wooden steps. His body covers yours, his weight on you as he settles between your thighs. You can feel the hard ridge of his cock pressing against you.

He braces a hand on the stair by your head, the other trailing down your side. "You've been teasing me all night. Strutting around in this tiny little outfit, bending over in front of me, brushing against me 'accidentally'. Driving me fucking crazy.”

He rolls his hips, grinding against your core. Even through layers of clothing, the friction is maddening. Your back arches, pressing closer.

"Maybe I like driving you crazy," you manage breathlessly. Your own hands tug at his shirt, desperate to feel his skin. "Maybe I like seeing you so desperate."

"Careful what you wish for, love."

Satoru's electric blue eyes burn into you, pupils blown wide. With a swift movement, he pushes you up against him and tugs your shirt over your head, tossed carelessly to the side.

You gasp as the cool air of the room hits your heated skin, goosebumps rising in its wake. But it quickly turns into a moan when his mouth is on your chest.

"That's for teasing me all night. Need me to mark you as mine, huh? Show everyone who you belong to?"

You moan, high and breathy, as his lips wander lower, tongue swirling against your sternum. When he reaches the edge of your bra, he doesn't hesitate, dragging the cups down to free your breasts. His large hands cup the soft mounds, squeezing gently.

"Fucking perfect." His large hands cup the soft mounds, squeezing gently, thumbs brushing over the hardened nipples. Then his mouth is on you, hot and wet, and coherent thought becomes impossible.

His tongue laves over one nipple, lapping at the sensitive bud, teeth grazing lightly. He sucks it deep into his mouth, the pull of his lips sending heat straight to your core.

Your hands fly to his hair, fingers tangling in the soft white strands as you hold him to your chest. Desperate, needy sounds spill from your lips as he works you over, every swipe of his tongue, every scrape of his teeth stoking the fire within you higher.

He lavishes the same attention on your other breast, sucking and licking and biting until you're writhing against him, hips rolling restlessly, seeking friction. Your core throbs, molten heat gathering between your thighs.

"Satoru," you gasp, arching into his touch. "Feels so good."

He hums around your nipple, the vibrations making you shudder. His free hand glides down your side, skimming over your ribs and waist, before gripping your hip possessively.

Satoru releases your nipple with a wet pop, blowing cool air over the wet nipple before his lips trail lower, peppering open-mouthed kisses down your stomach. He sucks a mark into the curve of your hip, tongue soothing the sting.

His fingers hook into the waistband of your underwear, starting to tug them down. But then he pauses, looking up at you through his lashes with a wicked glint in his eyes.

"Tell me what you want, love. Tell me how you want me to pleasure you."

“Your mouth.” You swallow hard, mind hazy. "Want your mouth on me."

A slow smile spreads across his face. "As you wish."

With deliberate slowness, he drags your underwear down your legs, baring you completely to his gaze. He settles between your thighs, hands smoothing up your trembling legs to grip your hips, spreading you wider for him. Fingertips press into your skin, hard enough to leave bruises.

"Look at you. So wet for me already. Bet you've been dripping for me all night, haven't you?"

Then, he dips his head, and the first hot swipe of his tongue through your folds has you crying out, fingers scrabbling for purchase in his hair. Satoru moans at your taste, the sound vibrating against your core.

He licks a long, slow stripe up your slit, circling your clit with the tip of his tongue. Your hips buck, seeking more of his tongue on you, but his hands hold you firmly in place. He teases you with slow licks, ghosting over where you need him most.

"God, Satoru, please," you whimper. "No more teasing."

"So needy."

But he obeys, diving in like a man starved, mouth hot and wet against your core, his lips around your clit and sucking hard. Before his tongue delves deep, fucking into you with lazy, wet strokes.

Your hips buck against his face, a strangled moan rips from your throat. Satoru's hands tighten on your thighs, holding you in place as he feasts on you.

"That's it, love," he encourages, pulling back just enough to speak. "Let me hear you. Want everyone in the building to know who's making you feel this good."

Your thighs tremble around his head, the obscene wet sounds of his mouth on you filling the room. Pleasure coils tighter and tighter in your core with every stroke of his tongue.

"Tell me, love. Tell me how desperate you've been for me, how soaked you've been all night thinking about my cock."

"So badly," you gasp out, fingers tightening in his hair. "Needed you to touch me, to fill me up. Please, Satoru, I need you to fuck me already."

He swears under his breath.

"You can't just say things like that. Gonna fucking ruin you, you know that?"

Then suddenly, without warning, he thrusts two thick fingers deep into your dripping core. A silent scream falls from your lips at the stretch, back arching off the stairs.

Satoru sets a relentless pace, pumping his fingers in and out of you, while his tongue works on your clit. "Like this? Is this what you needed?"

"Yes, yes. More."

"Fuck, I need to be inside you," Satoru growls.

He withdraws his fingers abruptly, ignoring your whine of protest. You watch through hooded eyes as he hurriedly strips off his clothes, revealing inches of toned muscle.

When Satoru finally frees himself from the confines of his pants, you mouth goes dry at the sight of him. His length is impressive, long and thick, the smooth skin flushed a deep rose color. The broad head is shiny with moisture, a bead of clear fluid leaking from the tip.

Satoru wraps a large hand around himself, giving a slow stroke from root to tip. His cock throbs in his grip, another pulse of slick pre-cum dripping from the slit. He groans low in his throat, head tipping back momentarily at the sensation after so long spent straining against his zipper.

You watch transfixed as he pumps himself lazily, putting on a show. His fist twists over the head on every upstroke, smearing the leaking liquid to ease the glide.

"See what you do to me?" Satoru rasps, blue eyes boring into yours as his hand speeds up. "See how hard I am for you, how much I'm leaking? I've been like this all fucking night."

He swipes his thumb over the weeping tip, gathering the drops of pre-cum beading there. "Been thinking about this all night. I know you wore that skirt just for me, didn't you? Wanted to rile me up, tease me until I snapped?"

Then he's bringing his thumb to your lips, painting your bottom lip with his cum, parting your lips. Your tongue flicks out to taste him, eyes never leaving him. Satoru's eyes darken as he watches you lick his cum from his fingertips.

"Mm, and what if I didn't? What if I put this skirt on for Suguru, hoping he'd be the one to take me home tonight?"

"Is that so? Well, tough luck. Couse I'm gonna stuff you so full with my cock you'll be ruined for anyone else. Gonna make it so you never forget who you belongs to."

"Oh really?" you challenge.

Licking your lips, you reach out to wrap your fingers around him, marveling at the hot, silken skin and the way he throbs against your palm. Satoru hisses through his teeth at the contact, hips canting into your fist instinctively.

"Fuck, your hand feels good." He watches intently as you start to stroke him from root to tip. "You have no idea what you do to me."

You tighten your grip, twisting your wrist on the upstroke. Satoru groans, low and guttural, as another pulse of slick pre-cum leaks from his slit. You smear it with your thumb. Satoru's abs clench, his cock kicking in your grip.

You lean in to drag your tongue along the underside of his shaft, tracing the thick vein there from base to tip. Satoru shudders, a broken moan spilling from his lips as you swirl your tongue around the leaking tip, lapping up the salty-bitter cum of his.

Desperate to be filled, you suck the broad head past your lips and tonguing at the sensitive underside.

Satoru's hips buck, forcing himself deeper into your mouth. You moan around him, relaxing your throat to take him as far as you can. Satoru's hands reach for your hair, fisting in the strands as he guides your movements. He rocks into your mouth, clearly holding back from truly fucking your face.

"So good, fuck, just like that. Taking me so well, so fucking good."

Saliva pools in your mouth, dripping down your chin as he works himself deeper into your throat. Your eyes water but you don't pull off. Just as you're starting to get lightheaded, lungs burning with the need for air, Satoru eases you off him with a groan.

A string of saliva connects your swollen lips to his cock for a heated moment before snapping. You gulp down air, staring up at him with watery eyes.

"Fuck, you're going to be the death of me," Satoru rasps, thumb swiping tenderly at the spittle on your chin. "I could spend all night fucking you and never get enough."

"Then fuck me already," you say, before giving his length a parting long lick along the underside.

"Oh, I'll fill you up alright, Gonna stuff you so full with my cock you'll feel me for days."

With that, he takes himself in hand, rubbing the thick tip through your slick folds, coating himself in your arousal. He's not penetrating, not yet, just teasing you with the promise of it. The broad head of his cock catches on your entrance with every pass.

"Feel that, love? Feel how hard I am for you? How much I want to bury myself in this tight little cunt?"

You can only whimper in response. But Satoru holds firm, keeping his movements shallow and teasing. He drags the thick length of his shaft up through your folds, the underside rubbing against your clit.

"Satoru, please. Stop teasing. I need you inside me."

"Patience," he coos, even as his hips stutter slightly, betraying his own desperate need. "I've been waiting for this moment for so long, dreaming about having you spread out beneath me. At least let me torture you a little bit first."

He punctuates his words with another slow drag of his cock against you, the head notching into your entrance for a breathless second before sliding up to grind against your clit.

"Please," you whimper, past the point of caring how desperate you sound. "Please, I can't take it anymore. I need you, need to fuck me."

Satoru hisses through his teeth. "Fuck, the things you say," he groans, fingers digging into your hips hard enough to bruise. "You have no idea what you do to me, how crazy you make me."

Despite his words, he doesn't relent, continuing his shallow thrusts, painting your folds with your combined arousal.

"I want to savor this," he breathes, voice strained with the effort of holding back. "Want to feel every inch of you before I bury myself deep. Want you trembling and desperate, want you to fucking fall apart before I even get inside."

And oh, you're close, so dangerously close to doing just that.

Every slide of his cock against your clit sends sparks skittering up your spine, pleasure coiling tighter and tighter in your core.

"Satoru, I can't... I need... oh fuck, please, please just fuck me, please."

Your desperate rambling seems to shatter the last of Satoru's restraint. He lines himself up and sinks into you in one smooth, powerful thrust, not stopping until he's buried to the hilt.

You've never felt so full, stuffed to the brim as he works himself deeper, inch by maddening inch. When he's fully seated, hips flush against yours, you both moan at the sensation. He's so deep like this, touching places inside you that have you seeing sparks.

For a moment, you just breathe together, foreheads pressed close, savoring the feeling of being connected so intimately. Then Satoru starts to move, and coherent thought becomes impossible.

He sets a deep, maddening rhythm, hips withdrawing nearly all the way before surging forward again. The drag of his cock inside you is intoxicating, hitting every sensitive spot, stroking the ache that's been building for what feels like hours.

Your nails rake down Satoru's back as he fucks you closer to the edge, leaving red lines in their wake. His pace quickens, thrusts becoming shorter and more focused, the sound of slapping skin echoing off the walls of the stairwell.

"Satoru," you moan, his name the only word you remember, the only one that matters. "Satoru, please, I'm so close…"

Bracing one hand against the stairs next to your head, he picks up speed, pounding into you faster, harder. The force of his thrusts threatens to push you up the steps, your head perilously close to banging against the hard surface.

You reach up, pushing your hands against the stairs above you for leverage, using the resistance to meet Satoru's increasingly powerful strokes.

"Fuck, just like that," he pants, blue eyes wild and heated as they bore into yours. "Take it, take every inch of me. Want to feel you come on my cock, want to feel you squeezing me so fucking tight."

His words, the relentless thrusts of his hips, the long drag of his shaft against your walls — it's all too much, too good. You can feel your orgasm building, ready to snap at any moment.

"Please," you whimper. "Please, I need… I need…"

"I know what you need, love."

He snakes a hand between your bodies, fingers finding your clit. He rubs your swollen clit in tight, focused circles, the added stimulation exactly what you need.

With one last deep thrust, the head of his cock kisses your cervix, and that's all it takes. Your body convulses around Satoru's plunging length.

Satoru works you through it, hips never faltering even as your spasming muscles threaten his control. He fucks you through your orgasm, grinding deep and rubbing your clit until you're shaking and sobbing.

Only when you collapse back against the stairs, boneless and spent, does he allow his own release to overtake him. With a last few erratic thrusts, he buries himself to the hilt and stills, his thick cock pulsing as he spills deep inside you.

His fingers dig into your hips, surely leaving bruises, as he rides out his orgasm, hips stuttering and jerking with each pulse of his release. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, his movements slow, then still.

Satoru collapses forward, his trembling arms barely supporting his weight as he rests his forehead against yours. You both struggle to catch your breath, chests heaving.

"Fuck, that was... incredible," he pants before capturing your lips in a sloppy kiss.

Slowly, almost reluctantly, he straightens up, his softening cock still buried inside you. His heated gaze drifts down to where your bodies are joined. He watches as his cum begins to trickle out of you, coating his length and dripping down your thighs to pool on the stairs beneath you.

"God, that's so fucking hot."

With a shuddering exhale, he slowly pulls out of you, a low hiss escaping his lips at the drag of your walls against his oversensitive cock. His eyes remain locked on your well-used sex, watching as more of his cum leaks out of you.

"Look at you. So messy and full of my cum. So perfect."

Unable to resist, Satoru settles between your thighs once more, his broad shoulders pushing them even further apart. He takes a moment to admire the view before diving in again.

A moan spills from your lips as he drags the flat of his tongue over your sensitive core, lapping up the evidence of your coupling with long strokes. He hums against your core, the vibrations making you shudder and clench around nothing.

Satoru takes his time, cleaning every inch of you. His tongue delves between your folds, circling your entrance before dipping inside to chase the lingering taste of your combined releases.

"Could spend hours just like this," Satoru murmurs between licks. "Would you like that, love? Like me to keep you full and sloppy and dripping all night?"

"Satoru," you whimper, thighs trembling around his head as he seals his lips around your clit and sucks. "I can't... it's too much..."

"Oh, I'm sure you can take one more. Just let me take care of you. I'm gonna make you feel so good."

He works his way inward, tongue tracing teasing circles around your entrance before delving inside. He laps at your walls, coaxing his own cum from your depths only to fuck it back into you with deep, sloppy strokes.

The wet sounds of his tongue between your legs fill the room, punctuated by your needy moans and gasps. Heat coils tight in your core once more despite your exhaustion.

Satoru feels you tense. "There she is. I knew my greedy girl had one more in her. Gonna give it to me, aren't you? Gonna come all over my tongue like a good girl."

His words set your blood on fire, a broken sob escaping your lips as he seals them around your clit once more. He sucks hard, tongue flicking rapidly over it as he fucks into you harder, faster.

"Ah, oh god. Satoru, please..."

Then, two thick fingers ease into you once again, curling forward to stroke that spot that makes your toes curl. He works them in tandem with his tongue, thrusting and scissoring and rubbing until you're keening his name, hips rolling mindlessly against his face.

His nose nudges against your oversensitive clit with every thrust, sending sparks shooting up your spine.

"Come on, love" he praises. "Ride my tongue, fuck yourself on my fingers. Want to feel you come all over me, want to taste you."

It only takes a few more purposeful strokes of his fingers and flicks of his tongue before you're come undone once again with a wordless cry, back bowing off the stairs as your walls clench and flutter around his fingers.

Satoru works you through it, pulling back just enough to watch your face contort. Only when the last aftershock fades does he ease his fingers free. Satoru presses a final, tender kiss to your clit before crawling up your body, pressing sloppy kisses to your sweat-dampened skin as he goes.

"You did so good for me, love, coming so hard for me. So perfect," Satoru praises, pressing kisses to your neck and chest as you try to catch your breath.

When he reaches your breasts, he palms them gently, thumbs brushing over your sensitive nipples and making you gasp. Your fingers tangle in his hair, holding him to your chest as he dips his head to take one nipple into his mouth once more.

He laves it with his tongue, swirling his tongue around it before he lavishes the same attention on your other breast, alternating between soft licks and lazy swirls, while his hand starts to dip lower.

"Satoru? What are you doing?"

Eventually, Satoru releases your nipple with a wet pop, soothing the ache with a final swipe of his tongue, his hand skating over your ribs and belly with clear intent.

He grins up at you, boyish and unrepentant. "What does it look like I'm doing? Maybe you've got one more in you, hmm?"

"Absolutely not. I'm fucking done, Satoru."

He pouts playfully, fingertips still tracing feather-light patterns on your lower belly. "Aw, come on, love. Just one more? I bet if I just…"

His hand starts to dip lower, fingertips just brushing your still-tingling clit. But before he can make contact, your foot plants itself firmly in the center of his chest and pushes him away. "Hands off, Satoru."

"Alright, alright, I can take a hint," he concedes, hands raised in surrender. "No more orgasms for you. For now."

"You're impossible."

Satoru grins. "You love it."

"You wish."

© lostfracturess. all rights reserved. do not copy, repost, translate, or modify my work without permission. thanks for reading and supporting my work !! ♡

[seeleybooth]

What are you doing out here? - I was... - No. In fact, do not answer that. It is clear I found you in the midst of some... secret dealings. I do not wish to know. And what "secret dealings" have I found you in the midst of, all alone the night before our wedding? What right do you have to ask me that?

/

"He tried to picture a life without Penelope. It was impossible.

Just weeks ago she'd been ... He stopped, thought. What had she been? A friend? An acquaintance? Someone he saw and never really noticed?

And now she was his fiancee, soon to be his bride. And maybe... maybe she was something more than that. Something deeper. Something even more precious.

"What I want to know," he asked, deliberately forcing the conversation back on topic so his mind wouldn't wander down such dangerous roads, "is why you're not jumping on the pet-fect alibi if the point is to remain anonymous."

"Because remaining anonymous isn't the point!" she fairy yelled.

"You want to be found out?" he asked, gaping at her in the candlelight.

"No, of course not," she replied. "But this is my work.

This is my life's work. This is all I have to show for my life, and if I can't take the credit for it, I'll be damned if someone else will."

Colin opened his mouth to offer a retort, but to his surprise, he had nothing to say. Life's work. Penelope had a life's work.

He did not.

She might not be able to put her name on her work, but when she was alone in her room, she could look at her back issues, and point to them, and say to herself, This is it. This is what my life has been about.

"Colin?" she whispered, clearly startled by his silence.

She was amazing. He didn't know how he hadn't realized it before, when he'd already known that she was smart and lovely and witty and resourceful. But all those adjectives, and a whole host more he hadn't yet thought of, did not add up to the true measure of her.

And he was.... Dear God above, he was jealous of her.

"I'll go," she said softly, turning and walking towards the door.

For a moment he didn't react. His mind was still frozen, reeling with revelations. But when. When he saw her hand on the doorknob, he knew he could not let her go. Not this night, not ever.

"No," he said hoarsely, closing the distance between them in three long strides. "No," he said again, "I want you to stay."

She looked up at him, her eyes two pools of confusion. "but you said---"

He cupped her face tenderly with his hands. "Forget what I said."

And that was when he realized that Daphne had been right. His love hadn't been a thunderbolt from the sky. It had started with a smile, a word, a teasing glance. Every second he had spent in her presence it had grown, until he'd reached this moment, and he suddenly knew.

He loved her.

He was still furious with her for publishing that last column, and he was bloody ashamed of himself that he was actually jealous of her for having found a life's work and purpose, but even with all that, he loved her.

And if let her walk out that door right now, he would never forgive himself.

Maybe this, then, was the definition of love. When you wanted someone, needed her, adored her, even when you were utterly furious and quite ready to tie her to the bed just to keep her from going out and making more trouble. This was the night. This was the moment. He was brimming with emotion, and he had to tell her. He had to show her.

"Stay," we whispered, and he pulled her to him, roughly, hungrily, without apology or explanation.

"Stay," he said again, leading her to his bed.

And when she didn't do anything, he said it for a third time.

"Stay." She nodded.

He took her into his arms.

This was Penelope, and this was love."

Romancing Mister Bridgerton, Chapter 17

[maopll]

Helloooo!!!! really interesting event you have going on here :D . a couple pennies for my request?

Can I get a "Hot things they do" prompt with

HSR: Jing Yuan, Sunday, and Boothill Genshin: Neuvillete and Pantalone

Gn!Reader please and thank you <3

HOT THINGS THEY DO

⋆·˚ you swoon over and practically drool whenever he does something which you love to the moon and back. even the simplest of things has you feeling something burning and fluttering inside ...

note : anon you've got tastes. I don't know if there is anything particular I like that they do everything will have me folding over.

sfw // fluff a lil goofy, slight suggestive gn!reader

— ୨ JING YUAN ୧

His breathy laughter is the best of both worlds. Nothing compares to it. Although you are a big fan of his chuckle whenever he is in a tight spot or has it figured out, his laughter is still incomparable.

But he kind of disagrees with you on this since he would have approved it if it was his thighs. He knows how thick they are and how the strap around his upper thigh makes it look even more enticing. "Who says I don't like it?" you retort.

— ୨ SUNDAY ୧

Whenever he is in deep thought, he would leave his pen, cross his arms and would run his fingers through his hair. Most of the time his hair is prim and proper. But when he puffs his chest up in frustration , eyes squinting , and hair a little bit messy, you can confirm that you become like a victorian man seeing ankles.

"Is this the way you like it?" Sunday says a bit unsure as he is practically wearing something that looks diametrically opposite from what he wears. Shirt, jeans, jacket, cap and all the items that screams 'rock metal genre'.

"Stay still pretty boy I need a good picture for my wallpaper"

— ୨ BOOTHILL ୧

"Babe I find you really hot when you threaten people to kill them whenever they try being real mushy mushy with me"

"You muddle fudger I can't even curse them with the real scary words and you liked that?" Boothill stares at you bewildered. "Your synesthesia beacon working overtime and your hands pointing the gun at him as you threaten to do the wildest shit to him if he ever touches me is very very hot you wouldn't understand". He would usually comply with whatever you say but this time he truly thinks that you've got a few screws loose there. But maybe that's your charm and your 'hot thing'.

"Well if you find THAT hot then ..." he swifts you off your feet and places his hat onto your head "don't you like it when I do this hmm sweetie ?"

— ୨ NEUVILLETTE ୧

While the things or his actions are mostly adorable or gentlemanly, even he has his sides which would leave your heart beating fast and hard. But oh lord have mercy on you because when he would tie his hair messily to focus on his paperwork, you fold.

Neuvillette was about to sit down after he tied his hair in a ponytail, but you noticed his tied hair and without thinking you blurted out,

"Do it again"

"Do what again ?"

"Tie your hair again.. I wanna see..."

He obliged to your request like he usually does even though he was a little confused, but when he turned around to face you, you were blushing HARD and one of your hands was on your chin as if scrutinising his every movement and every flex of his muscles. Neuvillette just chuckled at your antics. "Like what you see dear?" "Very much..." you strided towards him and placed a chaste kiss on his lips. No matter how many times you ask such silly requests of him, he will always fulfil them.

— ୨ PANTALONE ୧

You didn't know what captivated you to like pantalone and you wanted to find what was something he did that made you find it hot. Lo and behold you found it when he was threatening one of the fatui members.

Two new recruits were standing at esse in front of Pantalone, who was eyeing them from top to bottom. "So... cryogunner... what was the order?" The cryogunner, after swallowing down the lump in his throat with hesitation, replied, "s— sir ... we had to take down the owner of the illegal organisation–"

"And what was the result I received?" his voice cold and eyes piercing. His anger were visible in his eyes even though it did not reflect on his face. "Out of my sights right now the punishment that you two will receive for not abiding to the order will be not so savoury"

The two fatui scurried away after shouting a 'yes sir'. After they left, he removed his glasses and scrunched his face rubbing his temple. Looks like more work got added to his already pending list of tasks. His eyes were full of wrath and anger muttering archons know what

you chuckle "you know your face is doing things to me babe"

"dear I'm not in the mood—" but looking at your face has him rethinking his decision. You biting your lips and eyes dazed... hmm looks like you've found the way to relieve his stress then?

"It's going to be a rough day hm? dear"

[marvelstan0905]

"What do you mean a real baby?!"

Kenji Sato X [afab]reader [Oneshot]

TW : spouse reader/petnames/implied sex/pregnancy/Emi mention/panic/mixed POV

Hi guys so I made this on a whim, lmao. Just came to my head lmao. I haven't properly proofread it yet but I hope you like it😫🥺

He didn't know what to do. Kenji found it. The thing that turned his world into a total 180 once again. As Kenji stared down at the positive pregnancy test he found in trash, Kenji's mind was racing a million miles per house. He had just started adjusting to life without Emi, he would visit the kaiju infant from time to time but now this...was something else.

"How the hell did this happen?! I mean..I know how it happened but how?!" Kenji murmured to himself. His wife was at the store and he was taking the time to properly process everything. "Ken Sato..y-you can do it...no you can't! Oh my God!"

Kenji started panicking a little. Mina tried to calm him down. "Ken, you need to calm down. Your heart is racing. You'll be fine. A human child is almost the same as Emi" Mina reported. The robot assistant hovered next to Kenji as he clawed at his hair panicked.

"MINA! What do I do? That's an actual baby! Something my size! No...even smaller" Kenji gulped whiles hugging his knees. Kenji didn't even notice that the door had opened and his wife had returned from the store.

"Baby? You okay? What's going on?" I asked deeply worried as I sat down on my knees on the bed. I gently pet my husband's head. I looked around to find anything to give me a clue as to what made my husband panic so much. My eyes stopped as I found the positive test, I had taken a few hours ago. I hadnt been feeling well for a few weeks, before then Kenji I had been going at it like rabbits so it was kinda..expected. With widened eyes, I took a deep breath and gently hugged him. "Talk to me. Whats going on your head? And yes, I am pregnant"

Kenji's world turned upside once again. He felt alot of things now with this confirmation. Worry, happiness, panic, joy, fear. It was all over the place. "I mean..wow...I'm worried about taking care of a human baby this time.. they're much smaller" Kenji started and exhaled deeply. I hummed listening to him. "Don't get me wrong I'm happy..I'm j-just worried I'm not up to it. This baby is different from a Kaiju. W-What if i end up like my dad? Or my kids end up hating me later because of Ultraman"

"Kenji..breath. Deep breathes, okay? Shhh.."I soothed my husband as I listened to him. I put my hands on his shoulder and gently massaged him to ease his tension. "Honey..I know you're worried but trust me, you've got this. You're gonna be an excellent father. Think about it..remember how you took care of Emi. You're her dad too" I started whiles kissing his face softly.

"You're gonna be a better father than you're dad. You know firsthand how it felt with your dad and I know you wouldn't want our baby to feel how you did. You're gonna be fine. One day at a time. Plus we took care of Emi so well and look her..she's the most beautiful and friendly Kaiju" I reassured him. Kenji took deep breathes and listened to me. His stress and worries were eased but not completely.

"You're right. You're right.." Kenji murmured.

"I'm always right" I joked playfully whiles nuzzling into his nose. Kenji rolled his eyes playfully and kissed my cheek.

"See, baby. You're gonna be fine, okay? The best father ever. Look at our baby Emi. You have some daddy experience" I smiled whiles kissing his face. Kenji chuckled and returned the affection. Kenji began rambling about his excitement. I cupped his face as I listened to him.

"Bet you wanna go and tell Emi right?" I giggled whiles tilting my head with shake of my head. Kenji bit his lip in pure excitement and nodded. I pecked his lips. "Go on. Tell her I said hi, okay? Don't be too late ,okay? We have a lot to talk about"

"I won't. I love you, sweetheart" Kenji laughed and stood up as he opened the doors to the balcony before jumping out and transforming into the giant of light he was.

"I love you too, baby"

[meraki-sunset]

This is a long letter of gratitude. Embrace my endless words of pure gratefulness.

Dear Autor of the most amazing thing I've ever read.

I was writing this letter from the moment I reached the middle of your Crow Strider AU fanfiction. There is so many things I want to say and I'm so happy that I can say it to you all here without words limit. Forgive me for exuberance, I'm squeezing out all my abilities to express what I feel in this foreign language that's not of us first language.

Let me list all the things I'm grateful for, because I'm autistic and I love listing:

1. Crow Strider

The arc of Davesprite you created is masterpiece of writing. The process of deconstructing his personality, forgiving and letting his part behind as well as embracing his new identity and new body is written so thoughtfully with such a care of details. I love how you made him so different from Dave as well as still kept his Daveness in full glory of Striderness. You made him happy and more emotional available and open, at the same time it felt so natural for him to be that way because of the proper build up you gave him. Thank you so much for creating Crow Strider and letting us read his well written arc.

2. There's a Dave for everyone

THERE'S LITERALLY DAVE FOR EVERYONE. You have no idea what struggles I went through trying to understand what person Dave ended up with in canon, and then being sad of what happened in epilogues. I wanted Dave for Karkat. I wanted Dave for Jade. I wanted them to be happy. And you did it. You made it possible. You made them all happy. I love it so much. Thank you so much for making them happy. You even gave Teresi one Dave for her. I can't believe it. It's so beautiful it's unreal.

3. More Davepeta

This part is simple, I simply love Davepeta and you gave me a lot of good Davepeta content. Thank you for that.

4. You made me like characters I didn't like

I wasn't big fan of Tavros. I got tired of Vrisca by the end of Homestuck. I didn't really see Hal as an interesting character. I honestly hated Gamzee. And Jasprosesprite squared was so annoying for me

Well, not anymore! You somehow managed to write these characters more compelling for me than Hussie did. Now I love Tavros and Hal, I mean, cat Hal? Is there anything more cute and cool at the same time?

And NGL I genuinely wanted Gamzee to die and I can't believe that now I'm not, because I just read a very good redemption arc of this clown. I also love the way you dealt with Vrisca. Heck I love all characters written by you!

5. God tier Karkat

I've dreamt of seeing a good piece of god tier Karkat. I was so curious how does it even work to be Knight of Blood, we didn't see any version of Blood god tier in canon. I'm big fan of your version, it fits the character and the aspect so well, and the execution of his arc as he is chosen to open the door... Honestly? I prefer that over canon, though it wouldnt make as much sense as in your fanfiction. It just feels like you took a much better care of Karkat than official ending of Homestuck. Don't get me wrong, I love Homestuck an it's ending, your fanfiction wouldn't exist without it. I honestly think that Hussie didn't really have as much time and space to give his characters as extended arcs as you gave them without losing the dynamic of his story. But you could. And you did. Thank you so much.

6. So many people got better, more extended arcs

Like above. You made Jas much better. You gave Nanna much better, more compelling arc than she had in canon. You made Hal and Tavros much more relatable and gave them very well character development plot, even if short. You took your time to write very needed and wanted dialogues between characters than didn't have their time to interact in canon. Like Jake and Dirk (ESPECIALLY THEM OMG). Like Erisol and Feferi. Like Jas and Rose. And I didn't even know that I needed the last one. Thank you so much.

7. You made ships that I didn't know where even possible and I like them????

Seriously, Tavros and Jane?? Erisol and Arquius??? Josh and Dirk??? I love how your brain works

8. You absolutely nailed the delicate topic of transgender

I used to not be a big fan of June, because there were no realistic signs of John having any kind of thoughts or doubts about his gender in canon. You made a very much needed and really great thoughtfully written arc from June and Josh, even caring about the topic of transition and executing it really great. Thank you so much for yet again being so good at writing arcs.

9. Eridan and Sollux

I love them both and their weird toxic rivalty, and I absolutely love that you gave them some attention and let Eridan grow and try to redeem himself while also helping Sollux with hii2 p2iioniic problem2. I download almost every single frame of it.

10. YOUR ARTSTYLE

You're artstyle. I don't know where to begin with that. It's so amazing. Expressive, dynamic, cute, beautiful, colorful. I love every line of your comics. Your style is the way I always wanted to draw. It's just perfect. And also perfect for Homestuck fanfiction. It's just so similar, yet gives it a bit of softness as well as the kind of expressiveness I love, that makes every single shot more appealing. Warm scene are so warm, sad scene are so sad, dynamic scenes are so epic, it's like so delicious. Yes, I just ran out of words. Let me grab a dictionary...

Your style is outstanding. It gives me this feeling of familiarity, it's similar of Homestuck style, yet so different, its fresh and new while also feels like home.

I wish you have a printed version of your fanfiction (but I probably can't afford it sadly). There is something so soothing in this simple colors, it's not too loud, not too many colors, yet so many and smooth colorful lines. I will learn to draw like you, I'm sorry for adapting your style, but I really want to draw like that and you even posted some tutorials how to draw like you.

Thank you so so much that you put so much time and effort into making this wonderful comic and then share with all of us completely for free. You drew so many expressive pages, sometimes even 10 pages per static dialogue, which means you officially outbested the master of overdoing Andrew Hussie himself, that did maximum of 3 pages per 1 static dialogue scene. I noticed you slowed down a bit at the end and drew much more simplified panels as well as you started using same panels many times. Good. It's okay to go the easier way. No one wants you to overwork yourself and burnout. No one wants you to have trauma with drawing and not wanting to draw comic ever again. It's extremely generous of you that you posted for absolutely free such a wonderful and huge piece of art. I'm endlessly grateful.

11. The plot

I love how you started from one simple idea of giving Crow more arc, and then gradually extended it into a whole huge fixfiction. It went so smoothly it looked like really one different decision of one person can change the whole timeline. It went so naturally, it felt so realistic as if I read something that Andrew Hussie wrote as a coexisting canon.

I have to admit, the whole idea of not doomed and not canon timeline is pretty ridiculous, and I love every bit of it. Paradoxally, it sounds so much like something that could actually exist in Homestuck canon. I love it

A few little things I didn't like that much

I wouldnt be myself if I didn't comment on some stuff that wasn't perfect. I'll be bery brief with that, because these things didn't really bothered me that much, I just want to share a little bit of criticism I have.

I hope it won't sound rude when I say that I didn't really felt like you understand the character of Nepeta very well? She didn't felt that like Nepeta in your fanfiction, at least for me. I felt like some stuff were explained a bit too many times. I know that characters needed that, yet we as viewers already know some stuff and didn't need to read it again. Also, I really missed the type styles of characters. I know how hard it is to keep it through entire fanfiction, especially writing some of the characters with quite complicated type style. I just missed it a bit. On the other hand it made a few characters much more comprehensive.

I hope I didn't hurt you with this few words of critics. Now I want to share a few of my favorite pages, I hope you don't mind if I end this letter with fangirling over your drawings. I actually wanted to do a lot of comments during reading your fanfiction, but the website didn't let comments. Sadly. That's why I'm writing here. And now is time I will do what I wanted to do back then:

This scene, my fav scene in Homestuck, got so extended in your fanfiction, I felt so gifted and it wasn't even my birthday

I cried.

This. Made me laugh so hard. And it's even funnier without context.

I just reached photos limit. Sadly. I'm so grateful for your comic. I love it so much. Thank you again for making it. You're a wonderful person

Hey there! Thank you so much for the letter, and for taking your time translating it to English for me to understand. Since it’s in a list format, I guess I’ll answer as list as well! So:

Crow strider

It was challenging writing Crow because I needed to basically write Dave but with a twist in his personality due to living with the Harley-Egberts and their grandma, in a very cozy and caring environment.

Honestly I don’t think I managed to portray enough Daveness, his personality is very particular and difficult for me to replicate, but I did the best I could and my friend and editor will help me reach the right amount of striderness in the epilogue

2. A Dave for everyone

Indeed, there’s Dave for everyone. The homestuck epilogues made me realize how lonely Jade ended up, and I always loved Davesprite and jade, but with one being human and the other one a Sprite the relationship was bound to fail, and even tho I wasn’t fond of JadexDavepeta, still i would’ve prefered it to jade being all alone and Davepeta dying fighting Lord English. So now, not only Jade has Crow, and they’re happy, but the Karezi – davekat – daverezi mess all got fused into one, because I love them and their trip was a Little different from in canon. And also Davepeta is around, I don’t think they’ll end up with anyone, but they’ll vibe on EarthC.

3. More Davepeta

They’re alive, and I like showing the craziness that comes from them knowing all timelines but being above them and detached from them. 

4. The characters you didn’t use like

I like exploding underused characters. Because with them, you’ve only seen the Surface, but at the same time you have info about them that can be used to make them more profound. If Tavros got revived, why isn’t he mad at Vriska? What was he doing those 3 years in the bubbles? If Jasprose is a seer and has knowledge of all timelines due to being ultimate self, doesn’t that make her the ultimate clairvoyant? Doesn’t that mean she’s the key to winning? Does she miss the mother like rose does? If there’a already an Arquius, why make another? Why not have just Hal as a Sprite and have him figure out what being alive is actually like?. You get the Surface of the characters and knowing what you know about them, you dig deeper, until you find their humanity and write about it.

5. Godtier Karkat

I love Karkat on Homestuck, but I feel like the character lost weight towards the end of the story, he stopped being the leader and while everyone went and fought someone important like the Condesce, the jacks, the dogjack, or Lord English, he was just somewhere else doing whatever. I wanted to give him his hero moment that closes his development.

As for the door, I feel like in canon john was the right choice to open the door, he’s the hero and the leader, not to mention it’s a human session, it makes total sense and I wouldn’t change it

Every story has things that don’t get to be explored, because that would make them too long and cut the flow, making it unreadable. That why we love fan fictions and AUs so much, they take the pieces and reassemble them into something new, filling the empty spaces.

What makes the events on AUs fun is that they didn’t happen in canon. So if John opened the door in canon, and it was right, then Karkat can open this one, and it can be right on this specific timeline. He gets closure from the door he never got to open, and takes back his role as a leader, even if it’s just for a moment, since the battle is over by now. He’s the leader once again, but this time he understands the weight of it in a way he couldn’t grasp when he was 13, claimed he was in charge and let everyone down. He now understands it’s not just something you ask for, it’s something you earn, he’s now the Knight of blood, god of bonds, he took down the Condesce in the name of his species, and will open the door for his peers to enter the new universe they created together where they’ll create a free society, he became what the signless predicted, his rightful successor. His arc is completed.

6. Extended arcs

Jas was planned since the beginning to close crow’s arc about his rose and his regrets about leaving her behind. It’s only when he’s made peace with losing her, has left his old self behind and is ready to face the battle and his future, that he gets his reward. He gets her back, in the strangest way

With Nanna, i just though nobody ever focused that there was an actual adult around during the whole adventure, Nanna would’ve spent a lot of time around john and jade, them being each others remaining family. So I tried to give her the role of a guardian, breaking a Little with this “orphaned children on their own” that all characters have.

Honestly I tried to make it as interesting as I could, sometimes I would take characters that didn’t have any screen time and think, what can they do? What’s in their mind at this moment that they could tackle in conversation? And with whom? Who else needs screen time?. And that’s how you get, Jake and Tavros bonding, Nepeta, Fefeta, Davepeta and Feferi ship-chat, Arquius telling Terezi and Karkat about Erisol, Hal comforting Eridan, ect.

It’s actually a really cool writing exercise I do sometimes. I grab two characters that have nothing in common, and write a conversation between them. What’s the common ground? Are their stories alike in some way? Do they have a common hobby or worry? It’s really cool because you find stuff about the characters you never paid attention to before

7. Unlikely ships

Tavros and Jane came from me wanting Tavros to be more assertive. In canon Vriska instructed him to not interact with the Alpha kids during those 6 months, but since this Tavros doesn’t listen to her because he took self-esteem lessons from Rufioh, I felt like he probably spent that time actually being a guide to Jane and then becoming Friends while solving puzzles, Jane being a fan of mysteries and Tavros probably missing his flarp days. Also theres a funny thing about Tavros and Jane, and it’s Tavros is supposed to represent Peter pan, while Vriska is supposed to represent both Tinkerbell (she dressed up like a fairy for him and later became an actual fairy) being attracted to him but being short fused when rejected, and also represent Captain Hook, Peter pan’s enemy (with her flarp persona and her ancestor being a pirate), but she’s not Wendy in any way, and I feel like Jane is, she’s the homeschooled girl, with blue eyes who looked through her window waiting to be free because her father wouldn’t let her out (also Wendy’s brother was named john who used big glasses). She’s a normal girl coming in contact with this fairy boy from a world of only children. Idk, makes sense to me. (besides, Wendy darling’s daughter, who Peter pan later takes on adventures too was named Jane, who also has blue eyes)

Erisol and Arquius was a crack ship that suddenly made sense, because it’s one-sided, and I feel like arquius is a caring person, he just has a difficult time socializing like a normal person. He’s just really happy to be a sprite and is pissed by Erisol’s insistence on wanting to explode.

Also, Arquius promising Fefeta that he wouldn’t break Erisol’s neck unless he had a good reason ( he kinda wanted to) and eventually having to break his neck for the good reason of god tiering him (he now doesn't want to and feels bad about it) was something I planned for months

Josh and dirk, i think it’s funny. Dirk wouldn’t have dated jade because she’s a girl, but Josh is a boy so it’s good, AND, he’s like a more direct, version of Jake who takes no bullshit.

8. The topic of transgender

Originally the second spaceship post retcon was supposed to arrive empty, or with only Davesprite, but I saw an opportunity to solve a division in the audience. Some people were interested in John remaining as he was, while others wanted to see June. Since John never showed any doubts about his gender in canon, it wasn’t in my original plans for June to make an appearance during CSAU, because the comic only covered the same period of time as canon. But when it came time to write the retcon I realized I had an opportunity to make them both coexist, making a shift in the timeline, but said shift being there both since the beginning and for the purpose of surviving the recon. Making June and Josh a reality since the beginning, so the timeline would survive the consequences of the two Egberts crossing paths post retcon.

It’s nice to hear you liked it, I know not everyone did. I tried to be respectful but at the same time be true to the nonsensical nature of canon Homestuck that makes timelines twist and change to the story’s convenience, making the events real but chaotic. Also since i knew John’s dad wasn’t coming back and Jane’s dad wouldn’t make it, June would be the last remaining conection to John’s old home and so John would be June's, relying on eachother for comfort when it comes to the loss of their father and home.

9. Eridan and Sollux

I want to cover Eridan’s redemption in the epilogue, since all we know is he grew as a person during his time in the bubbles, leading to his change of heart interacting with Sollux and Kanaya

10. Art style

Thank you! I like to give the characters a full range of emotions and for the surroundings to accompany that

No need to be sorry for learning through my art, in the end my style, like everyone else’s, is bits and pieces from other artists we’ve seen, admired and/or learned from. Just make sure to add your personal touch to make your artstyle trully yours

It’s true that by the end I reused more static panels for dialogue, both because there was a lot for the characters to say, not that much action left, and my battery was running low haha

11. The plot

I tried my best for the story to be a big butterfly effect steaming from crow’s decision to ascend, working towards the most possible outcomes like Crow getting grimdarked by the Condesce too, the sprites surviving because of Nanna and so on

I wanted this timeline to coexist with canon because I don’t like the idea of overwriting it, canon happened and was important, CSAU just happened to be taking place close by

12. Things you didn’t like

I do in fact not understand the character of Nepeta very well, I reread Homestuck in order to get the original troll's personality better, but Nepeta is a character I don’t get. On top of that, she doesn’t appear much in CSAU so didn’t have much time to develop her.

I do struggle with over explaining, I think is stems from not wanting the reader to be confused (it has happened on discord that people come and ask me what was going on in the story when i thought I had written it in a way people could understand with no problems), which leads to me explaining everything too bluntly sometimes, so the characters sometimes ramble TOO much, and I wish I could go back and reduce the dialogs, but that would involve going back to the page’s codes to delete certain pages and replace others, and also changing the programming for the page’s backgrounds, not to mention my computer crashes when I try to modify pages too far back, since they’re 4000 of them. It’s one of those things I can only learn from and try to do better in the next project

The character’s typing was a core part of Homestuck because it was mostly portrayed as blocks of texts and the quirks made it easy to know who was talking even with people having the same typing color. The reason I didn’t use them it’s simply because I could barely write good enough in English, let alone add quirks. My friend offered me to add the quirks at some point when we were revising the dialogs, but I declined because some people found it easier to read without them and I didn’t want to add another step to the render of the pages.

13. Favorite pages

I also cried with that Gamzee panel, I planned it for months and i waited a long time to draw those last panels, I’m glad they made people laugh

Haha, also yeah, the Strider reunion got really extended with so many extra striders. Davepeta, Crow and Hal making the reunion complete

Thank you for this message! i'll do my best to write a good epilogue (which by now is actually a secuel) and i hope you have a great day🌻🌻🌻

[aveloka-draws]

I would like to preface this with an apology for the Asgardian-sized wall of text I want to throw at you. If you've ever seen the movie Hot Fuzz, I just had a massive brain wave in regards to that recent interaction you made between the Lamb and Theon. So here we go, lots to unpack.

What I find very curious about that little interaction was how unintentionally massive its impact was. It was just a short exchange between the two but the ramifications could be severe. Whether the Lamb meant to or not, they might have made the situation for Theon significantly worse or perhaps more accurately, far more unstable and given their own current nature, that is not too surprising. Theon was suspicious that Leshy is hiding something and the Lamb says 'Do you want me to tell you what it is?'. The Lamb just confirmed that Leshy is hiding something. Now in all fairness the Lamb could be lying from Theon's perspective. Getting some kicks out of their followers and seeing the madness unfold is becoming of them. However that likelihood is vastly nill. The Lamb seems to like Theon for starters and thus would not be inclined to lie in the first place. Plus regardless of the Lamb's intents, they are the Leader. So by default, Theon is inclined to believe their word.

Thus with that statement, the situation is already far worse. Now Theon knows Leshy is in fact hiding something, and his brain can start to work the pieces out. He is not a stupid cat by any means, and he can already tell that the area of soreness relies around Darkwood. That is where Leshy seems to clam up. He already suspects they were a disciple and given Theon's nightmares, this narrows his suspicions down. If Theon wished to really investigate this down to its roots, he could go behind the scenes to attempt to acquire a tiny dot of ichor. He wouldn't need much, all he'd need is a single drop to taste. Hopefully in a dose that would not burn his insides like those of the uninitiated. Whether that meant striking a deal with a disciple or through the Lamb, who knows how. But if he tasted it he could compare it against the taste of Leshy's 'odd' blood and tell how similar they tasted. If the taste was close, Theon would have his answer and from there the harrowing realities only close in with two distinct scenarios. Bad case, Leshy was in fact a disciple of the God of Chaos. Worst case, he was that God. Thing is, if Theon was really paying attention he'd have his answer without Leshy saying anything at all.

Whether Leshy realizes it or not, he completely revealed his identity by waiting to tell Theon. Leshy waited this long to tell Theon anything, by this point they have grown extremely close. Had Leshy told Theon who he was, shortly after they met or starting getting close, the impact would be far less significant. Theon would have been shocked, gone through his reactions, and likely distanced himself. However, now they're both madly in love. By waiting this long Leshy has single-handedly sown as much Chaos into Theon's life as he possibly could, thus betraying his efforts and revealing his true nature. Theon has now an impossibly difficult situation to contend with. He has been in love with the very god that he was to be sacrificed for. In all technical details there really is no reason why Theon cannot continue to love him. Leshy would never hurt Theon intentionally nor do something truly egregious against him. However the very fact that Leshy has put Theon in the situation where he has to relive his nightmares everyday is only made worse by the inescapable chaos that surrounds Leshy. Whenever Theon gazes upon him, he knows chaos will follow. Suddenly all of his actions will enter a new light. The five-finger fillet, the midnight hi-jinks, other follows becoming mischievous. It turns from, "Leshy is just a bit out there." to, "He is Chaos incarnate." Theon, should he continue by Leshy's side, would have to live with that everyday for the rest of his life. No matter how much Leshy attempts to change himself it's impossible to escape the chaos, it's akin to commanding a Sunflower to cease being a plant. Chaos is in Leshy's nature. Asking him to subdue the chaos would mean he ceases to be Leshy. It's the classic paradox of the very thing that drew Theon in in the first place is now the most painful reality.

Whether the divorce truly happens or not, as our expectations could be subverted, Theon will never be the same afterward. He will have to find some way to make peace with the nightmares one way or another, and accept that chaos will follow him no matter how good a life he lives. It is quite fascinating too. Leshy is now responsible for damning a second loved one to Hell.

I thank you again for your amazing work and taking the time to read this.

Dont apologize i loved this i agree thank you for the asgardian sized wall of text hshsh

[bekolxeram]

During this hiatus, other than rewatching S7 for cute moments that we missed and coming up with headconons and new fic ideas, may I suggest going back to actually read/watch/listen to interviews with the cast?

Certain more dedicated members of the fandom tend to overfixate on one single sentence or even word the cast uttered and ignore all context around it. Sure, some of them might came into it with an agenda (like many journalists did sadly) and confirmation bias took care of the rest of it, but at the same time, who has time to read pages of disjointed chat with actors improvising answers without full knowledge of the production side of the show?

I've seen people proving Eddie's queerness by this quote from Lou's interview with the Hollywood Reporter in April:

This alone has been interpreted all sorts of ways, from Ryan not accepting this storyline (which doesn't make him homophobic btw, he could've simply not seen Eddie's story going this way, or he thought he wasn't equipped to do this storyline justice), to Buck's LIs not agreeing to come back because of scheduling conflict, to the writers just thought it was more appropriate for Buck to be queer.

I'm not here to speculate anything, I'm just going to point out earlier in the same interview, Lou also said he always knew this storyline would be with Oliver:

I don't know what's going on here, Lou might have insider information, but it also could be him just speculating over Tommy and Eddie's quickly formed friendship. To my knowledge, Tim has never confirmed that Tommy's queer storyline would be with Eddie before it supposedly fell through. In fact, Tim did say once it felt like Buck's story:

And then there's Lou's supposed dislike of filming make out scenes:

I do agree with him that gratuitous scenes on TV are unnecessary. I can't even count how many times I'm watching TV with my family when a graphic sex scene comes on unprompted, and my family members and I have to try our best to pretend we don't see it. But he also said that he didn't like it only when it didn't add to the story. Like we saw in 7x06, Lou gladly rubbed his face into Oliver's because this is how Buck came out.

There's also the part most people skipped through when Lou talked about the 7x04 kiss:

Lou (and everyone involved in the storyline) doesn't want Tommy to seem predatory. I have no idea if it's a reference to a possible earlier version of the script with an Eddie bi awakening instead of a Buck one. What I'm getting is that Lou and Tim tried to avoid playing into the stereotype of gay men hanging around knowingly straight men just to get into their pants.

And boy was Lou right. If they went for a full make out scene, the fandom discourse would've been so different. Naysayers wouldn't have been latching onto bachelor party costume or daddy issue joke. It would've led to much more serious allegations.

I'm happy it all worked out in universe as well. As we've seen from the past 7 seasons, Buck has no problem getting sexual partners. In the past he tried having physical relationships with women in hopes that it would lead to an emotional one, he also tried intentionally holding off intimacy just because he thought it would get in the way of boding with someone on a humanly level. This is the first time someone picked up Buck's (unintentional?) flirting, decided to break the ambiguity (landing it like a good pilot), gave him a brief peck to test the water, and then left to give Buck time to process his feelings.

Not only was it okay for Buck, it left him wanting more.

And lastly there's the allegedly "Tommy is just Buck's gay mentor to test thing out with" thing:

But earlier in the interview, it was established that Lou said it as a response to why the other shippers should still embrace Buck and Tommy's relationship. He didn't actually know what would happen in the future:

[minhosbxtch]

Snap (pt. 2)

Eris x reader

Warnings: Cursing, drinking, suggestiveness but no smut... yet ;)

2 weeks.

It'd been 2 fucking weeks since you'd seen your mate.

2 weeks too long.

You would've thought he'd forgotten about you if he hadn't sent tugs on the bond ever so often, to which you returned with 2 tugs of your own.

The first time you had thought you were having a heart attack because it was so strong you had to sit down. And good thing you did. As soon as you did wave after wave of emotion came down the bond. Anger, regret, self-disgust, and the most surprising, anxiety.

In response you sent waves of calm and appreciation back. Responses that you had needed before and Eris had given you.

These days you were just filled with excitement and longing despite how much you wanted to admit it.

Just like you had helped him, he did the same for you.

One night your thoughts had gotten particularly bad and had you almost reaching for your candle once again before an urgent tug stopped you.

This time, it wasn't necessarily emotions he sent to you, but nostalgic comforting memories. A hug, being bundled in blankets, laying out in the sun, wave after wave until you fell asleep.

You had asked Rhys to give you extra work to get your mind off and he obliged thankfully, but that didn't stop your mind from drifting off.

Your work had led Eris to get panicked before and tug in the middle of a job to which you had dropped everything to respond, letting the man get away.

You also spent your free time in the library, trying to figure out how to close your side of the tether on command so poor Eris wouldn't have to feel your emotions 24/7.

Today, you returned to Velaris after being away for the past 2 days hunting a former Illyrian commander and his men who defected and tried rebel against the High Lord.

It was exhausting work but it kept your mind busy.

Arriving home too late for dinner, you went to your room, showered, and changed before collapsing in your bed and letting sleep drag you under accompanied by waves of calm.

You woke up to dim sunlight shining through the gaps in your curtains. Groaning, you rubbed your eyes and sat up.

Swinging your legs over the bed you grabbed a pair of pants that you tugged on under your sleep shirt.

Not bothering to look in the mirror, you trudged downstairs to get breakfast only to see the Inner Circle having dinner.

Feyre looked up at you and smiled, gesturing to your empty seat, already prepped with a plate.

Giving her a grateful smile you sat down and began loading your plate.

"I think that's the most I seen you ever sleep," Cassian remarked turning to you.

"I don't know why but I think that's the best I've ever slept in my life," you said, voice hoarse.

At Feyre's knowing glance you suddenly became very focused with your food.

Only her and Rhysand knew Eris was your mate due to the simple fact that everyone hated him. You wouldn't be able to stand their sympathetic glances and their shit talking about a male you were destined to spend your life with and who was the only one that helped you.

Rhys gave you a small smile before clearing his throat and saying, "As common courtesy, we will attend the celebration of the Autumn Equinox and the start of Eris' reign next week."

Mor and Cassian groaned while Az, Nesta, and Elain simply frowned. Amren would probably not attend. Other Courts found her creepy.

Rhysand ignored their unenthusiastic response and continued, "It will take place in 6 days time at the Forest House. I expect everyone to attend and look presentable. They are our allies and we will treat them as such," he said with a strict tone.

You didn't say anything, didn't react, just stared at your food.

The idea of seeing your mate was nice, but actually facing him and the whole prospect was a lot more daunting. Especially with the rest of the Inner Circle.

The rest of the dinner passed without any other events. The silence was mostly filled with Mor trying to decide on what dresses would look best on everyone and Cassian joining in, joking to try to lighten the mood how he should wear a dress as well.

Feyre and Rhysand were clearly communicating telepathically for a couple minutes before you felt a light tap on your mental walls.

You already knew what this would be about but Feyre's soft voice saying, You don't have to come if you don't want to, confirmed your suspicions.

Yes I do. If I don't show up that'll just make it all worse, you shot back.

Rhysand didn't comment, but you could feel his relief and agreement. He wouldn't have forced you to do it but he would've definitely pushed you.

Feyre on the other hand would've gladly gone to war against the Autumn Court if it meant that you would not have to do something you were uncomfortable with.

And you adored her for that.

You knew she would argue with you but respected your decision so she just sighed and left your mind.

Rhysand did as well but his sounded more like a sigh of relief.

6 days later, Mor was pulling on the strings on the back of your dress tighter than you had thought possible.

"If you tie this dress any tighter than I won't be able to eat," you complained between her tugs. That was one of the only reasons you ever went to these things. The food was immaculate.

Rolling her eyes she sighed and said, "Well when you're in dresses you aren't meant to. And besides, you look like a goddess."

At her words, you had a small flashback to when Eris called you the same thing.

He was going to be there. But, he couldn't show you any affection, you knew since there would be an audience.

Honestly, you would kill him yourself if you had the opportunity. Somehow, his very existence pissed you off.

"Ta-da!" Mor exclaimed, turning you around to see the mirror.

Your hair was elegantly styled similar to Nesta's braid crown but had pieces that resembled horns over your temple in a way that made your face look regal and imposing. Mor had also weaved small strings of silver around the horns and throughout the remaining hair, giving a aura of silver glow around you.

Your eyes were accentuated by silver eyeshadow and sliver brushed along your cheekbones, making them look a whole lot sharper that they really are. Silver jewelry adorned your ears and neck.

Your dress was black had a flowy skirt that started right at your waist and a slit that went up to mid thigh but if you wanted to, you could clasp the small, nearly invisible hooks to hide it. The bodice looked like it was painted on, with black vines climbing from your waist up to your collarbone, forming a sweetheart neckline. They flowed down your arms. Under them, there was a sheer fabric that gave the illusion that they were really part of your skin. Small crystals were dotted all along the skirt, giving the appearance of stars.

Mor squealed and grabbed your arm.

Before she could speak a knock sounded at your door and Cassian's voice said, "Rhys said you both look fine and need to hurry up and get out here."

Both of you turned to glare at the door as you heard the footsteps retreat.

Mor bent down and picked a pair of relatively simple silver heels and shoved them into your hands before giving you a thumbs up and rushing through the doorway, probably to down a few drinks before the party.

Now that you thought about it, that wasn't to bad of an idea.

Slipping the shoes on you went after her and caught her in the kitchen, drinking straight out of the bottle.

Voices were approaching from down the hallway and Mor motioned for you to keep quiet and you mouthed to her, Sure but save me some. She grinned and nodded before shoving the half full wine bottle in the cabinet.

Rhysand led the group with Feyre on his arm. They looked devastatingly beautiful with their matching black attire.

He gave you a nod of acknowledgement and turned to the rest who were trickling in through the halls.

Rhys clapped his hands loudly, getting everyone's attention before he spoke. "Don't get too drunk, don't start a war, don't mess anything up,'' he said as he glared at Cassian.

Cassian gave him a lopsided grin and shrugged while saying, "I have not a single inkling of thought of why you'd be looking at me."

"That's because you've never had an inkling of thought in the first place," you muttered.

He turned to you with an offended look as Nesta beside him snorted with agreement.

Rhysand just rolled his eyes and ushered everyone together, acting like the mother hen he was.

You ended up between Mor and Feyre, who gave your hand a reassuring squeeze and smiled warmly before turning to Elain and saying, "You'll take care of Nyx right?"

She nodded but she wasn't looking at Feyre. No, she was staring straight at Azriel.

You rolled your eyes and turned away. You weren't jealous, no not anymore, but it just pissed you off.

Feyre clearly mistook your frustration as impatience and gave you a teasing smile before the world fell beneath you.

The outside of the Forest House appeared gradually. Blinking at the change in lighting, your mouth fell open at the sight. There was autumn in the Night Court but it was nothing compared to this.

It seemed like each leaf was a different color. Every shade of red, orange, and yellow were on the trees. The castle itself was also gorgeous and was made of grey stone and wood, with large trees arching over entryways. Adjacent to the building was a stream that led around the castle. Fallen leaves from the trees flowed slowly along the current. The scent of earth and growth was in the air.

You felt like you and the Inner Circle was incredibly out of placed dressed in black and silver among the warm golden colors.

It was almost funny how this land could be so beautiful and the people so cold.

Several guards lined the stone pathway into the castle, their faces blank staring straight ahead as if they were merely created by the stone that surrounds them.

Everyone took their designated "places" among themselves. Rhys and Feyre obviously led the group, with Mor and Nesta directly behind them. You were in the last row between Cassian and Azriel who were dressed in their "formal" leathers.

They both obviously had to leave most of their larger weapons at home but had several knives hidden, as did the rest of the Inner Circle.

You had two in your hair and another two hidden beneath your bodice along with one along your thigh and another on the bottom of your heel.

Your role here was the same as Azriel's and Cassian's, to protect the High Lord and Lady.

As if they needed protection.

That was what you were told but you knew that it was also for Eris to know that they held you and if he wanted to try anything, he couldn't, not without risking you.

As you approached the entryway, you entered a small garden that had an assortment of bright flowers and flowy trees.

Another arched doorway led you inside where you were met with yet another doorway that led to stairs which led upwards to the ballroom.

The ballroom was somehow more gorgeous than you could have imagined. The walls were a light orange and had intricate golden details. The floor was a white stone the seemed to shimmer when you stepped on it. Tendrils of ivy and other assorted plants curled over the walls and the tables and tables of food.

Food.

You sighed in discomfort as you knew you couldn't make a beeline to the food as you still had a job to do, despite how pointless it was.

Straight ahead from the doorway you came in, was a golden throne that seemed to be carved out of a large tree. Each one of the branches was bigger than Cassian's torso and reached across the ceiling of the ballroom. Occasionally leaves would fall down but before they could reach the floor they dissolved.

Apparently that rule only worked if it was the floor as many of the guests had leaves either on their outfits or in their hair.

The branches curved around the centerpiece of lighting which seemed like a big ball of fire. Tendrils of in dangled down, occasionally sparks flying off before disappearing before reaching the guests.

It appeared that your Court was not the only one that showed up. No, you were just last.

Of course Rhysand had to have his dramatic late entrance.

Before Rhys could dismiss you Eris walked in and sat down with an older Fae women who stood solemnly next to the throne.

The ballroom went quiet at his entrance as did any doubtful thoughts of yours.

He looked ethereal wearing a long sleeve red tunic with a high collar and gold detailing and a dark brown coat with tan fur around the top. Gold earrings dangled from his pointed ears and a golden laurel wreath sat upon his head. There was a faint but definitive glow around him that radiated power.

His hair was a bit longer than when you had last seen him, it was almost like each time you saw him he got hotter.

You remembered what he had said last time and your cheeks burned.

"Your hair looked better long."

To be honest his hair didn't matter. He looked beautiful either way, but the short hair gave him a cold, sharp, godly look.

He chuckled before saying, "If you liked it better then I'll grow it back out for you. But not as messy as that brute."

He arched an eyebrow as everything at the silence and waved a hand, simply saying, "Continue."

At once the music started playing again and people resumed to dance as well as chatter started.

A light brush against your arm caused you to jerk out of your trance and look around to see Feyre smiling at you. She leaned in closer and whispered, "You're drooling it's a tad bit obvious."

"I am not," you bit back, embarrassed.

She only gave you a knowing look and walked back to Rhysand's side to dance.

Only then did you notice Mor, Azriel, and Cassian glaring daggers at the new High Lord.

Currently, you stood to the side, nursing a drink while watching your High Lord and Lady dance.

Since they had dismissed you, Cassian and Nesta were also dancing, perhaps less gracefully but happy nonetheless.

Mor was somewhere else on her fourth cup of wine and Azriel was standing in the corner, brooding.

You looked up at the dais which held the throne and saw Eris sitting alone staring into space with a glass in his hand.

At your spot next to the tables, the Fae lady that stood up there earlier stood next to you and stared at the dancers as you were doing.

"Can I be of assistance, my lady?" You asked, not unkindly.

"I would only like to know my son's mate," she said simply.

At her words, your gaze snapped to her in disbelief, "Your son?"

She turned at met your gaze slowly and said with a gentle smile, "Yes my son, the High Lord and your mate."

You quickly grabbed your skirts and attempted a curtsy before she waved you off.

Over her shoulder you could see Eris' piercing gaze focus on you and his mother.

"I would love if you could join me and my son for dinner sometime," she proposed gently.

You blinked in astonishment before saying, "I would love to if my Lord and Lady will allow it."

She grinned, "I'll talk to them during the feast," she said giving your shoulder a light touch and walked away, almost floating.

Immediately Mor came up and stared with you and asked, "What did she want?"

Feeling slightly defensive, you said, "Oh she was just talking to me about strengthening the relationship between courts."

Technically no lying done.

"Huh, I figured she would've talked about that to Feyre and Rhysand or me," she said giving you a suspicious glance.

''Yeah I think she didn't want to disturb them," you said, gesturing to the High Lord and Lady dancing joyfully.

"Yes but I could tell them just as well as you can."

Clenching your teeth you just said, "I don't know why she just approached me."

You walked away to the food tables. You knew Mor didn't entirely mean what she said, she was partially intoxicated so granted somethings would slip out. But if she knew the Lady came over to talk to you about her son, your mate, she would flip.

And to be honest you didn't have that kind of patience tonight.

The next hour or so was spent exchanging pleasantries with people from other courts. The only High Lord you had talked to directly was Helion who had unfortunately left soon after.

After suffering for an hour, a stuffy important man announced it was time for dinner.

Several servants ushered the guests into the dining hall where table among table was placed in a line. The dining room was decorated similar to the ballroom and there was yet another large tree that housed another throne that was at the end of the large table.

The table was made of a giant slab of wood and all the chairs were made of a darker wood with deep red cushions. In the center of the table was assortments of yellow, red, and orange flowers in sage green vases.

In front of each chair was a placemat with a large green plate and a smaller one adjacent to it. There was also three different glasses along with a teacup and four forks, two spoons, and three knives.

On top of the big plate sat a creme napkin with a ruby napkin holder and a orange card with the persons name on it.

You walked past what seemed an infinite amount of seats, scanning the names as you walked past.

Keefe, Kaz, Jacks, Regulus, Five, Minho, Klaus, Stu, Rafe, Maven.

Five? What type of name is Five?

Eventually you found your seat. It was just two chairs away from the end.

On your right was the Lady of Autumn and your right was Azriel who was seated next to a farmer from the Autumn Court who talked his ear off about his fields.

Luckily, you were across from Feyre who would ever so often give you a reassuring nudge with her foot.

After everyone had been seated, servants brought out the food. Your mouth watered at the sight. Several glazed hams, chicken, and plenty of turkey were spread out. There were smaller dishes of sweet potatoes, corn, and brussels sprouts. There was also several casseroles that you couldn't name.

There was also bread. So much of it. Garlic bread, cheesy bread, sourdough, monkey bread, toasted bread, and so many more that had unknown toppings.

Several unnamed fish were also passed around along with sauces to dip meats in. There was one particular dish that looked interesting. It had small noodles in it with a bright yellow sauce.

You could see Eris in the corner of your eye as you hesitantly eyed the dish. Turning your head he nodded to it and gave you a small smile before mouthing, 'Try it. It's good.'

Deciding to trust him for once you got a small scoop and added it to the quickly growing pile of food on your plate.

Why isn't anyone eating? Mother I'm starving.

Then you realized what everyone was waiting on- for Eris to eat the first bite.

You gave him a nasty glare to which he gave you a questioning look.

Mouthing back, you said, 'Hurry up and take a bite so I can eat.'

Eris raised his eyebrows and smirked, saying, 'You're my mate and therefore will be equal to me. You may eat whatever, and whenever you'd like.'

Without your permission, his words kicked up a storm of butterflies. Your glare faltered before returning as you gave him an obscene gesture to which he laughed before winking and taking an annoyingly slow bite of ham.

As soon has he swallowed, the clinking of forks sounded and servants brought a cart of drinks into the room.

Thank the Mother.

Instantly you dove in. After about 30 seconds of eating, you felt a gentle nudge on you shin. Looking up your High Lady gave you a glance to which you straightened your posture, adjusted the napkin on your lap and starting eating in much smaller portions.

A quiet chuckle sounded from the obnoxious male to which you gave your best glare. Eris gestured with his fork to the yellow substance you still haven't touched.

Rolling your eyes, you speared a couple noodles with your fork and brought them up to your mouth to taste.

Holy shit.

Your eyes must have betrayed your surprise and delight at whatever this holy concoction this was. It was cheesy but with the perfect balance of creamy and smooth.

You quickly devoured what little was left and cursed yourself for how little you took. Scanning the table told you that just as you had expected, there was none left.

A hand reached over your shoulder which jarred you from your loathing of the people around you that took the rest of whatever food that was.

It was a servant. You gave them a smile that they ignored as they didn't look anywhere else besides your glass and the floor.

One glass they filled with water, another with red wine, and another with white white. The teacup was left unfilled.

After half an hour, the servants went around to collect the empty serving dishes and plates and to refill and empty glasses.

A couple minutes later they brought out desserts. There were cakes of all kinds, brownies, fruits, puddings, pastries, pies, and crazy confections.

That was it, you had definitely died and gone to whatever life existed beyond this one.

After dessert, most of the guests started, but Rhysand and Feyre were talking to the Lady of Autumn.

Well it was mostly Feyre and the Lady talking. Rhys was just standing there, a dangerous look in his eyes.

He just looked pissed.

Suddenly he nodded once and walked over where the Inner Circle was standing.

You started towards them as you were sitting on one of the couches in the corner of the room, next to the window.

But as you stood up, a hand grabbed your wrist and spun you around.

"Hello Eris."

"Hello love."

"Can I help you?"

"Your very presence does just that."

"Well my presence will be exiting shortly," you said, turning around.

"Wait,'' you stopped, "I also just wanted to give you this."

Sighing, you turned back around to see Eris holding out a dish covered in a lid.

"What is is? Are you trying to poison me?" You said, arching a brow.

"It's called macaroni and cheese," he said unveiling the food that you had been so entranced in earlier. He cleared his throat, "I saw how much you had enjoyed it earlier."

Smiling softly, you took the food and said, "Thank you."

He let out a breath and put on his usual smirk and took your free hand and kissed it before leaning down to whisper in your ear, "See you tomorrow princess. Oh, and wear something colorful for once," before walking away.

As soon as he left, you felt a tap on your shoulder.

Rhysand. No wonder he left.

If he saw Eris' and yours encounter, he didn't speak of it, only choosing to say, "Come on we're leaving."

The next day, you sat in Rhysand's office, smoothing down your skirts of your light green dress. It was rather simple, more of a long sundress style.

Rhys had eyed the odd choice of wardrobe but hadn't said anything about it.

Clearing his throat he said, "We will pick you up a couple hours after dinner, if you would like the leave earlier, that just try to reach out to me of Feyre. Both of us will be on the lookout for anything."

Nodding you stood up to leave, barely able to contain your nerves and excitement.

"Oh," Rhysand started again, "don't forget where your loyalties lie."

Rage and annoyance flared up and you opened your mouth to respond but the door opened, revealing a smiling Feyre.

You turned to her and put on a nice smile.

"Ready to go?" She asked.

Ready to get away from your mate yes.

"Yep," you said, matching her cheerful energy.

She motioned you to follow her out of the office. Once you got out of her mate's earshot she looked at you seriously and said, "He probably told you to remember what we did for you but here, listen to me. Eris is your mate in your life. Preferably don't just abandon us, but I won't tell you not to pursue him. Also, don't listen to us. Find what you want to do more. I won't try to stop you."

There were no words to express your overwhelming gratitude to her so you just hugged her.

As you pulled away she said, "Green really suits you," taking your hand.

Before you could thank her you were falling.

The Forest House was just as beautiful as you remembered it. Except this time, there were only two guards stationed. Instead of a servant greeting you, Eris was standing there, hands clasped.

He was wearing a simple red tunic with a long coat with fur around the hood. There was a simple brown scabbard attached to his belt. The sword inside looked simple for a Fae sword. It had a plain gold pommel and cross guard and had a worn leather grip.

Gold rings adorned his fingers as well as a couple gold earrings complimented the laurel crown.

Him and Feyre nodded at each other once before he turned to you and pointed to his mother and said, "You can follow her and she'll show you to the table."

Swallowing, you nodded and went to the Lady of Autumn.

As you turned around you could see Eris and Feyre talking.

Completely civil.

Calm.

"Hey Y/N, just let me know if you need me to bring anything,'' Feyre called back.

"Don't worry it'd definitely be you that I'd call," you yelled back with a smile.

Her laughter echoed before she vanished back into the Night Court.

This time you didn't go to the large dining hall that you'd been in last night.

As you walked Eris leaned down to say, "The hall you were in last night, we only use for large events."

Your head snapped to him and you narrowed your eyes, "Stop leaning down."

"Terribly sorry, let me just get on your level," he said crouching down so that he was shorter than you. "Is that better, your Highness?"

You raised an eyebrow before pushing his head down further so that you could rest an elbow on his flawlessly styled hair, mussing it up. "Ah, now it is much better pheasant," you said in a snooty accent.

"My apologies your Grace."

"Hmph, completely unacceptable."

"You know, you aren't High Lady yet, love."

Immediately the playful vibe vanished and a heavy silence settled. Looking ahead, you saw that the Lady of Autumn had vanished.

Eris cleared his throat and pushed open the set of double doors, "Here we are."

The room was spacious and was decorated in shades of light green and orange. The back wall was completely open and led to a patio overlooking a garden. Spread throughout the room were couches and paintings, as well as an easel. A large marble fireplace took up most of the right wall.

Eris led you to the table and chairs on the patio and pulled out your chair and gestured for you to sit down.

He sat down across from you, leaving the chair next to you open. Almost immediately, two servants started to bring out food. These dishes weren't nearly as fancy as the previous ones, but there was more that enough food.

Most importantly, macaroni and cheese.

Two bottles of wine were set out along with a water pitcher and a teapot.

With less than a minute after, your plate was completely piled up with various foods and you waited impatiently for Eris to finish getting his food.

He noticed you weren't eating, but looking at him expectantly and chuckled before saying, "Sweetheart you don't have to worry about me. As I said you can eat whenever you'd like."

Instead of giving a response you dug in.

Mother, if I died right now I'd be happy.

The food was just as good as you remembered it.

Soon enough the Lady of Autumn came back and sat down and started eating as well.

Easy and light conversation flowed between the three of you, onnly pausing once dessert came out. After your meal all three of you fell into silence as you all watched the sun set over the garden, giving the appearance that the trees were on fire.

Strangely enough, you weren't cold at all. But, that may be due to the steady heat that came off of Eris.

Too soon, you felt the familiar tap on the outer walls of your mind. Feyre.

Hey Y/N, I'll be there in a few minutes to come pick you up.

She must've sensed your hesitation because after the first message she followed up softly, with, 'If you want to stay a bit longer than let me know. I can cover for you if you need.'

Slowly, you stood up and said stiffly, "Feyre said she will be here in a few minutes to come get me."

Eris also stood up and offered you his arm, saying, "I'll escort you the the front."

You and the Lady exchanged your goodbyes and you let Eris direct you through the winding hallways.

As you reached the front, you could see Feyre waiting at the end of the walkway.

Before you could leave, Eris grasped you by the wrist and pulled you in for a kiss. It lasted for only a few seconds before he pulled away. Holding on to his coat lapels, you yanked him back down for your lips to meet again. This time much longer and filled with much more enthusiasm.

When you finally pulled away, you both were panting.

"Stay. Stay with me," Eris pleaded, staring into your eyes.

Pressing your lips together you thought about what Feyre said. "Okay," you said slowly, "Just let me run and tell Feyre."

Before waiting for his response, you ran out and met Feyre. She gave you a slight alarmed look due to the fact you were flushed and panting.

Grasping her hands, "You said you could cover for me, right?" You blurted out quickly.

She beamed back at you. "Yes, I'll just tell them that I sent you on a job or you're staying at an old friend's house."

"Thank you so much, Fey. If there's anyth-"

"Shh. Now go. You're mate is waiting," she teased before vanishing.

Turning around, you met Eris' eyes and nodded. Walking back up to him you yanked him down again.

He was smiling against your lips and he tapped the back of your thighs. Getting his message, you jumped. He threaded your legs around his waist and started walking back to the house.

Oh Mother. It was gonna be a long night.

@minaethrym, @glitterypirateduck, @lady-targaryens-world, @annieeees, @mybestfriendmademe, @inloveallthetime, @b0xerdancer, @cauldronboilmetakemetovelaris, @acphengene

[neverevan]

so we know buck likes to do flowers/hot air balloon/etc...

but curious what tommy's love language/how he'll be romantic is. Like, he def likes the flirty teasing to show affection, but do you think he likes giving gifts or cooking dinners... idk, Buck is more the romantic speech giver, tommy prob prefers action.

idk, just wanna know how tommy romances bc so far he's wooed buck by being a) muscly b)Cool and c) a dork

mm actually... i think Buck is into the actions and big gestures, though he is getting better at talking about his feelings, not just letting them take the reigns and see where he ends up with them lmao

on the other hand, Tommy is very measured. he doesn't seem to say anything without intention, even his silly little quips and dark jokes are all there as a stress response — plus he listened to Buck ramble on and on, before realising he had a shot and shutting him up with a kiss lmao

based on what Lou told us about what he imagines Tommy's background to be like and what we saw in canon in season 2 and season 7... Tommy's childhood traumas seem to be pretty similar at the core as Buck's; abandonment issues, feeling alone and lonely, looking for love and family, people to belong to and a place to call home — the difference is that Buck had Maddie (on and off, but mostly on) and then the 118 and Bobby, while Tommy had no one.

for most of his adult life, Buck has been surrounded by people who he could come out to without an overwhelming fear that he'd lose the relationships, so much so that he went for it after having one kiss and a botched date with a guy.

Tommy had a homophobic boss/father figure of sorts, and a bunch of guys who followed Gerrard's lead; even if he had a months- or even years long relationship with a man, I don't think he would've ever risked coming out at all.

Tommy learned what his needs and wants are, and how to recognise his feelings, what's the appropriate way to express them and how to be true to himself, probably through a lot of self-reflection and therapy. (and now he clearly has a lot of friends and is easy to make friends with — however deep those relationships run, we'll just have to see if they'll show us more of that in s8)

all this to say; Tommy recognises Buck's needs and wants because he has been there and is probably still there.

so the way i see it; Tommy would already know how he feels, but would wait for Buck to say 'I love you' first, allowing him to set the pace and show his comfort levels in the the relationship.

but after that? he would say it to Buck every day, he'd tell him how important he is to Tommy, he would make time for just the two of them, but would also include Buck in group activities with his friends, he would never stop checking in on him, even when he's kinda sure that Buck really is just tired and he would know when something is important to Buck even when he waves it off as 'nevermind' and if they ever had a fight, he'd let Buck walk it off, cool down and when he was back, they would sit down and talk and they wouldn't get up until they talked everything through and reached a peaceful middle ground

and when Buck would show up with the bouquets and the fancy tickets to monster truck derbys and packed lunch for their couple's hikes, Tommy would tell him in every which way possible with his words and his touch just how much he truly appreciates Buck's presence in his life.

TLDR: Tommy's love language is communication and reassurance.

[jensensitive]

It's not always an easy thing to make breakfast in the morning when there's so many people around. Jostling for what exactly everyone's individual tastes are wanting that morning, or not wanting, or just how much coffee is left, or where the tea went, or who did the dishes last night and why there's stuff on your favorite mug. It's good though, he likes it. It feels right, having his family so close to bug him. He doesn't really like peace and quiet as much as he does the people he loves making themselves known in his life and routine. And the smell of coffee and feeling like it's a new day worth waking up for because everyone's there and alive. Right now it's just him and Sam in the kitchen, but your little brother being annoying is all just a part of it.

"You're like a middle aged divorced guy obsessed with his car, but without the excuse of ever actually having been married."

"Who wouldn't be obsessed with my Baby, she's hot as hell."

"She's never gonna love you back, Dean."

"Hey, that's not nice, I treat my girl right. Take her out on the town. Just last night, she and I went for a nice long drive, real romantic like."

Sam snorts.

Mary walks into the kitchen.

"Hey, mom, there's coffee if you want some. I'm doing pancakes, whether Sam wants 'em or not, you up for pancakes?"

"Always. I'm not gonna say no to pancakes."

"See, that's the right answer, Sam."

"Whatever, I just don't wanna throw up in the middle of my run."

"Seems like there's an easy solution to that where you still get pancakes," Dean quips.

Mary makes herself a cup of coffee at the kitched counter and grabs the milk beside Dean to put some in her mug.

Dean turns back from flipping the pancakes to look back at Sam. "Are you just bugging me about this because you've finally got a girlfriend so now you've got some kind of leg to stand on in how much of a loser I am?"

"Oh, I always had that leg to stand on."

"Sam." Mary chides.

"Sorry, Mom, I'm just messing around."

Dean smiles at Sam getting talked to. "He's just jealous of me and my girl and our long and loving commitment."

"Yeah, real jealous." Sam rolls his eyes. Dean is drinking his coffee, but he knows Sam is rolling his eyes.

"I took her out last night. " Dean offers a low whistle. "You should have seen her, man. Making heads turn left and right, she's still got it."

"Yes, she's so pretty, she's so hot, she's so stunningly blah blah blah, you understand how weird you sound, right?"

Mary smiles. "I think it's sweet. He really likes her. What did you guys do together last night."

Sam groans. "Not you too, come on."

"Took her out for a nice dive-in dinner, curly fires and a burger, with the tray that clips to the window of course, only the best for my girl."

"How romantic." Sam deadpans.

"Then we went for a nice long drive, just us and some Zeppelin, yknow. You gotta have some quality time."

Mary nods. "Your father and I used to do something very similar," Mary answers with a gleam in her eye.

"Yeah, see she gets it." Dean gestures from Sam to Mary.

"It's weird, you both are weird and I'm not participating in your perverse afflictions."

"Zeppelin never sounds better than on my Baby's tape deck."

"Yeah we know you really love a big deck." Sam snorts at himself.

"Yeah whatever." It's Dean's turn to roll his eyes.

Mary turns to him. "So what's her name, when am I gonna meet her?"

Sam starts coughing somewhere in the background.

Dean is just lost. "Huh? Who?"

"Your girlfriend. No pressure or anything, but I'd love to meet her, see who's stolen my son's heart."

Sam barks out a laugh. Dean just blinks. "Huh?"

"She thinks you were talking about an actual human woman, you weirdo." Sam spells out like he's a complete idiot. He might feel his ears turning bright red at the realisation.

"Oh," he chuckles awkwardly. "No, no woman."

"No, he doesn't date actual women anymore, only personified objects that he gives female pronouns."

"Dude, shut up, it's not that weird."

"He was talking about his car."

He should just say it. "Actually." Why shouldn't he just say what he's thinking. "Well, it wasn't just me and Baby, we might have drug Cas along, heh." He huffs at himself awkwardly. " I mean why would I need a girlfriend, I have Cas," he says it like he's joking, so he is. "And my Baby. What more could I want than that."

Sam just sighs deeply like he does when he doesn't think one of Dean's jokes is funny. Well, to be fair, it wasn't.

Mary just lays a hand on his on the counter. "You sound like you're happy." She smiles at him. "And I've already met Cas and Baby, so you don't even need to introduce me."

Sam is just shaking his head as if they're still joking, but Mary is looking at him, and actually seeing what he's saying. And he has to give her hug and try not to cry. "Thanks, mom."

[moongothic]

(Frankenstein'd two asks together for the sake of previty)

I've been pretty torn between answering this ask and just doing a deep dive re-analysis post about Marineford as a whole (from Crocodile's perspective) because I feel like rereading it now as a Crocodad Truther, I could probably make a whole lot of new observations and/or read into things differently than I did last time I read it (when I was rereading for the purpose of studying the viability of Crocodad) Like there's so much to say about the whole arc and I'd include this line of thought in there anyways... But also, do I really feel like writing a giant essay like that........

I am going to start this by refering to this mini-essay I wrote like a month ago, about how Crocodile seems to have this attitude of "no crying over spilt milk". What's happened has happened, what's done is done, it's your own fault things turned out the way they did, there's no undoing any of it and you just have to continue on. And I do think that attitude would be key here to understanding Crocodile's actions in Marineford re:Crocodad

(Sidenote because this is not relevant to the rest of the post, but the reason this is about Crocodad and not CrocoUncle etc is because if Crocodile was only loosely related to Luffy it would not have the same kind of impact emotionally (for Crocodile; like there is a difference between a nephew and a son). Additionally a part of Crocodad is that it ties into Crocodile's connection with Ivankov in a really important way. If Crocodile was only loosely related to Luffy, him also being trans would kind of be like a random sidenote without being relevant to the two being family, but suddenly if Crocodile is Luffy's other biological parent, him being trans matters a lot more. Also if he's not Luffy's other dad then we'd be still stuck asking who the fuck birthed Luffy to begin with)

While Sengoku's announcement here would make for a horrific revelation to Crocodile in this situation (a revelation we never see his immidiate reaction to, which continues to be deeply sus), what would it change, really?

The little idiot child who Crocodile had attempted to murder multiple times was his own son. Sure, he might've insantly lost whatever grudge he might've held against Luffy, then what? That feeling would be one-sided, because at this point in the story Luffy hated Crocodile's guts and he knew that too. Luffy has no idea about them being related, and even if Crocodile literally walked up the kid right that second and told him the truth, what would it change? He'd still be the man who nearly nuked a million people off the face of the earth, took over a country and killed Luffy and his friends while laughing about it. Being Luffy's other dad wouldn't make him any less of a horrible asshole (if anything it might make it slightly worse 'cause you get to add shit like "child abandonment" onto his list of crimes).

Luffy came to Marineford to save Ace. Crocodile came to Marineford to kill Whitebeard. He had no reason to interfere with Luffy's quest, and with the help Luffy already was recieving from the prison escapees, the Newkama and the Whitebeard Pirates, what would Crocodile's assistance add to the mix? Would Luffy even welcome him in helping save his brother?

Luffy had his own life, a life Crocodile had not been a part of. He had no right to try to insert himself into it at this point, after all he had done to Luffy. There's no crying over spilled milk. What's done is done, you just have to move on. He should just focus on what he came to do; get his revenge and take Whitebeard's head, as planned.

Deep breaths

...Only to realize that Whitebeard is a dying old man and not worth even killing anymore, because he's not the same Primebeard whom once beat Crocodile and crushed all his dreams. Defeating Whitebeard would not give him the catharsis he came for.

And at that point, the fuck was Crocodile going to do? The revenge he wants isn't there anymore 'cause it went bad a few decades ago. And between the raging war and Doflamingo on his ass it's not like he could just sneak out without anybody noticing. He doesn't have allies (aside from Daz under him) to worry about. He only has his hatred to the World Government.

At that point, he might as well be a nuisance to the Government and assist Luffy. Even if the help wasn't welcomed, even if Luffy hated him and regardless if he knew the truth or not, helping Luffy right then and there would still be better than letting the Government have their way and kill his son right in front of him

[marvel-starwarsfangirl]

TBB S3- some thoughts that've been on my mind

Hello friends, I've had some thoughts on some plot elements on S3 for a while and some ideas on how they could've been tweaked to work better. There's already been so much discourse; I just wanted to add my own perspective because the potential was there. And again, I wanted to see if these ideas could've worked well within the rest of the story without significant rewrites. (This is my brain trying to make sense of everything I felt missed the mark).

I also have more Tech thoughts because man, I'll never get over how he was handled.

Edit: btw, NOTHING will ever stop me from loving this show or these characters. I still think TBB is amazing and has peak SW content. I just sometimes ponder certain choices made.

Crosshair's Hand: I concur with everyone that the infamous hand chop really didn't make any sense narratively. My perspective on Crosshair's important shot wouldn't have changed if he had his hand. Crosshair overcame because he had support from his family, not because he suddenly could shoot 100% accurately again. From a shock value POV (and just straight up whump angle), the hand chop works. But that adds nothing to the narrative or significance to the characters. Crosshair could've gotten hurt in any other number of ways and the story wouldn't really change. CX-2 and his comrades still had our favorite sniper at their mercy. Crosshair was in deep trouble no matter what.

Personally, I wouldn't have taken the hand. But if we HAD to keep that part in, the only way it really would've worked was if CX-2 was either Tech or had a stronger relationship to Crosshair in general. While I think everyone would still agree the hand chop really wasn't really needed, the scene would've had a stronger impact. Another thing would to have a stronger reaction to it in general. Crosshair might be high on adrenaline, but the fact that he barely reacts to it makes the whole thing feel like it was done for shock value only. Which I'm sure wasn't the writers' initial idea. This man just went through a traumatic amputation. The least they could've done was give him a scene where he says something about it to one of his brothers.

CX-2: The whole CX subplot needed some more substance in general, but for now let's focus on our main man, CX-2. I was more under the impression that he was Crosshair's shadow than Tech, but either way, they just needed to give him more to do. Technically, he did fulfill his purpose within the story: he successfully delivered Omega to Hemlock. Then, he just dips until the finale. I think had they built up more of rivalry between him and Crosshair, there would've been more emotional weight. He gets skewered by Hunter and that's it. He cuts off Crosshair's hand because... he's petty? But Hemlock would just replace Crosshair's hand anyway. (Again, the hand chop wasn't necessary).

I don't know if it would fix anything without doing major rewrites, but I think having Crosshair and CX-2 face off again in "Point of No Return" would've helped. For example, Crosshair tries to hold him off to let Omega escape. Omega, seeing her brother in peril (as well as everyone else), chooses to give herself up. Crosshair could still chase after them to fire the tracker. I don't know if this would've helped, I'm just throwing ideas out here. At the end of the day, having CX-2 as a more established character in terms of his relationship to Crosshair would've given the entire subplot a huge boost. He is the ghost of Crosshair's future. A ghost of a permanent future. Not only that, but he was a brother turned into a monster. They didn't need to go out of there way to give him an entire episode, but some more scenes dedicated to the CX program overall would've been nice.

Tech: I already talked about my frustrations enough so I won't rehash them. However, I will share what's been on my mind concerning him and that's the why. Why didn't we get proper closure that we got for Kanan? Heck, Maul got more closure than Tech did. I almost cried watching House of the Dragon S2 premiere when one of the main characters was shown still mourning a death from S1. Tech never got any of that. So, why didn't he? I've asked myself that question plenty of times. The reasons I came up with are: time jump, soldiers, and priorities. But let's be honest, they're not the strongest reasons and don't excuse the poor handling of a beloved character. Tech deserved better period.

5 months is a quite a bit of time. For some people, 5 months is enough time to grieve. For others, it's barely time at all. Given their upbringing, Echo, Hunter, and Wrecker tried to carry on. Omega, meanwhile, doesn't come from that perspective. She reacts strongly. And with her circumstances on Tantiss, she wouldn’t really have the time to grieve properly. Crosshair adds it to the list of things he feels guilty about (that's the implication I'm getting).

Because they're all soldiers except Omega, the hug it out and cry method wasn't something we were gonna get realistically.

Their priorities also have changed too in those 5 months. Hemlock became an even more terrifying threat. He had Omega. He had Crosshair. I think in Hunter's mind, he was so focused on getting Omega back and keeping her safe that it kept him from really acknowledging Tech's death. Wrecker kinda follows along with Hunter. Crosshair is the only person who really acknowledges the true pain of losing Tech but it's only when he's pushed to his most vulnerable. I honestly expected Omega to say something about it as well. Nope.

In conclusion: everyone got so tied up in escaping Hemlock and saving Omega that they refused to acknowledge Tech?

I mean, I guess that kinda makes sense. But it doesn't make the situation any better. To make it better (other than straight up reviving him), we'd need an episode or at least an entire scene in at least one episode to talk about it. Have the characters open up or have a moment to sit and just process that it's been that long. Crosshair going "CF99 died with Tech" doesn't count. Heck, Crosshair is the one really struggling here. He'd benefit most from having good cry and hugs. Problem is, when I look back, I don't know which episode could fit a "Tech closure" scene. The best options would be "The Return," "Bad Territory," or "The Harbinger." But other plot elements kinda take over and it would require significant rewrites in order to make the Tech stuff work without feeling shoehorned in.

Ok, rant over.

[tellmeallaboutit]

knock knock (Raphael x F!Player)

Chapter 6, In Which You Try To Look Away (It's Harder Than You Thought)

AO3

by the way, I saw today an art on twitter which is extremely Raul-coded

I am not a murderer, you thought as you ordered the ATM to give you another two hundred euros.

Even if I am, that guy deserved it, you thought as you re-inserted the card to give you two hundred more (damn those limits per withdrawal).

Even if he didn’t (and he did), nobody is going to miss him, and his fiancee will move on to the next lawyer in Oliver Peoples glasses soon enough, and besides, people die in freak accidents all the time. 

Even if they don’t, well, if every death wish resulted in an actual death, humanity would be long extinct and that wouldn't be your fault, would it now?

With that comforting thought, you pocketed the last of your ten thousand euro goal, tired from having to repeat the same task for almost an entire hour. Anything can happen, Raphael could cut off access to his account on a whim, but cold hard cash was something you could hold onto even if you fell from his grace.

"Ms. Berger," came a voice on your phone with a strong French accent the moment you picked up. It was Raphael’s banker, Francois-something, who gave you the PIN in the first place. “Would it be easier if we delivered cash directly to you? Your withdrawals keep triggering our petty theft alerts."

"Oh no, thank you," you replied, trying your best not to sound like a petty thief. "I have enough for now... I think."

“As you wish,” came his slow reply.

"But uh... could you help me make two bank transfers?" You asked after a pause. "One to my mother, Franziska Berger… (how much how much how much?) ten thousand euro, I’ll send you the details… and one for the stray cats shelter... (how much how much how much?)… five thousand euro?"

Too much? How do you quantify the cost of accidentally-on-purpose getting some useless yuppie run over by a bus in terms of absolving your sins? 

Five thousand felt somewhat stingy.

“The stray cats?” The banker repeated back at you as though questioning whether this was some sort of coded drug deal.

“Yes,” You replied firmly. “They do incredible work. Ah! The kids cancer foundation, too. Five thousand. No, ten".

That seemed about right for the guy’s life.

"Ah, you meant charity. Of course," Francois replied, relief and amusement in his tone. "Lovely, great for the ESG rating. Make sure to get an invoice for the tax refund."

It didn’t quite sit well with you to use stray cats and kids for tax refunds, but you still said yes and stashed the money deep down the rucksack. You got a bit of cash for now (soon you will go for more, because who knows), but it’s still not an income source. 

What could be? Should you ask Raphael to buy an apartment in your name, or two? You could rent it. Or a company? Tenebris, for instance. Just imagine their gobsmacked faces - especially after they gave you the boot without even a severance package.

That was a delicious thought.

You let it simmer as you sat down in an tourist-trappy Italian restaurant in the city centre, just about to order an Aperol Spritz when your phone began to ring again. You are in high demand these days.

"Anya!" Your mum gasped on the other end of the line. “I saw you on TV!"

Sure, the accident was all over the news channels. Some blurred out the dead body better than others did. You would bet your last cent that the unedited version got more views.

"Yeah, gruesome," you grimaced.

"Gruesome? Why? Ah, you mean the guy. Well, that happens all the time; they really give driving licences to anyone these days. I do hope the driver rots in prison for what he did to this poor young man. Anyway, no. I called to say, I saw you and Raul on the news”.

She managed to infuse an uncanny amount of innuendo into the last sentence.

“Raul is such a handsome man, Anya”, she sighed wistfully. “Quite the catch you got there, huh?”

There we go again. 

“What, way out of my league?”, you joked dryly. “I’ve been told that”.

“Oh, no, what nonsense! You are such a pretty girl!” Your mother protested. “More importantly, a good-hearted girl raised right; I am glad there still are decent men who still appreciate that. Did you meet Raul for a lunch?”

“Oh no,” You replied nonchalantly. "We actually… ah, we actually went to a church. He introduced me to his pastor."

Your mother sucked in an audible gasp like she'd won some kind of maternal lottery.

“His pastor, already? I am so happy for you, sweetie.”, she finally managed to say. “This is like a fairy tale come true”.

Yeah, a Grimm one.

“Sort of”, you chuckled. '“By the way, you will receive a bank transfer soon, ten thousand euro, don’t be afraid. It’s… well, take care of your health, okay? Get a decent dentist this time, a private one”.

“Where do you have the money from? Is it his?”, your mum suddenly sobered up. “Anya, what on earth is he paying you money for? I hope you are not doing anything… anything…”

"No," you cut her off and licked your lips, recalling the last thing that passed between them. “Mom, please! It's not his money, it's my company’s – long story.”

One that you haven't come up with yet.

Besides, if Raphael was giving you ten thousand dollars (thirty-five thousand in total with your other expenses for the day) for one blowjob, then you definitely had a successful career, just not in the field you had planned on.

“Okay,” your mum replied. “But still...you don’t need to...why don’t you buy some nice dresses instead? What on earth was that t-shirt you were wearing to a church?"

“I am hanging up”, You threatened half-heartedly.

You didn’t. You listened in the background to the story of how your mum’s school friend called her to say she saw “her Anya” with a very handsome man on the TV, nonplussed by the fact there was a scattered corpse in the background. 

In the meanwhile, you opened Google on your phone. 

You didn’t fancy doing that before - annoyed by that fake persona Raphael had created. But since he obviously put that much effort in it, it’s worth looking up what he had been up to and for how long.

Nothing good, for sure.

"…Raul D'Avergni, managing partner of an international law firm, inherited the private equity conglomerate, Avernus Capital. This transition was precipitated by the unexpected and tragic passing of his father..."

"…By December 2024, D'Avergni's high-profile liaison with Isabelle Arnaud, actress and socialite, had unceremoniously ended..."

No. Who? No. You didn’t need any ex-girlfriends.

"…Ms. Arnaud levied abuse accusations against Mr. D'Avergni…”

Oh, no…

“…she retracted her claims within a mere twenty hours and ensued a public apology for any harm inflicted upon D’Avergni’s reputation..."

Hmm.

"…her psychiatrist intervened on her behalf. Evidently, Arnaud was grappling with severe mental health issues that led her to make unfounded allegations..."

Raul likes them crazy, they said? Or makes them crazy?

"…Ms. Arnaud now resides in a high-end medical institution in Monaco, focusing on her mental health issues..."

What did Isabelle look like, you wondered, as your mum finished her talk and wished you a good day. You typed her name into the search bar, holding your breath in anticipation as you half-expected to see Hope's face staring back at you.

The woman clinging to Raphael's arm at some fancy film premiere bore no resemblance.

Your stomach sank as if it had plunged into the depths of hell.

She was exactly the type of woman Raphael should have on his elbow; a timeless beauty, but something more Renaissance like, the kind of faces humankind seemed to have stopped producing. She was in her mid-twenties, as well, but… hell, you could not hold a candle to that. Few could. 

Not even the Tavs. She resembled her namesake, Isabelle Adjani, in her youth, maybe even better.

The pictures showed her laughing and looking deeply in love while gazing up at Raphael, while he offered only a very formal smile to the camera. So not Hope then. Nothing like their story. She was in love, he wasn’t. 

Good.

Later snaps by paparazzi painted a different picture: a gaunt woman hidden behind oversized sunglasses and swallowed up by her hoodie, clutching to her coffee cup. 

With a swift click, you banished Isabelle from your screen and plunged further into Raphael's (Raul’s) life story.

You found a photo of Raphael in his twenties (yes, just like the Tumblr post you hated, and no, you wouldn't have fucked him at that age), caught up in a minor scandal in Sankt Moritz (apparently his fraternity brother had pissed on the Swiss flag), more gossip, his philanthropic affairs for local theatres and art galleries, numerous articles praising his professional achievements, and interviews with Lawyer and WSJ and the like. There was mention of a brief marriage and divorce in his early thirties, but when you tried to Google the woman's name, nothing came up.

The whole thing left a sour taste in your mouth. This was someone's real life story, not a fictional character. Raphael wasn't just some wealthy corporate jerk; he was a half-devil from Avernus, which was infinitely better and more sympathetic.

You were well aware that Raphael wasn't exactly a good guy. But he had his rules; he had to have his rules. As for the whole thing with Hope though... What exactly was she? An idea? A person? The fandom barely discussed her, and what little they did, you didn't like; all horrible takes, every single one.

The whole plot felt half-baked.

Anyway, what seeing Isabelle did motivate you to do was to take a real stroll down the city's most expensive boutique street.

Now, the first thing you bought was not because you wanted or needed anything, but because Raphael expected you to. You were not much of a materialist anyway; you were ideologically opposed to consumerism. These things were overpriced, generally not worth it and, on a larger scale, represented everything that was wrong with society.

You decided to enter a Valentino store out of curiosity, as you had never been inside one before. The saleswoman's disdainful look at your T-shirt motivates you to buy a black dress with a white collar, not necessarily because you liked it, but because you want to prove that you can afford it, despite the price tag of two thousand euros. 

Well, you liked it a little. The wool and silk blend was great to touch.

The details of the rest of the shopping trip became a bit hazy. You had your reasons; the consort of an Archdevil Supreme had to look really nice. If you couldn't be as pretty as Isabelle, you could at least dress as well as she did. So you started with some nice blouses and trousers, and a (just one) jacket. With that, you needed shoes. With shoes, of course, you needed a bag. Now that you had a bag (you closed your eyes as the price flashed at the till), you needed some jewellery (you needed to see what all the fuss about Tiffany's was about). And, of course, you needed make-up. 

At each shop, the sales assistants smiled wider and wider as you piled more and more bags onto your arms. By the seventh stop, it felt like their smiles were entering uncanny valley territory. 

Eventually, the banker would call you, right? But when exactly would that be? You tried to find out, but failed. It had to be over forty thousand.

The thought made you dizzy. In one day you had spent your entire year's salary. Now all you could do was hope that Raphael wouldn't make you work off the debt somehow. Unless it was the kind of work your mother suspected you were already doing for him.

You came out of the last shop with five bags and the feeling that you were a very shitty socialist. Since you couldn't carry any more, the shopping concierge (apparently it's a real job) offered to store the bags until your driver picked you up, and just as you were about to say which bloody driver, whom do you take me for, you remembered that you actually had one.

"Mrs Berger," the receptionist said cheerfully the moment she saw you in the door. "Nice to see you again! How can I help you? Oh, yes. The driver, of course. Yes, of course, let me put you through to Mr D'Avergni's personal assistant".

Oh, it's Mrs Berger and my pleasure? They were wondering if the rumours about you wanting the guy to be run over by a bus were already out there. The personal assistant's name was Camilla, her voice was the embodiment of professionalism, and she was the one who could take you to the driver, who was there in no time.

His name was Yuri and he was more talkative than you would have liked. Gruff, huge, way too big for the car he was driving (any vehicle known to man would be too small for him), with a deep booming voice and the face of someone who had spent half his life behind bars.

"Have you seen that poor bastard? All over the main road," he remarked as he passed the street cleaners. "Probably too busy fiddling with his phone to keep an eye out."

"Mghgm," you offered. 

"So, are we stopping by your place first, Miss Berger? Boss said you wanted to get some things first. Are you moving in?"

"Am I?" You ask, surprised by the news yourself, and then think to yourself: "Why not?”

Why the hell not.

****

You didn't waste any time. With a tidy suitcase in tow, you were out the door of your apartment before Yuri could get too bored. You packed the essentials - toothbrush, laptop, documents - and a few other things that suddenly felt crucial to your life.

Out the car window you watched the cityscape change from urban jungle to manicured suburbia and finally to a small gated community. The driver talked politics (he had exactly the kind of convictions you'd expect), then about how amazing Raul was (and how extremely open-minded he was to give an ex-con a job), before returning to politics. 

You didn't ask what crime Yuri did his time for. 

You knew it was Raphael's house the moment you saw it through the car window. Who else would live in such a place? Not a house, that's too boring a term; a villa, all intricate stonework, marble and terracotta, such a flamboyant display of wealth that it should have been taxed just to exist. 

Only a devil or a mafia don would call such grandeur home. So much, too much, theatrical to the point of grotesqueness; no real person could possibly live like this. You couldn't help but wonder if Raphael had been influenced by the films he had seen - perhaps he had developed a taste for modern cinema.

He must have liked The Godfather.

This place. The fountains, the statues (classical, Roman, as if sculpted by the ghost of Michelangelo), the gardens. You wondered how many souls it took to keep this whole thing running.

The gates opened and the car drove you into an underground car park that was already very busy and very Italian: Ferraris, Maseratis, Lamborghinis. You counted; eight. Who needed eight cars? Not even one for each day of the week. 

The lift took you up; Yuri left your shopping bags and suitcase in the foyer and said goodbye.

You'd never set foot in such a house before; the closest you'd ever come was drooling over Sotheby's property listings.

Why would anyone need all this space? For just one person? It was at least six hundred square metres; and the guest and service house looked like another two hundred. The kitchen and dining area was three times the size of your apartment.

You could play golf here.

For what it's worth, the villa didn't remind you of the House of Hope. Firstly, it was completely empty; the servants, if they were in there, managed to make themselves invisible. Second, it lacked the baroque, replaced by the dolce vita and flair of a Lake Como residence. Thirdly, there were no self-portraits, not even pictures, nothing to suggest that the man who lived here had a face, a history, let alone a family.

The first floor was devoted to entertaining guests: the kitchen, the dining room, the library, the ballroom (you guessed this kind of rooms used to be called ballrooms, he even had a piano in it). The second floor was half-locked, except for the master bedroom (the bed easily could accommodate two orthons and a cambion sandwiched between them) and the dressing room. 

There was also a basement - the entrance blocked by a number lock. You considered trying the PIN combination, but decided you didn't want to snoop down there... well, you wanted to snoop very badly, but you didn't want to face the possible consequences. Unless they resembled those in his private club.

So you roamed both floors twice before staking claim to your new sleeping quarters in the master bedroom by putting your suitcase down there. You checked everything else in the room: Raphael's bedside glasses, his choice of books (predictably, Machiavelli, but not The Prince, another book you had never heard of called Mandragola), even his dark silk pyjamas, which lay on the chaise awaiting their owner's return. You open his drawer: hand lotion, velvet sleeping mask, lubricant, two opera tickets (Götterdammerung) from about a month ago... 

Then curiosity led you to look under his bed, where he indeed had something stored: a large black storage box.

Oh, you just had to have a look. 

Just to get an idea of what’s on the evening programme.

Handcuffs, the real kind, the police kind, metal ones. The thought of all the women (and men) who might have been bound with them, as jealous as it made you feel, was titillating. A whip and a crop. Yes, that works for you. And what's this? Butt plugs? Only if they were still sealed in their original packaging (you were not into that kind of hand-me-downs) and way smaller. A chastity belt? Well, that's... intriguing, but probably not in your first month together. A hook? That can stay where it is.

At least nothing too extreme like needles or enemas or any of the other disgusting things you sometimes saw on weird porn sites.

Underneath all that, toys and accessories, lay another plain black box. Oh, a box in a box. Something was written on it.. 

GOOD EVENING CURIOUS LITTLE MOUSE

"Good evening," you said as you opened the lid.

Then promptly closed it again.

"No," you said. "No, no, no. It was just a fic I read and liked, I was very horny, but it's not really my thing. No, thank you. Just because I didn't have a father doesn't mean I have daddy issues. I don't care about the guy, he never cared about me, end of story".

You took a deep breath before opening the box again, hoping that the items inside had disappeared. 

But to your dismay, they were still there: a velvet collar adorned with "Daddy's Little Mouse" in shimmering gold thread, a headband with mouse ears, red lace cobweb-thin lingerie and a tail-butt plug (thankfully still in its original packaging and on the smaller side). The tail was furry and tipped with white, so you must have been a dormouse.

All of the toys were top quality, handmade, and incredibly vulgar. Well, no surprise, having seen what Haarlep was wearing in his house.

You closed the box shut again.

"I'd rather cook us something to eat," you suggested, getting up. "Some pasta. I bet you like pasta?"

You definitely liked pasta and hoped that Raul (Raphael, Raphael) would not have you hanged on the hooks and tortured for your very non-Italian interpretation. You hoped in vain, because he chimed in and tried to stop you from committing a crime:

"Working late. Don't bother with dinner. Take some time to relax and enjoy yourself. R".

As you descended the stairs, ignoring his text, you wondered - did he ever cook? Or was his kitchen just for show, with the real work done in the servants' quarters (do they still call them quarters?).

You forgot that question the moment you saw what was lying on the marble kitchen counter.

The same box you had left upstairs, still with 

GOOD EVENING DISOBEDIENT LITTLE MOUSE 

on it. 

You blinked and took two large steps back. 

The box seemed to crawl forward in response.

You shrieked; this was a bit too much. Raphael's presence, the supernaturality of it, had been subtle before; now it was becoming a bit performative.

"I got your hint," you said, your voice a shaky laugh. "Don't scare me, please. Please."

The box stayed where it was, but it radiated an energy of impatience, as if it might jump at you if you neglected it any longer.

“Fine,” you conceded, coming a bit closer. “A little romance would’ve been nice but…”

"Setting romantic atmosphere," a cheerful female voice said.

who the fuck who the fuck who the fuck

Alexa. 

Fucking smart home systems. The lights dimmed to a soft orange glow, the heavy curtains closed with a soft whoosh and a familiar tune echoed off the walls, the ballroom piano playing in the distance:

I put a spell on you

Because you're mine

The melody was familiar and so was the voice behind it - smooth, silky and oh so captivating (the adjectives you would use to describe it could fill many romance novels). A deep, rich baritone. You chuckled - had Raphael discovered blues? It suited him. 

You know I cannot stand it

You running around

You loved his interpretation of the song. It felt so intimate, him singing to you, so... very, very special. Your fear vanished in an instant; you poured yourself a glass of wine and took a luxurious sip.

"I'll put these on for you," you laughed, putting all the flirt you ever had in this laugh. "But don't expect me to call you 'Daddy'."

There was no protest; Raphael was too busy singing, pouring his entire soul into it. You made yourself busy too; stripping. You weren't very skilled (any skilled), but the thrill of being watched by him awakened something in you. You caught your reflection in the mirror and damn, you were hot. 

Shrugging off your shirt and sliding down your plain black briefs, you swayed your hips at your reflection as the wine worked its magic on your mind. For once in your life, you felt genuinely attractive; he made you feel genuinely attractive. The sexiest you'd ever been. 

Slipping into the silky red lace lingerie he had chosen for you (splurged on, because it was a La Perla) - you fastened the collar around your neck. A long golden chain dangled from it, wrapped twice around the hook and cascaded down your back. Then you put the mouse ears - not cartoonish, not Minnie Mouse ones, but real fur and incredibly lifelike - on your head like a headband. 

You looked like...well, precisely what your mother suspected you were doing to pay the bills. But at least high-end. Very high-end. The only thing worse than being an escort is being a cheap one.

But there was one more item left in the box.

"Ehh," you said at the sight of the mouse tail, especially the part that was meant to be inserted. "I'm going to need... I'm going to the bedroom."

It had been ages since your last foray into such play; back when you were with that boyfriend who constantly pestered you about anal and found it somehow arousing to "accidentally" (sure, mate) poke you and mumble an insincere "oops, wrong hole". 

You didn't stick around much longer after that.

Stretched out on Raphael's sumptuous bed, you slicked up everything - the plug, your pussy, your arse - with copious amounts of lube. First, some warming. So you began to rub yourself, two fingers finding their familiar way to your clit. You couldn't shake the crawling feeling of being watched, every inch of your body scrutinised by unseen eyes.

"Raphael," you called out into the empty room, desperate for some form of interaction or response. "I would love it if you would join me... or say something pleasant”.

Now would be the perfect time to call me a good girl.

But there was no response, just an eerie silence in the room. Feeling too naked and too slutty, you pulled the blanket over you, a makeshift barrier between you and his eyes. Under the fortification, tucking the tail in seemed less daunting.

Before you could get down to business, there was a jerk at the blanket, which fell to the cold floor, leaving you bare again. Then another tug on the chain attached to your collar, pulling you closer to the bedpost.

"I'm sorry," you gasped breathlessly, both hands instinctively reaching for your collar. "I won't hide."

The chain didn’t let go, making a point out of a slight pressure around your neck. Taking a deep breath, you focused on the task at hand, stroking your clit as you guided the plug inside you. 

You told yourself to relax and take it slow; just imagine it's Haarlep. How many times had you dreamed of being squeezed and stretched between the two of them? It was always Haarlep who took you from behind; it just seemed more their style.

The plug slid in deeper. It didn't hurt, and the little discomfort it caused added to the excitement. 

Damn, this is so dirty. 

"It's in," you said as the plug settled inside you. "All the way in. What's next?"

The words were barely out of your mouth when the golden chain, suddenly a snake-like lasso, wrapped tightly around your wrists.

Pulled them towards the bedpost, stretched out and bound tightly to either side. Fear gripped you and you clenched around the plug, pulling your knees tight together.

Tightly. Very tight. A little too tight. You tried to wriggle, the metal biting your skin; you could move your hips a little, but no more. 

You couldn't get out yourself, which was not good news when you were alone (well, almost) in a very big house. Your mind immediately thought of that girl in Gerald's Game.

"Raphael?" you asked. “It’s not that kind of game, is it? It’s a nice game? Can we play a nice game?”

He did not answer, but you heard footsteps. Footsteps coming down the long corridor. Confident, quick and very purposeful.

Stay calm, stay calm, it's him, it's him, who else could it be? Haarlep? The orthon? The driver? 

The door swung open.

It was Raphael, and he was visibly surprised to see you in this state, which was absolute bullshit considering he was responsible for tying you to this very bed. 

"Well, I'll be damned," he said, covering the distance to the bed in two strides. "What a welcome home surprise, piccola." 

Raphael gave you a lecherous, wet-lipped smile and knelt on the bed between your legs. There was something boyish about it, an expression you'd never seen in the game, as if he'd just found his first bike under the Christmas tree.

You searched for “piccola” earlier today: “baby” or “little girl” in Italian. 

"I'm not going to call you Daddy," you repeated, and Raphael shook his head and laughed, not seeming at all horrified at the thought (and he should be).

"I have some compelling evidence to the contrary, Daddy's little mouse," he teased, his fingers playing with your collar. 

"Anything but Daddy," you pleaded. "That's just... demeaning."

Weirdly incestual, too. You haven’t even seen the guy, not a photo, not a… (don’t think of him why the fuck would you think of the old bastard now).

“This is the whole appeal of it, is it not?”, he said. “How would you prefer to address me then?"

Raphael? Something told you that telling him that would make him very angry, and you weren't exactly in a position to want an angry man on top of you. Raul? No, that name just felt completely wrong and made you feel like you were in a Spanish soap opera. 

Raphael began to unbutton his shirt one button at a time, revealing a white undershirt, which he then took off. 

His physique was impressive for a man of his age; not those bodybuilder abs from bg3 but a well-toned body shaped by workouts and diets, which seemed to be very much at odds with his indulgent ways. Rough brown hair spread across his chest and lower abdomen against honey-tanned skin. Every inch of him seemed so put together, so perfectly groomed.

"Master," you finally decided (there was this one fanfic…) as you spread your legs wider in an invitation. 

"Master?" Raphael seemed amused, his fingers tracing the lace of your bra, teasing your hardened nipples through the fabric. "Such flattery. So this makes you my slave girl? Tied up and ready for me to use as I please?"

Reading Raphael say such things was one thing, but hearing him actually say them in real life made you feel embarrassed. It was a bit, ugh... 

“You get flustered easily for someone who waited for me dressed like this, little mouse,” Raphael raised an eyebrow at your see-through lace. “Topolina." 

He wrinkled his nose and laughed, as if the word was funnier in Italian, and poked the tips of your mouse ears. You wanted him so badly that your lips caught his as he came closer and you pushed your tongue into his mouth. He kissed your back, his hands moving up and down your body. 

"How the hell did you manage..." he mused aloud as he studied your bound wrists.

His fingers ventured between your legs, and the moment he stumbled upon your tail, his whole body twitched with excitement, his breath catching in his throat as he traced the soft fur to reach the base of the plug. 

The playful gleam in his eyes was replaced by an intense, wild desire.

"Merda," he breathed out. "Look at that. Aren't you a dirty little girl?"

You cringed at how pornographic the line sounded (his suddenly much thicker Italian accent didn't help), but Raphael seemed to find it excruciatingly erotic.

In one swift motion, he lunged forward and forced your legs apart, his hands pulling your knees towards your chest, folding you in until your muscles screamed in protest at the stretch. 

Without warning, he thrust deep inside of you. You gasped in surprise; no preliminaries, no foreplay, no taking it slowly, just raging, explosive lust.

Fortunately, your own fingers had done their job earlier, so despite the brutal force of his first thrust, pleasure surged through you, along with a sharp twinge of friction as his cock rubbed against the toy lodged inside you.

He seemed to relish the sensation and so did you. 

Your eyes fluttered shut as your body arched beneath him; stretched and pinned by his weight, trapped, surrendering to the relentless pounding that followed - raw and invasive and yet so fulfilling.

You were so looking forward to coming again from his penetration alone. The mere thought made you pull harder on your restraints, craving the delicious pain of being bound. The furry tail must have tickled his balls because he tucked it under you so that it would tease you instead. 

"Cross your ankles behind my back," Raphael rasped into your shoulder as he grazed it with his stubbled chin. "Yes, just like that... now tilt your hips."

You responded with your most submissive “yes, master”, making his cock twitch inside you, and then sifted your hips to better accommodate his pleasure. Wrapped your legs tightly around him, pulling him in deeper, pain-pleasure soaring through you. You sniffed his hair. 

His cologne (worn leather, cherry liqueur, bitter almonds) smelled so good oh so good.

He slid his arms underneath your arse, lifting you towards him at every thrust. 

Raphael said few words after that, grunting and thrusting and thrusting. Something about him was different this time - something very human - from how his sweat-soaked hair stuck to his forehead to his expressions of sheer lust that bordered on comical at times. 

One thing remained the same - the pleasure his pounding brought you, the familiar hooks of approaching orgasm - not any orgasm, the orgasm of being with him, his sharp talons - sinking inches deep into your flesh again. 

fuck does he feel good

rough or tender it just feels so good

his cock his tongue his breath on your neck

You screamed "fuck me", then once again, louder, not caring how obscene you sounded, and bit his shoulder without a second thought. 

The scream that escaped you was higher pitched than you had intended.

do whatever whatever you want whatever you want with me

Raphael's face creased with annoyance as his strong finger pressed into your cheek. "Easy…easy… piccola... I appreciate…. a good performance… not …overacting," he scolded as he went at you harder, pushing you to the point of pain.

hurt me

fuck me fuck me harder

You would have protested at the implication that you were pretending, but you were too busy coming under him, his hand clamped over your mouth before your temporal insanity could drive you to actually call him ‘daddy’.

If he wanted you to why wouldn’t you he is so sweet to you oh so sweet to you

The scream was swallowed by his palm as an orgasm, brutal in its intensity and lightning-fast, ripped through you, whip-snaked it. You greeted your release with a wail, biting into his hand. Raphael paused mid-thrust, apprehensive of how your pussy convulsed around him and your leg spasmed uncontrollably - if this was a performance, you deserved an award.

"You weren't pretending," he panted, awe-struck. "My apologies. You were not".

The realisation frenzied him; he spilled within a minute after, rutting into you with intensity belying his age. Utterly spent, he collapsed on top of you, his breath, cherries and tobacco, warming your throat as his cock softened within you.

"I may have gotten a little carried away," he said, sounding embarrassed and slightly apologetic as he lay down beside you. "But it seems you're more than content."

You eagerly and quickly nodded.

"Are you that... passionate with every man?" He asked as he helped you free your wrists - jealousy creeping into his voice at the mention of that mysterious 'every man'.

You couldn't help but laugh at the question. "No," you replied. "Far from it. You are not just any man. You are anything but."

Raphael let out a sigh of relief and kissed you, making no effort to hide how much your compliment pleased him. 

When you parted, you hopped awkwardly off the bed - the odd gait one adopts when they have a plug in them (no way were you going to remove it in his presence, no way) and cum was trickling down your thighs. 

Shit, the condom. Now you forgot to ask him to wear it.

Would he have?..

Ah, screw it. Google says Plan B is effective for up to 72 hours after unprotected sex, so you'll take it tomorrow - for tonight and last night. You'd never been this careless before, but hell, you'd never murdered people with a mere thought or slept with an Archdevil of Hell.

Raphael was still lying there, basking in the afterglow, when you returned.

"I have to admit, Anya... I'm seriously thinking of proposing," he murmured with such tenderness as you snuggled against him that you wondered if Raphael really was incapable of love.

"That would be quick," you replied, but made it sound like you wouldn't mind at all.

"Quick?" he scoffed. "A man knows what he wants in a woman the moment he sets eyes on her. Unfortunately, there are very few left in your generation."

You smiled, already dreaming of being the Archduchess of Hell, and half-dreaming in general from sheer exhaustion and satisfaction. 

"They lied about you being bad in bed," you murmured as sleep began to take over. "I knew it was all bullshit."

"They?" He asked, his face contorting into a scowl at your sentence. "Who are they? Anya, for God's sake, stop reading those trashy tabloids."

You closed your eyes for a moment. When you half-opened them, you saw him on the balcony outside, in a black silk robe, AirPods in his ears and a cigarette in his mouth. Behind him you could see the smoke and fire of the Avernus mountain ridge, the fireballs cascading down from the sky. Beautiful. 

Raphael gestured with his free hand, aggressively, and you listened a little closer; fortunately he was more than loud.

"...we will bleed them dry if they dare to break our agreement..."

"...they knowingly and willingly accepted our terms, they will choke on the consequences..."

"...all must pay their dues, sooner or later..."

"...an army? We have our own army..."

A yawn escaped your lips as you snuggled deeper into the plush pillows of the massive bed. Everything, except the AirPods, fit perfectly into the image of Archdevil Supreme.

You felt so chosen, so alive, so gloriously alive, and your life had just begun.

"Are you coming soon?" you called out as you tried to think of an appropriate nickname for him - something intimate, but not too cheesy. Darling? Baby? Sweetheart? Love? My favourite devil?

But he beat you to it before you could decide.

"Soon, my love. Rest," he blew you a kiss. With a loud click, he shut the glass door and cut you off from hearing the rest of their conversation. You let out a contented sigh and rolled over onto your side, drifting into a peaceful slumber.

"My love," you said in your sleep. "Raphael called me his love”.

****

The urgent need to go to pee woke you. The time was a mystery, but it must have been late enough for Raphael to have gone to bed too.

He was pressed close to you, his hand cupping your breast. You looked over your shoulder; asleep, peaceful, in buttoned pyjamas, and it was the one moment when he did not look threatening at all; vulnerable, if anything. You kissed him on the cheek and he smiled in his sleep and held you close. 

When you came back from your short (not really, a good thirty metres to the toilet) trip to the bathroom, you snuggled closer to him, preparing to doze off again, and then you heard something.

You listened closer, thinking you had dreamed it first.

Soft, gentle whimpers. You recognised the voice. You didn't know how, but you did. Something childishly cheerful and slightly mad about it.

Oh, no. No. You were happy, spooning with Raphael, and you didn't need this shit right now, especially when things were finally going so well.

Hope, please, you begged.

You got all your happy endings, so many of them, wonderful endings where Raphael was killed by the player and you got to live and your revenge and whatnot. Can I have one too, please? Without you whining and making me feel guilty for something I didn't even do?

"My love," you asked Raphael softly, your fingers tracing idle patterns on his side. "Can you let her go?"

"Mmm," Raphael murmured in his sleep, "Sure, piccola. Whatever you wish for."

You waited for him to act, but he only tightened his grip on the blanket and shifted slightly.

"You have all the hells and the crown and everything (and me). You don't need her anymore," you tried again. 

"Anya, let me sleep," Raphael mumbled into his pillow, away from your voice. You tried to hide from her voice under your pillow as well, but you could still hear the soft, painful moans. 

Ugh. 

They were very, very far away, but still there.

"She's still wailing," you complained, taking him by the shoulder and shaking him a little. "Raphael? Raphael?"

 "Who is wailing?” he groaned in pure frustration, and then made a half-hearted attempt at listening. “Ah, merda, not that bloody bitch again! I swear, I will plug that hole myself!"

You tried to make sense of that sentence and couldn't, but what you did get was that it promised Hope nothing good and sounded vaguely vulgar, which was even worse. 

"Don't hurt Hope," you begged, appalled by his threat. "She doesn't deserve it!"

"I don't deserve it either," Raphael retorted before turning away from you. "Please be quiet."

He should direct this request to his prisoner. 

What had really happened between them? You didn't think his obsession with Hope was sexual because, well, because, for example, he fucked you and you both enjoyed it, so he was definitely into consent, and Hope was more like a metaphor, a concept, a point to be made, and some shitty fucking rushed Act 3 writing.

"You... you didn't hurt her like that, did you? There was some talk... With that boudoir line... It was misinterpreted... right?"

Right. He may be evil, but he is lawful evil. He believed in consent and seduction, not violence. 

"I haven't hurt anyone, what in damnation are you talking about?" he growled through gritted teeth, and you let out a small sigh of relief.  "But if I don't get some rest, I might."

He hadn't hurt Hope. He wouldn't lie. He cannot; devils can deceive, but not outright lie. You read it somewhere.

Okay, he's not going to let her go and he's not going to help you and Hope was certainly not going to shut up. You have to go to her. And say what? Say what? Sorry for your predicament and the centuries of torture, Hope, but could you please be a bit quieter, me and Raphael just had sex and are trying to sleep? 

Let her go? And lose his favour, his credit card and the place next to him in his bed?

Yes, come on. It would be the right thing to do and you would do it. 

Where was she anyway, you wondered as you walked down the stairs. In the cellar? Hanging from the ceiling? You still don't have the key to the cellar. When you reached the ground floor, the kitchen, you realised that the noises were not coming from the cellar - they were coming from outside.

Outside? Did he hang her on a tree on this cold April night? 

You put on his trench coat and slipped into your sneakers. This was so unnecessarily evil, you thought, suddenly feeling much less happy about everything, especially as the pained whimpering got closer. Hardly human, you thought, more like a creature trapped and desperately trying to free itself. 

Yes, definitely more of a creature.

In fact, it reminded you of a dog. You searched the darkness of the night, determined to find it, and there it was: a dachshund wedged between the ground and a large, weathered fence, whimpering into the still night. 

The poor thing must have thought it was quite the burglar, trying to burrow under a hole in the fence to pull through. But it only managed to get itself stuck.

"Oh, poor baby," you said as you approached the dog. "Let's see if we can get you out."

You pulled on the fence to widen the opening and the cub was free.

It licked your hand in gratitude. Dogs love you. All animals do, and it's quite mutual. You had a harder time with people.

There were distant, panicked cries for Steffie somewhere in the distance; the owner was out on a rescue mission. You took the dachshund in your lap and went to meet her.

The woman was in her sixties, dark brown hair, a very aged beauty, and she looked a bit funny in her fur coat and slippers. She had tears in her eyes. Steffie ran to her as soon as she saw her.

"You silly little girl," she scolded the whining, complaining dog in her arms. She had a thick American drawl. "Why do you keep going back to his house? What's so special about him? I told you he was bad news!"

"Is he?" You asked the question when you knew the answer.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she stammered, forcing a smile to her lips. "I didn't mean it like that. You're Raul's new girl, aren't you? Samantha. I live down the road. Sorry about Steffie, she's very... adventurous."

There were exactly three houses on the street, a mile apart each.

"You meant it like that," you said. "If it's about Isabelle, she's apologised and withdrawn her accusations".

There was a pause, and Samantha's perfectly friendly smile cracked a little.

"Well, in that case," she said, before adding with forced cheerfulness, "thank you for looking after Steffie, sweetheart! You take care now."

She tried to walk away, but turned back; she was as curious as her little dog.

"I was walking Steffie when that French girl ran out of his house," she said, unable to resist the urge to gossip. "She was naked and babbling like a lunatic. She had blood on her, too".

"Did she scream something about the devil?" you asked after a pause.

"Devil? No. Not that I speak French," said the woman, making a last attempt to walk away, but failing. "Listen, I have a daughter about your age. And if some guy - ANY guy - tried to put that kind of crap around her neck, I would chop his arms off".

What did she mean? 

The collar. 

She meant the "Daddy's little mouse" collar you still have around your neck. 

Oh, don't kink shame me, you were going to say, but that kind of talk sounds ridiculous in real life. She managed to shame you very badly, so you hid the collar under your trench coat and mumbled, "I put it on myself".

That actually made her look at you again. Steffie looked at you with the same expression. 

Everybody's out to guilt trip you - Hope, the dog (the dog you saved!), the neighbour, the guy who got thrown under the bus, and you've done nothing but enjoy some devil sex.

The woman finally decided it was time to go, muttering "You need Jesus, sweetheart" before she left.

That's your God who kept women in collars and on leashes for centuries, not the Devil, you thought bitterly, and unlike the Devil, he didn't even fuck them. 

Well, only once.

***

You were back in the en-suite bathroom, washing your face in the marble sink.

Who the fuck was this man, really? What the fuck was happening? 

Your hand shot out, yanking open a cabinet door. An array of men's grooming products stared back at you - cologne, razor, facial moisturiser and scrub, deodorant, shaving gel, sleek, expensive bottles. A man took care of his looks.

Another cabinet creaked open under your touch. 

Your eyes darted to the label on the bottle - Risperidon. You had no idea what it was, but you memorised it for a future Google search, repeating it under your breath like a mantra. 

"Are you rummaging through my belongings, nosy little mouse?”

He was dead asleep last time you checked!

You jerked, closing the cupboard and stumbling back to the bathroom sink, gasping for breath. "No," you stammered, turning to find him standing in the doorway. "I mean... yes. I can't sleep. I thought you might have some pills."

His eyes were canny; he didn't swallow your lie and made no pretence of doing so. He bridged the gap and hugged you from behind - frighteningly strong and wanting every ounce of that power to seep into your bones. His strength made you realise just how much of a level 1 human NPC you were.

"You don't have to violate my privacy when I'm not around, Anya," he whispered against your skin as he began to trail soft kisses down your neck. "If there's anything that's bothering you, just ask me directly. I want us to be honest with each other."

What was in the cellar? What kind of work does he do for you? Did he rape Hope? Or was it Haarlep? Where is Haarlep, by the way? Why does Raphael want to play Raul? 

"What happened to Isabelle?" you asked. 

"Ah, I see. Is that why you asked me if I had hurt anyone?" he said. "Is that what the tabloids told you?"

You nodded.

"Isabelle had an addiction," he admitted, the crow’s feet showing themselves. "It spiralled out of control. She had… a bout of psychosis, a mental breakdown. Made false accusations to the press. She's now getting the help she needs, poor girl”.

"Why was she covered in blood?" you pressed, looking at his reflection in the mirror as an infernal light danced in his orange eyes.

For all the fire in them, they seemed icy, impossibly cold for a man who had called you my love less than an hour ago. "How did you come by this information? You seem to know more than one would expect of you, Anya. There are things about you that make me... wonder. I have been giving you the benefit of the doubt, perhaps foolishly."

Your breath caught in your throat. “The neighbour”, you said. “Your neighbour told me”.

The truth you’d spilled slaked him, but only a little. He looked at you, jaw hardened.

"Samantha? I’ll have a word with her. Very well, we were making love when Isabelle had a psychotic episode."

Making love? Really? He did not make love to you.

"She lashed out at me," he continued. "It was my blood, Anya. I would never hurt her or any other woman. Without their consent, that is."

But that couldn't be true, because there was Hope - and many others who owed him, and Raphael might have been many things, but not a liar, and yet here he was, lying right to your face.

He did hurt people. Whether they deserved it, whether they brought onto themselves, that was a different matter, but he did hurt them.

"If you need proof, you can take a look at the psychiatrist's report," he offered coldly. "The authorities got involved... unfortunately."

"I believe you," came your shaky reply. 

You desperately wanted to. 

Raphael’s eyes flickered.

"Trust goes both ways, Anya," he whispered in your ear, running a finger along your collar. "If you do not trust me, then I will be forced to ask some very unpleasant questions myself. Do we understand each other?"

Which questions? He knows everything there is to know about you. He knows your browser history.

“We do”, you said, still looking in the mirror. “Of course we do, my love”.

"Is that so?” he smiled. "I suggest we go to our bed and put that theory to the test."

[numericalbridge]

This is more of a first draft for a serious meta post i am planning to write, but since it would take me a few weeks (and the proper post will have screenshots, etc) i just wanted to address the popular fanon that Hunter had to prove himself for Darius to start to care about him/that Darius' care was conditional and he was just same as Belos.

And i feel like that notion just completely ignores the scene just after Darius collects the Emerald Entrails to his Blimp. And, yes, i will never shut up about that scene because that's my favourite Darius scene and - completely regardless of Darius and Hunter's relationship - showed that Darius had his own morals independent of the Coven expansionism and propaganda, and in this way that scene was clearly very intentional. There was no point for Darius to lie to manipulate Hunter, as some people had thought, since that wasn't what Hunter would want to hear/be asked about, so we can assume Darius was sincere.

And... Darius looked stern and strict and disappointed, not mean-spirited, not gloating about being proven right about Hunter - and if the fanon verison of Darius and Hunter's relationship was correct then in this, very intentional scene there was the perfect opportunity for that kind of reaction. And it was the first time we saw Darius as completely serious, without playing, and serious and stern in a very quite way. Same with the scene when they talk on the crow phone where Darius is complaining but, again, is not meanspirited or agressive, but since that scene is more comedic it might not have been that intentional. Back to the Blimp scene - as other people had said, if Darius truly didn't care or hated Hunter there would be no point for him to look disappointed.

And i don't mean he would care about Hunter in a very personal manner at this point, but as i see it he probably realized he had fucked up after the crow call (my headcanon-y interpretation of Darius' way of thinking in ASIAS here) and at the Blimp scene he saw that even if Hunter was a spoiled prince the kid clearly had problems. And thus Darius even nudged him in the direction of thinking for himself by just asking back whether this was something Hunter should be proud off. Yes, it might not be super gentle, but it is a far cry from what fandom usually sees in Darius' reactions. So with all this in mind, it seems like even if Hunter didn't change his mind, Darius still would have some notion of care to be disappointed and sad over this, and, imo, it would have set him towards more compassion or at least understanding towards Hunter even if Hunter didn't help his friends.

(and btw, nothing points towards Darius seeing Hunter as anything but the spoiled royality since there is a huge difference between a child soldier and a relative of the emperor assuming an important position at a young-ish age; and the Coven Heads are not even some inner court to be privy to the Emperor's life since he wouldn't allow witches to be this close. And even in their first scene while Darius was mean initially - especially with the cloak - it wasn't anything that s1 Eda wouldn't say, and we didn't even get to see how the cloak scene would've ended if Darius wasn't set off by his mentor's sigil).

And the thing is, sure there might be unfortunate implications with the way ASIAS ends, just as there are unfortunate implications with how 8 years old King was the one reaching out towards Eda with 'no more lies' while she barely had to apologize. And in the same way as King's development and choices are prioritized because the target audience is meant to relate to him and understand him more, i think the same happens with ASIAS. Yes, it is important to show that the adults shouldn't mistreat Hunter, but for a 10 years old watching it it is also important to show that, no matter how sympathetic the backstory, a 16 years old shouldn't push you to do something you don't want. So Hunter makes mistakes, learns from them and then gets rewarded by a nearest adult figure. It is a standart cartoon structure, and sure, it also shouldn't be free of criticism, but just not via demonizing and bad faith interpretations of Darius and only Darius.

And even in that scene, i feel like it is notable that Darius says 'make your predecessorS proud'. If Darius' care about Hunter was truly just conditional or if there was no intention to that scene, it would've been easy to say 'predecessor' or 'the previous golden guard' since that's who Darius cared about and in the beginning unfairly compared Hunter to, that's what the audience remembers, but Darius doesn't seem to have any connection to other golden guards, it is Hunter who cares about them and their legacy, so this, if intentional, also points towards Darius already realizing his mistakes and trying to just genuinely encourage Hunter.

And i feel like you need to look at the episode and Darius' character as a whole rather than focusing on only 2 scenes to decide whether there was the intention to paint him the way fanon sees him or not. And even if it is how the show intended us to see Darius - then maybe the fandom should examine this writing choice in the context of how the show prioritizes white and light skinned characters and their development, and how the show treats black characters, and why Darius is the one who wouldn't get a proper resolution or a way to verbalise his thoughts and opinions while Alador or Gwen or even Steve are allowed to do it.

[girlfromthecrypt]

Would it be possible to know how the ROs would react to accidentally stumbling across some very poetic love letters the MC wrote to/about them but never gave them? 💌

If they aren't dating, right?

Okay so Anita would get all teary and straight up throw herself at the MC because this would win her in a heartbeat. Even if she didn't see MC as a romantic option/interest before, she does now. She's an avid reader and a huge romantic so this would make her entire decade.

Reem would be similarly touched, but she'd be more apprehensive about approaching MC about it. I can imagine her turning it into a song and then playing it in front of MC, bc why talk when singing does trick. Also to hopefully gauge a reaction.

Flo doesn't read other people's stuff. But if in this instance he did, he would simply assume there's a reason MC didn't give him the letter, and that they probably don't feel that way about him anymore. He'd be kind of sad and regretful but he would try to forget he ever read it.

Basil would be touched but he would also use this to give the MC a huge shock. Maybe lay the letter out for MC to find while they're just going about their day, with like "return to sender" or sth added on top of the page. And then below it he's written like "yeah we need to talk <3"

Sawyer would steal and keep the letter. They want to read it over and over again. Just to remember someone felt that way about them at one point. They would act like they have no clue in front of the MC, basically pretend like nothing's going on, and they wouldn't pursue MC based on the letter. They want to enjoy the contents without having to give anything in return, in their mind.

[vxlkirayaxo]

Proud glances part 2 !!

Part one

Character: Scara

Warnings/tags: Fluff, cursing

Summary: It's two cuties going on a date! >w<

Tall!gn reader x regular short Scara

The school bell rang quicker than he thought.

Scara found himself a little nervous as he walked towards the school gate, he figured that's where you would meet him. Luckily he was right, you were waiting there humming a soft melody.

He gulped before walking over to you. He tapped on your shoulder to get your attention, as you looked down at him he sweat a bit.

"Hello." He spoke up first, the sun was hitting your face so perfectly that was making his cheeks warm up.

"Hi! Where do you want to go?" You smiled and leaned down a little to see his face better. You held out your hand for him to take which he did after a moment of hesitation.

"...Let's go to a cafe..." He mumbled now a little more nervous than before. his gaze was focused on the soft look on your face.

"Do you have one in mind?" You said starting to walk, your hand moved away from his. He panicked internally before grabbing it again and trying to keep up with you.

"Uh!...how about the one next to the park..? We could walk at the park after the cafe." He mumbled looking at the floor.

"So you do want to hang out with me!" You laughed a bit as you leaned a bit closer to him, a smirk on your face. His face flushed a bit and his eyes widened before letting go of your hand and freezing.

"Of course not! Don't be ridiculous!" He mustered up words from his flustered mess of a mind. You crossed your arms and smirked.

"fine," you said, giving him a closed eye smile. "I guess I'll just change my seat partner so you don't hang out with me anymore." You said smugly as his eyes widened and his mouth opened and closed like a fish as he tried to muster up more words.

He grabbed the end of your sweater with both hands and slightly tugged on them.

"...Don't.." he spoke wayyy too soft than he wanted. You smiled and grabbed his hand, you gave him a small nod before continuing to walk. In which he followed.

"So, do you like me?" You asked as you looked down at him, a confused pout on his lips before he simply nodded.

"i suppose I can tolerate your presence more than I can to others, and I wouldn't mind being in a closer relationship with you." He spoke looking away, his cheeks flushed a bit pink with embarrassment.

You smiled and leaned down closer to him.

"Would you be comfortable if I hugged you?" You asked, making a simple gesture of opening your arms for him. He hesitated before hugging you. His head just tall enough to rest on your upper arm and chest. Your warmth was very comfortable to him and he found himself clinging to your warmth. He rested his eyes.

"Let's date!" You spoke without thinking to which he just let out a hum of approval, too focused in the hug to speak.

"Well, should we call this our date then? Even though we didn't do anything...what matters is that we hung out correct?" You spoke cheerfully, a hand of yours making it's way to play with his hair. He simply nodded, the warmth of the hug making him a bit tired.

"you're totally falling asleep, aren't you?" There was no answer this time as he was too relaxed to answer. You started to gently pick him up.

"Hey, where's your home? I'll drop you off." He mumbled some address before falling asleep comfortably in your arms, you started walking towards his house, only waking him up once you arrived.

You sat him down on his feet, helping catch his balance since he just woke up. He seemed a bit grumpy that he had to let go of his warmth, a frown was on his face as he rummaged through his bag for the key.

"I have to go home now, good bye Scara. See you at school tomorrow." You waved at him and started to walk away, now he seemed even more grumpy. A scoff of insults left his mouth before he pulled you close to give you a quick kiss on the cheek and sending you on your way, not willingly though.

"My girl.." he mumbled after he stepped inside and shut the door, after a minute he ran to his room giggling and squealing like a school girl.

"I slept in her arms." He said as he covered his face with his hands, kicking his feet. His roommate was a little concerned.

done~~

Part two for @shinraaaa