#which is unfortunate because those things are actually quite interesting

[cherrynika]

.

[drchucktingle]

my masks

hey there buckaroos. due to all of the attention the TEXAS LIBRARY ASSOCIATION situation has gotten i am going to take a minute to talk about my personal way as an autistic buckaroo. im going to tell you about my masks.

im doing this for a few reasons, some are good FUN reasons full of love and some are not so great. 

lets start with the GOOD STUFF. first of all, i am talking about this because speaking on my way can help other buckaroo feel more comfortable speaking on there own way, ESPECIALLY if they are good at ‘passing’ for neurotypical like chuck is. 

unfortunately the NOT SO GREAT reasons im talking about all this dang stuff are two fold. reason one: i have been put into a position of having to explain and justify my needs and boundaries by the TXLA. this is not something that i WANT to be taking up all of my time, but when large organizations do not make space for those who they have pledged to support, it puts us smaller buckaroos into position where were have to defend our existence. it is not plesent but it is necessary.

the second NOT SO GREAT reason is that ‘passing’ bisexual and autistic people like myself are ALWAYS just seconds from being gatekept from folks both outside and inside these communities. there will probably be a day on chucks deathbed where i take off my mask and say hello to this timeline (mostly so you can all see how handsome i am under here but I DIGRESS). i KNOW with absolute certainty (the same way other bi and autistic buckaroos are probably nodding along right now) that when that day comes i will STILL be accused of ‘not being real’ and ‘faking’ because i ‘dont look autistic’ and i have a beautiful ladybuck partner in sweet barbara.

ALL THAT IS TO SAY, i am taking a moment today to talk FOR THE RECORD about my neurodigence and my particular needs. hopefully i will not have to keep diving this deep every time an organization takes a discrimantory action against me, but i will also say this: at least it is a good fight on an important battlefield

anyway buds, here is the story of my way on the spectrum

when i was a young buckaroo i knew that my thought process was different. i could socialize easily, which is unique in contrast to many autistic buds (it is a spectrum after all), but my social ease was for an interesting reason. I ALWAYS KNEW WHAT OTHERS WERE ABOUT TO SAY. it was like a strange ‘human game’ where someone would say one thing and i would think ‘well you actually mean something else’ in a sort of logical way (this is why i later related to DATA from star trek so dang much). at first i remember thinking ‘well i am just NOT going to play along with this human game’. i quickly learned neurotypical buckaroos do not like this, that there is a BOB AND WEAVE to social interactions that must be learned. 

later i realized ‘actually if i WANT to make friends and prove love is real then i can do this like an expert because i can SEE the game where most cant’. this got chuck many buds and took me on many adventures. please understand, i am not saying these connections are not important to me, they are just different. they are full of love, but i express this in my own unique way.

HOWEVER, while growing up i felt disconnected from this timeline in other ways, like an alien or a reverse twin trotting along in a world that is not quite my own. i did not feel emotions the same way my buds did. they would get upset over the ‘human game’ interactions and i would not be moved at all, HOWEVER i could see the way sunlight hit a window and start crying my dang eyes out over the beauty. so my emotion was still there and VERY STRONG, i just felt it in more existential ways (like hearing the call of the lonesome train). these days that feeling has progressed to where i am pretty much in a constant blissed out state of cosmic emotional connection (make of that last sentence what you will, but it is the truth). when i make existential posts online i am not just FIRING OFF SOME CONTENT, i really mean every word. this is really my trot.

anyway as a young buckaroo these feelings made me worry sometimes. i thought about various mental health dianosises and marked the parts and pieces that matched with myself. am i this? am i that? sometimes, instead of just being’ different’ i worried i might actually be ‘wrong’. 

when i saw david byrne on letterman in my younger days i immediately recognized something connected to myself. i thought ‘wow this is the mystery being solved before my very eyes.’ i could hear it in the music of talking heads too. i started doing research and realized that i might be on autism spectrum, something that was later confirmed by a therapist (back then the diagnosis was called asperger's). it was a glorious and fulfilling moment. i was SO EXCITED TO BE AUTISTIC LIKE MY HERO. i felt very cool because of it, and i still feel very cool because of it.

one of the big reasons i talk so much about being autistic these days is because i want to make sure OTHER buckaroos can have that same moment that i did. they can see chuck and think ‘wow i really like this autistic artist, maybe being autistic is cool’

so what does an average day WITHOUT wearing the pink bag look like for me?

my thought process is exactly like ROSE from CAMP DAMASCUS, which is part of why i wrote the book. we have the same stim (complex order of finger taps), we prepare for social interactions the same way, we analyze things in the same logical trot that neurotypical people might think feels ‘detached’ but for me feels natural (certain reviews of camp damascus are very funny to me in this way. you can tell when a reader is just very confused by existing in an autistic brain for 250 pages.)

from the outside you would not be able to tell that i am on the spectrum. in fact you would probably find me very socially adept. 

the problem is, all of that masking can take its toll. i spent years trotting in and out the emergency room, talking to confused doctors who could not figure out the chronic phantom tension and pain that radiated through my body. i eventually accepted the fact that i would either live a life constantly on heavy painkillers or just stop living altogether.

eventually, however, i started noticing a correlation between the way that i felt, and the space that i allowed for chuck and the pink mask. i was exercising that tension, allowing my mental mask of neurotypical existence to take a rest. i started practicing physical therapy and this time THE RESULTS STUCK because i was approaching from two sides, MIND AND BODY. after a while, i got my pain down to about 5 percent of what it once was. i still have flare ups in times of stress, but the healing has been very real and life changing.

lets get VERY specific now. if i attended the TXLA confrence without a mask and gave my talk i can tell you this: i would do a dang good job. i can work the heck out of a crowd and (not to reveal too much about my secret way) I HAVE BEEN KNOWN TO DO THIS ON OCCASION VERY WELL. however, going home from this event i would very likely be in pain. i would likely need to do physical therapy. i would likely need to stim for a while. i would NOT be emotionally fullfilled in the same way. in other words, without my pink mask i can charm the heck out of buckaroos, but THE SPACE OF CHUCK TINGLE IS NOT THE SPACE FOR THAT. the pink bag is a place for me to not have to put up with that tension. it is a place for me to unmask mentally by masking physically.

this pink bag space SAVED MY LIFE and i am not going to risk blurring these lines. if and when that ever happens it will be MY decision, not someone elses. that is my boundary. the part of me that neurotypically masks could handle a library conference in a purely technical sense, but the part of me that chuck represents absolutely cannot and should not be asked to do that without the pink bag. unfortunately, the complexity of this point makes it even MORE difficult for me to think about and takes up even more of my time, because it forces me to START QUESTIONING MYSELF and my own needs. to be honest, that is the most insidious part of other people questioning your identify and refusing to accept your accommodation needs without ‘proof’.

the thing is, while all of this discussion of disability and accessibility is important, i have a much larger point to make by writing these words.

a conference should not uninvite someone with an unusual physical presentation or a strange way of speaking REGARDLESS of it being classified as a disability. it does not matter WHY i look the way that i look and wear what i wear. i should not have to spend all day writing this post instead of writing my next book, just because my sensibilities are unique and my presentation is unusual. 

fortunately the solution is very simple: let other people be themselves. its not hurting you to simply accept and nod at the buckaroos you think look strange. let us exist

[hannieehaee]

DOES HE KNOW ?

18+ / mdi

summary: after being friends with lee chan for a good portion of your life, the boy you considered nothing but your best friend suddenly starts acting different, making you slowly fall for him. problem is, you have a boyfriend.

content: friends2lovers!chan, reader has a bf, almost cheating but not actually, afab reader, smut, oral (f receiving), wet dream (this is actually a huge point in the plot lol), masturbation (f receiving), dry humping, more oral (f receiving), penetrative sex, etc.

wc: 9.8k

a/n: rewrote this so many times but finally finished it!! i love writing channie so i hope u guys enjoy<3

masterlist | kofi/patreon

support me through a one time tip<3

Something was clearly wrong with you.

Was Lee Chan hot?

Nothing made sense anymore, and it had been the case for a while.

You could date it back to a little over a month ago, at one of Soonyoung's usual gatherings. This had been where it all began, or more so, where it all ended.

For some reason unknown to man, that was the day in which Chan began courting you (his words, not yours).

After years of a solid friendship between the two of you, a not-so tipsy Chan cornered you at aforementioned party and began dancing with you. This was a common occurrence between the two of you. Despite having been taken for the past few months, you were still quite liberal about your touchy relationship with your best friend. However, what happened next what was truly out of the ordinary.

"Hey," he had whispered against your ear.

"Yeah?", you giggled, entertained by the boy.

"Wanna know a secret?"

"Sure."

"I've never wanted anyone as much as I want you," and with that, the dam had broken.

You froze against his arms, eyes widening. Though he could not see, as you were holding each other far too close to make eye contact.

Maybe he was drunk?

He interrupted you before you could respond. Chan pulled away from you to look into your eyes with a fully sober look in his face.

"I'm not drunk, and I know you have a boyfriend. And I know you only see me as a friend. But give me a few weeks, and I'll change both those things," was the last thing he said before giving you a peck on the cheek (yet another common thing in your relationship) and walking away with a confident sway in his step.

Ever since then, you had been bombarded by romantic gestures from your former best friend – former because you truly had no idea how you felt about him by this point.

Chan bought you flowers, – even when it was raining – had your favorite beverage at hand any time you so happened to see him, tied your shoelaces should they ever come undone, plucked loose eyelashes from your cheeks, tucked your hair behind your ear, placed his hand at the small of your back before crossing a street, walked you to and from home, looked at you with an indescribable sweetness in his eye, he ... He did everything any girl would need to be completely swooned (and then some).

You were beyond confused as to when this change had come about. As far as you knew, you were nothing more than best friends. When had Chan even begun liking you? What had changed?

"Oh. He's always had a thing for you," was what your mutual friend Soonyoung said when you first brought it up.

"What do you mean? We've been friends for years, he's never-"

"Yeah, duh. You never showed interest, what was he supposed to do? But yeah, he's crazy about you," added Seungkwan, sipping his drink nonchalantly.

You had decided to meet up with some of your mutual friends while Chan was at work. You needed at least five minutes with your other friends without Chan getting in the way with his flirting.

"It's kinda sick, actually," interjected Soonyoung once more.

You remained quiet for a while, thinking back to every interaction you'd ever had with Chan that may have revealed his feelings for you. Unfortunately, you kept drawing blanks all the while Soonyoung stole fries from your plate, disregarding your confusion at the situation.

"But why now?", you finally asked, slapping his meddling hand away from your food.

He shrugged, "Maybe he got fed up of watching you with that guy."

"He has a name, Soonyou-"

"None of us really care enough to learn it."

That much was true. None of your friends were fans of your current boyfriend. Or of any of them, to be quite frank. You had certain lack of skill at picking them, though this time around you felt confident about your current relationship. He was nice and respectful. Maybe a little bit of a square, but you liked to think you brought out the fun in him. This was also the longest relationship you'd ever had, giving you the grand total of three months in a exclusive relationship and a month and a half of a very prolonged talking stage that took place before he ever asked you out officially.

"Is this because I've been taken for longer than usual?", you tried to assert.

"Oh! That might be it, huh?", Soonyoung agreed.

"Well, I guess he didn't want you to break your streak of failed relationships," chuckled Kwan.

With a slap to his chest, you dropped the subject, deciding to ignore the slight acceleration of your heart any time you thought about Chan's crush for too long.

At first you found it to be a bit of a joke, but his affections quickly began to wear you down. It also didn't help how blatant he was about it, constantly flirting up a storm around your friends, not caring for their amused smiles at your flustered half-rejections of his advances. The only times in which he held back were the rare occasions in which your boyfriend would join your friend group in their outings. He could be reserved at times, not really clicking with your loud friends, so his presence was not a common thing.

Being honest, you felt kind of bad at the genuine excitement Chan's crush gave you. Though you weren't sure of your feelings for him at this point, his interest flustered you tremendously. You'd always known him as a pretty and charming guy, despite never really acknowledging such things. You understood why he got so much attention from girls, though you never thought too much of it. He was your best friend, you never had any motive to consider anything further than platonic feelings for him. But now that you were questioning your feelings, you felt as if you were kind of betraying your boyfriend.

Not to misunderstand, you had no desire of pursuing anything with anyone while you were in a committed relationship. You were just not that kind of person. But the mere thought of blushing at the words of a guy who wasn't yours (all while actually having a guy of your own) made you feel ashamed. Specially considering that you already had a very grand preexisting fondness for the guy in question.

God damn you, Lee Chan.

"So, when are you gonna drop this game and finally let me take you to bed?", he whispered cockily against your ear.

He was always so goddamn confident about it; a trait you always liked about him but were beginning to detest.

As per usual, you simply jokingly groaned at him and pushed him away in a manner far too light to be considered serious.

"Fuck off, Lee Chan."

With a giggle, he stepped away, usual pep in his step as present as ever.

"I'll get you another drink, 'kay, pretty?", you lost him in the crowd after that.

You'd gone drinking with your friends yet again, though this time at a distant friend's house party. Your boyfriend was absent once more due to his personal disdain for such outings. He was simply not much of a social drinker, which was fine! It just bothered you at times how often he chose staying in rather than going out with you.

Despite your rejections of Chan, you felt embarrassed to admit that you loved the thrill of his interest in you. Never had you ever had someone so shamelessly after your affections despite your lighthearted refusals. It made you feel wanted and powerful. It felt specially good when it came from a guy as handsome and charismatic as Chan; a guy who could have basically any girl all thanks to his unbelievable charisma.

Yet he wanted you. He was after you.

The guy you knew most was currently infatuated with you.

Yeah, you did need that second drink.

"Where's your guy?"

Your thoughts were interrupted by a familiar voice coming from behind you.

You turned around to find Vernon leaning back against the wall, a smirk on his face at having watched your encounter with Chan.

"Shut up," you walked over to recline on the wall next to him, deciding to people-watch alongside him.

"It was a genuine question," he claimed, handing you a sip of the beer he'd been nursing.

"He's working again," you sipped, handing it back to take turns as you waited for Chan to bring you your drink of choice.

"And Channie?"

"What about him?"

"Does your boyfriend know?", he asks, more curious than actually interested.

Men, nosy as usual.

You groan, "Don't ask me that, Non."

"C'mon! Has he not noticed the way Chan's been after you these past few weeks?", he seemed far too entertained by the subject.

"Of course not! Chan's kept his distance around him, but ..."

"But?"

You turned your head to him, back still leaning against the wall, "I don't know!"

"Well, do you like him? Channie, I mean."

"It's- I like the attention."

"And him?", he pressed.

"He's starting to wear me down," you admitted.

Vernon chuckled into his red solo cup, "It's cute."

"What is?"

"The back and forth, the 'will they, won't they.' But if you ask me, I think they will."

"I have a boyfriend, Non," you grumbled, not entirely convincing in your tone.

"Yeah, but are you guys even friends? Wouldn't it be better to date someone who you actually like?"

"Stop doing PR for Chan. It's not like he needs it," you grumbled, already uses to this back and forth with many of your other friends – all of whom were rooting for Chan.

"Fine. But get out of here. Your guy's probably looking for you."

"My guy's not here."

"I meant Channie, now go!"

You grumbled again before walking in the direction in which Chan had left, knowing he'd likely still be in the kitchen attempting to fetch you a drink.

It didn't take you long to find him, nor did it take you long to spot the girl standing next to him, seemingly flirting up a storm. Chan didn't seem too deterred by this either. More than anything, he appeared to he reciprocating.

Maybe this was why you and Chan started off as friends and remained so for the years you'd known each other. He always had a girl clinging onto him one way or another. Though he didn't date much, he sure enjoyed swooning girls whenever he could.

You'd always been very strict about being exclusive with whoever you dated, never wanting to compete for someone's attention or engage in prolonged talking stages. This was something you differed in with Chan. He was quite the opposite, engaging in situationships that never really led anywhere. As his friend, you never really cared much for this. If it worked for him, then that was that. However, now that he was supposedly attempting to pursue you, – despite you being in a relationship – you couldn't help but scoff at the sight of Chan still entertaining any girl that'd show interest in him.

You almost turned around and left, but were promptly stopped by the man himself, who spotted you before you could take one step and disregarded the girl immediately. The girl scoffed in your place, clearly put off by Chan's attention being taken away so easily.

"Babe!", he called out, one drink in each hand, as he approached you, "Sorry I took so long, the line was crazy."

Immaturely enough, you rolled your eyes and grabbed the drink from his hand, ignoring his statement as you sipped it. You really had no right to be jealous of Chan talking to other girls. You were taken, and you weren't even interested in Chan. Were you? Still, you disregarded those thoughts and allowed the bitterness to cloud your mind and began walking away from the boy.

"Huh?", a question mark physically manifested itself above Chan's head as you began walking away from him, "Baby? Wait, where are you going?", his arm managed to reach you before you got far enough and softly turned you around to face him.

The two of you were still standing far too close to the people crowding the kitchen, however, so Chan assessed that it'd be better to move to a quieter spot in order to properly check in on you. With a decisive nod to himself, he grabbed onto your hand and walked you over to an empty hallway before turning to you again.

"What's wrong? Did something happen while I was gone? Did someone-"

The concern in his eyes seemed very genuine, making you feel bad for being such a brat at the mere sight of Chan interacting with another woman. You had never had an issue with your best friend being around other women. Hell, you never even cared whenever he would occasionally ditch you for other girls. The two of you were simply best friends. You had always rooted for him in his romantic life, even encouraging him with it.

But things had drastically changed as soon as he began showing interest in you.

It was like his sudden interest had unlocked a part of you you hadn't known was there. It had given you this brand new possessiveness you had never held over Chan before; a possessiveness you didn't even feel for your current boyfriend.

And it made you feel embarrassed. Tremendously so. It also made you feel like a hypocrite. Here you had a guy who was clearly extremely into you, yet he had made no comment nor expressed any disdain over the fact that you already had a guy. Chan had never expressed any type of jealousy over any of your past relationships. Despite having liked you for the entire duration of your friendship (information you were unsure Chan was aware you knew), Chan always respected your relationships and even tried to befriend any guy you brought along. Yet you couldn't hold back your bitterness at him showing interest in someone else; interest you now felt should be reserved only for you.

The hypocritical nature of your feelings made you look down in embarrassment as you interrupted Chan's inquiries, clarifying that nothing was wrong.

"No, Chan. I'm fine, I swear. Just a little tired. I, uh, thanks for the drink."

"Hey, are you sure?", he lifted your face with a finger to your chin, making you hold eye contact with him.

It was quite insane how this was not even meant as a flirtatious move, but rather a demonstration of his platonic worry for you. Yet your heart sped up anyways.

"I'm fine, Chan! It's just the crowds. You know how I get. Nonnie told me to go look for you and there were so many people in the kitchen, and then I couldn't come up to you because of that girl and-"

Your rambles were interrupted by an exclamation mark practically manifesting itself above Chan's head, with the sudden realization of your jealousy hitting him.

"Oh?", he tilted his head and leaned in a bit closer as a grin began making its way onto his face, "'That girl'?", he repeated.

"Chan-"

He got closer to you, now cornering you against the hallway wall, still giving you space but blocking your view of anything other than him.

"I'm sorry, baby. Did that bother you? Hmm? Me talking to some other girl?"

"It's not like that! I just-"

"It's okay. You can admit it. I won't judge you," except his smirk was nothing but condescending.

"Chan! I-"

"But that's kinda funny, though. Isn't it?", he chuckled to himself.

"W-what is?," you stammered at his sudden shift in mood.

Though he was still far too close for a friend to be, and he was still leaning into your touch, his tone had shifted to one a bit more cynical in nature.

"You're jealous? Baby, you have a boyfriend."

"I do, and-"

"So what's there to be jealous about? You've got your guy. Yet you're looking my way? When you've been rejecting me all this time?", he leaned even closer, almost breathing right against your nose, eyes hooded as they bore into your own, alternating between your eyes and lips in a somewhat teasing manner.

"I-I'm not jealous. Just ... Why flirt with me if you're after other girls too?", you made the mistake of asking.

"Oh, baby. I'm not looking at anyone else. Not my fault you're so possessive you can't even stand other girls looking at me," you knew he was simply teasing you, knowing full well that you were not the possessive type. But his words carried a slight weight of truth behind them.

You had no reason to feel any type of possessiveness over Chan. Yet you still felt uneasy at the thought of Chan's eyes on anyone who wasn't you. Now that you had a taste of his attention you wanted it all to yourself.

"I just have one question," he whispered, far too close to you.

You nodded at him to continue, wide eyes on his own.

"Does he know?"

"Know what?"

"That you like me back," his eyes went down to your lips again.

"Chan. Stop. I-I'm not gonna cheat on my boyfriend," you huffed, avoiding his eyes – which was quite hard at his close proximity.

The two of you stayed like that for a few moments, with your eyes occasionally dropping to his lips. But it was fine, since his own were also on yours – though his expression was more triumphant than anything, while yours revealed your nerves. Had you been in a less restricting position, your thighs would've instinctively pressed together at the thoughts that were suddenly running through your mind at his proximity, but thankfully the situation didn't drag long enough for your lust to reveal itself.

He finally pulled away, smirk still on his face, "I'd never ask you to do that, baby. 's just nice to know my plan's working," he chuckled.

"What plan?"

"I'm wearing you down. You want me."

Unfortunately, you had no rebuttal, knowing that Chan had won this round. Even if you denied his statement (which you had half the mind to do), he had caught you red handed. You had whined about not having his full attention just like a petulant child would. Nothing you said would save you from that.

You managed to move on from that quite quickly, finding Soonyoung and Kwannie just a few moments later and using them as an excuse to move on from the way in which Chan had cornered you. You spent the rest of the party pondering Chan's words. Did you actually want him? Or was it just that you wanted him to want you?

Now you were stuck with embarrassing moisture between your thighs and countless doubts hanging over your head.

"C-Channie! Oh, Channie, fuck!"

Your cries of pleasure were unparalleled as the pretty boy you liked to call your best friend slurped at your cunt like a starved man.

You weren't sure how long he had been at it, nor were you sure how you'd ended up in this situation, but you had no complaints. His tongue between your thighs was pure heaven, especially with the pathetic whines the boy kept letting out at your taste.

"'sso good, princess. Cunt's so tasty ... Been wanting it since I met you ... Been waiting for you for years," he mumbled against your cunt, getting back to licking and sucking immediately.

While your heart was unsure what to make of such a heavy statement, your body responded with desperation. To have a man yearn for you like that for years was doing wonders for your cunt. It made you gush like crazy, beginning to grind against Chan's face in such a depraved way.

"Just like that, fuck. Fuck my face just like that," he groaned, the vibrations of his voice causing you to grind even harder against him.

"C-Channie! It's so good ... So fucking good, oh!"

He seemed to get off on your praise, you realized, as you felt ruckus on the bed beneath you caused by Chan canting his hips against your mattress and moaning incessantly into your cunt. The knowledge of your taste alone making Chan lose himself in such a way was enough to drive you towards your high, getting closer and closer by the second.

"Gonna make me cum, princess. Got such a pretty fucking pussy," he managed to breathe out despite exerting all his efforts into fucking the mattress.

Surprising to no one, Chan claimed your orgasm on his tongue just moments later, somehow managing to talk you through it and make the experience even more swoon-worthy than it already was. Chan had managed to make you feel a way no one had ever before, making you ache for him with just his words.

It had all ended far sooner than you would've liked, but it was fine. You knew that with a few kisses to his ear Chan would give you whatever you wanted without question.

Yet before you could even get to enjoy the entirety of your high, it was abruptly taken from you the moment your alarm began ringing, awakening you from what you hadn't realized was just slumber.

Waking up from a wet dream was already embarrassing enough on its own, but waking up from a wet dream about your best friend whom you swore you weren't into like that was a new level of low.

As much as you tried to brush it off as some sort of fluke or meaningless dream, you knew better. You had never thought of Chan in such a way, much less imagined him in that context, so it was safe to say that Chan had been right. His plan was working.

~

The following hours were spent on alert (and still incredibly horny). You thought about calling up your boyfriend to help you out, but the thought in itself felt dirty. How could you ask your boyfriend to take care of a problem caused by your best friend? There was that, and the fact that your brain would probably not be satisfied by your boyfriend right now.

You needed to get Chan out of your system.

You knew that if you called up Chan and explained your problem to him he'd come running immediately, no questions asked as he helped you relive your dream. Such a thought had your head spinning and your knees feeling weak. Except you had a moral compass that was preventing you from doing so. So, you spent the next few hours extremely sensitive and attempting to take care of yourself in any way you could think of.

Unfortunately nothing compared to your dream. Nothing felt as warm and loving as Chan had felt. There was not a single thing that could bring back that feeling of want Chan had towards you; a feeling you were so desperate for. This led you to spend the rest of the day sexually frustrated, unable to reach your high as you felt something was thoroughly missing.

Even when your boyfriend stopped by to see you after work, things had gone awry. You'd received him at the door in a desperate manner, dragging him in with you and inciting him into fucking you. You didn't care if you had Chan in mind anymore, you just needed some satisfying release. Sadly, your boyfriend did not match your energy, opting to slow you down and have his way with you in his own way. This led to yet another unsatisfying release to add to today's tally. You were unsure if you could even call it a release, as it felt entirely underwhelming and had been mostly accomplished by your own hand.

Going to sleep, still sexually frustrated, you cursed at yourself for letting Lee Chan get in your head.

Spending time with Chan after your incident was nothing less than incredibly awkward.

Despite Chan being fully unaware of what had gone down in your subconscious, you couldn't help the blush that would take over your face any time the two of you made eye contact. He had all the power at the moment.

You had also made the mistake of discussing the occurrence with your closest friends, Seungkwan and Soonyoung. Purposely, you had not mentioned the name of the culprit behind your wet dream, but it had not been hard for your nosy friends to figure it out on their own.

"You had a sex dream about Channie?!", Soonyoung had all but whispered, causing some old ladies across the diner to look your way in judgment.

Fortunately not too many people were present at the diner you were currently hanging out at, but it didn't really help the embarrassment you felt at the words even being uttered. This was the only time in which you could see your friends without Chan's presence, so you couldn't be too picky about the setting.

"Soonyoung! Shut the hell up!", you whisper-shouted at him, throwing a rolled up napkin at him in punishment, "I never said it was about Chan."

"Please. Who else would it be about? Sure as hell can't be about your vanilla boyfriend. And anyone else like Mingyu or Wonwoo would be too obvious for you to be so embarrassed about it. It has to be Chan," Seungkwan butted in nonchalantly.

"I- It's- my boyfriend is not vanilla!"

"You didn't deny it! It was Channie!", Soonyoung was far too excited at having guessed correctly.

Giving up, and knowing you needed some external input on your predicament, you nodded in shame, admitting to your sin in order to maybe get some advice on the situation.

"What do I do? I ... I can't stop thinking about it. Fuck, I can't even look at Chan in the eye anymore."

"Was it good?"

"Soonyoung, stop! That's not the point."

"He has a point. Not really worth ruining your relationship over some mediocre head," argued Seungkwan.

"Shut up! It- Fuck, it was so good," you groaned into your hands in utter embarrassment.

"Dude I knew Chan would be good at head. It's in his eyes. I'm telling you, people with those big doe eyes are freaks in bed," Soonyoung couldn't seem to stop spewing his headcanon of Chan at you.

"Or at least dream-Chan is," agreed Kwan.

"What do I do?! It won't leave my mind. I- I've already tried fucking it out of my head, but even then-"

"Hold on. You had sex with your boyfriend while thinking about Chan? Does he know?"

"Soonyoung!"

"Man, he'd pass out if he heard that. Do you know how many time's he's walked us through his sex dreams?", cackled Soonyoung.

This obviously caught your attention, making you widen your eyes and fastening the speed of your heartbeat.

Chan had had sex dreams about you too?

I mean, it should've been obvious considering the amount of dirty innuendos and straight-up proposals he's given you these past few weeks, but you had never actually thought about it in depth.

Fuck.

Chan wanted to fuck you.

The thought made you gulp and press your thighs together, actions your friends thankfully did not catch onto.

"He, uh, he's told you about his sex dreams about me?", you asked with a complete lack of confidence in your voice.

"God, don't even get him started," grumbled Seungkwan, slurping his almost empty americano before continuing, "It's Hoshi who keeps instigating him into telling us every excruciating detail."

Soonyoung nodded in confirmation, "Dude, he gets nasty," he whispers as if it was a sin to utter out loud – despite having previously aired your own sex dream to the whole diner.

God, were you interested in knowing more. But you couldn't blow your cover. You were far too horny and pent up already. Hearing about how your sexy (yes, you were at the point of shamelessly admitting it) best friend giving it to you in the nastiest scenarios imaginable would probably make you combust in front of your best friends and every other unsuspecting person in the establishment.

With dry lips and wetness already gathering between your thighs, you simply hummed in acknowledgment and moved on with the conversation, eventually managing to change subjects without giving away your cover.

~

Never in your life had you ever had such urgency in getting home.

Upon locking your front door, you immediately ran to your bed, undressing yourself in the process and getting ready to rid yourself of the ache between your legs that had been bothering you since that wretched dream.

You knew that you wouldn't be able to satisfy yourself as well as you wanted without Chan's aid (you'd tried endless times just a few days ago), but trying was better than nothing.

Getting yourself started was easy. All you had to do was remember the very vivid image of dream-Chan slobbering between your legs, begging you to use his face however you saw fit and claim your orgasm as if it were a god-given right.

But imagination wasn't enough.

You had half the mind to call up Chan right there and then and crying to him to please come and take care of you. The repeated knowledge that Chan would likely come to you with no question nor judgement made the task of holding back even harder. It made you cry at the frustration your fingers were giving you; they just weren't enough. Not even after the endless attempts these past few days had you been able to calm the fire between your legs. The last time you saw your boyfriend – just after your damned sex dream – had been yet another failed attempt. It seemed like nothing could truly get you there.

That's when you thought of the perfect thing.

Chan always had the tendency of either taking you home himself or sending you a short voice message to ensure you had arrived home safely – always insisting on one in return. This message always contained Chan's raspy voice after a long day of shenanigans, usually calling you one pet name or another as he checked in on you.

No matter how ashamed you felt at it, the burning between your legs did seem to diminish upon turning up the short voice message he had left you just last week. His words, accompanied by his voice, did wonders for your imagination.

"Hey, babe", it had started, "Just wanted to check in on you and make sure you got home okay. Need you to send me a message back as soon as you can, yeah?"

This had been enough to start you up again, the usual 'babe' nickname and the soft command causing an effect on you it never had in all your years of friendship.

"You looked so pretty today," he sighed, "Did I tell you that? Need to be telling you that every day. You're gorgeous. Don't even know how such a pretty girl puts up with us," he chuckled.

Oh, Channie ...

He'd always been so sweet to you. Such a fun friend, but also such a sweet boy who'd always coddle you and treat you better than anyone else. You could almost picture him swooning at you as he reminisced on the pretty dress you'd worn that day.

You couldn't think of anyone else who thought of you that fondly. Yet you were currently too busy using an unsuspecting Chan to get off after days of being pent up due to that same boy.

"Miss you already, gorgeous. Should've taken you home myself, ugh," he groaned at himself, "That way I would've at least gotten a goodnight kiss," he paused, chuckling, "on the cheek, of course."

It was probably just your horny brain talking, but had Chan been in front of you at that moment, you would've done far more than just kiss him. You didn't know where all this sudden lust for Chan had come from, but that dream had come with an epiphany. Maybe you'd been attracted to your best friend all this time.

"'Kay, Imma leave you now, okay, princess? Message me back when you're ready for bed, alright? You know how I worry. Goodnight, beautiful. I love you," he ended the recording with a soft kiss.

The short voice message wasn't enough to work yourself up to an orgasm, so you revisited as many of his old messages as you could, recalling some specially soft ones he'd send you where he'd call you all the petnames known to man and praise you enough to make you blush.

You also thought about what Soonyoung had said, how Chan's dreams about you would get nasty. You thought of every nasty thing the man was probably itching to do to you. You thought of how easily you'd let him if he was here at this moment.

Throughout it all, you pictured Chan and the actions that would accompany his words if he were in the room with you. You imagined the soft touches and the praise he'd spew endlessly at you. The eyes full of genuine love – mixed with a little lust – that would watch you as you came undone.

And come undone you did. It wasn't as good as it would've been with the real Chan present and taking care of you, but it sure beat the multiple unsatisfying orgasms you'd had in the past few days.

"We broke up."

Those were your opening words upon approaching the usual table you shared with your friends.

This time Seokmin had decided to join.

"You what?"

"Because of Chan?"

"Really?!"

All responses were delivered simultaneously, making you groan as you sat down, knowing you were in for a lengthy interrogation from the three nosiest men you knew.

You covered your face in your hands and exhaled before unmasking yourself and facing your friends with seriousness in your demeanor.

"Didn't feel right when I kept thinking about Chan," you started, "He understood, which made it worse. Said he'd been too busy with work lately, was thinking of taking some time apart anyways."

It had been a few days since your wet dream about Chan. After your lonely escapade the night after – the night with the cursed voice memos – you had gone over to your boyfriend's place to end it. You hadn't hung out much in the past few weeks. There had been no spark for a bit. The goodness of your short-lived relationship was probably just the honeymoon period, which ended around the same time Chan decided to make his interest on you known.

It was all too much to deal with, so breaking it off seemed easier.

"Wow," aired Soonyoung.

"Yeah. Wow. How are you feeling?", asked Seokmin.

"I'm fine. Just, you know, feel kinda bad. I didn't want to be with someone if my heart wasn't fully in it," you mumbled, a little solemn.

"Does Channie know?"

"God, no. I've been avoiding him since," you eyed Kwan and Soonyoung, "uh, you know," you didn't want Seokmin to be yet another one of your friends to know about your sexual escapades in your slumber.

"Oh, you mean the sex dream?"

Your stare turned menacing, facing the only two possible culprits, "Who told him?"

"It was Soonie!", Seungkwan revealed immediately.

"Wait! No, I-"

"Did you tell anyone else? Oh my god, does Chan know?!"

"No! I only told Seokmin, I swear! He asked why we were meeting while Chan's working, so I told him."

"Don't worry, I won't tell. Scout's honor."

Seokmin held an innocent pinky towards you. Already done with the situation, you halfheartedly intertwined pinkies and moved on.

"So ... Channie?", Seungkwan asked once more.

"What about him?", you feigned curiosity.

"Playing dumb isn't gonna help things."

"What, do you want me to tell him about my dream?"

"That'd be kinda weird, man, I don't know," added Seokmin.

"I think it'd be hot."

"Soonyoung, shut up!", you told him for the nth time since the subject of your 'crush' on Chan had first come up.

Seungkwan side-eyed them before continuing, "No, but you like him, don't you?"

Did you? Did you actually like Chan?

Before Chan had showed interest in you, you had never considered it. Ever since you'd met him, Chan had always been nothing more than your best friend, your partner in crime. You had never felt as safe and comfortable with anyone as you had with Chan, and that was still the case. No boyfriend had ever made you feel as at ease as Chan always did.

His crush had brought out something in you. Had it been any other friend who suddenly revealed their feelings for you, you would've reacted in horror. But it was different with Chan. For some reason, you didn't feel put off by it, nor did you try to chase him away for his feelings for you. It wasn't one of those situations where the boy suddenly decides to pursue his girl-friend and ruins the friendship altogether. This had opened pandora's box for you, making you realize that Chan's affections would've always been welcomed by you.

Even if you jokingly rejected him or told your friends you had a boyfriend, it was all simply due to your moral compass. You weren't a cheater, so you couldn't take Chan too seriously even if you wanted to. But now you were single, and now you had to figure out if you really wanted Chan in the same way he wanted you.

"I know that I want him, but I need to make sure that I want him, you know? I'd never want to hurt his feelings or jeopardize our friendship just because I was horny one day."

"So you're scared it might just be that you're sexually attracted to him?"

"No, it's just ..."

"You want to know whether or not you like him and not just the attention he gives you."

It was surprisingly Soonyoung who had deciphered it.

"Y-yeah. Fuck. Does that make me a narcissist?"

"Nah. It's better to be sure. You've been friends with Channie since forever. It makes sense for you to wanna be cautious."

"You should probably stop avoiding him, though. He's, uh, starting to notice," revealed Seokmin.

"Yeah, he won't stop whining. Just put him out of his misery already," said Soonie.

"Okay, I guess I'll talk to him next time I see him."

You didn't really feel ready for it, but the time to confront Chan would have to come sooner or later.

Next time you saw Chan was actually far too soon for your liking. Just the following day you found yourself at yet another house party; a small gathering among your friend group and some other people. It wasn't anything too big, so you knew that you'd inevitably bump into Chan.

It had only been about a week since you last spoke to Chan, but that had been a week too long. Throughout the duration of your friendship, the longest you ever went without constant communication had been three days, which had been a total accident on both your parts. The two of you would at least text once a day, even coming to have an unbroken streak of endless texts.

Fuck, you missed him.

Chan obviously must've noticed your lack of communication these past few days. You weren't even sure why you had decided to keep him in the dark. It wasn't just the wet dream (which was still haunting you, but had moved to the back burner for now), and it wasn't your breakup either. You were just confused about your feelings for the boy, but punishing him by icing him out had been far too much. Now you felt guilty.

You felt extra guilty when you finally spotted Chan across the party, sitting alone on a loveseat while he attempted but failed at discreetly looking over at you. He looked like a wounded puppy as he did so, pout on his lips and furrowed brows. It made you want to kiss the pout right off his face.

It was easy to tell that he wanted to approach you, but was simply trying his hardest to respect the boundary you had seemingly put up out of nowhere. This meant that you'd have to be the one to talk to him.

Then you took action, throwing away the drink you had been nursing and walking over to him, ignoring his shocked expression when you wordlessly grabbed his hand and pulled him to an empty room in the shared house. You locked the door and turned to him, unsure on what to say first.

Chan was the now the one to surprise you, immediately trapping you in a bear hug and burying his face in your shoulder, loudly breathing you in.

He didn't let go for a couple of minutes, even nudging you to keep hugging him back when you went to pull away.

When he finally let go, you finally had the chance to look at the boy for a moment.

Yeah, you liked him.

You had missed him far too much to be able to deny it.

You liked Lee Chan, and you were ready to let it be known to the world.

But then he started speaking.

"I'm so sorry," he started, utterly confusing you as to what he could be apologizing for, "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, I, fuck. I must've crossed a line with my flirting, and I never meant to. You're my best friend, and I need to respect you, an-and I need to respect your relationship. I thought that maybe somehow I could get you to see me as more than a friend, but it was stupid of me to assume you'd drop your boyfriend just because your dumb friend suddenly had a crush on you – which, uh, isn't the case, by the way," he looked down, embarrassed, "I've liked you since we met. So much. I assumed Hoshi must've told you by now. Anyways, I, uh, I'm really sorry. I'll stop. I will never bring it up again, just, fuck, please don't be mad. I'll take anything you give me. If friendship is what you want then I'll be the bestest friend you've ever had, just-"

It was impossible to take his senseless rambles anymore. You were getting too emotional at the thought of having put Chan through this turmoil when you had spent the last few days tending to the ache he had caused between your legs and subsequently breaking up with your boyfriend in order to figure out your feelings. It made you feel equally embarrassed and ridiculous, yet the effects of your silence made you begin to tear up at the apologetic boy in front of you.

Interrupting him, you hugged him again, somehow even tighter this time. This thankfully shut him up, allowing his body to lose its tension and letting himself become limp in your hold.

After some more moments of silent hugging, you were the one to pull away this time, giving him a sympathetic smile as you raised a hand to caress his cheek. It made you soon the way in which he leaned against your palm and gave you the sweetest smile known to man.

"Channie, you did nothing wrong ... I'm sorry for cutting you off like that, that was so wrong of me. I should've talked to you and told you how I was feeling. I wish I was half as confident about my feelings as you are, but I just felt so-" you paused, not knowing what you were even trying to express, "a-and then I just started avoiding you to avoid my feelings all together. I'm sorry."

"No, you have nothing to apologize for," he put his hands on your shoulders to ensure you were understanding his point, "I should've respected your boundaries. I never even should've tried to pursue you when I know you have a boyfriend, it was so-"

"had", you clarified, shy.

"what?"

"I had a boyfriend. We, uh, we broke up a few days ago."

"You ... Fuck, was it because of me?"

His eyes were like saucers, but you could see a small hint of a smile that he quickly wiped off when he realized the context of the situation.

"I want to say no, but ... yeah, I did."

Still feeling unbelievably ashamed at the memory of what had first led you to consider breaking up with your boyfriend, – a stupid wet dream you still couldn't get out of your mind – you avoided eye contact. Now you knew that that had only been the catalyst of realizing your feelings for Chan, but it still didn't help matters much, specially knowing that Chan would find out sooner or later.

"God, I'm so so sorry-"

"Chan! Stop apologizing! It wasn't because of anything you did. I just ... I realized some things these past few weeks and .. I realized we weren't really right for each other," you took a breath, "Not when you were all I could think about."

"Y-you ...?"

"I'm going to be candid, okay? Just, please don't interrupt."

He nodded, giving you the green light.

"A little over a week ago, uh, something happened. And then I couldn't keep you out of my mind. I tried talking to the guys, I even tried using my boyfriend as a distraction, but nothing worked. I started avoiding you because I just felt so awkward realizing I was beginning to develop feelings for you. It was wrong of me, but I needed time. I broke up with him because it didn't feel right to be with someone else while you were the only person I wanted around."

Saying it felt like a breath of fresh air. Not only were you admitting it to Chan, but also to yourself. Your friendship with Chan had never been your average friendship. Even before he had decided to begin shamelessly hitting on you, he had always been the sweetest and most caring boy you'd ever met. Sending you voice memos every time you went home alone, always being in charge of getting your drinks, driving you wherever you wanted, being overly affectionate with you any time he felt you might've needed it. The boy had always been the perfect match for you, you just couldn't grasp it until he began to literally shove it in your face.

"What made you realize it?"

Not expecting him to question you, but rather just accept your sudden change of heart, you hadn't thought of how to explain to him that a sex dream was what had brought you to this epiphany.

But what did you have to lose at this point? Most of your friends already knew, and to be quite frank, you still wanted Chan extremely badly. Telling him wouldn't be the end of the world.

"I, uh, I had a dream about you ..." you muttered, eyes avoiding his own.

His already wide eyes widened even more, a smirk forming itself on his features as he tilted his head in question.

"Uhm, care to repeat that for me?"

"Chan, shut the fuck up. You heard me."

"I didn't! Just tell me. Please?"

With a sigh, you repeated yourself, this time a little more clear, "I had a dream about you."

"Uh-huh. What type of dream?"

"Chan!"

"Princess, please. I embarrassed myself for you for weeks. I pined for you for years. Just give me what I wanna hear," he pleaded, somehow cocky in the way he did so.

"Fuck, fine. I had a wet dream about you. I dreamt about you between my legs, giving me the greatest orgasm I've ever experienced and begging me for more. I dreamt of your pathetic whines while I ground my cunt on your face. And then I woke up before I could cum. I spent the entire day trying to get that feeling back but nothing worked, Chan, nothing. I couldn't look you in the eyes after that so I just avoided you."

Finally giving him the most candid version of the events made you feel a weight leave your shoulders, specially upon realizing that the boy who currently held your heart had been rendered unable to use this as ammunition against you as you watched his cocky expression turn into one of lust.

"Oh," he breathed out. Taking a few moments to regain his composure, he spoke up again, "W-was that it? Or do you, uh, do you also like me back?"

"I like you, Chan. So much. The dream was just what made me realize that I wanted you in every way imaginable."

A decisive expression now took over his face, nodding to himself before moving closer to you, taking up all your personal space.

"That's all I needed to know," he declared before claiming your lips in a heated kiss.

Chan kissed you with everything he had to give. The kiss immediately grew lustful, with Chan licking into your mouth for access the second you made the smallest sound of surprise. And, fuck was Chan a great kisser.

His tongue was practically making love to yours, rendering your legs weak and shaky. Thankfully Chan realized this, pushing you to the nearest wall so that he could continue to take over all your senses.

Scratching and pulling at his hair, you caused Chan to moan against your lips, only making you whine in return. Chan took this as a sign to move forward, beginning to grind his expert hips against your own. Already hard, Chan's clothed cock felt like heaven against your burning cunt. You had begged for a proper release for days, and you were now afraid that some light dry humping would be enough to take you there before you could finally relive your dream.

But did you care? Did you care enough to halt Chan's movements when they were already making your eyes roll back? Your body made the decision for you, pushing your hips against his own and making him release a gruttal groan against your lips.

"N-need you so fucking bad ..." he breathed against your lips, barely able to get a word out as you insisted of licking into his mouth as he spoke. This made him groan again, "Princess, please ... You're gonna kill me."

Pulling away, you grabbed his hands and placed them on your breasts, making eyed at him as you spoke, "Channie, just touch me. Don't care what you do, just ... just take care of the problem you caused."

He whined at the feeling of your body at his palms, immediately groping and feeling up every inch of your body before trapping your mouth in another heated kiss. His hands soon became too desperate to feel you through your clothes, carelessly unwrapping you from every piece of clothing he could. He left you in your underwear, having thrown off your dress and holding onto your hands so you could haphazardly kick off your shoes. Chan's clothes joined soon after, with his own hands throwing off all but his boxers.

Before he could claim your lips in a kiss again, you grabbed him by the hand, leading him to a nearby couch in order to sit him down. Sitting on his lap, you kissed him again and again, thoroughly enjoying how liberal his hands were in the way he touched you.

Finally throwing off your bra, you felt up your tits a bit as Chan watched you with a pained look in his face, mouth open and eyes glued to your breasts. His lips attached to your tits immediately after, going crazy in the way he suckled and bit at them.

"You're so fucking gorgeous," he mumbled against your tit, "Fuck, dreamt about you every night ... This pretty body and all your pretty noises. Can't believe I get to have you now," he kissed his way back up to your neck, hands never halting in their caressing of your body.

He pulled away to look into your eyes – though his eyes kept dropping to your lips, "You're embarrassed about your dream?", he chuckled, "Want me to tell you some of mine? Hmm?", he began to manhandle you, positioning you so that you could lay horizontally on the couch and he could lay above you, "So fucking nasty, baby, it'd make you blush."

"Channie ..."

"Gonna do so many nasty things to you. Want me to whine for your pussy? Oh, baby ... Gonna beg for pussy every day, shit," his hand went down to rub your wet cunt through your panties, "'sso wet," he groaned, "Gonna lick it all up again and again. Need to suffocate between these thighs," he made his way down your body as he said this, eventually coming face to face with your cunt.

Leaving a kiss on your weeping cunt, he licked through your panties, causing you to arch your back for him and throw your head back. The warmth of his tongue could've been enough to claim your orgasm, but somehow you persisted.

Chan became desperate for you quickly after that, removing your panties and lifting your thighs so that he could finally bury himself between your legs the way you'd been wanting him to for so long.

"Channie, fuck!," you cried, pulling at his hair while pushing his head further against you.

"Use me. God, just ... Grind that cunt against me ..."

And so you did. You took advantage of your pretty best friend's desperation for you and employed your own desperation for him. To any outsider, you must've looked like the image of depravity as you used Chan for your pleasure, but Chan was just as depraved. You could feel the couch shake from under you, indicating the way in which Chan ground against it as you claimed your orgasm on his tongue.

Riding your high was an incomparable experience. No one had ever made you feel as much pleasure as Chan had. Not even dream-Chan lived up to reality.

You could've sworn you lost consciousness for a few moments after your high, feeling completely weightless when it had finally died down. Your ability to think only came back by the time Chan had climbed back up your body and kissed at your chest once more, smiling at you when he finally reached your lips.

Instead of sharing a sweet moment with him, you claimed his lips once more and licked every last bit of your essence from his mouth. He groaned and allowed his tongue to mingle with yours in such a nasty manner that it made you blush when you remembered that Chan was nothing more than your best friend less than an hour ago.

"Let me fuck you," Chan pleaded when he finally managed to pull away from your greedy lips.

"How do you want me?", you asked as your lips tried to reclaim his yet again. Fuck, he was such a good kisser.

"Fuck. I get to choose?"

You couldn't help but be endeared by him. Also incredibly turned on by how much he clearly wanted you.

Without another word, he repositioned you so you'd be on your hands and knees, running his hand down your back to press the arch of your back a little deeper. He groaned at the sight of you arching your back as deliciously as you could, wiggling your ass as you looked back at him with a cheeky smile, lip trapped between your teeth.

"I've been waiting for this for years, shit. I'm not gonna last."

That made you giggle, continuing to press yourself up against him to get him to break.

"Just fuck me, Channie. Promise it's gonna feel so good."

"Yeah, baby. Gonna fuck you so good."

His tip then finally made contact with your cunt, being dragged up and down your folds as you whined at the feeling. He finally began to penetrate you after becoming too desperate himself.

"You're so fucking warm ..." he breathed out.

Sighing out at the fullness, you pushed back against him, encouraging him to begin fucking into you. Chan took no time in following your lead, adopting a desperate pace almost immediately.

The sounds of skin slapping took over the room, only accompanied by sighs and moans of pleasure from you or Chan. The occasional whiny praise also left his lips every so often. The needy way in which he fucked you had you reeling. Chan had the ability to make you feel extremely desired and like getting to fuck you was the greatest privilege known to man. The way his hands caressed you and his pleas for you to 'please push it back on him' made the experience all the more dreamy to you.

Dream-Chan truly stood no chance to the real one.

"Princess, gonna- fuck, gonna fucking cum. W-where can I?", he grunted from behind, his thrusts somehow becoming even more animalistic.

There was no moment of hesitation in your voice – though shaky from the way in which Chan rutted against you – when you gave him the green light to cum inside you. His groan upon your confirmation only made your back arch even more. Chan's want for you continued to make you feel lightheaded.

Halfway through his own orgasm, Chan triggered your own through the way his hand dipped under you and toyed with your clit. After only one day with you, your best friend already knew how to get you there immediately. He talked you through your orgasm, giving you endless praise about how beautiful you were, how he didn't deserve such a pretty bestie to fuck so good, how he'd beg for you day after day if necessary.

Upon your highs wearing down, Chan managed to reposition you so you could lay next to him. (though almost entirely on top of him) He held you close to him, soft in the way he ran his fingers up and down the length of your arm, enjoying the goosebumps forming. His hand would eventually go over to your face and caress your cheek while his nose rubbed against your own. Treating you like a doll, Chan made you swoon yet again.

"I love you."

Then the world stopped.

"I'm sorry I didn't say it before. It wasn't just a crush. I'm in love with you. And ... and I want you to be mine. Will you be my girlfriend?"

It was all whispered against you, with a soft smile accompanying the whispered words.

"I love you too," the words left your mouth so naturally you were sure they'd been stuck there forever, "Yes, Channie. I'll be your girlfriend," you couldn't help but smile as you said those words.

"Fuck, thank God," he breathed out, hugging you to him, "I never would've gotten over you if you said no. The guys never would've heard the end of it."

He made you laugh, as per usual.

You knew things would only change for the better, so you weren't scared about the change in dynamic that was to come from letting Chan out of the friendzone. All you felt was excitement to finally be with him without guilt.

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content: established relationship, chan's pov, banter, smut, oral (m receiving), mentions of lingerie, teasing, dry humping, riding, etc.

wc: 695 (teaser); 1773 (full drabble)

sneak peak:

Chan had waited for this moment for years. The moment he finally had you all to himself and the moment that would start the rest of his life with you.

Sleeping with you last night had somehow surpassed his craziest of dreams – and he had dreamt about it a lot.

The feeling of your soft skin under his fingertips, the way you moaned against his mouth as his tongue suckled on yours, the sight of your bare body, the feeling of your hands caressing every inch of his body, the taste of your wet cunt ... fuck. He could go on forever reminiscing about you and how obsessed with your touch he had already become.

It had only been a bit over a day since he had woken up next to you on that couch. Granted, the sleep had been slightly uncomfortable, but he had gotten to feel your warm skin against his own as he slept, so it had been worth it.

After some sheepish reaffirmation of your feelings for one another, you had redressed and left the shared house, pinkies intertwined as you went home. Sadly, you had busy days, so you weren't able to see one another at all throughout the following 24 hours. But! You had agreed to see each other tonight for a quiet dinner at Chan's apartment – courtesy of Mingyu's cooking.

Opening the door to his apartment, Chan's chin practically hit the floor when he spotted you in that dress.

Chan had seen you in all types of getups throughout all his years of knowing you. He had obviously seen you in the prettiest of dresses, the tightest and most sinfully tailored pieces. But nothing compared to the pretty little thing you were currently donning.

It was a black slip dress. It wasn't too tight nor too loose. The fabric barely covered his favorite parts of your body, making him reminisce on how they looked without anything covering them at all. You were also shamelessly donning the few hickeys he had left on you just one day ago. Chan was convinced you'd been sent on this Earth to ruin him, to make him a shell of himself and rid him of any ability to act as a functional human being.

The dinner went quite well. You and Chan were far too used to each other for it to go anything but perfect. Your usual banter was present, though Chan now had the privilege of running his hand up and down any sliver of skin he could reach as you teased him about one thing or another. He enjoyed the innocent touches he could give you without any sense of guilt you might be taken by some loser who didn't deserve you. The right to touch you was now entirely reserved by him, just as it should've always been.

It was all perfectly innocent until it wasn't.

Eventually moving to the couch to entertain yourselves with some streaming service, you cuddled against each other. This was an ordinary occurrence between you even as friends. Sure, the cuddling was now a little extra close – with you practically sitting on his lap – but it wasn't anything too intimate so far.

It seemed like this wasn't enough for you, though. It didn't take you too long to move onto his lap, now sitting on top of him while his arms wrapped around your middle. Chan chose to just follow along with whatever position you wanted to cuddle in, just happy to be there at all. Your hands would play with his own, clearly not attentive to the movie at all.

Innocently at first, you rubbed your own hands up and down his arms. This later came to you leading his hands to rub up and down the expanse of your thighs, coming up high enough to lift up most of your skirt. This then evolved into you dipping one of his hands to rub against your panties.

Chan's eyes rolled back when he felt the warmth of your cunt under his hand, already moist and ready for him. You kept pressing his hand against you, so Chan took the hint to play with you.

...

find the 18+ continuation on kofi or patreon!

if you have trouble finding it on there, just let me know!!<3

[prokopetz]

One of the more frequent anecdotes you'll hear from Dungeons & Dragons podcasters is that any time they switch to a system other than D&D, even for a one-off arc, they immediately experience a large drop in listenership – sometimes up to eighty percent! – only to see most of those listeners come back once they switch back to D&D.

What's interesting about this is that the greater part of D&D podcast listeners do not play Dungeons & Dragons. They might have a general idea of what the game's rules look like based on what they've been able to passively absorb from listening to the podcast, but they don't have regular groups, they don't own the rulebooks or maintain subscriptions to the e-book service, and many of them have never rolled a d20 in their lives.

How, then, do we account for that sudden drop in listenership? Why does which system a tabletop roleplaying podcast is using matter so much if most listeners neither know nor care about the rules?

The answer is, unfortunately, quite simple.

In many ways, advocacy for indie RPGs has never moved past Ron Edwards' infamous argument that playing Dungeons & Dragons causes actual, physical brain damage. Deep down, a lot of indie RPG advocacy seems to believe there's something sinister in the structure of D&D that's responsible for what they regard as its unaccountable popularity. You can see this in everything from the casual assumption that D&D players aren't "really" having fun (and all that's needed to convert them to other systems is to show them they've been tricked into falsely believing they're enjoying an objectively un-fun activity), to the rambling thinkpieces that talk about getting folks to try other games like they're liberating people from the fucking Matrix.

Yet we come back to the same problem: how can the mechanical structure of D&D be implicated for its culturally dominant position in the minds of those who've never picked up a twenty-sided die?

The truth is that Dungeons & Dragons enjoys cultural dominance, both within the hobby and elsewhere, because it's owned by the same multinational corporation that owns Monopoly and My Little Pony, and benefits from all the marketing strength its owner can bring to bear. The problem, in brief, is brand loyalty. The aforementioned podcasts lose listeners in droves whenever they give a non-D&D system a spin because all most of those departing listeners care about is whether the thing that they're listening to is called "Dungeons & Dragons". The structural particulars of the mechanics are irrelevant.

The bitter pill we've got to swallow as indie RPG authors is that we can't fix brand loyalty in tabletop RPGs by fucking around with the shape of the dice. There are lots of productive causes we can support to help address the problem, but they mostly have do to with intellectual property and antitrust regulations and such, which are areas where our finely honed ability to debate the correct way to pretend to be an elf is of very limited utility.

Like, I enjoy an abstruse argument about the ideology of dice-rolling as much as the next nerd, but let's not fool ourselves that we're speaking truth to power here. The gamer who just wants to roll dice to hit the dragon with their sword is not your enemy.

[darqx]

Snakes on a post

Another particularly long answer dump since i, once again, have a backlog of things to potentially answer |D

❗️For commonly asked qs please see my BTD FAQ

Got jumpscared with my own old art for a hot minute there LAUGHS.

(For those wondering, the naga doodle from here was attached to the ask)

That is every other Royal that exists in the Nether and also at least some of the demons that challenged him for his Royal title lol.

Believe me, no one was or is more surprised then me XD;

So, the thing about where Rire's ichor manifests is that it kinda exists and doesn't exist at the same time. Meaning that his upper back is where the manifestation point is anchored, BUT it can still manifest with a bit of space in between it and his back hence why it will manifest over his clothes and not through them.

So if you touch where the manifestation point is sans the ichor, than you are just straight up touching his back. With the ichor, he still gets sensory input from the tentacles to his back but it's a lot more soft and muted esp the further away it gets from him. As you've seen implied though, he would feel a very sharp pain if a great deal of damage was done to the ichor where it clusters at the manifestation point, since he'd DEF be feeling that straight in his back lol.

He is definitely a top and the only way he would bottom for anybody is if they somehow forced him to.

Ah i knew i'd answered this a long time ago [finally found it]! Holy crosses (those that have been blessed) can also burn him but they would need to be in contact with him the entire time. Being a Royal he also has more of a tolerance to these than normal demons.

Well, unless said person actually has the undeniable ability to make good on their words, Rire would just stand there rather genially with that little smile he sometimes has and let them finish.

And then he might use them as reverse suggestions for dealing with said person (why would you give him any ideas!!?)

both

In BTD canon it is quite possible that they actually haven't in person. But we are using creative license here haha.

Rire heals a lot faster than a human. Cain is not my character so I don't know how his stacks up.

I've grouped these asks cos they kind of have similar answers - 360° (jk sorry sorry to the second q that is just a very common spelling mistake and I couldn't resist XD; )

Now, even though we mashed all the characs together in BTD, they all actually come from different storylines and so their canons outside the "BTD canon" may differ. This tends to bleed in. With this in mind:

The rules of Rire's canon (eg the concept of Battle Royales and how to become a Royal) don't apply to Cain. Anyway, they don't live in the same place either.

Cain is canonically the oldest and most OP character in BTD lol so yes he is stronger than Rire - you might've noticed, but Rire is never in the same drawing as Cain voluntarily. I play with this along with the "natural weakness" aspect - which I've also referred to as scissors-paper-rock rules XD Basically; demons beat humans, angels beat demons (purely because demons have weakness against holiness).

It would (be insane) but I hope you are not looking at me to fulfil this :d

Not really

His coronation day is a public holiday in his sector so yes XD

Aww thank you very much for your interest! ≧(´▽｀)≦ It's really cool that some of you guys want to actually fund such a thing - I'd have thought you'd have enough of him killing you in BTD1 XD Unfortunately, I have no plans for a Rire game at the moment as I'm working on a webcomic which looks like it will take up all my free time (that being said, he will be in the webcomic at some point).

Nope! Although i can kinda see why you might think that lol.

Whatever that one is where he doesn't particularly care what someone else identifies as. It really makes no difference to him or how he will act.

There are viruses in the Nether that if contracted could potentially kill you, yes. Part of being a Royal is becoming a lot more robust than normal Demons though. As for if/when Rire dies, I dunno maybe either in a Battle Royale somewhere thousands of years down the line or by old age (which is rare for a Royal but not impossible if you play your cards right).

If you are asking if he has a heat/rut of some sort, he does not |D

[mammonsrockstargf]

𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐄 𝐇𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍’

Mammon wants to find a treasure. First step? Find a siren.

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Mammon x gn!siren!reader 𝐀𝐍: Back with the Pirate Mammon agenda. >:D Also this ended up being 2.6k words, I don’t know what happened I was just in the zone, I guess.

Mammon wanted to be a pirate. He had a pirate crew. He had a ship. Yet it didn't feel like he was entirely there yet. He even bought a cool outfit: a loose beige shirt and a pair of brown pants. He'd gotten a belt with a little pouch and a handy knife hanging from it. As a final touch, he'd gotten a gold chain with a little coin attached to it around his neck. He even considered getting a peg leg, but he figured that would be going too far.

Mammon didn't know it yet, but he would later come to find that the 17th century was his favourite human era. Pirates were quite literally everywhere, and the sweet, sweet smell of greed was constantly in the air. It was a peak that he would go on to chase for a long time. The California gold rush in the eighteen fifties and the capitalism of the 2000s would come near it, but nothing will ever quite compare to the true pirate experience.

One day, Mammon came to the obvious conclusion. If you want to be a pirate, you have to go find a treasure. No one's a real pirate until they've been on a hunt.

Now, going about finding a treasure wasn't something you just did. You had to have a map. Or a poorly written piece of paper with a prophecy from some witch high on mushrooms. Even better yet would be a magic compass that points to where your heart most desires.

Unfortunately for Mammon, he didn't have any of those things. He just had a wonky-looking crew and a poorly made ship. Apparently, all the good pirates weren't particularly interested in following a lanky, inexperienced, white-haired boy who’d barely finished adolescence. (He tried explaining to them that he was actually thousands of years old several times, but that just made them seem to think that he was drunk, so he eventually gave up.)

So now he was left with the guys that no one else really wanted. A tall, lanky guy with a glass eye, a shorter, fat guy who claimed that he could boil excellent potatoes. A guy with a breath so stinky that it could rival a sea monster, and a short, very strong woman who was actually quite reasonable and definitely Mammon's favourite, but no one wanted her in their crew, because apparently, women aboard meant bad luck.

He appointed a fellow named Crab as his right hand because he was apparently the one with the most experience. There were whispers that he used to sail with a captain known as The Wise, but he was eventually kicked off the crew because he kept stealing the rum. Mammon had asked why they called the man Crab, but that had just made the majority of the crew laugh loudly, so he decided not to press the issue any further.

Crab was a funny-looking guy. He was tall and burly, and half of his face was covered by a red beard, but apparently, he'd gotten too close to a canon once, which lit his beard on fire, and now it wouldn't grow back on the other half of his face.

Crab told Mammon that if he wanted to find a treasure, they had to go to the sea of the sirens. It was also known as The Waste because no one dared to sail there. It was told that the song of the sirens was so beautiful that it would turn any man mad, causing him to jump in the water and meet a horrible fate. However, if one tied himself to the mast, he would live to hear the sirens' secrets. Amongst these, was a promise of a great treasure.

Mammon was brave. He was also quite stupid. So he slapped Crab on the back, laughed loudly, and told him it was a great idea.

So the journey began.

They sailed for seven days, living off jerky and excellent boiled potatoes, because that’s all Mammon could afford to buy. (At least that's what he told the crew. Truth be told, he just saw an easy way to save some money.) As they sailed closer to The Waste, the weather grew gloomier and the men became greyer, yet Mammon was as happy as ever. He was finally getting his treasure. He would return home with riches his brothers could only dream of.

Soon enough, they were near where the sirens resided. The men all put wax in their ears to prevent themselves from hearing their song. Mammon was tied to the mast. Initially, Crab wanted to tie him with rope, but Mammon insisted he go with a chain instead. It was the thickest chain they’d been able to find. Crab had stared at it in disbelief before glancing at Mammon.

“Quite a paranoid fella, aren’t ya, boy?”

“Not paranoid. Just very strong.”

Crab had laughed at that, and then they’d bought the chain.

The ship slowly entered The Waste. Large cliffs were peeking out of the water, marking the entrance to the treacherous sea. Stuck among the cliffs was an old shipwreck. Most of the wood was rotten, caused by the harsh waves constantly throwing themselves against the cliffs. This all seemed terribly ominous to Mammon, but what made a deep shiver run down his back was the big red letters written on the wood.

Stay away

Turn back

Don’t sail near them

Mammon swallowed. He found it weird that the writings had managed to stay on the boat and hadn’t been washed away by the waves yet. He looked up at where Crab was standing. Wax was completely covering his ears, and he sent Mammon a crooked smile. Mammon catched a flash of gold teeth beside a cracked one.

It was quiet for a long time. Then he heard it. Beautiful voices. He wasn't able to make out any words, but the melodies seemed to caress his ears. He looked down at the water and saw a flash of a golden tail. The scales were glinting in the sun. He gasped in delight, and then it was gone again.

The voices were louder now, and they were harmonising. He began to feel giddy and let out a delighted laugh. The golden tail appeared again, and this time it was there for longer.

Suddenly, your head peaked up from the water. Your hair was wet, but somehow it was still flowing around you, as though you were still underneath the water. You stared at him with big, glassy eyes. Mammon was completely unable to tear his gaze away from you.

You watched the ship pass by you before disappearing underneath the water again. Mammon felt a tug in his chest, desperately wishing to see you again, and sure enough, you turned up closer to the ship this time. You opened your mouth to sing again, and Mammon still couldn't hear your words, but he knew that they were beautiful. He knew that you held all of the secrets to the world, that if he could pull apart the symphonies and pick apart the words, he'd discover a great treasure. If only he could get just a bit closer.

He began to pull at his restraints. The metal dug into his skin, creating red marks as he pulled harder. The corners of your lips turned slightly upward as you tilted your head to the side. He could hear you calling for him. It was so loud that he didn’t hear Crab yelling at him, telling him to get a grip, nor did he hear the loud creaking of the wood behind him.

At last, the chains broke and fell to his feet. Mammon didn't waste a second, immediately running across the deck and jumping headfirst into the water.

The water was cold, but he hardly felt it when he saw you in all of your otherworldly glory. Your tail was long and orange at the top. It slowly faded to a more golden colour at the bottom. Towards the end, it connected to two long fins, along with one on each of your sides, that helped you navigate through the water. You had gills along your ribs and on your neck that blew small bubbles whenever you breathed.

You were watching him curiously before you swam a bit closer to him. Mammon went to open his mouth to address you and ask you who you were, but when he did, his mouth filled with water. He coughed, causing it to travel down his lungs.

He winced at the uncomfortable feeling. Demons didn't need air to live, but it was preferable not to have water in your lungs. You were very close to him now, and you grabbed his wrists, your long, cold, elegant fingers with sharp nails wrapping around him, in order to keep him steady in the water and stop him from squirming around. Four of your fingers, apart from your thumb, were connected by thin skin. You could feel the warmth radiating from him, and the blood flowing underneath his skin.

You smiled at him, and Mammon saw your teeth for the first time. There were several rows, like a shark, and they were sharp and pointy.

Mammon thought you had the most beautiful smile he had ever seen.

You pursed your lips as if to kiss him, but instead, you blew a bubble, and Mammon felt the pain in his chest dissipate as air surrounded him again. You blew until you were connected by the bubble as well, and for the first time, you were fully face-to-face.

“Hi,” you said.

“Hey,” he replied.

“You’re not a man,” you stated, while your eyes travelled down his form. You were still holding onto his wrists, and you slid a sharp nail along his arm, causing a tiny cut to appear, golden blood trickling out of it. It immediately closed itself again, leaving no trace behind.

“No, I’m not,” Mammon said, and he felt a need to apologise to you for not being what you were expecting. You frowned and clicked your tongue, confusion etched into your features by the way your brows furrowed.

“What are you, then?” You asked, and you swam the tiniest bit closer to him while you slightly sniffed the air.

“I’m the great Mammon,” he replied, and he flashed you his signature grin. You pulled back a little and frowned, while you wondered why the strange creature was baring his teeth at you.

“I’ve never heard of a mammon,” you cautiously said. Mammon was completely oblivious to your obvious confusion, as he felt the pride swell up in his chest. This magnificent being in front of him found him interesting. He could hardly believe it. His brothers were never going to hear the end of this from him.

“Well, there’s only one, and you’re lookin’ at him,” he replied. You stared at him. You opened your mouth, then closed it again, not knowing what to say. There was a long silence as you considered what to do. You were going to eat him, but he smelled powerful. Powerful usually meant poisonous as well. Your uncle Grouch learned that the hard way.

“You can go,” you finally said, and the smile was immediately wiped off Mammon’s face, replaced with a pout.

“What?” he asked, and you thought that he looked like a kicked sea puppy. You tilted your head to the side, wondering why he was disappointed. He should be happy that you were not attempting to eat him, but the pout on his face stayed on.

“You’re free of my spell. I’m not interested in a mammon,” you said, waving your hand. You had let go of his wrists a while ago, but when you turned to swim away, he was the one who held on to you.

His touch felt warm. It was practically searing into your skin, unlike anything you had ever felt before.

It was the first time you ever felt that kind of warmth. It wasn’t the low humming of life from your usual prey. This was strong. Born from sea foam and used to harsh waves and low sea temperatures, you'd never felt anything like it. Sirens weren’t kind or affectionate and even the ones you called family, born from the same foam as you, showed no love for you. It made you gasp in surprise, and Mammon quickly retreated his hand, apologizing profusely.

You glared at him, wondering why you were feeling this way all of a sudden.

"I would like you to go back to your ship now, sailor," you said and Mammon grinned at you. Your cheeks were flushing, something you didn't know was possible. You were able to catch two pretty fangs in the row of teeth he was flashing, and it made something inside you flutter slightly.

Those were some very pretty teeth.

"Let's make a deal, yeah?" he said and your attention was caught in his net. If there's one thing a siren loved, it was a trade.

"Yes?" you asked, wanting him to continue. Mammon's smile widened as he realized he had your focus. Yet, he could not help wanting more, more, more. More of your interest, more of your pretty eyes examining him.

"You tell me where ya pretty little treasure is, and I'll come back with it for ya," he said and the corner of your lips turned upward. You had no need for material possessions. You found gold and jewellery boring. It all paled in comparison to your tail.

But this Mammon. You wanted more of him. So if a silly deal would mean that he came back to you, then you'd take it. You leaned in, and you whispered the secret of the treasure in his ear. Mammon flushed at your closeness, as he felt your cold breath on his earlobe, but he kept his composure.

You moved back to look him in the eyes and he caught a glint of yellow in your irises as you smiled so prettily, sharp teeth peeking out slightly. Your eyes trailed down to his necklace and you grabbed the coin attached to it with two fingers. Then you looked back up and leaned forward to press a short kiss to his lips and whispered against him.

"Come back to me,"

Mammon woke up on a beach, the waves slightly pulling at him. He groaned into the sand, feeling an incoming headache. He pushed himself up and looked around, seeing that he had made it to a small island. For a second he considered if it had all been a dream, but then he reached for his necklace, only to find it missing. He smiled to himself, imagining you swimming around wearing his necklace. Then he heard Crab's bouldering voice and loud splashes of water. He looked behind him, to find his right-hand man running toward him.

"There ya are, idiot! What were ya thinkin'!" the man roared, and Mammon winced at the volume. Behind Crab, his ship was anchored and he could see the rest of his crew, curiously looking.

The memories came flowing back to Mammon, and he smiled, immediately grabbing Crab as he reached him, and pulling him into a bone-crushing hug.

"I know where our treasure is!"

AN: I’ve been proofreading for an hour or so and I don’t feel like it anymore, so if there are any mistakes then I apologize. 😫

Pretty divider by @/cafekitsune

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

A Changed Future (2) | Yandere Isekai

Part 1

It’s so irritating for Haruko 

He remembers how he used to try and make noise in the beginning, when the same thing happened to him

But even without your struggling, he’s got more obstacles than he thought

“Tch all these guys getting in our way, maybe I should just kill them.”

“Haru no!”

“Why not, I'm sure you did it when I was trapped.”

“That…that doesn’t make it right!”

“So? Who cares about right when we’re in love? I think it was you who said that.”

Either way with or without your approval he’s figuring out a way to take down his newfound rivals

He kind of hopes they are as ambitious as the friends who recently abandoned him

Too bad they aren’t

In the original story, the crazy thing about the protagonist was that despite their obsessive love for Haruko and general disregard for those who got in the way of that was otherwise really inspiring

Breaking away from their elitist family for their violent morals ironic right

Joining the workforce, easily rising because of their work ethic and intelligence

And all that while beautifully evading a less-than-clean detective trying to pin the blame of random crimes on them

Which of course got them their own male leads attempting to pursue their affections

Always doomed to fall short because of circumstance or the protagonist suavely crushing their hopes to gush about their love

It was a uniquely terrible tragedy for their characters to be written this way

That’s what the random reviewers would say

Which is why you did feel inclined to maybe entertain them a bit more than the original protagonist would have ever done

“Since you are quitting….I hope you’ll let me treat you to dinner. For all your hard work of course.”

“Uh sure but I have to be home by sunset.”

“That’s a shame then we’ll have to—Wait. Did you say you would?”

“Yeah, are you okay?”

“YES! Ahem I mean yes I’m fine! I look forward to a nice evening together!”

Unknowingly furthering the obsession the protagonist was barely keeping at bay

“So mind telling me what you ordered that day at the restaurant?”

“I think it was my favorite dish there called the berry delight but I’m not sure. I think they changed the menu since I was there.”

“Why not confirm it later today? That way you can tell me if you did see the missing classmate of yours.”

“But I don’t remember exactly where I sat–”

“Then we’ll just have to sit in every spot until it rings a bell.”

“I don’t know if that’s–”

“Don’t fret. I’ll be paying but there's no way we’ll get to try every table. We’ll have to come back multiple times.”

“Okay…”

“No worries I’m sure you’ll get tired of eating there so we’ll go to some other places to give you a rest. Anywhere you wanted to try?”

You’d be foolish to think you could escape them by agreeing to Haruko’s entrapping of you 

It only takes a day of you not responding to messages that they both eagerly awaiting you at your door

And after the first few times, Haruko shooing them away they begin to get resourceful

“Yeah bud nice try their still out.”

“Hm well say that to my lovely warrant right here.”

“Wait! H-h-hold on! Geez I-i’ll go get them now but they are not going to be happy with you!”

It really doesn’t get better as the guard against the protagonist’s secrets begins to be let down as interested parties slowly make their way in

You don’t have the same ruthlessness or ability to deceive as the protagonist you took over for 

On top of that you never actually read the webtoon so you’ll be left trying to piece together whatever few weak points the protag has

Where if you hadn’t already started to make your pursuers interested all those faults are fuel for their agenda

“It’s so unfortunate that the company can sign off on your absence during this suspicious crime but I don’t mind editing records if you wouldn’t mind spending time with me. That way I can vet your personality myself. Over wine of course!”

It’s overwhelming constantly being pulled in 3 directions 

What’s worse you’re completely oblivious when the latest obstacle in the protag’s perfect life finally makes themselves known

“Hello darling, it took us years to find you but we did it!”

“Don’t look like that come give your Mama a hug!”

Part 3: Coming Soon

[blacknedsoul-blog]

My bet on what Annabel wanted to do and why

So I'm reading the mansion arc again because the hiatus is over and that scene is coming back to me.

Now I have a whole theory as to why Annabel did what she did and for what. One of those "all or nothing" ones, but I thought it was interesting to share anyway.

The Background

The first thing to keep in mind is Annabel's role within her group: she's there to get information and to see herself as someone competent and worth following, but also as an agent of chaos in the shadows, actively trying to get them to fight each other (put a pin in that, because it's going to be important).

The whole scene where Montresor makes Ada bark introduces us to this guy, not as just any bully, but as someone extremely sadistic. While Annabel manages to get him to back down in the end, this makes it clear to her that he's a problem she needs to solve by yesterday, because, as if his sadism weren't enough, he's uncomfortably interested in Lenore.

The Amontillado

So she decides to take the first step to satisfy Montresor's thirst for blood by throwing someone under the bus, and unfortunately Duke is the most logical choice: Berenice and Eulalie share a room, Morella can manifest, and although Prospero is not Pluto's friend, he won't get involved in this kind of shady business. Duke, on the other hand, is an easy prey: he cannot manifest and shares a room with Montresor. It's all advantages.

But Annabel can't allow Montresor to commit murder outright. Not that she gives a shit about Duke's life, but if this guy finds out he can murder people in school, it's pretty certain that it will be impossible to push him back. Next it will be her, or worse, Lenore.

It's hard to tell if she suggested putting him behind a wall or just told Montresor, "Why get your hands dirty? I know you can be more creative." Either way, she's doing it to buy time: again, there's no upside to Duke dying, but maybe she can twist this in her favor somehow. And she needs to do it fast.

The Pendulum

The answer comes to her as if it fell from the sky with the pendulum, which is on the table as an object to be chosen during the test, and the stroke of luck is that it is Lenore who chooses it. So she keeps it: this was the piece she needed to turn the situation around.

Annabel knows where Duke is. And maybe our friend isn't far away either (there were five people moving through guarded corridors, one of them unconscious), so it's enough to get to where he is, break through the wall, and leave the pendulum aside so Duke can find his way back to school or join his friends more easily. After all, he'll have Pluto looking for him like crazy, and it would be absurd for him not to use his spectre for that. And if these people don't manage to hit the right spot, she has already discovered the pendulum's range during the test, she could do it herself without arousing suspicion.

The test is over. The Misfits get more and more desperate, Lenore is taken to Dreamland and Ada manifests only to fall into Montresor's arms. All of this actually suits her quite well, for one specific reason: Annabel wants to put a target on Montresor's back and make him doubt his "trusted" people.

Will's spectre can copy people's appearance, while Ada shared a team with Lenore during the test. Both could have stolen it. At the very moment Montresor discovers that the pendulum was used to save this guy, there will be doubt as to which of these two (whom he thinks he has in the palm of his hand) betrayed him. After all, they both seemed pretty uncomfortable with the situation.

Suspicious of Annabel? That was the look on her face as Duke desperately begged her to stop them.

Speaking of Duke, after he tells the rest of his friends what happened, Montresor would be an immediate target to confront…just like Annabel. But hey, "protect me from your allies and I'll protect you from mine," Lenore will avoid getting her guts ripped out (right?).

Maybe she found out she couldn't manifest after the test, so she left it until the next day. In this image, we are told that Annabel gets up ridiculously early, which is quite possible without anyone seeing her.

And while Pluto mentions that he still can't manifest again, let's remember that Annabel has a little more control over her spectre than he does.

Parenthesis: on the Widow Watch

The question here is: if this idiot had it all figured out and swears her wife is okay with all this crap, why not tell Lenore?

My answer is summarized in this picture:

Annabel is a long-term player, this girl doesn't care about Duke's safety, and his life only seems relevant to her because his death doesn't benefit her. She doesn't care about saving him, she cares about how saving him will distract Montresor from Lenore and allow her to take the first steps to get rid of him.

If Lenore runs off to save Duke (something Annabel thinks she will do out of guilt), the only thing she will accomplish is to make Montresor even more fixated on her and possibly blow Annabel's cover: it would be strange if they could suddenly find him easily without anyone telling them.

Another thing to consider is that Lenore arrives at the Widow's Watch in this state:

She may not have been able to see what happened to Montresor from up there because of how surprised she is, but Lenore's clothes are burned, and it doesn't take a genius to know who inflicted at least some of those wounds on her. All the more reason to try to keep Lenore out of this situation until the time is right.

House of Cards

One thing I really love about Annabel is that while many of the things she plans make sense, and indeed several of her predictions come true (such as the students not being able to manifest themselves by approaching Lenore), to quote her, she is not a mind reader. And watching her machinations unravel because of things she can't control is not only plausible, it's really interesting.

Especially when Lenore is the cause. Immovable object meets unstoppable force, and until they get their act together, this is doomed.

And disaster has arrived at that very moment.

The first thing that disarmed Annabel at this point, in my opinion, is that Lenore knew what she had done to Duke before she should have: without knowing her intentions, this looks like a completely deliberate and cold-bloodedly planned simple murder attempt. Annabel was confident that Lenore would understand as soon as she saw the pendulum, either as "I got our enemy off your back for now, but he won't stop" or, if I'm wrong and this woman has some self-awareness, as "I found no other way to get our enemy off your back, but I did everything I could to keep this man safe".

While the jokes about Annabel being a masochist are hilarious, on a serious note, I think it's appropriate to note that his complete failure to see how angry Lenore is is because she's never seen her this angry. Or worse, she's never seen her so angry at her. And she knows what Lenore is capable of in that state.

As if that weren't bad enough, her predictions were that Lenore would run to find Duke, but instead this woman picked up a revolver and walked right into the lion's den.

In other words, Annabel has not only failed catastrophically to keep Lenore away from Montresor, she has prompted her into a direct confrontation.

Everything she thinks she knows about her has just gone to hell.

The fallen queen

One last thing I think is interesting about the situation Annabel is in right now is that there is a threat she has no idea about. Annabel was counting on Lenore to protect her from her allies, but…

If Montresor has eyes, he knows. That means he only has to add 2+2 to see through Annabel's little games.

And the one person who could have protected her right now has no interest in what happens to her.

Hiatus over, people. I hope you're as anxious as I am.

[ladykailitha]

Exit Eddie Pursued by a Steve Part 1

Hello and welcome to one-shot Saturdays, the day I put out short completed (most of the time) fics for you wonderful readers.

This week we have the completed Smut to Fluff fic I had been working on on WIP Wednesdays. This has three parts. I started writing part four last Wednesday but it got angsty and not where I wanted the story to go. So those extra bits have been saved for another story somewhere down the line that it fits better in.

18+ under the cut.

****

Eddie had been on his way to the band room for his weekly “meeting” of the Hellfire Club. They had to have in there this week due to the unfortunate fact that the school musical was currently being preformed and they actually needed the drama room closet.

Suddenly a gaggle of people came tearing out of the stage in a hurry. The last of which was someone in a large red wig and bright yellow dress. But Eddie knew those hazel eyes anywhere.

He let out a low whistle. “Looking gorgeous there, Harrington.”

Steve skidded to a stop in his kitten heels and turned to see who had cat-called him.

“Yeah?” Steve said to him under half-shut eyes. “You like what you see, Munson?”

Eddie gave an appraising glance up and down. “I do indeed.”

“Too bad I have to change out of it,” Steve teased.

Eddie shook his head sadly. “Now, why would you want to go and do a thing like that?”

Steve laughed. “Because I’m in the next scene, and I ain’t wearing this!”

Eddie laughed, too. “Damn shame.”

Steve looked around and then hurried over to him. “If you like it that much, meet me after the play.”

He winked and then gathered up his skirt and ran for the changing room.

Eddie was still standing there when Jeff, Gareth, and Brian came up behind him.

“Who was the broad?” Brian asked.

Eddie licked the top row of his teeth. “That was no broad, gentlemen. That was King Steve in a ballgown.”

“Wait, what?” Jeff asked, his face screwed up in confusion. “No way.”

“Oh yeah,” Eddie hummed. “And I’m pretty sure he just asked me backstage after the play for a little action.”

All three other boys turned to him in shock.

“Ain’t no way,” Gareth hissed. “It’s probably some prank to have the basketball team jump you or something.”

Eddie grinned. “Come on, boys. We’ve got dragons to slay before they kick us out of the band room, too.”

They all followed him to the band room, a little confused on what just happened.

*

Steve waited nervously after getting one of the orchestra to help him back into the dress. The wig and makeup were gone, as were the shoes. Those things pinched.

His dress swished back and forth as he paced, wringing his hands.

“Oh.”

Steve stopped pacing and turned to the open door. Eddie stood there with an expression that Steve couldn’t quite make out.

“I have to know before we do this,” he rambled. “Are you wanting to do this because you thought I was beautiful as a girl? Or because you thought I looked beautiful in the dress?”

Eddie paused for a moment. “That is a very important distinction and one you are right in asking, sweetheart.”

Steve blushed deeply.

Eddie crowded his space and lifted his chin gently, “You look beautiful, Stevie.”

He gasped and Eddie dived on in, pressing their lips together. Instantly, Steve’s tongue tangled with his.

Eddie pulled away reluctantly. “We are definitely doing this.”

Steve nodded. “Just try not to get anything on the dress itself, otherwise I’ll be murdered by the drama teacher.”

Eddie chuckled darkly. “You’ve got it, babe.”

*

When Eddie walked in the room, Steve appeared coy. Shy even. And then when Steve asked why he was interested in fucking him in that dress, he suddenly got it.

“Anyone ever take care of you, Stevie?” he murmured, slowly pulling up the folds of the dress to get at those delicious thighs.

Steve shook his head. “I’ve only had sex with girls. They tend to expect you to do all the work.”

“Oh, darlin’,” Eddie cooed. “I’m going to make you feel so good, baby.”

Steve threw his head back and moaned as Eddie caressed the sides of his thighs.

“That’s it,” Eddie purred, mouthing along the expanse of Steve’s neck, “you sound so good.”

He tucked the dress behind his beautiful cock and sank to his knees.

Steve’s hands immediately buried into Eddie’s hair, pulling him all the way onto his cock.

Eddie lifted one of Steve’s legs and tucked it over his shoulder. He took the spit and slick from his blowjob and coated his fingers.

He pressed one finger into Steve and the boy let out the most delicious sounds.

Eddie wished he could swallow them up, but he would have to settle for swallowing Steve down entirely.

He continued to open Steve up and suck him off. Suddenly Steve was coming in ribbons down Eddie’s throat.

Eddie stood up and kissed Steve dirtily, mouth still slick with his cum.

Steve let out a low whine, taking in as much of Eddie as he could.

Eddie gathered up the skirt of the dress and pressed into to Steve’s hands. “Hold on tight to that, darling. We don’t want to get anything on it, right?”

Steve nodded.

Eddie lined himself up and slowly pierced Steve’s ass.

“Eddie!” he cried. “Oh god!”

Eddie took that as encouragement and slid all the way to the hilt.

Steve wanted to gripped the back of Eddie’s shirt and fist his hair, but his hands were occupied by the skirt of his dress. He held on tight, barely holding on as Eddie fucked him wildly.

Soon Eddie was coming into Steve, in rough, hopeless waves.

Steve let out a breathless sigh. “God, oh fuck.” He moved to lower his hands but Eddie stopped him.

“We need to get you out of this dress first, darlin’,” he murmured into Steve’s ear, “then you can lower your arms, all right?”

Steve nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

Eddie giggled at how far gone Steve was. He removed the dress and hung everything up their proper places, while Steve laid there prone, panting for air.

Once Steve was able to catch his breath, he asked, “How did you know where everything went?”

Eddie turned back to him with a grin. “This is where my club meets for D&D. Hellfire, ever heard of it?”

Steve nodded. “I’ve got these kids I babysit that love that game. It’s all they’ve been talking about when it comes to picking out classes and clubs for next year.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow and sat down to watch Steve clean up himself and get dressed. He wondered where it was all going to go from there. Would Steve throw him out? Punch him? Mock him?

“I think you’ve ruined me for anyone else,” Steve muttered darkly as he ran his hand through his hair. He stood there in sweatpants and ratty old sweater, looking every bit as beautiful as he had in the dress.

Eddie grinned. “Yeah, big boy? How’s that?”

“I don’t think I’ve come so hard in my life.”

Eddie cackled. “Right back atcha, sweetheart.”

Steve blushed and walked over to stand between Eddie’s legs. “We’ve had dessert, what would you say to a late dinner?”

Eddie smiled up at him and then pulled him down for a kiss. “Sounds perfect, Stevie.”

*

“I call bullshit,” Brian said the next morning at their lockers when Eddie told them. “There is no way you sucked Harrington’s dick.”

“Did a slight more than that, Bri,” Eddie crowed.

Jeff frowned. “Prove it.” He jutted his chin across the hall. “There’s your boy as you say. Go get him.”

“And even if it is true,” Gareth growled. “There is no way he’d associate with you in the middle of the whole fucking school. He’s going to break your heart and we’ll have to pick up the pieces.”

“Watch and learn, boys,” Eddie said.

He strutted across the hall to Steve and placed his hand on the locker by Steve’s head.

Steve turned around. “Oh, hey, Eddie.”

Eddie smirked. “Morning, princess.”

Steve leaned against the lockers and laughed. “I’m the ugly step-sister, remember. Not the princess.”

“You were as pretty as one last night,” Eddie teased.

Steve grinned and put his arms around Eddie’s neck. “Hmm...that kind of talk is what got us in that position in the first place.”

Eddie grinned right back, putting his hands on Steve’s waist. “You saying flattering works on you, sweetheart?”

Steve cocked his head to the side. “I’m saying it doesn’t hurt.”

They kissed.

“Am I going to see you at lunch?” Eddie asked, pressing their foreheads together.

Steve shook his head. “You have first lunch and I have second.”

“So cruel,” he murmured, his thumb rubbing a patch of bare skin between Steve’s jeans and where his sweater had risen up because of his arms around Eddie’s neck.

“I’ll see you after school, okay?”

Eddie nodded. “It’ll be torment until I see you again.”

“For me, too,” Steve breathed.

And then Eddie was digging his fingers into Steve’s sides, tickling him.

“Eddie!” Steve protested, laughing.

Eddie leaned forward and kissed the smile off his face. “Later, Princess.”

“Later, Eds.”

Eddie turned and walked away.

“Eddie!” Steve called out. “Catch!”

Eddie managed to catch whatever it was on sheer instinct. He looked at it to see that it was Steve’s varsity basketball ring.

“Hold on to that for me,” he said with a smile. “It’s special to me.”

Eddie saluted and practically skipped back to his friends.

Steve laughed, shaking his head fondly.

****

Part 2 Part 3

@spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @artiststarme @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @pyrohonk ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @chaoticlovingdreamer @goodolefashionedloverboi @messrs-weasley @maya-custodios-dionach @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv @rozzieroos @wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89 @emly03 @bookworm0690 @itsall-taken @bookbinderbitch @redfreckledwolf @littlewildflowerkitten @vecnuthy @scheodingers-muppet @mira-jadeamethyst @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @genderless-spoon @yikes-a-bee @anne-bennett-cosplayer @awkwardgravity1

[yourhighness6]

Quite honestly I have to say that I actually really like Aang. Him being a happy-go-lucky, sweet kid is extremely important to the story, as bringing back a sense of fun to the people who have been experiencing war for so long is basically his narrative purpose. There's a purpose behind his personality, just as there should be in any narrative. However, I think anyone who engages critically with media has to aknowledge that he makes some bad decisions, especially when it comes to his treatment of Katara at the end of season three. Although I would personally argue that this is sexist writing and not congruent with the Aang we have seen for the entirety of the show leading up to DoBS (although people are also right when they point out the amount of emotional labor his position as the grand hero of the story and as a rather immature kiddo put on Katara), these are still mistakes that the character canonically makes. His treatment of Katara in previous seasons is still toxic behavior that I would argue is actually congruent with his character. The mistakes he makes throughout the series in other areas, such as hiding their father's location from Sokka and Katara, are canon decisions the character makes that are also definitely congruent with his character. But for whatever reason, a lot of the fandom refuses to recognize this. Most Aang/ Kat@ang stans put Aang on a pedestal and argue that nothing he's done throughout the series is exactly wrong. Nothing was wrong in his treatment of Katara, and if it is, he's naturally extremely sorry about it and should be forgiven despite the fact that we see no expression of guilt or remorse from him for, what I believe is the most glaring example, the EIP noncon kiss. So again, to restate, I don't hate Aang. I've never hated Aang. I like Aang. But unfortunately, because of the fandom representation of him, I have no interest in engaging in fan content about him. I have no interest in talking about the good things he does or the great decisions he makes outside of his decision not to kill Ozai, which, although greatly contested in the fandom, I completely agree with because of the narrative significance of Aang choosing to stick to his beliefs and the overarching theme of mercy, which we also see built up in many previous episodes such as TSR. Aang is the character that I would argue has been corrupted the most by the fandom. He's either viciously hated or hoisted into a position of perfection and frankly, I can deal with neither. Aang is a good character, but we should be able to have conversations critical of his actions. Aang is an extremely flawed and relatively underdeveloped character, but he is by no means evil incarnate, and I just wish that more people could recognize that both of those statements should and do coexist.

[morlock-holmes]

On Autism and Masking

So, for I want to do an exercise for those who aren’t on the autism spectrum:

I want you to think about a subject in school that you didn’t understand very well, it could be math, it could be history, could be a foreign language, just any subject where you struggled and had a hard time grasping the basics, where it took a little more work than usual to actually figure things out.

Imagine that you are learning this subject in school, and the teacher, well, let’s say he isn’t a very nice person.

Let’s say that when he calls on you to give the answer, he relentlessly mocks you in front of the whole class when you get it wrong. In fact, he doesn’t just do this when you get an answer wrong, sometimes he’ll hold up your homework and mock your wrong answers in front of the whole class.

Not only that, but sometimes he’s physically abusive, sometimes when you get an answer wrong he’ll throw an eraser at your head or hit your knuckles with a ruler.

And, occasionally, just to mix things up, he’ll sometimes just correct your mistakes in a matter of fact way and move on.

You can’t really tell which mistakes cause him to fly into a physically violent rage and which ones merit gentle correction; if there’s a pattern there you can’t figure it out, it seems completely random.

Maybe, unfortunately, this isn’t too far from how some of you were actually taught.

How might you react to this? Perhaps by keeping your head down, sitting in the back of the class, and desperately hoping not to get noticed? Or maybe erratic and sudden acts of physical and verbal defiance? Keep in mind all the other school officials are quite certain that this teacher isn’t doing anything unexpected or unusual, and really, if you aren’t applying yourself to learning the material, you can’t really expect anything different.

How do you think you’d feel about this subject as an adult? Perhaps you might sort of put it out of your mind as much as possible, avoid that subject as an adult and sort of put on a mask of placid ignorance whenever the subject comes up in conversation?

This is how a tremendous number of us autistic people had to learn social interaction as children.

People on the autism spectrum are often at their most rigid and inflexible as children, which is also the time at which the rules of social engagement are simultaneously at their most fluid and most strictly enforced.

For one thing, children are much more prone to enforcing the social order through outright mockery and even physical violence. Sometimes when you talk about your interests it’s fine; I used to talk about Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles with the other boys and that was just fine. But then they started making fun of me because I also like My Little Pony. I had trouble understanding that, because, like, they’re both cartoons, right?

Exactly because you have a disability in social pattern recognition, it is very hard for you to distinguish between actions which are acceptable, actions which will result in overt mockery, actions which will result in days or months of overt mockery, and actions which will result in physical violence.

It begins to feel like every time you say something spontaneous, you’re rolling the dice, maybe saying this makes it okay to hit me, maybe it doesn’t, won’t know until the person is actually hitting me!

Even worse, when you’re a kid, socially acceptable behavior changes very quickly. One school year everybody is playing with dolls, the next only a dumb baby would ever play with dolls.

So you can’t even take refuge in doing what worked last year or last month; even doing exactly the same behavior that was okay last year might promote mockery or violence if you try it again this year.

In the face of this, it often becomes easier to withdraw from society; the way to keep safe is avoidance and the projection of a kind of placid anonymity.

To this day, despite being subjected to very little violence in the grand scheme of things, there is still a part of me that feels like admitting something openly about how I feel is putting me at risk of violence, and that the people around me will likely think of that violence as justified.

I have seen surprisingly little which focuses explicitly on this aspect of the autistic learning process; often we are not so much taught social interaction as we are, essentially, bullied into it.

I was looking up some definitions of “masking” on autism advocacy web sites and they tend to define it as various ways that autistic people attempt to mimic the actions of allistic people, but I don’t think that’s exactly the case. 

I think in particular that autistic people often develop a variety of strategies aimed at preventing people from noticing or reacting to them.

Again, this is because your formative years often teach you that it is extremely dangerous for people to react to something you have done; you simply don’t know whether or not they will react with mockery or violence; the only safe strategy becomes a kind of withdrawal, an attempt to minimize the amount to which others are reacting to your behavior at all. 

I don’t think that this is really the same process as allistic people use to conform to social expectations, indeed I think it is less an attempt to conform to an understood expectation and more an attempt to avoid doing anything that conceivably could be scrutinized or subject to expectation.

[maverick-werewolf]

Werewolf Article - (Play As A) Werewolf Video Games

The results of the poll for this month on my Patreon are in, and the winner is an opinionated article on werewolf video games! Apologies in advance if any of my opinions here anger you. I was asked for opinionated, so I went opinionated and did not hold back.

For clarity's sake: this will be a relatively concise list of SOME video games in which you can or do play as a werewolf. It will NOT include every single game in which you can or do play as a werewolf, nor will it include certain kinds of playable werewolves that exist in gaming, for the sake of brevity. You'll notice some missing and then want to be first to tell me I left out [thing], but I assure you I am aware of those too. I am also not going to list games in which you can play as a werewolf but it requires either user-made mods or else playing in a custom campaign/tileset/server (like Neverwinter Nights <3), only games wherein you can play as a werewolf as part of base game or expansion pack mechanics.

This IS a tiered list. It is tiered based on the werewolf gameplay mechanics and elements in the game.

Let's get started. I will begin at #9, go to #1, and then I will close with some words on some other games that didn't make the numbered list.

9. World of Warcraft: Cataclysm

Note: your player character will never have torn-up clothing or use his claws like in this artwork/like the enemy worgen do

I'm just going to list Cataclysm here because, frankly, I don't even want to discuss WoW at Shadowlands and beyond... even if discussing the model update will reach into that era of content. Obviously, I don't play WoW anymore and haven't in quite a while, but yeah, I used to really enjoy it. Played it for many, many years. Probably too many.

Cataclysm was a pretty outright bad expansion, but it did add playable worgen (something I obviously wanted from day 1 after seeing the worgen mobs running around), and they can even turn into human form, which is a must for me in terms of actually being a werewolf instead of just a wolf-person, which I wouldn't even roll. That was a nice touch I didn't actually expect from the devs.

Unfortunately, the model update turned them into something far "cuter" and more cuddly than I liked, not to mention adding preposterous fur options like stripes and merle, but the human form customization was nice. Still, the model update drove me toward playing different races, like maining my kul'tiran and night elf instead of the worgen I was always ultimately pretty disappointed in, given his wearing fine armor and wielding giant weapons. Anyway, the entire game took a huge nosedive not long after the model change, so it's a moot point for me regardless.

As for the deeper worgen lore beyond "they are werewolves with a funny name": I hate it with all my heart. I did my best to ignore every scrap of that and how they are just self-parodies, to delete the Gilneas/worgen starting zone quests from my entire brain, and especially to ignore the fact that they were all preposterously British despite England being one of the last places historically to even have many werewolf legends of its own. I have an article about that here if you are interested in the topic. The game made all of these things very difficult, especially how hard they wanted to drive home that the worgen are silly posh British parody dog-people strutting around in waistcoats and tophats instead of being fearsome cursed werewolves. So I won't bother going into all that.

The mechanics are fun except for the fact that you have to wear armor and use weapons, so ultimately you just look like a beast-person instead of a werewolf, especially after the model change making them far more appealing to a certain demographic. If Blizzard had wanted to put in effort, they would have made your gear look tattered and would have made you swap to claws when you turn, but that would've been a lot of work. They could have at least added a specialized class or something and then also given it to some Horde races to make the precious Horde players happy. I don't know. I just think werewolves wearing fine clothes and armor and wielding weapons is immensely silly. They're supposed to be werewolves.

So while they are extremely far from perfect, the worgen are at least relatively fun in that, if nothing else, you can go between werewolf and human forms and run on all fours as fast as the fastest ground mount, and I am deeply surprised they did either. I immensely enjoyed both of those things during my time playing a worgen, and they helped mitigate the great disappointment otherwise in many other regards - though not enough to keep me from maining other races, especially later on. But, in the end, WoW sucks now and it's unrecoverable, and WoW Classic is a joke, so I'll never be playing a worgen again anyway.

8. Diablo II

I'm sure you were looking for this one - the werewolf druid in Diablo II (preemptive sidebar: I am not going to talk about Diablo IV). I love his design and gameplay mechanics. He's fantastic. However, he is of course yet another instance of "the werewolf must be a druid," which I personally find a little tiresome after so much of it. But hey, this was one of the earlier games to do that, so it predated a lot of the craze.

At any rate, the Druid class in Diablo II obviously gets a werewolf form. It also gets a requisite werebear because werewolves can almost never just be werewolves, but at least the werewolf does not completely suck. You can also summon wolves, which is a bonus.

While I'm not really that big on Diablo-type gameplay - I prefer either third-person or else a proper isometric, party-based RPG - so Diablo II didn't really hold my interest a lot, the werewolf druid is very fun and a very cool werewolf, the setting is great, and the werewolf suits the dark Gothic feeling and look of the game that is enjoyable and well conveyed in the first place. The werewolf druid is a great addition that I am glad they added.

7. Baldur's Gate II

Let me make something perfectly clear: Baldur's Gate II is, in my opinion, the best game ever made (only Uncharted 2: Among Thieves also makes this rank for me). Combined with BG1 to create the Baldur's Gate Saga, it is one of the best stories ever told and also my favorite game mechanics-wise, again alongside Uncharted 2 even if yes, I know that those games could almost not be farther apart in terms of mechanics. I absolutely love BG2 beyond words. Please note I am talking about the original Baldur's Gate II, as released in 2000, not the "Enhanced Edition," which is a disgrace to the game, the entire series, and a piece of garbage. It's shamefully difficult to find the original game anymore, but it's worth it over playing the EE; trust me. I'll try to spare you any further ranting on this topic, as the original Baldur's Gate Saga is something very close to my heart.

Anyway, the werewolf in BG2 is - once again - a druid, specifically a druid subclass called Shapeshifter. It doesn't really have any werewolf gameplay mechanics in that you are not treated differently for it, nor do you transform out of your own control. In fact you will be spending the majority of your time in werewolf form, which can get quite tiresome. I'm not the biggest fan of a werewolf holding normal conversations with NPCs, etc. But regardless, it's there, and I love it, and it looks awesome, and that's more than I can say for so many games. Plus, you get cool bonuses and stuff. The power of it varies over time and with the progression of your character. I will not go too deeply into it, as I am actually an insane D&D video game nerd and even today I can spend far too much time building characters and tweaking numbers and doing ridiculous tricks in D&D games to powergame. If you want just one of my credentials I beat BG2 on the hardest difficulty with Ascension and no other gameplay mods. Long story short, the Greater Werewolf is quite powerful, and it shouldn't be a detriment to your party to either be one or bring along Cernd, one of my favorite companions.

So don't listen to the people down on the Shapeshifter in BG2. You can get mods that make them overpowered, anyway. Also don't listen to my complaints about it not feeling werewolfish enough because that's nearly impossible to come by anyway if you're not playing the #1 game on this list. Go try one out. It's fun! Plus, BG2 is the best game ever made.

6. Altered Beast

What are some of Mav's favorite things? Ancient Greece, hoplites, hot men, werewolves, dragons, tigers...

When I found out Altered Beast exists and is a game wherein you play as an awesome hoplite dude and turn into a werewolf, a green dragon, a tiger-man, and ultimately a werewolf is still the most powerful of all his forms, I was ecstatic. I had to play it immediately.

I wasn't disappointed. It's a fun, unforgiving game, because it was made before video games started becoming what I think we're supposed to call accessible today. I don't know what else there is to say about the game if what I've already said hasn't convinced you to play it. The werewolf form is your first transformation, and your most powerful is a golden werewolf. Me being me, I appreciate that a werewolf form is still the best in the end instead of being outshone by other creatures, and even the other forms available are all very cool.

As I said, I really don't know what more one could ask for of this setting and gameplay. I've never been picky about genre; I play a very wide variety of video games and have plenty of fun, and I certainly had fun with this one.

(Note: I'm not going to talk about that 2005 Altered Beast remake, I like to pretend it never happened)

5. Werewolf the Apocalypse: Earthblood

I'll be the first to admit I'm far from the biggest World of Darkness fan ever, as has brought many insults my way already, but I was pleasantly surprised by the mechanics of the werewolf form in Earthblood. I will not call it the "crinos form," as that terminology is so immensely silly that I could no longer take it seriously if I did. So anyway, the gameplay actually lets you feel like a werewolf, and you even get two stances you can swap between for different combat styles instead of anchoring werewolves down to just doing one thing. I'm not going to wax on about the lore, the story, etc. - but man the werewolf mechanics really are fun. It is, of course, the main draw of the whole deal, and they didn't slouch on that element.

It's important to me that a werewolf feel powerful and also violent. Werewolves should not be cuddly, or else they are no longer werewolves. Painting hallways with the blood of my enemies as if I'm recreating the Ninja lead-up in Metal Gear Solid while in werewolf form is cathartic and a good way to give the player a sense of being a werewolf instead of just an animal-headed person. This is a very solid "play as a werewolf" game, and one of the few games that exist with the primary purpose of letting you really play as a werewolf, whether you are a predetermined character or not. Be warned, the game is notoriously janky, but if you're like me, you're enjoying the werewolf mechanics enough that you don't care - or you can be even more like me and not give a toss about "jankiness" in a game in the first place.

4. The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim

While a significant and crushing downgrade from the werewolves in certain other Elder Scrolls entries - more on that momentarily - at least Skyrim let you become a werewolf in the base game. No waiting for an expansion pack and no waiting forever until you move on (thanks, Oblivion). However, the differences between the mechanics of werewolves in past entries and the Skyrim werewolves are many and tragic. I confess I did not play Skyrim much, partially as a result of these exact elements, and partially because I just don't spend much time playing video games anymore, among other things.

In Skyrim, being a werewolf becomes what is colloquially called an "awesome button," letting you turn into a big, strong, cool werewolf that can eat people to extend your werewolf timer. It's great and enjoyable, don't get me wrong, but it doesn't actually feel as if you are truly cursed with lycanthropy or smelly lupus or whatever silly name Elder Scrolls gave it (yes, I know the name, but that doesn't make it less silly). You have no real disadvantages to being a werewolf, such as having to worry about when you will transform outside your own control - because you never will, which is an immense downgrade in terms of feeling werewolfish and adding appropriate challenge and downside to being a werewolf. You also don't have to worry about being forced to devour a civilized race in order to sate your accursed hunger. Instead, you're doing that on purpose to turn out of werewolf form again, because the more you eat, the longer you stay transformed. Still, the werewolves in Skyrim are good - they just don't compare to previous entries. But I certainly appreciate them and the fact that they are present in the base game.

3. The Sims 3

Trust me, they do look better in game, but I couldn't find any of my own screenshots because it's been a hot minute since I played this.

You probably think I'm trolling you, but the werewolves in The Sims have always been pretty fun; I remember when the ones in 2 first came out, I enjoyed them like crazy. The ones in 3 rocked and were easily the best variant; too bad the game is relatively difficult to get running properly, and many aspects of the werewolves are delicate and easy to glitch, including your entire Sim's werewolf form design. I am not going to talk about those abominations that were added to The Sims 4, because they are some of the worst things I have ever had the misfortune of seeing and are not werewolves by any metric.

Sims 3 changed the aspects of Sims 2 werewolves that I didn't like, such as how being a werewolf altered your sim's entire personality over time and how the werewolf form always looked the same. They made the system much more robust. Frankly, the Sims 3 werewolves are some of the better werewolves in gaming, especially for the kind of game that The Sims is (expect assorted dog jokes, for example, given it's The Sims, yet it still isn't half as bad as it could be). I also love the wolf-man design; it works much better with Sims than something bigger and more wolfish. Certainly far better than whatever the hell is in Sims 4, which again, I will try my best not to talk about.

Anyway, I absolutely recommend Sims 3 if you enjoy Sims games and werewolves and want to have some werewolf fun. I'd probably still be occasionally blowing my finite amount of time on this earth playing it if I had it properly running on my current PC.

2. The Elder Scrolls II: Daggerfall

Bet you didn't expect to see this one, did you? You thought I was gonna say Skyrim as #2, right? Actually, I bet you thought I was going to say that one as #1.

The Elder Scrolls II: Daggerfall is a game many would consider unapproachable today. I enjoyed it. Obviously, I played it for the playable werewolf, and I had fun! They work similarly to the ones in Bloodmoon, but, in my opinion, they still aren't as fantastic as the Bloodmoon ones. But the game does force you to actually live and behave as a werewolf - I love the werewolf hunter[s] mechanic - which, again... it's almost the only one of its kind other than Bloodmoon. For that, it gets #2 on this list.

And that means you know what makes #1, untouched in its glory, undimmed by time...

1. The Elder Scrolls III: Morrowind - Bloodmoon

Alright. Have I ever talked about how this is the single greatest werewolf game ever made? I think I have, but let's get into it again.

I like Morrowind in the first place. I think it's hands down the best of the Elder Scrolls series and, frankly, the only one really worth dedicating much time to (forgive me). I played it when it first came out, and while I have never been the kind of person to pour hours into any ES or even any other open world game, Morrowind held my attention even as a kid - before I knew about "open world" and before it was such a buzzword - whereas other games before and after it struggled to do so or else failed entirely. Morrowind was groundbreaking for its time in many ways. And then they announced the expansion pack called Bloodmoon that would let you play as a werewolf. I was so excited I could hardly stand it, and even with my extreme werewolf pickiness, I was not disappointed. At all.

This is a game wherein the werewolves are treated as a serious threat, they are insanely rare to encounter in the wild in any capacity (I actually became a werewolf through a random encounter because I ran around on Solstheim obsessively every night rather than just becoming one through the story - it took me many nights, IRL, to encounter one), and when you do run into them, they are likely to destroy you. You are insanely, over the top powerful when you turn into a werewolf, yourself. Some would even call it stupid. I would not. You run at the speed of light and your jump turns into borderline flight. It's basically gliding. You're also preposterously powerful in general. I love it.

Most importantly of all, however, is that you are actually forced to roleplay as a werewolf. You will turn each night, and you must consume 1 victim NPC of any of the playable races. Solstheim is full of assorted enemies that will work for this, but when you go back to Vvardenfell, it can be harder to find a nightly meal while avoiding devouring any quest NPCs. Plus, you have to manage your gear before and after transformations, and you have to be sure you are never witnessed transforming. The entire system is in-depth and very awesome, making you actually feel like a cursed being that has to worry when the sun starts to set, forcing you to run far from civilization.

I cannot put into words how much I adore this game's werewolf system. Nothing compares. This is a real werewolf system, instead of "play as a wolf-person" or "hit the awesome button to become a werewolf for a little while with 0 consequences" like basically every other werewolf game out there.

So long story short, if you claim to love werewolves and want to play as one in a video game, and you haven't played Bloodmoon, then you're lying to yourself and the whole world. Shame on you.

And now for things that didn't make the list...

10. Assorted Acknowledgements

This category is for ones I don't even really have a lot to say about, but I figured I would mention them.

Terraria - You can get an item that lets you turn into a werewolf when night falls. It's pretty fun! I like the mechanics of it, plus it has a neat werewolf design, to boot. I dock serious points in this game for straight-up replacing the zombies with hordes of werewolves in hard mode, though. "Werewolf infestations" and werewolves being zombie stand-ins these days is preposterous and overdone. But I had a lot of fun running around as a werewolf and exploring, so it's absolutely top of the non-tiered list especially as far as werewolf mechanics go.

Pillars of Eternity - The "werewolf" in this game is one of several animal-person forms the druid can get, continuing the common theme in gaming of druid werewolves. The wolf is decidedly the worst of the lot, less useful even than the prey animals available. Put bluntly: they are basically terrible, and you're an idiot to ever use this form when there are so many build options available. There are also lots of other RPG options available. As in other games out there in the world. You should play those instead.

Guild Wars 2 - You cannot actually play as a werewolf in Guild Wars 2, but I figured I would mention it because lots of people do. If you want to roll one of the Norn giant race, either as a pretty giant woman who is the mommy stepping on you from some men's dreams or as the ugly tiny-headed cartoon men, you can get an ability to turn into a werewolf for like 30 seconds; it's far from exciting. And like so many werewolf abilities today, it comes with the option to also turn into other humanoid animals with different abilities. I've heard that, of them, only the cat and bear are useful, which is not a shocker as video game logic goes (game devs think wolves straight up suck at everything lol). I didn't play a Norn during my stint with Guild Wars 2 - I played a male human. He's Nolan North, so he's obviously the only choice and also why I played the game as much as I did.

The Elder Scrolls Online - This disgraceful abomination of a "game" is terrible in every way and could not have been a bigger disappointment on the promise of an "Elder Scrolls but MMORPG" concept even from the very beginning. It was never good, it only ever got worse, and I am happy to say I abandoned it long ago (I am not happy to say I was playing it in early closed beta because of the promise of werewolves - and I played it far more than I should have, so I am not coming at this from ignorance). It is a game with designs so ugly and unremarkable that you want to quit and walk through the woods just to remind yourself beauty still exists in the world. ESO clearly had no idea what direction to take itself in from the moment it dropped, and it certainly was never created with the pretense of playing like an Elder Scrolls game but being massively multiplayer. It has no sense of mood or atmosphere whatsoever and possesses writing that will make you long for the riveting tales in other low-rent, low-thought MMORPGs. You can play as a hideous weird sad werewolf model that is absurdly small (most likely smaller than the race you are playing as, which means you actually shrink when you transform) and should have been left in beta, which functions like a worse awesome button werewolf than the ones in Skyrim, because you also suck gameplay-wise especially depending on the dev's mood with the meta. It is terrible, as is everything about the game. ESO also went out of its way to completely wreck all previous Elder Scrolls werewolf lore that was actually really good. Anyway, don't play this. Your time is worth more than that, even if you don't think it is.

That covers some of the best! Requisite apologies if I didn't include your favorite.

( Free Newsletter  — Patreon — Wulfgard — Werewolf Fact Masterlist — Twitter — Vampire Fact Masterlist — Amazon Author page )

[oliversrarebooks]

Fitz's Volunteer Part One: The Act

In which a vaudeville fan volunteers for Phantom Fitz's show, ready to play along with some fake hypnosis tricks. Because magic isn't real. Right?

Masterlist

November 1923

TW: mind control, hypnotic induction, mild humiliation, extremely self indulgent

You've always loved going to the vaudevillle. The songs and sketches, the dancers and acrobats, the comedians and the dramatic actors. It's such a good way to take your mind off your troubles -- of which you unfortunately have many -- for just a few hours and relax.

"...and that was the Astounding Flying Lloyd sisters! Give 'em a hand, folks!" said the announcer. "Up next is the mysterious and charming magician and mesmerist Phantom Fitz!"

You've seen this act before, and it was fun and very interesting. He calls up a volunteer from the audience and hypnotizes them into assisting his routine, teasing them and giving them mildly embarrassing bits of business to do. You know it's either a plant or someone told to play along, of course -- you're no gullible rube who believes in magic.

Still, it seems like it must be fun to be led around the stage, pretending to be in a hypnotic trance. It doesn't hurt that he's easy to look at, with a slightly wicked smile and a cheeky sparkle in his eye. What's the harm in being a bit of a fan of a vaudeville performer, after all?

"Now, I'm going to need a willing assistant from the audience to demonstrate my mesmeric power on!" he declares with a flourish of his cape. "Who would like to find themselves completely and helplessly under my power? Don't be shy. I promise I don't bite, unless you want me to." He gave a big wink to the audience.

Hands go up all over, and you briefly consider raising yours. But you'd be too shy to actually go up on stage and do those things, if you were even chosen to begin with. Fitz is scanning the crowd, probably looking for his plant.

But then his eyes stop right on you. He smiles.

Does he want you to volunteer? Why you?

You're curious now. Before you can think twice, your hand raises.

His smile gets much bigger. "You, there," he says, pointing. "Don't be shy, you're perfect for this. You're going to be a natural at following my instructions. I can tell." He beckons you forward, and with all eyes on you, you leave your seat and walk up the stairs onto the stage. As soon as you step up, he takes your hand. His own hand is freezing cold, but something about it feels oddly reassuring, putting you at ease, making it easier to block out the presence of the crowd.

"Thank you for volunteering," he says. That wicked grin is even brighter now that you're close to him. "What's your name?"

You tell him.

"That's a lovely name. Shame you won't be needing it for this performance," he says, leaving you wonder what that means. He reaches behind your ear. "Oh, you have something stuck in your ear, hang on." 

He's pretending to pull out colorful scarves, one after another, and you're pretty sure they must be coming out of his sleeves, but his fingers are so fast and nimble that you can't even quite tell when you're this close. "Not to embarrass you, but perhaps you should wash behind your ears better," he says, as a rainbow of scarves pools at your feet. The crowd is laughing.

You're not sure how to react, and before you can really say anything, he's pulled the scarves away and is leading you over to a chair center stage. "And now, if you don't mind having a seat, we can get down to the important business of molding you into the perfect assistant for me."

"All right," you say nervously, not sure what you're supposed to do. You had assumed this was a plant. Are you going to have to play-act being hypnotized? You've never been very good at acting, and you're worried you might spoil the act.

"Now don't you fret," he says, standing behind the chair and placing a soft hand on top of your head. "No one is able to resist my mesmeric powers for long. All you need to do is sit back and relax." He leans in closer, and you assume he's going to whisper instructions. Instead, he says, "Do you mind if I touch you like this? I need to keep your head steady in case you start to doze off."

"...No?" you say, surprised. Does he actually think you're going to fall asleep, that his hypnosis will work in truth?

"Good," he says, and produces a heavy brass pocketwatch, which he dangles in front of your face. It's finely made with a pretty face, and it ticks softly and rhythmically as he swings it back and forth before your eyes. "Now just watch the pretty pocketwatch, dear," he says. "Keep your eyes focused as it swings back and forth, back and forth. Focus on nothing else but the watch and my voice."

Wanting to do your best, you let your eyes follow the watch, and you feel something strange, starting at the top of your head where Fitz is holding his hand. It feels warm. Relaxing. Dizzying. Almost like sinking into a warm bath.

"Yes, that's right, you're doing so well," he encourages. "I knew you'd be so good at this. You're already starting to get sleepy, aren't you? So sleepy and drowsy. That's my mesmeric power starting to work on you, dear."

Of course, you're not actually going to start falling asleep on stage in front of an entire audience just because of a pocketwatch and a few honeyed words...

Of course you're not...

"That's it. Such a good assistant. Every swing of the watch making you sleepier and sleepier. So drowsy. So relaxed, so tired, such heavy eyelids..."

You shake yourself out of the daze you're falling into. What's happening? It has to be your imagination, but you actually do feel sleepy. You can't tear your eyes away from the watch, and it feels like Fitz's commands are sinking deep into your mind. This can't actually be working on you, can it?

"You're just so tired and drowsy, tired and sleepy. Your eyelids are so heavy, drifting shut, like they want to stay closed... getting sleepier and sleepier..." The hand on top of your head gently strokes your hair, and the drowsy daze intensifies, your head drooping forward before you catch yourself. "You're so drowsy that you're starting to fall asleep, dear."

It's hard to think through the haze. You can't see the audience very well past the heavy, swinging watch, but your mind is trying to alert you to the fact that you're being mesmerized in front of an entire crowd. It feels so real, so hard to keep yourself awake.

"You're getting so, so sleepy as I cast my magic spell on you," he says, and even though he's speaking loud enough for the audience to hear, he feels so close, like he's only talking to you. "Wouldn't it be nice to shut down those heavy eyes, to relax completely, and to listen sleepily to my voice speaking to you?"

You feel yourself nod. Yes, yes that sounds so nice. You're so drowsy and relaxed and everything feels so warm and good. It makes you feel especially nice to agree with what he's saying. Falling asleep and listening to Fitz just sounds perfect. But --

But -- !

Wait! You're actually falling asleep. You're actually following his commands. He's actually hypnotizing you. It's no trick, it's no act. He's putting you under his control up on a vaudeville stage, in front of a packed theater. Your cheeks flush, and you regain enough of yourself to flinch away from the pocketwatch. You should regain focus before it's too late and you fall completely under his mesmeric influence.

"Oh, dear," he whispers softly in your ear. "It's not the pocketwatch that's putting you under my spell. And I think it's a bit too late for you to resist."

A deep, irresistible drowsiness crashes through you. Your shoulders slump and your head tips forward as you struggle to keep your impossibly heavy eyes open. It's too late -- too late to resist -- you're being hypnotized --

"Shut your eyes, dear," he says, his hand petting you. "It's time to let your heavy, drowsy eyes shut, and remain shut, just like they want to, to relax and fall asleep and listen to me."

Any fight you had left in you has gone, replaced by a hazy feeling of bliss. Closing your eyes feels far too good to fight. Falling asleep and listening to Fitz's voice sounds so, so nice. Why even bother struggling against it? Why not just fall asleep...? 

"Good, good, you're such a natural at this," he says encouragingly. "Your sleepy little eyes want  to stay closed. They're far too heavy to open again. You might want to try, but if you do, you'll find that you can't. It's like they're glued shut. Can you try for me?"

Your eyebrows furrow as you try to open your eyes. Not only are they heavy, but they feel too relaxed to even respond to your commands. It's impossible.

"You can stop trying now and relax. You're doing so well. Such an ideal hypnotized assistant," he says, and you feel yourself practically glowing with the praise. "Now I'm going to have you imagine you're at the top of a staircase. Can you see it? There are ten stairs, and we're going to walk down each one of them, and with every step, you're going to go deeper asleep and deeper into hypnotic trance. Ten... nine..."

You can't believe how it feels to float in a comfortable cloud of sleep and relaxation, absorbing every word Fitz says. You could happily stay like this forever. 

"Five... your hypnotized mind is so obedient... four... it feels so good and natural to obey..."

You don't even need to stay aware of what's happening -- he tells you it's perfectly fine if you're deeply asleep, that you can still listen so carefully while you doze. He's so encouraging and kind and that hand on top of your head seems to just radiate delicious warmth.

"...and you're going to forget you name, dear. You're so deeply sleepy and hypnotized that you can't even remember your own name. It's hidden away in your mind, in a place where you can't reach, and it feels good to forget and sink more deeply into sleep..."

Mmm, yeah, it feels good to forget. Anything Fitz wants you to do is fine with you.

"...and when I count to three, you're going to open your eyes, slowly, so as not to disturb your relaxation. You're going to open your eyes, but you're going to remain deeply asleep and deeply hypnotized, and you're going to forget the audience and focus only on me. Three... remain deeply asleep... two... relaxed and hypnotized... and one... open your eyes."

Your eyes pop open so easily as if you weren't just in the deepest sleep of your life. Or maybe you still are? There's a fuzzy blur in front of you and you're not quite sure where you are until Fitz gets your attention. 

"How are you doing, my sweet little assistant?"

"Very good," you say, eager to please.

He grins, and you feel like a million bucks. "Can you sing a little song for us, just to prove to the audience that you're back in the land of the living?"

Well, of course you can. You can sing the song that's been trapped in your head ever since you heard it on the radio this afternoon. "Yes, we have no bananas," you sing out. "We have no bananas today!"

"That's perfect, dear," Fitz says, laughing. You hear other laughs in the distance, but they aren't important. "Now I seem to have dropped a penny. Would you mind getting on all fours and picking it up?"

You drop to your knees, carefully looking across the stage floor, but you don't see any sign of a penny.

"Never mind, I've already found it. You're very, very good at following instructions, though. I wonder why that is." He winks, and there's another loud laugh in the distance. 

Fitz offers a hand to pull you up, and you feel so wonderfully lovely as he does. "You've been such an excellent assistant so far, simply perfect," he says, letting you bask in the pleasure. "But I have to apologize, because I seem to have forgotten your name. Could you remind me?"

Of course you --

The word dies in your throat. It's at the tip of your tongue, but for some reason, you can't produce it. What is your name? You want to tell Fitz, but it's a complete blank. How could you forget your own name? Just as you feel your cheeks heating up in embarrassment, he smiles and cups your face so gently. "Shhh, it's okay. It's okay that you forgot your name. I don't mind at all. You can just relax and not worry about it."

What a relief! Another wave of sleepy, soothing calm washes through you.

"I'm just going to call you dear anyway, is that all right, dear?"

"Yes."

"So agreeable! Folks, you can't just find good help like this. You have to make it yourself." He releases you and steps back. "Now, just to prove what a hypnotized little thing you are, I would like you to do a trust fall. I'm going to stand here, and on the count of three, you're going to feel all your muscles give way, and you're going to fall backwards right into my arms."

"A trust fall...?" you say, a little apprehensive.

"You trust me, and you want to fall for me, don't you?" he says, with a wicked smile in your direction, and despite your overall relaxation, you can feel your heart flip. "Now then. Three... two... one."

It's so easy. On the count, your body just falls backwards entirely on its own, right into his strong, cold arms. He smells like fancy soap and floral cologne and stage makeup. Some part of you wouldn't mind staying pressed up against him longer. But he sets you upright to the sound of cheers.

"Ladies and gentlemen, as you can see, my assistant is now utterly, helplessly at my command. Isn't that right, dear?"

"Yes, Phantom Fitz," you agree.

"I'm going to have you help me with a few magic tricks. You're such a good assistant that you won't need to think about any of them with your conscious mind. You can just relax and let me direct you, and with every command, you'll feel more deeply asleep and more deeply hypnotized."

You nod drowsily, and let him take you by the shoulders and direct you over to a card table. It feels good to be near him, to listen. He calls up a few more people on stage and you're shuffling and holding cards while he does some tricks you can't quite follow. It's so easy to follow his directions. So easy to focus and listen. 

"Can someone from the audience suggest a pose for my wonderful assistant?" he says. You hear shouts, but you can't take your attention from Fitz. "Oh, that's a good one. Yes, why don't you pose like you're a pretty ballerina?"

You stand on tiptoe and put your arms up in a circle over your head, doing your best to imitate a dancer. He looks you over, appraising you as if you're a statue, adjusting you here and there with a light touch. Finally, he laughs, picks up the line of scarves from the floor, and drapes it around you. "A brilliant work of art, don't you think?" he says to the crowd with a flourish. "This is the kind of statue that you can only see in the finest galleries of Paris, but I've brought it to you right here."

He bows, and then touches your arms so gently. "You can relax now, dear. You've made an excellent statue."

He then has you lay down on a table, his hands pushing your shoulders down gently, and you feel yourself being levitated in midair. There's some kind of platform underneath you and you stay absolutely still just as Fitz ordered. He waves a hoop around your body, and then gently brushes the hair from your face as you lay there, dazed and immobilized.

You look up into his gray-blue eyes. You're so helpless, entirely at his mercy. And that smile makes you feel weak.

You're lowered back onto the table, and he helps you to stand again, your knees feeling wobbly. He holds you up discreetly as he bows to the audience. "Please give a round of applause to my hopelessly mesmerized little helper!" he says, gesturing to you, and you can just see the crowd beyond your lidded eyes as they cheer.

Fitz takes you by the shoulders and is standing oh-so-close. "I'm going to wake you up now so you can go back to your seat, but you're still going to feel drowsy and hypnotized, and you won't quite know why," he whispers, barely audible over the noise of the audience. "Once the show is done, you're going to come find me backstage. You won't remember these commands, but you will act on them. Do you understand, dear?"

You nod. You feel so lovely that you really don't want to be woken up, but you like the idea of getting to see Fitz again. 

"And now you're going to wake up from my mesmeric power when I snap my fingers in one... two... three..."

He snaps his fingers near your ear, and the world snaps back into focus. A whole packed audience of people, men, women, and children, are laughing and cheering for you. You remember the things you did and said, how completely entranced you felt and how powerless you were to resist Fitz's commands. How you couldn't even remember your own name, and how you let him put his hands all over you...

"You feel fine after all of that, don't you?" he says with a smile.

Your momentary humiliation fades, but you're still so woozy, like it's hard to think straight. "Fine. Good, really. Like I've had a really good night's sleep," you say uncertainly.

He leans in to whisper in your ear. "You did an excellent job playing along."

"Playing along?" you can't help but blurt out. He can't possibly think that -- he must know what he did, what he's capable of --

"Here, let me help you off the stage."

You're not sure why, but you let him take your shoulders and guide you to the stairs as if you're a docile little lamb. You're so dazed, nearly tripping over your feet as you stumble back to your seat. 

"What was that like?" says the stranger in the seat next to yours. "It seemed so real. Did he actually have you under?"

You don't really want to admit to a perfect stranger that you were under an actual mesmeric spell. She'd think you're making it up. "No, it was just pretend," you say.

"I figured. You did a good job with it! I don't think I could pretend to do all those things if I were on stage."

You nod. You don't think you could, either, not if you actually were pretending.

Playing along...

You weren't, were you? It felt so real. You can hardly remember most of it, and you genuinely felt that you were in a deep, entranced sleep. You remember that all you wanted to do was agree with Fitz and obey his orders. Wasn't it actual hypnosis? Or are you just so weak-willed that you fell under the fake spell of a two-bit vaudeville performer...

Fitz has picked up his props and gone offstage, and a couple of comedians are doing a bit now. You watch without paying the slightest bit of attention. You're so tired after all of that excitement. So sleepy.

There's something you need to do after the show, but you can't quite remember what it is. You hope that you can remember when the show ends.

Masterlist >> Part Two

Thank you for volunteering for Phantom Fitz's show. Next time, we'll see what happens to our victim volunteer as they go to meet him backstage.

@d-cs @latenightcupsofcoffee @thecyrulik @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @wanderinggoblin @whumpyourdamnpears @only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are @pressedpenn @pigeonwhumps @amusedmuralist @xx-adam-xx @ivycloak @irregular-book @whumpsoda @mj-or-say10 @pokemaniacgemini @whumpshaped @whumpsday @morning-star-whump @shinyotachi @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @pirefyrelight @theauthorintraining-blog @whump-me-all-night-long @anonfromcanada @typewrittenfangs @tessellated-sunl1ght @cleverinsidejoke @abirbable @ichorousambrosia @a-formless-entity

[gothcowgrimm]

What we know about the Ogham alphabet is wrong.

well, some of it.

We know that a lot of what the Druids practiced is shrouded in mystery because they didn’t use written word. We know they’ve been around since at least the first century BC, but a lot of what we know now is thanks to outsiders, especially the Romans.

That being said, there are modern scholars who have done their due diligence in interpreting Ogham, and there are many theories on what the letters refer to. Of course, the overarching agreement is that each letter refers to a tree, but I think it is important to recognize that that is technically wrong.

According to scholars like McManus, only 8 of the letters actually refer specifically to trees.

While this is true, it is also important to realize that the kennings often allude to trees or possibly allude to them.

A different scholar, MacCoitir, has re-interpreted the old-irish kennings, specifically in reference to trees.

It would certainly be nice to say there is one definitive and correct way to interpret the kennings and what their correspondences are, but the cryptic nature of the Bríatharogam lists leave things somewhat open to interpretation. Unfortunately, the most common Ogham list is based on evaluations of translations of medieval Irish into modern English. This standard list has not been challenged for a long time, but that changed in 2003 with the publication of Niall MacCoitir’s work.

What MacCoitir has done is return to the early legal tracts such as Bretha Comaithchesa, cross-referencing it with the oldest extant versions of the Bríatharogaim Maic ind Óc, Bríatharogaim Con Culainn and Bríatharogaim Morainn mic Moín. He also points out that much of the terminology surrounding Ogham refers specifically to the parts of trees/bushes, which is further indication that the alphabet is almost definitely a tree alphabet.

The letters themselves are referred to as feda or fid in the singular, which means respectively ‘wood’ and ‘tree’. The consonants are also called táebomnai, which translates into ‘The side of a tree-trunk’. The druim (edge/ridge) on which the letters are written was originally vertical, like a tree trunk, with the horizontal druim coming into favour with the use of paper or vellum. The spines or lines that comprise the individual letters (on the druim) are referred to as flesc, which translates as twig. So from the above terminology it is quite clear that the alphabet has a connection with trees and bushes.

Even with this knowledge, the most common Ogham lists include plants - vine, ivy, heather, fern, reed, and honeysuckle. Reed and fern do not have either a trunk or twigs, so we can immediately dismiss them. Heather does not have a trunk, and whether you could define its low, fine growth as twigs remains something to be debated. The remaining plants are not trees. They are parasitic in as much as they need a host to climb up – either a wall or a tree in most cases.

On the basis that the plants mentioned above are not trees and do not possess the qualities associated with the Ogham terminology one is left with the task of looking for viable alternative interpretations, based on the source material – which is exactly what MacCoitir has done.

From here, I will give a simple list of what should be replaced, and what the replacement is. If you would like to read why, you can find the post below

• Nin/Nuin - re-translated to ‘staple enjoyment or supply of the otherworld’, ‘boast of women’ and ‘boast of beauty’. The widely accepted tree for this is Ash, but MacCoitir replaces it with Cherry.

• Muin - re-translated to ‘Strongest in action’, ‘Most noble goodliness’, ‘Proverb of slaughter/rottenness’ and ‘Path of the voice’. Can also mean ‘neck’, ‘love’, ‘trick’ or possibly ‘thicket’. The widely accepted plant for this is Vine, but MacCoitir replaces it with Buckthorn.

• Gort - re-translates to ‘Sweetest grass’, Greenest pasture’, ‘Suitable place for cows’ and ‘Satisfaction of all’. The widely accepted plant for this is Ivy, but MacCoitir suggests Gorse.

• Onn - re-translates to ‘Wounder/helper of horses’, ‘Smoothest of Craftmanship.’ and ‘Sustenance of warriors’. The widely accepted plant for this is Ivy, but MacCoitir suggests Ash.

• Úr - re-translates to ‘In cold dwellings’, ‘Most devoted sharing’, ‘Propagation/dripping of plants’ and ‘Shroud of a lifeless one’. The widely accepted plant for this is heather, but MacCoitir suggests Elm.

Of the five supplementary letters, used for rendering Greek and Latin words, MacCoitir disagrees on two of the commonly accepted list.

• Uilen - retranslates to ‘elbow/angle’ and ‘most fragrant tree’. The widely accepted plant for this is honeysuckle, but MacCoitir suggest Juniper.

• Emancholl - re-translates to ‘twin of hazel’. The widely accepted tree for this is Beech, but MacCoitir suggests Hazel.

This list by no means is meant to replace the current meanings, but is meant to encourage a re-evaluation of the most commonly accepted Ogham list(s).

[ratatouillewastakendammit]

Maid To Be Yours

Pairing: Dabi x Reader

Summary: Maid-Sama meets Touya Todoroki because that fucker would die to see you in a maid outfit. (Part 2)

Warnings: Smut, slight public-sex, language, vaginal fingering, the title tbh, Dabi too he gets his own warning

Word Count: 2.7k

“Behind,” you muttered, slipping past the chef and into the main seating area.

The room was abuzz with soft music and the smell of nostalgia. Girls in a similar uniform to yours were presenting some steaming dish or cheerfully chatting with their customers.

Your own, a pair of teenage boys who were probably just here for a cheap look at the servers, were laughing heartily about something unimportant as you walked over.

As long as they tipped well, you didn’t really care.

With a polite smile, you passed them their checks. “Thank you so much for dining with us. Please come again!”

And with a small bow, you were gone, weaving around the tables toward the quiet sanctuary that the locker room provided.

It was fairly busy for a Wednesday night, which meant more money, but also meant more people to deal with.

The constant activity of a full house made it difficult to not become overwhelmed. And while you dealt with an overload of alarming tasks on a daily basis, it did become tiring after a while.

Your mind felt drained from the constant employment of a likable persona, your limbs heavy under the weight of fatigue from hours of carrying over-sized drinks.

Thankfully, the flow of customers had finally begun to trickle to a slow, allowing you the sweet relief of a well deserved break. The charming guise cracked as you slumped over a bench, allowing a weary sigh to slip through the fracture.

“You okay?”

“Hm?” You looked up, meeting eyes with your manager. “Oh, yeah, sorry. Just a bit tired, I guess.”

It had been quite the night, keeping you out well over two in the morning. Unfortunately, your last minute decision to take some overtime had you waking up a mere six hours later.

In hindsight, a horrible choice.

Flashing a grin, she shot you a thumbs up. “Well, you’re doing great! Thanks again for picking up all these extra shifts.”

Your manager was a kind woman, although you silently wondered whether or not the enjoyment she found in this line of work was exactly warranted. Regardless, she was lenient and in no way condescending, a trait you had seen in many of the other bosses you’d had the pleasure of working under.

She took a step into her office, pausing for a moment in thought before turning back in your direction. "Actually, I know you're about to go on break in a few minutes. Would you mind tossing the trash out real quick?"

"Sure, no problem."

"Ugh, you're amazing," She gushed. "Remind me to tell you about the new hire tomorrow, yeah?"

Another thing about your manager was that she was, for want of a better term, very communicative.

Seeing as you and the other waitresses were relatively close in age to her, she seemed to show great interest in your personal lives, which resulted in a good amount of friendly gossip among your coworkers.

This also produced some unwanted questions and comments. She thoroughly enjoyed the standard 'you're too pretty to be single,' or a good old petition to set you up with a friend or neighbor.

Thankfully, you were quick to come up with excuses or some other lie that would quell her curiosity until it was placed upon some other unsuspecting victim.

However, you wondered what she would say if she caught wind of those hidden aspects of your life.

Of course, it wasn’t as if she would actually come close to finding out about any of them.

No one would ever guess a member of the infamous League of Villains would be working as a waitress in a maid cafe.

Being a criminal didn’t pay the bills. It gave you a place to stay, even when if that place was a small room a few floors above a musty bar, but it didn’t give much leeway financially. There were still other utilities and items that required money, hence your need to find another job.

Obviously, this hasn’t been your first choice.

Public service was not for the faint of heart, even for someone who associated with killers and other psychotic individuals on the regular. Not to mention the dress code, which had you rethinking your life choices upon inspection.

Regardless, the pay was a lot better than many deserving workers in the restaurant industry received and the hours were flexible, a necessary benefit for someone like you.

The cafe was also fairly far away from both the League’s hideout and your own living area, giving you peace of mind that no one would ever find out about your embarrassing side-gig.

Another thing you had come to find about workers as a criminal was that a lot of your colleagues were assholes. This wasn't surprising, seeing as they killed people on the regular, but it definitely gave you ample reason to keep your personal life private, even if a particular blonde teenager vehemently voiced her disapproval of your attempted reservedness.

That was a can of beans you had no intentions of opening.

You tied the top of the trash bag, hauling it over your shoulder and nudging the back door open with your knee. It opened into an alleyway, secluded from the busy streets and surprisingly clean.

The dumpster lifted open with a creak. It threatened to fall closed, but you propped it up with the bottom of your palm, slipping the bag through and taking a quiet exhale of victory.

"No fucking way."

Tensing at the unforeseen voice, you spun around with your hands up and ready for any trouble. Your heart slowed slightly upon recognizing the familiar face, only to pick up a moment later in panic.

Out of everyone in the League, Dabi was most definitely the last person you wanted finding out about this. His cocky attitude and overall lack of empathy for those around him had you extra weary about what you let slide concerning your personal life.

The fact that you had taken a slight attraction to the man also might have been of influence.

Exactly why, you weren't sure, especially since he had seemed to have recently found entertainment in the pastime of getting under your skin.

Maybe you were just a masochist.

You fumbled in a feeble attempt to cover yourself up, but the damage had already been done.

His surprised expression brightened considerably as he watched a plethora of emotions wash over you in sick glee. "So, this is your other job?"

"What are you doing here?" You avoided his question, tugging on the ruffles of your skirt and internally cringing when the fabric barely covered the highest part of your thigh.

Crossing his arms, Dabi leaned back on the brick. "There was a situation on fifth. The police should be here in twenty minutes, so I would watch out for that."

You sighed in annoyance, but the cops were honestly the least of your worries right now. "Shouldn't you... ya know, get out of here then?"

"Eh, later. I'm enjoying this." He shrugged, almost like an arrest paled in comparison to his new discovery.

Dabi pushed off the wall and began walking over to you. With every step forward, you took one back, avoiding his advance until your own shoulders hit the building behind you.

Turquoise eyes unabashedly scanned your frame and you unintentionally shifted under the strength of his gaze. He must have noticed, a tip of smirk pulling at the corners of his lips. "Who knew you were so cute?"

Blinking back in surprise, you shot him a glare that only made him laugh. "Don't call me that."

"Aww, is someone getting shy?"

"Pissed off, maybe," you muttered, trying to push past him and back inside the cafe, any place where you could sit and steep in your embarrassment alone.

Unfortunately, Dabi wasn't having it. He slipped an arm around yours, pulling you back around to face him.

"Oh, come on, doll." He tapped your nose with his finger, having it smacked away a moment later. "I think flustered is a great look on you. Do a little twirl for me, yeah?"

"I will kick your teeth out."

He gasped, the sound brimming in false hurt. "So harsh. Didn't you take this job for a chance to be nice to people? But if it was for the dress, I wouldn't judge either."

You rolled your eyes. "Obviously not, asshole. Shigaraki doesn't pay my bills."

"You know I have money, right?"

"And you'd be so generous to share?" You scoffed.

"In that little number," he cocked his head, a wicked grin flashing over his expression. "I'm sure we could work something out."

Heat bloomed up your neck at his insinuation, another insult getting caught in your throat.

Raising a hand to your temple, you let out an exasperated sigh in a meager attempt to regain your verbal footing. You had just about calmed down when you heard the shutter of a camera.

Your eyes shot up, heart dropping when you saw the phone in his hand pointing in your direction. "What are you doing?"

"Insurance policy." He inspected the photo for a moment. "There's no way anyone's gonna believe this without something some sort of proof."

"Dabi."

"Yeah, sweetheart?" His eyes flashed up to yours, faux innocence washing over his features at the anger evident in yours. "Oh, did you want this?"

Your fingernails bit into the palms of your hands, leaving tiny crescents behind that were evident of your vexation.

He loomed over you, eyes gleaming in sinful amusement. "You're gonna have to ask nicely then."

"Fuck you."

"Darn. Ya know, that's not the answer I was looking for." He swiveled on his heels, giving you an unbothered wave with his free arm. "See you later, doll."

You lunged forward, but he was quicker, not to mention taller.

With a surprising reaction time, he dodged your advance, lifting the phone until it was suspended just a few feet above your head. Every time you made a grab for it, he would straighten up just a few inches, making sure that the device was always centimeters from your grasp.

"Just give it!"

Dabi took hold of your elbow and pulled. You fell forward with a yelp, surprised at how easily he maneuvered your body against the wall. With your back pushing into the brick and his arms caging you in on both sides, there was nothing to do but succumb to his hold.

"You're telling me what to do?" The laugh he let out shot heat straight between your legs. "Sorry, doll, but I don't think you're not the one supposed to be giving orders here."

It was almost alarming how easily he was able to over power you, even more so how you barely even minded. Every suggestive sentence permeated your train of thought, thwarting any attempts you might have once had at preserving your pride.

His hands snaked down to your waist as he leaned forward, breath tickling the tip of your ear. "Now, I wanna hear it in that pretty, little customer service voice how much you want to keep this between us."

The movement sent a shiver down your spine. It was obvious that Dabi was an intimidating individual, but never like this. His presence was overpowering, the mocking tone of his voice a mere whisper of the intensity within his sharp features.

"Please keep this between us," you muttered, trying to push as much audible annoyance into the sentence as possible.

With a satisfied hum, he drew back and turned his phone off before slipping it in his pocket. "See how easy that was?"

"But you didn't delete it," you protested.

"Relax, sweetheart, I'm not gonna show anyone." His gaze raked over your form, a smug grin pulling at the corners of his lips. "I'm the only one who gets to see you looking like that."

The hand still holding your hips began to trail lower, gently grasping the top of your thighs.

Your eyes widened at the feeling. "What are you doing?"

Cerulean irises flashed up to yours as his movements came to an abrupt halt. "Do you want me to stop?"

"No," you breathed, far too quickly for your liking.

A smirk cracked over his features. "That's what I thought."

And his lips crashed against yours, hands moving to cup your face in a gentle ardor you didn't know he possessed.

He lifted his knee, nudging it between your thighs and drawing a sigh from you. He took advantage of your surprise, slipping his tongue forward to meet yours.

The kiss turned desperate. It trailed down toward your jaw and right above your neckline, creating marks that you could only hope to be able to hide.

Lust began to cloud your senses, fogging over your mind until rational thought became unnoticed. You unconsciously began to roll your hips over his thigh, desperate for friction in whatever form possible.

With squeeze he gave your ass, and the way he grinned into your neck, it was evident that he noticed.

"Do you know how long I've thought about you like this?" His voice was coarse against your neck.

"In a maid outfit?" You breathed, earning a short laugh.

"Desperate for me to fuck you stupid, but that's good too."

Dabi sneaked a hand under your skirt, nudging the fabric of your underwear to the side. He ran a finger across your slit, examining the wetness that followed it with pure satisfaction. "Shit, I've barely even done anything yet."

Your body stiffened as his thumb brushed over your clit, slowing rolling over the nub until your hips followed each rotation.

Satisfaction flashed in his features at the way your body reacted to his touch. “That's right. Show me how needy you are for me."

“Plea-” the rest of the word fizzled into a sigh as he pushed a finger into you.

“Come on, sweetheart. You can do better than that.” The encouraging statement reeked of mocking amusement. His hand curled into you, eyes brightening with every gasp and whine he pulled from you.

You grabbed onto his shoulder, legs weakening into jelly. "Fuck, Dabi, please!"

"There you go, doll." He slipped another finger inside and a moan slipped past your lips. The pace of each push increased steadily, following the wordless pleas that you gave.

Pleasure coursed through you with each one, his thumb still trained over your oversensitive clit. Your surroundings faded away into a mindless afterthought in the midst of euphoria.

It was only a few minutes before you were melting in his arms, falling apart in a mess of ecstasy.

“So pretty.” He muttered, brushing a strand of hair that had fallen askew behind your ear.

The world was quiet, bathed in a gentle glow that the setting sun provided. Shadows grew within the corners, a physical hint to the ever passing time.

Still, you could've stayed there forever, resting in the bright cerulean that admired your shaking form like it was a work of art.

Of course, it would have been surprising if you were granted that luxury.

Sirens sounded in the distance, a sound that you were more than familiar with, but one that had never been as unwanted as it was now.

Dabi seemed to share a similar sentiment.

“You've got to be kidding,” he groaned, drawing back and taking a look down the alleyway. Annoyance flashed over his expression, taking the place of worry that any rationally thinking individual would experience.

You cleared your throat. "Uh, you should probably get going then."

His gaze turned back to meet yours, softening a bit under the fading sun. Regardless, that shit-eating had returned, much to your dismay.

"How sweet of you to worry," He teased, earning an eye roll. Coming forward once more, he brought his lips to yours again before moving to leave. “See you later, doll. I'll make sure to fuck you properly then.”

You could only imagine what a mess you looked like, breathless and slumped against a wall behind your cafe. The brick supported your body as you saw Dabi's come to a pause, like a passing train of thought had overtaken his path.

Face still warm from his lewd comment, you watched him turn slightly, voice echoing off your surroundings in one final statement.

“Make sure to bring the outfit.”

[loquatenjoyer69]

Matoba and Burden and Desire

I originally watched/read Natsuyuu back in fall of 2022, and then a few months ago, literally out of nowhere, my brain was like “Hey, remember that loquat story Matoba told in that one arc? It felt like there was something there, let’s go reread that,” which I did, and have been in hexorcists hell about ever since.

(pictured: a sane person’s reaction to reading natsuyuu)

And really, that’s it. The loquat story feels like there’s something there, but I couldn’t quite figure out what was going on. But after my close rereading of that arc, I think I’ve at least come to one coherent conclusion about it, even if it’s perhaps the most basic one: I think the loquats are an allegory for the greater themes of burden/desire in this arc. The following is my attempt to lay out my thoughts, but unfortunately I have never been known for my conciseness or my ability to organize my thoughts, so be forewarned. This will be rambly and include a few tangents/too much detail.

The story of the Miharu family is a story of a family that was once respected, had a relationship/contract with powerful ayakashi, and eventually fell into ruin, leaving behind their contracts. The ayakashi, the mihashira, still come to uphold their part of the agreement without fail, but the family is gone. So who comes in their place to maintain the contract? The Matobas, and in the present day, the current head of the Matoba clan is Matoba Seiji. In order to maintain this deal with a group of powerful youkai, which neither he nor his family actually made, Matoba has to come and perform the welcoming ritual to avoid incurring the wrath of the mihashira.

Matoba is a character marked by burden, I think. Though he is the head of the most powerful exorcist clan, and therefore one might expect that he can pretty much do what he wants, I don’t actually think he has much personal freedom. The only son of the main family, he was probably marked as the heir from birth (if not, he would have had to be once his sister left but I still need to read 120+ so I don’t know exactly what the deal with her is). The clan’s interests are his interests. He can’t do anything that might hurt the reputation of or endanger the clan, and he is obligated to do things that benefit the clan. Matoba is Matoba. 

In chapter 25, in his debut arc, he tells Natsume 「使えるものは使わないと。人を守る為に、強い妖が欲しいと思っているだけですよ。その為には恨まれたり代償を払うことを気にしていたら、この家業はやっていけませんしね」

"One should make use of useful things. I just want ayakashi in order to protect people. If I was worried about being hated or suffering consequences, I could not carry on the family business,"

(this is actually one of those annoying instances of a Japanese sentence that’s more dense than would sound good in English. Matoba seems to be explaining his personal worldview/thoughts here with 思っている even though in English you’d never say “I just feel like/think I want strong ayakashi…” He’s explaining that this is the way he thinks, I think lol).

Matoba doesn’t get the privilege of having a good reputation among humans or ayakashi, since we learn in special chapter 17 that no good ayakashi will make deals with the Matobas because of their famous broken promise. Matoba Seiji not only inherits the burden of monthly eye-stealing visits, he also can’t make contracts with ayakashi and  takes on all the distrust that’s built up over generations from both humans and ayakashi. 

And now Matoba is taking on the debts of a dead branch family to avoid possibly endangering his own.

In the locked room, when Matoba is goading Natori into breaking them out, he says 「どうです？あなたには解くことができますか名取。無理ならばすべて私が片付けてさしあげましょうか？」

"Well, can you do it, Natori? If you can’t, shall I take care of everything for you?"

I’m unsure how much of this is Matoba teasing Natori (as he seems to like doing in the Homura arc) about how he’s not as powerful/skilled as Matoba, and how much is him simply making an offer because he’s Matoba and he’s The One Who Takes Care Of Everything. I think either way, there is at least a good amount of the latter going on here. 

In special chapter 17, Matoba shows up at Natori’s house and helps him exorcise the ayakashi that’s been haunting him. After Natori wakes up, he tries to offer to help Matoba in some way. I think he felt uncomfortable being the only one being helped, and wanted to find something he could offer Matoba, even though Matoba seems to have everything he needs. Natori offers to listen to his problems, and Matoba smiles (of course) and says he’s fine. Even teenage Matoba is like “You’re not the one who helps me, I’m the one who helps you.” Though this chapter is from Natori’s perspective, so Natori believes Matoba was just using him to get an ayakashi, I’m not sure that’s true. I don’t know for sure what Matoba’s motives were, but I don’t believe teenage Natori is an unbiased observer of him lol. 

Now that we’ve laid all that out, let’s talk briefly about the Miharus, a once respected family who made a deal with ayakashi they didn’t understand, and fell into ruin. According to the ayakashi who wants to sabotage the ritual, there was a member of the Miharu family called Masakiyo. Masakiyo was stern for the most part, but there was someone he loved. However, he couldn’t be with that person because he couldn’t make them shoulder the burdens of his family business, but neither could he simply abandon his family. He had to stay with his family and let this person go. This was the only time this ayakashi saw Masakiyo cry. Then we get this panel:

(pictured: bench of I Hate My Life, credit to @joelletwo for that lol)

In his despair, Masakiyo wished there was no Miharu family. The ayakashi, feeling indebted to Masakiyo for letting it go during an exorcism, overhears him and decides that destroying the Miharu family will bring Masakiyo happiness. This is an unintended contract between the two of them. Masakiyo unwittingly causes an ayakashi to spend years (decades?) trying in vain to destroy his family in order to repay a perceived debt. This isn’t Masakiyo’s fault, really, it was just an unfortunate misunderstanding. The ayakashi didn’t understand that Masakiyo wanted it to be free and live the life he couldn’t. “You were almost exorcised because of human circumstances. You were saved on the whim of a human. What debt? You are free. Go wherever you want. Live however you want.”

After all the mihashira business is wrapped up, Matoba thanks Natori for his help, Natori says he probably couldn’t have gotten out of the room without Matoba, and Matoba laughs and says “Then we’re even this time.” Neither one is indebted to the other this time…they’re even. Then Natori says The Line:

「何かを継ぎ背負っていく…その真の重みは私などにははかり知れません。でも今はこう思うようにもなりました。重いものもひとりでなければと…」

"I don’t know the true weight of shouldering a burden you’ve inherited, but now I’ve come to think that even heavy things can be carried if you’re not alone,"

(this is another one of the aforementioned Dense Japanese Sentences, and I really prefer the fan TL version of this line but I’m translating it this way to try to convey all the stuff he’s saying). Natori once again reaches out to Matoba, trying to offer him maybe the only thing he can: support, listening to his problems, shouldering his burdens. This time, though, we don’t get a Matoba Smile and “I’m fine,” we get this:

(pictured: Matoba on the bench of I Hate My Life, or “Matoba Cow Beach” as I refer to this image in my head)

What is Matoba thinking here? I really don’t know. If I draw the obvious parallel with Masakiyo, I guess he’s contemplating his two…selves, as it were. His duty to his family vs his personal desire for companionship. And I do think Matoba wants companionship. I read his behavior in special chapter 15 as genuinely wanting to be friends with Natori. I think he was excited that there was someone else his age who was relatively powerful, and who wasn’t concerned with all the Matoba stuff. Hence his insistence on Natori calling him Seiji. He wanted to be close to Natori.

And finally, we can come back to the loquats. Natsume hears Matoba mocking the mihashira for continuing to protect the Miharu house even after the family has all died out, and thinks perhaps Matoba is envious of ayakashi who go to such great lengths to keep promises.

"Matoba-san, who keeps breaking promises, and doesn’t have anyone to make new ones with."

Matoba wonders how the welcoming ritual will go next time, but decides he won’t worry since he probably won’t even be the head of the clan at that time. Natsume offers him a loquat, saying cheer up, and Matoba does his Thing, saying  “How odd, do I look upset?” and then tells The Story.

When Matoba was a teenager, he really wanted to try the loquats from Yorishima’s yard. One day, he was there with Natori, and Yorishima gave them both one. The loquat was delicious and sweet; Matoba felt that his “desire had been fulfilled,” but Natori got a sour one, and Matoba felt like Yorishima-san had wanted to give a loquat to Natori, and only given one to Matoba because he was there, so he thought “Ah there’s no winning even in such a small thing as this.” Matoba gets what he wants, but it wasn’t meant for him, and the one it was meant for is worse off, so did he really win? He was the only one who got to enjoy the delicious loquat. These are the unintended consequences, the burdens if you will, of desire. 

Natsume speculates that the agreement with the mihashira began when someone had the wish to protect the Miharu family, and there was an ayakashi who happened to be there, much like the situation with Masakiyo and the sabotaging ayakashi. A simple and innocent wish accidentally creates a generations-long burden that Matoba eventually has to shoulder. 

I think Matoba must be painfully aware of his power and influence, and that even his smallest actions could cause unintended consequences. I wonder if he sees the Miharu family as a warning of what could happen to his own family if he slips up… And it wasn’t just a mistake on the part of the Miharus, but a failure of the Matoba clan head of that time, whose responsibility it was to look out for the branch families. Matoba Seiji is not just responsible for the success of his own family, but protecting the branch families, and of course non-exorcists as well. I imagine he feels like he doesn’t have the time or room to act on any of his own personal desires, and his little loquat anecdote is evidence of that, to me. It’s bittersweet (lol). And Natori’s takeaway, meanwhile, is more casual as you might expect. When Natsume asks him if he likes loquats, he says he’s not sure because his first one wasn’t very good. To Natori, a loquat is something he might try again and like. To Matoba, it’s a reminder of what he can and can’t have.