#[so heres be my doods to keep things a bit lively here]

[monstrouslyobsessed]

—all rights reserved to @monstrouslyobsessed​, the beastfolk characters, papa bull and duke for updated character design sketch. the first image features a headshot of duke, chuckling at something, a joke maybe. the second image shows papa bull from the chest up, causally reading a book and smoking a cigar, looking content.

doodled both of my bull bastards! tbf, i wasn't entirely too happy with the prior design, so i just went on ahead and redid them some. i'm much happier with the bulls now, aha. anyway, enjoy! i'll be uploading my sketches for the next couple days, from random sketches of random beastfolk characters to basic character designs for all five of my wip's competitors.

hope you'll at least look forward to them~<3

[crusherthedoctor]

Let’s try this again...

So for those of you who can’t currently see asks, I was informed in an ask about this statement by Ian Flynn in regards to why IDW Eggman acted the opposite of a respectable, well-characterized Eggman during the zombot arc:

Needless to say, this Steamed my Hams. Here’s why. (Credit to @beevean​ and @colony-drop-program​ for several additional points.)

In SA1, Eggman was constantly one step ahead of the heroes by swiping their emeralds, had both Chaos and the Egg Carrier operating at the same time, resorted to a missile when both were seemingly dealt with (which only turned out to be a dud cause of bad luck), and revealed a second Egg Carrier in the event that Chaos would betray him. And in the case of the missile - he was clearly at his wit’s end by that point, and suicide attacks on the brink of a villainous breakdown are common among many villains, including clever schemers... like Eggman.

In SA2, Eggman suspected there was a fake emerald in the mist that the heroes wanted to use to trick him, so he set up a situation perfectly in a way that would reveal which one it is.

In Battle, he was able to drive Emerl insane with energy in case the robot defeated him in battle.

In Unleashed, the game starts with Eggman setting up a trap based on the expectation that he would know exactly how Sonic (or rather, Super Sonic) would react, and it worked flawlessly. And upon learning that Dark Gaia woke up too early and his spawn were scattered all across the planet, Eggman managed to lure Dark Gaia spawn to him, and he still able to create Eggmanland and did his best to prevent Sonic from reaching the final temple.

Even in ‘06, he had that trap where he sent Sonic and Co to the future. It may have relied on the heroes being stupid, but it still counts as Eggman preparing for something.

Even in Heroes, arguably his most pathetic role in the game canon due to being locked in a room by his own creation for the whole game, he still had the initiative to hire the Chaotix into getting him out. And Metal Sonic’s flaws with his own plan... are Metal Sonic’s. Not Eggman’s. Metal Sonic didn’t take control of Eggman’s plan, he came up with his own plan to begin with. Metal’s failings in Heroes are not in any way, shape or form the fault of Ivo’s, and I don’t know why this example was even mentioned.

And keep in mind, these are just the games where Eggman was still upstaged. We’re not even going into the games that KEPT him as the top dog from start to finish, like in Sonic 3 & Knuckles where he’s constantly doing everything he can to stall you from reaching the Death Egg (which implies planning at least some of it in advance), Rush Adventure where he created the pirates as a proxy to search out the Jeweled Scepter, Colours where he kept his mind control cannon a secret, Generations where he teamed up with his past self in order to tame the Time Eater, Lost World where he brought a Cacophonic Conch with him to subjugate the Deadly Six, then bounced his way back up even after they stole his tech, and everything in Forces (storing Phantom Ruby copies, the artificial sun plot in case the Death Egg was destroyed, being able to dispose of Infinite in case he acted up, keeping the real Phantom Ruby for himself, even having a second mech inside the first mech in case the latter was destroyed).

Hell, the entire reason he set up a racing tournament in the original Sonic Riders was so that he could uncover the Babylon Garden.

And didn’t Flynn himself write that Mega Drive comic from a while back? The one where Eggman made a similar SA2-style bargain ploy for the last Ancient Gear, only to then reveal he had the other Gears already once he got it?

Eggman may be careless at times, with occasional details, but he’s not a Mephiles-tier moron who doesn’t understand the concept of a plan or strategy. He’s a mastermind, with many elaborate plots over the years to live up to that title, and when he’s not planning things out in advance, he’s just as quick to improvise or take advantage of the situation as best as he can.

He knew what would happen with Chaos upon feeding him Chaos Emeralds, because...

He knew something would happen with Dark Gaia, because...

(He also proceeded to kidnap Professor Pickle for the specific purpose of obtaining even more information on the subject.)

And while he may not have known exactly what Project Shadow was at the time, he still knew its existence in the first place (and by proxy, the ARK’s existence), because...

...And he brought a Chaos Emerald along with him. And knew the password, “Maria”.

There is no excuse for the doctor to just shrug and do absolutely nothing upon being informed about a potential error in his plan. The fact that Ian Flynn - a man who has worked with this character for over a decade, and thus by all means should know this character by the back of his hand - completely disregards this official, canonical element of the main villain of a 30 year old franchise, only makes me less willing to trust any of the characters’ handling under his pen. And that’s putting aside how questionably handled everyone else has been in IDW.

And you might say “But it’s IDW, it’s a different interpretation”. But here’s the thing: it’s following off of Forces, a game where Eggman was at his brilliant best. There’s no way you can go from his backup-plan-after-backup-plan strategy from that game, to his DarkSydePhil-tier “nothing I could do dood” showing in this comic, and chalk it up to anything other than, at best, an extreme display of inconsistency. And as far as we know, this isn’t even the cause of those mandates that everyone loves to point to... this was all Flynn.

So yes. If I wasn’t certain that Flynn’s widespread fandom status as the Best Sonic Writer of all time, every time, was just a teensy, tiny bit exaggerated... I am now. I may be an Eggman fan, so naturally that does fuel my annoyance with his statement on the doc, but I’d be just as annoyed if it were any other character who was blatantly misinterpreted to this degree, even if it were a character I was apathetic to or even flat out disliked.

Best Writers™ do not selectively choose how characters from long lasting IPs act. You can experiment with a character. You can play around with a character’s traits. But you can’t turn a character completely inside out and expect it to work just like that.

It doesn’t work.

/RantOver

[nattikay]

yeah so YouTube randomly decided to recommend me some Beastars analysis videos and it inspired me to get off my chest some thoughts I’ve been holding on to since finishing the manga a few months ago. So uh if you haven’t watched/read Beastars (and there will be brief manga mentions so maybe vaguely spoilery for anime-only folks) go ahead and keep scrolling cuz this probably won’t make sense lol

anyways, here’s my hot take:

I think carnivores should be allowed to eat meat.

Like, they shouldn’t be allowed to murder, obviously. Predation is still bad, the livestock rings are still bad, the body-parts-hyperdrugs thing is still bad, and yeah those should all remain hecka illegal.

But barring those awful cases, the majority of the meat from the back-alley market is supposedly (secretly) donated by hospitals and funeral homes--in other words, from animals who have already died of natural causes. And I think carnivores should be allowed to eat the meat of animals who have already died so long as they’re not being intentionally killed for the purpose of consumption.

The reason for this is carnivores kinda biologically need meat to thrive. We’ve all seen those "owners trying to force their cats/dogs to be vegan” posts. Doesn’t end well. Sure, you could argue that the animals in Beastars have evolved past that need and their hunting instincts are merely residual--but if this is true I think could only be partly so, given Jack talking about how over the years carnivore bodies have been “shrinking” because they can’t eat meat. See also Gouhin telling Legoshi that there’s only so far training can take his strength as a wolf without adding a bit of meat to his diet.

Basically, the carnivore population is, to some degree, being legally malnourished and uh...yeah, it’s really no wonder that the back-alley market is such a big thing that almost every carnivore uses at some point in their life.

Unless their society can craft an adequate fake meat that actually fulfills all the nutritional needs of a carnivore (which is more than just protein--I know for example that taurine is an important thing with dog and especially cat foods, and vegan humans usually need B12 supplements so probably some of that as well, etc.), which they clearly haven’t given that these issues still persist--yeah, I think they should be able to eat real meat.

You could also argue that it’s not right to eat an herbivore even after they’ve died of other causes because they were a sapient being that may not have wanted their body eaten without their permission, and sure, that’s fair. So think of it like organ donation. Have a form a living herbivore can fill out, if they are comfortable with it, that says “yes, when I die you may use my meat”. There ya go. If it was a known and open thing how vital meat is to carnivore health, there’d probably be plenty enough donors while those who are genuinely uncomfy with the idea can easily opt out.

And with carnivore’s nutritional needs being better met and openly accepted, they won’t have to repress that side of themselves quite so much and therefore there’ll be less of an issue with said side bursting out via predation incidents. Heck, throw some more places like B-Strike in there too, and give carnivores a way to use their hunting instincts in a non-lethal way--kinda like the way you let your cat chase a feather wand to give it the thrill of a hunt without actually killing any small animals. Their hunting instincts are being satisfied in a safe way, and their nutritional needs are being met ethically--predation should drop a fair bit (won’t disappear completely because of course there will always be criminals, nothing you can do about that unfortunately, but should still drop) and everyone'd be healthier.

This is why I wasn’t super crazy about the back alley market getting demolished at the end of the manga, because while yes there was some nasty stuff going on back there that needed to be cracked down on, destroying the market...doesn’t really solve the root of the problem (that being that carnivores in this society are essentially malnourished/their hunting instincts are not being safely satisfied). If anything, it just delays it a bit and I wouldn’t be surprised if a few years down the road the market just starts coming back up again.

I mean, maybe it won’t be as bad because I guess they’re allowed to eat fish now?? idk that part was really glossed over so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯  (yyyeahh the ending was...a bit of a mess...let’s just say it’ll be one of the few cases where I won’t mind if the anime makes some changes lol)

And honestly this was the issue I had with the second half of the series. If Legoshi doesn’t want to eat meat, that’s fine, and if he personally wants work crazy hard to completely purge himself of his hunting instincts and become as strong as he can without meat, cool goal man...but he needs to get off his high horse and stop trying to force that on everyone else. It was even hard to root for him a few times because I just...didn’t really agree with him lol. Carnivores (well, most of them) usually resort to going to the back-alley market not because they’re inherently corrupt, but because they have a legitimate nutritional deficiency that needs to be addressed, whether they consciously realize it or not.

Legoshi is a good character and all but dood ya gotta chill

aaaand yeah carnivores should be legally allowed to eat meat

so uh yeah there’s my (unpopular?) Beastars opinion, hope you enjoyed ¯\_(ツ)_/¯  

[batsandbugs]

Help (I Need Somebody) Help

AN:Hey everyone! Hope you’re doing well, here’s chapter two of my wrong number daminette AU. I had a lot of fun with this, enjoy!

Chapter 2

Damian held back an unimpressed sigh when two goons rushed him. Their stances were off balance, and he could smell the stench of alcohol wafting off of them.  A low sweep to their legs had both tumbling to the ground. If he had a dime for every lowbrow thug who thought they had a chance at beating him, he’d be richer than his father twice over.

It wasn’t his fault the brain lacking buffoons hadn’t figured out they had a snowball’s chance in hell to beat him in the seven years he lived here. Damian certainly wasn’t going to be the one to tell them different now. He needed some sort of stress relief after Alfred banned swearing in the house.

He flipped another grunt over his shoulders, an audible crack of a broken bone soon followed.

His mask hid a glint of amusement that was surely gleaming in his eyes, but he kept his face an annoyed scowl. The last thing he needed was word getting back to his father for finding pleasure in the suffering of others. Even if the whole reason they were out tonight, punching up a contingent of near brain-dead loons, was to stop a sex trafficking ring. It was times like this where he seriously considered the validity of his father’s no-killing rule; surely some scum wouldn’t be missed.

He whipped around to punch another man, nearly a foot taller than him and thrice as wide, across the face. Blood spurted from the thug’s nose as the behemoth fell to the ground. Good. Damian jumped back and flipped himself over to roundhouse kick another goon. Another satisfying crack, and the last of them had finally fallen to his superior skills.

Easy.

He waited for the warm glow of satisfaction after a fight well fought, but all he received was the familiar rush of adrenaline and the delicious burn of his muscles tensing for another go.

Unfortunately, all too easy.

Damian didn’t sigh, he was too disciplined for that, but the low-level grumbling in his mind, and the displeased sneer were all too indicative of his problem.

He was utterly unchallenged.

It wasn’t that he enjoyed getting beat to hell and back. He wasn’t a masochist (although, the same could not be said for the rest of his family, if anyone asked him (which, of course, they didn’t)). It was just… after three years with the Titans, constantly stretching to prove himself, pushing his abilities to keep up with those endowed with advantages he simply didn’t have, Gotham felt… lacking in comparison.

And with the Titans all but formally disbanded, Gotham was all he had.

Well… that wasn’t entirely true. He could follow Cyborg and Blue Beetle and join the Justice League. He had enough blackmail material on all the core members needed to vote him in if his father protested. It would be a welcome change; higher level threats and off world missions, if only there wasn’t the pesky problem of dealing with other heroes.

He would be the first to admit that in his younger teenage years his anti-socialness was a bit… problematic, but he’d grown past that. Socializing with the Titans had been difficult at first, but by the end he could say he was more than an acquaintance with them – even if he wouldn’t go so far as to call all of them friends. But even if he had gotten used to them, it still took three years. At least in Gotham his potential partners were all known quantities. Even if he disliked half of them on his good days.

“Robin, do you read?” called his father on the comms. He shook away his distracting maudlin thoughts.

He raised a hand to his comm. “All clear southside Batman, making my way to the roof.”

“Negative, Hood is already there. Red Robin needs help releasing the captives – cops will be here in fifteen.”

Damian bit back an irritated sigh. “I’ll be of more use-”

“Robin, that’s an order.”

The words wrapped around him, restricting in their resoluteness. He glared down at the unconscious thug and gave a swift kick to the side resulting in an incoherent groan. Gritting his teeth, he muttered, “Yes, Batman.”

His comm feed dropped off.

The resulting string of swear words he uttered in Arabic would have cost him two hundred dollars in the swear jar. Damian just didn’t give enough of a fuck to bring himself to care.

-0o0-

Damian didn’t slam his bedroom door shut, but it was a close thing.

Between avoiding his father, deflecting the inane chatter of his siblings, and dealing with the GCPD, all of whom were either corrupt, uncaring, or ridiculously overworked, he had been ready stab someone, repeatedly, consequences be damned.

And that discounted dealing with the inconsolable sobbing women they rescued from the shipping containers. The sight of dozens of girls packed together like cargo, most of them his age, if not younger, would be enough to throw even the most experienced off their game.

Damian lived through some truly horrid things growing up in the League. He killed a grown man before he lost his first baby tooth. Suffered through endless hours of training with painful consequences upon any sign of failure. He had been beaten, starved, tortured, and pushed to the extremes of what a child could endure, but the utter horror and disgust he was faced with tonight, well…

At least the suffering he’d endured had a point.

Rubbing a towel through his still damp hair, he collapsed on top of his bed with an exhausted groan. The shower did little in relaxing his tensed muscles, his bed a welcome retreat after being on his feet for hours. Reaching out blindly he grabbed his phone off his bedside table. Going to bed would be the better choice, but it was Saturday, so he didn’t really give a damn.

His phone flicked on and he was taken aback by the notification awaiting him.

40 unread messages

He raised an eyebrow. That was odd. Not completely impossible, but odd. He did have acquaintances who would text him, Jon and Garfield came to mind, but it would be one or two messages at the most. Maybe a missed call if it was something extremely important.

He unlocked his phone.

Tapping on his messaging app, he saw that the messages all came from an unknown number.

That raised even more concerns, considering anyone who had this number were people he should already have programed into his contacts.

This put Damian’s suspicions on high alert.

Cautiously tapping on the text stream, he began reading.

        - As long as you’re not an evil villain running around in a purple suit or a bitchy Italian transfer student I figure you won’t care about what I have to say

         - I haven’t slept in two days. My brain is buzzing. And between my insomnia and four years of repressed anger generated by existing in the same city as an emotional terrorist who uses magical butterflies to turn distressed people into monsters, I might come off a bit incoherent

Before Damian could stop it, a small laugh of amusement passed his lips. This person was either really high, or entirely serious.

His finger hovered over the delete button. This had nothing to do with him. The person admitted they were texting a random number to blow off steam. He should just let it go and get some sleep.

But despite the long drive home, the debriefing, and a shower, the adrenaline hadn’t left his system yet. And the sight of those women in the container wasn’t going to leave his brain for a while. Sleep wouldn’t be coming for a long time yet. Whoever this was, sounded, if not entirely sane, at least somewhat amusing.

Looking back on it, Damian didn’t know what the influencing factor that made him read further. It could have been amusement, or curiosity. It could have been sleep deprivation. It could have been the promise of distraction. It could all of those or none of those, or any combination thereof.

Or it could have been luck.

Pulling up the knitted blanket from the end of his bed, he settled in against his covers, and began to read.

Permanent Tag List 

@theunquiet-dead @loveswifi @fusser90 @animegirlweeb @ihavehomeworkbutistillhere​   @your-resident-chicken-nugget

Story Tag List 

@maskedpainter @ambrosiabcp03 @mystery-5-5 @faunrasthewinterelf @greatcatblaze @shifty-lesbian-retro-goblin @dorkus-minimus @nickristus-dreamer @beautiful-disasters-sunshine @justafanwarrior @lunathealphafemale @dood-space @sdg-art-film-stories @tumbling-down-hills-and-stuff @dawnwave16 @mewwitch

[honorable-wanderings]

Word of Honor - Episode 2 Part 2 - Mirror Lake has more Fire than expected

In an interesting twist of fate Zhou Zishu decides to take the nice munchkin up on his offer to crash at his place for a while.

Thumbs up my dood

----------

Now the fuck are these guys?

Oh cool. Thanks.

---------

See? Children chants are creepy! Always!

But especially when driven by plort! (plort was a typo but I’m Keeping it.)

----------

Finally people treating our man with common decency and respect! Who knew he just needed a fancy bookmark?

Oop. Nevermind

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

I have discovered the joys of fucking with people and I’m never going back again

----------

A fuck this guy again. I’m assuming we’re not supposed to like him? But I don’t like him either way. He has no...  je ne sais quoi

He boring. Basic. Bland.

It ain’t good.

----------

Oh and also you know how you wanted us to keep tabs on Zhou ZiShu? Oh well um.. it’s going great! Great! Yeah... except for... we can’t find him.

-----------

Well if this ain’t a whole ass mood?

-----------

Midnight already? Time for the pain pins to poke me painfully!

This sure is a weird version of Cinderella

gross

----------

Okay okay so normally the 7 torture nails block your chi? I’m understanding? So you can no longer do martial arts. And he would rather die than lose all his martial arts so he put the nails in slowly so that he could still have SOME of his martial arts. But the point of the nails is still that he wants to die and feels he deserves to be punished as well? Right? So having his martial arts helps mediate the pain which lessons the punishment

and if it weren’t for the punishment aspect couldn’t he have just like... faked the nails? Or would they have been able to tell? I mean this is all dramatic and all but where are your motivations Zhou ZiShu?

work with me here

----------

Hey?! That’s not sunlight?!?

----------

Love me a good silhouette shot

----------

And suddenly everything is on fire???

----------

Rude

----------

After watching like 4 people get killed in front of him and a lot of fire and ransacking our protragonists finally thinks perhaps he should get himself involved.

----------

How is everything a fucking boomerang???

-----------

Pffffff I love it

Tunk thunk

----------

In another interesting development, the boat man from before is important?????

Also our boy is doing his best with that hat

----------

Okay I know he’s like a master of disguise and all but like he doesn’t seem to be doing much to actually... hide? Still love his wiggly sword style

----------

Um take the kid and fucking run maybe????

---------

*stalks you from a not very inconspicuous distance*

Didja miss me?

No

----------

Hate to see you leave but love to watch you go

----------

Fuck I hate being disarmed.

----------

This place looks strangely similar to the woodshed...

---------

The fuck are you?

Wouldn’t you like to know?

Yes I would. That’s why I asked

----------

There’s just nothing quite like a near death experience to bring people together.

----------

Take this kid and run!

But sir, you don’t seem to understand! I am the Best Boy! I simply cannot just leave you to die.

----------

Don’t worry kid! You can’t get in trouble anymore! Your dad is fuckin dead! Surely that’ll bring you some comfort!

----------

Random Local Boatman is surprisingly honorable and happens to be in debt to the father of the kid who was nice to you that morning.

Life sure is weird.

----------

He doing him best

---------

Though it is absolutely understandable, he reacts to being touched by that paper the way I react to walking into a spider web.

-------

Gramps is a badass

-----------

I do have to say these guys do seem to be much better trained than the usual evil henchmen. And you have to appreciate their aesthetic.

----------

Seriously!! The best boy!!!!!

This man has helped in a little bit exactly once to repay him for his own kindness an this little teenager is willing to just die for him without hesitation.

Like no, son, the two old men are doing this so that YOU live. You have it backwards.

----------

Surpriiiiise I’m stalking you too!

----------

Oh no the henchmen are falling into the drawing things out to emotionally torture their prey thing. Don’t y’all know that giving the protagonist time to recover and/or study your moves is how you die? Did you even GO to henchman school?

----------

ahahahahahhahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha

Just.. omg. The noise he made. “Dwaaah!!!”

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

Okay kid I know you’re young and under a lot of stress and never really got into the whole martial arts training thing but grandpa is doing better than you literally laying down and covered in cuts. Just sayin

----------

Aw nuts

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

*ding*

Please take your protagonist out of the oven as cooktime has been completed.

----------

The fighting editing style seems to be a weird splice of nice crisp slowmotion view of the action and spliced together jump cuts and zooms that make for an odd kinda hard to follow combination. But at least I guess they tend to end on ‘cool pose x”

----------

“Hey, Beggar! You’re good at martial arts. Somehow this surprises me even though I already knew that???”

----------

Unexpected trust fall ends better than anticipated

----------

Das gaee

----------

He’s bendin’ over backwards for you!!

--------

Unexpected but definitely varied emotional investments on the fact that Gramps is dying.

----------

Look at him being all humble.

----------

Ooh he could be in a medical drama. That is the perfect like sad close your eyes and head shake no I’m sorry he’s not gonna make it. Bravo.

Very delicate.

----------

“Don’t fuckin’ touch me”

----------

I’m guilt tripping you into a found family and you’re gonna like it punk

---------

Sick dude, whats your name? Shit no one’s asked me that before somehow I’m not ready..

Uh.uh... Zhou Xu.

Nailed it.

“Zhou Xu? Naw that doesn’t sound right.”

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

May you learn from this never to underestimate, rob, and otherwise harass your local old boat man for you never know when he may force you through guilt and honor into taking on a ward and a quest under penalty of being haunted by his old ass ghost forever

----------

Uncle Li has died and most of the group is much more upset about it than they would have anticipated that morning.

Poor ChenLing is having a rough day.

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

RIP Uncle Li. So much for living a carefree couple of years lying drunk in the sun.

It looks like even now you can’t escape your responsibilities Zhou Xu.

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

Group of hereto-unknown men arrive in poor time to stop the bonfire

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

“What’s wrong?” Um... maybe... fire??

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

I say again, thank you for labeling the people I’m supposed to remember.

Also, why did y’all have to wait for orders before checking out the fuckin boats?

Y’all dumb.

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

Hey, Wen KeXing, Not trying to throw off your groove or anything but maybe a funeral isn’t the best time for flirting? Perhaps? Maybe?

I know you don’t have an ‘off’ switch but maybe a pause button?

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

“are you done?”

“Never.”

----------

It deadass took y’all this long to introduce yourself? You’ve been stalking him all this time and you never thought to go “btw my name Wen KeXing? Comment t��appelles tu?” Come on man

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

Our best boy is having his not best day. D:

Don’t worry. Your new family will stalk/care for you.

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

“A-Xiang! Make some food!” “No shit Sherlock I already did.” “My ideas are the best. :D”

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

Eat your food!

Eat your food!

Eat your food!!

Eat your FOOD!!!

EAT YOUR FOOD!!!!

WILL SOMEONE PLEASE EAT YOUR GODDAMN FOOD?

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

“Oh my GOD we get it you can fucking read! Oh my god.”

---------

If I prove I can read too will you pass me a damn pancake?

Fuck yeah.

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

GOD DAMN IT SOMEONE EAT FOR THE LOVE OF FUCK

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

Um excuse you this group only has room for one little bitch and it ain’t fuckin you, you hear me little girl?

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

I am very sorry. Thank you for saving my life. I would like to re-assert my status as “best boy”.

HEY WHAT THE FUCK????

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

Wen KeXing: 👀

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

Please increase your friendship level before asking personal questions.

---------

Nya Nya you were useless when your home was burned to the ground and your family was killed waaaaah how pathetic are you!!

Can you fucking not?

My B.

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

BEST BOY INJURED THIS IS NOT A DRILL

----------

Our Man Zhou ZiShu respects bodily autonomy!

Do not touch my fuckin’ boy or I will fight you!

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

And we end the episode with Wen KeXing being horny on main!

Sir, keep it together. There are children present.

[charliesradiodemon]

Corruption

Hello! This is a LATE birthday present for my dear friend @sesukytes ^.^

Happy late bday my dood <3

ENJOY 

With Vaggie and Angel out of her life and the hotel still empty, Charlie’s fears became realized. She failed again. Even with a successful redemption program, nobody was interested.

At that point she didn’t know what to do anymore. She didn’t know what she could do anymore.

________________________________

Alastor resided to biding his time after witnessing Angel ascend to Heaven. It was a great shock that the naive little princess seemed to have finally made a breakthrough, but it seemed that it didn’t matter. He waited around to see if the rabble would bite and come running for a “better life”, but not a single desperate soul came even after two months.

Having been bored sick of his empty investment, Alastor decided to make his own move. A month had passed after he heard that Vaggie had ascended and Charlie refused to even leave the hotel. She’d been silent and wasn’t answering his calls nor calling him back.

“A shame, really...” he muttered while stiffly rapping his fingers on his pristine mahogany desk, not caring whether his sharp claws broke through the polish or not. He knew things couldn’t continue as they were. He was generous enough to give her time to recoup and continue on but his patience had finally reached its expiration date.

________________________________

When he walked up to her bedroom door, he already knew exactly what he needed to do. And in her state, leaving her would push her further down the spiral of despair. If he played it right, her broken expression could make up for the waste of time that he spent waiting on the hotel; not that he had many high hopes for it in the first place.

‘To see the broken look on her face...’

Alastor knocked before entering, a bit too eager see the final dregs of hope leave his partner.

What he found was truly pitiful.

She hadn’t been crying, but seemed as if she’d cried herself dry. Instead, she just stared at him blankly, looking broken and lifeless; not at all like her peppy self. Her eye sockets seemed to hollow in, her hair disheveled and somehow she seemed impossibly thinner than ever. When he looked into her eyes he found that the spark was nonexistent, leaving a blank gaze as if all that was left was an empty husk of a being.

Any fun he could have breaking her now was completely drained.

She was pitiful and it took him much effort to find a reason to stick around any longer. Without her life or her smile, Charlie was just a broken doll he couldn’t play with let alone break any further.

As she still said nothing to him, Alastor looked to her nightstand. There, an assortment of litter and tissues laid. In the center of it all: a small framed photo of her and her family sat. She looked to be younger than the portrait in the lobby, but still old enough to be considered a teen.

It was an unremarkable photo in all regards. He’d seen far too many of these family portraits around the hotel and the palace when he visited Lucifer. It seemed odd how family oriented the Magnes were considering how broken the relationship between Charlie and her parents were.

But unlike the ones Alastor had seen before, Charlie looked different. His eyes lingered on the visible horns protruding from her skull, standing tall and proud and unabashedly her’s. In the few family portraits Alastor had seen, Charlie seemed to purposefully hide her horns away even while her mother’s were displayed proudly.

He’d seen her horns and teases of her form in photos, paintings and on live television before, but Charlie had never looked so proud to show off her demonic features than in the photo on her nightstand. She was never ashamed of her demonic form, but rarely had she ever used her features. From what Alastor could remember from his time with her, he realized that she never utilized her demonic form or any powers.

He wasn’t even sure she even had any powers. He reckoned that she had to considering that she was a product of Lucifer, the most powerful being in Hell.

Alastor’s eyes fell back to the skeletal being before him and mulled over a thought that popped into his mind.

He could fix her- improve her even. She was practically a blank slate now, could he really pass up the opportunity? They could discover what exactly she was capable of together. Imagining the possibilities with the princess of Hell was just too enticing to let go.

Granted it wasn’t what he originally intended nor was he one to pick up fixer uppers, but he couldn’t just let the daughter of Lucifer waste away. It wasn’t like he had another venture lined up anyway.

________________________________

He continued to visit her daily, bringing her homemade food, clean clothes, linens and anything else she could need to cheer her up. He would talk to her, try to liven her up and keep her up-to-date on the latest news. Though she initially answered with single worded answers, it was clear his efforts were working as their conversations got longer as her state improved

Little by little, she opened up to him more and more. And in a short amount of time, she seemed to be back to a semblance of normal. And although she physically looked better and spoke more, Charlie was still missing the soul and spark that she’d lost.

Though Alastor didn’t mind. It was just all a part of the process.

Now, after a few weeks of nurturing her, it was time to get the ball rolling.

“All I’m trying to tell you sweetheart, is that you have been holding yourself back. You have so much potential for so much more! Aren’t you the slightest bit curious about what you can do?” Alastor sat on the edge of her bed, facing Charlie who had her legs drawn up to her chest.

Charlie held her knees tighter to her chest and frowned. “Not really...”

“What a shame! It could prove useful for your endeavors. Now that you know redemption is possible, you’ll need to attract more souls to your hotel!”

“I don’t know Al...”

He sat on the edge of her bed and reached over to place a hand on her cheek, drawing her attention to his softened gaze. “Trust me, my dear. I haven’t led you astray before haven’t I? You’ve already done all you could. Allow me to help this time.”

As much as she didn’t like the idea, she knew he was right. Now that she knew redemption was possible, she could help people get to Heaven. But did she have the energy or power to do that when everyone still doubted her? Nobody took her seriously and she doubted anybody would believe what she did at that point. Hesitant, but without many other options, Charlie nodded. “Okay, but I’m not making a deal with you.”

Alastor chuckled, smiling a bit brighter in response to the bit of spunk returning to her. “Not a problem sweetheart. I wouldn’t have expected it any other way.”

Another week passing meant another week gaining Charlie’s wholehearted trust. 

Alastor had to admit, it was enjoyable watching her grow back into the person she was before. She even smiled on the rare occasion. But as pleasant he’d found that her company was, he needed to get her going.

Having known her father, Alastor knew that Lucifer had the ability to subjugate and pacify any demon at will. Any demon under his will would fall into a trance-like state and obey all orders, even if it meant permanent death for that demon. All he needed to do now was see if Charlie had inherited this ability from her father.

He brought it up to her, presented as an idea to bring in patients.

As expected, she seemed hesitant. “That doesn’t seem right Al.”

“Don’t you want to help your people? How else are they going to find salvation if they aren’t convinced?”

She paused, seemingly convinced yet careful. “They won’t...”

Alastor nodded, standing from her bed. “Exactly! And the longer you wait for them to come crawling to you, the more that will perish by the next cleanse! I know that you want to help your people, don’t you sweetheart?” He turned to her and extended a hand. “Now why don’t we try? It’s about time you’ve left your cave and let the world see your dazzling smile, so let’s kill two birds with one stone?”

Charlie looked between him and his hand several times while she deliberated her decision. If she did nothing, would things get any better? Alastor was so willing to help her in her time of need- even more so than Vaggie ever had.

What was wrong with trying?

She took his hand, earning her a wide grin and a strong tug from the man. With a yelp, she flew off her bed and into his waiting arms. In an unexpected turn of events, Alastor wrapped his arms around her.

Warmth filled her. When was the last time she’d gotten a hug from anyone? Months ago from Vaggie probably.

“A solid choice my dear! Might I say that I’m impressed with your resolve!” He bent away to find tears rolling down her cheeks. Bothered by their existence, he wiped them away with his index finger. “Why the tears, Charlie?”

“I... I just want to thank you for being here Alastor. I-I don’t want to th-think about where I’d be without you here...”

Alastor chuckled and gently placed his hand on top of her head. She was his now, there was no doubt about that anymore.

“Think nothing about it. I didn’t think I would ever find myself caring about another’s well being.” He said partially truthful.

Once she composed herself, Charlie left the hotel for the first time in nearly three months while holding Alastor’s hand for support. She’d almost forgotten what her home had looked like. The blood-red hue of the sky, the faint smell of rotting flesh; it was something she didn’t know she missed.

Still holding his hand tightly, Alastor led her out to the streets to get down to business. He’d waited far too long for this moment and he was all too eager to get started. “I believe your ability is innate, meaning if you just wanted it enough, anyone could be bent to your will,” he looked about the busy streets but quickly perked up. “Why not try it on that one there?” He said, pointing ahead of them.

When Charlie looked, there was a scraggly three-armed man sitting on the sidewalk holding a cardboard sign that simply read: “help” in crude lettering. He was a hulking purple giant of a man, taking up most of the walkway on the street. Had he not been so massive, the passerbys would have probably scowled at him for being so invasive. The purple demon also appeared to have a permanent frown on his face that made him even less approachable.

“I believe the man needs help, he’s practically asking for it dear,”

Charlie grimaced, suddenly feeling an awful twist of wrongness in her gut.

Alastor quickly sensed her hesitation by her tighter grip on his hand. “Charlie darling, I know you can do it. You can help that man. If you can do it, he’ll never have to beg in the streets again! You wouldn’t deprive him of that chance now would you? You know he certainly wouldn’t survive the next cleanse being so exposed like this,”

Again, he was right. Alastor was always right, and Charlie knew that well.

But still, it just didn’t sit right.

Alastor bent toward her, getting close so that she could only focus on him. Charlie stared into his ruby-red eyes, confusion in her eyes. “I will be here with you all the way.”

She hesitated a bit longer, biting down on her lips and looking down to the ground.

‘Alastor’s always right.’ She reminded herself in her head.

“Okay.”

They approached and Alastor let go of Charlie’s hand to watch her with anticipation from behind her.

Charlie forced a friendly smile on her face and waved up to the seated man. “Uh hi!”

The beggar man didn’t seem amused. “You got money?”

“I have something even better!”

“Meth?”

“Nope! I-I uh, I have a hotel! That redeems souls so that they can go to Heaven!”

The purple demon huffed a laugh. “Oh I know this scam! You want me to go with you to this hotel of yours and you’ll take my organs and use me for meat,” he crossed his two arms and let his third hand give Charlie the bird. “Yeah no thanks, bitch. Get lost.”

Before she could walk away dejectedly, Alastor held her shoulders to keep her in place and whispered in her ear. “Demand it. It will only work if you demand him with confidence. Try it again.”

She took a deep breath. ‘He’s always right.’ She subconsciously reminded herself once more.

“Hey didn’t I say get lost? The fuck you still-“

“You will come with me and stay at the hotel. You will work toward redemption to Heaven and stay there.” She stated firmly and devoid of emotion.

The man closed his mouth, removing the scowl on his face. Not even a moment later, he stood and looked to Charlie expectantly. “Sure thing.” He said with barely any emotion behind his own answer.

Charlie’s eyes widened and she gasped, feeling her heart race. Quickly she turned to Alastor and shot him an unsure look. “Al... I... I think I did it...”

Alastor chuckled and approached, studying the man for a moment. When Alastor leaned in close to the dirtier demon’s face, the other man did not react with any hostility, just with an innocently confused look on his face. Satisfied with the results, he turned back to Charlie and nodded “Yes you did, dear. Now, let’s check him in, hm?”

________________________________

Everything ran smoothly from the first patient in the hotel. Charlie began subjugating the homeless population quickly to beat the cleanse deadline. Every day she got into a normal routine that made bounds in her development. She quickly became much more confident, and most importantly: more reliant on Alastor and his opinions.

Alastor stood beside her wherever she went like he was a part of her being. Though he could be described as her shadow, Charlie seemed to be slowly melting into his.

She began doing everything he suggested. From subjugating whoever he pointed out, to smiling almost all the time, she was improving to his standards rapidly and eagerly.

He was her new constant in life, her lifeline and her only friend.

________________________________

With only days remaining until the next cleanse, the streets of Pentagram City were cleared of a large portion of its homeless population. She’d redeemed such a large amount of people that could have been lost to the cleanse and she was proud of it.

“Darling, the angels are coming this way.”

Charlie gasped, sprinting up to the window next to Alastor. What she found was a team of four angels making their way toward the hotel with deadly purpose. “What? Why?”

“They probably know where a large mass of demons are.” Alastor said calmly with a shrug. 

It was time to awaken another power within her. He didn’t have a hand in this arrangement, but he wasn’t complaining. This was the perfect motivation to get Charlie going and he was giddy to figure out what was next. 

Watching the figures get closer and closer, Charlie’s heart began to race with frustration and panic. “They can’t do that! I’m helping people!”

“They don’t seen to care.”

She laced her fingers in her hair, quickly losing her cool. “What do we do? We can’t relocate everyone! There’s too many of them!”

“I suppose we’ll have to fight.” 

Charlie whipped her head around and stared her companion down in disbelief. “Al, that goes against what I’m trying to do here!”

“Then everyone perishes.”

‘He’s right, Alastor is always right.’

“...Okay. Let’s go then.”

________________________________

“Kill it.”

“W-what?”

“Kill it, or else it will keep coming.”

“B-but...”

Alastor bent, still looming over her and the writhing angel she’d caught in her grasp. He took her chin to look him in the eye. “You must, or else everyone will be in danger.”

Charlie’s head began to spin, her heart racing and the adrenaline rushed through her. ‘Everyone will die. All my hard work...’ She needed to do it. She needed to for her people’s sake.

Alastor let her go, allowing her to decide. If she truly put her full trust in him, he knew she’d do it. It was only a matter of time.

But he didn’t have to wait too long.

Charlie’s grip on the angel’s throat tightened, earning a gurgle from the struggling being. It couldn’t muster the strength to thrash nor could it dig its fingers in to try to pry the hand around its throat off.

She watched it struggle- watched the life slowly leave it. It was suffering. It was fighting so hard to live. It was a sad sight, yet Charlie’s pity for it quickly left as Alastor whispered in her ear. “That’s it, darling. Remember, they hold no remorse slaughtering your people. They even smile as they do so. So why don’t you smile as you return the favor?” He paused before chuckling.

He craned his head around to look at her face to find a smile forming on her face. “There you are. And what a lovely smile, Charlie. Truly a vision.”

Smile? Was she really smiling? How could she smile as she was killing something? Why did it feel so good? 

The sudden squelch as well as the splattering of warm blood on Charlie’s face instantly removed her grin. The angel stopped squirming, but slid downward from her bloodied hand. Without a head atop its shoulders, there was nothing left for Charlie to grip. With two audible thuds, she watched as the body of the angel slumped over with the head rolling a bit away from its body. 

‘Incredible strength, but I’m not surprised.’ Alastor thought, impressed by her feat. It took a great amount of strength to decapitate a being by just squeezing its neck.    

He placed his hands on either side of her shoulders from behind to assure her. “No matter how many you kill, it’s not your patient’s sin. You cannot go to Heaven anyway dear so you’d might as well take the burden and protect them, right?”

She looked down at the angel’s headless body on the ground. “To protect them?”

He turned her slightly and stood in front of her. He gently placed a hand on her head, keeping her grounded. “Yes. I’m proud of you, Charlie.” It wasn’t a lie, he felt immense pride in the progress she’d made.

‘Proud of me?’ She questioned mentally. She pried her eyes off of the sin she’d just committed to whip her gaze to Alastor. “Alastor...” She whispered, tears beginning to form in the corners of her eyes.

“Yes dear?”

She didn’t say anything and instead jumped to wrap her arms around him, catching him off-guard.

He felt her trembling followed by an unmistakable moistness touching his bare chest. “My dear, don’t cry.”

His eyes narrowed as he wrapped his arms around her tightly. “I’m here. I won’t leave you.”

‘And all you need is me.’

[lord-explosion-baku]

Yandere Warlock!Monoma x insecure witch!reader

Warnings: dark themes, yandere, suggestive themes, hinted dubcon scenario, light violence

A/N: THIS WAS RUSHED AS HECK. Like when I say that, the story just moves along really fast and I’m hhhh sorry about it. This is the first thing I’ve ever written for Monoma though! Fun stuff! Also ahhhh I’m not loving the way the reader reacts to how Monoma treats her. I’m so used to writing the reader with a hint of ANGERY BASTARD inside but I figured that if she’s insecure, and wack enough to fix a love potion for someone, this might be natural for someone like her?? Idk dood. I love magic and I am a newt.

“Tell me you love me…”

You’d spent so much of your time yearning for Neito Monoma, wondering if he’d ever give you the time of day. It was wild and unexpected of you to crush so hard for someone as arrogant as that warlock; usually types that constantly had to one up everybody irked the living hell out of you, especially since you were too modest by nature, too nervous to ever give yourself any credit when you’d excel, but Monoma paid you a few compliments here and there. He smiled at you during passing periods and even told you he liked the way you cast your spells. You thought that maybe he was this way with all the other witches, even so, he made you feel less obscure, visible to even a stronger caster such as him. You had no idea that he’d reciprocate your feelings, at least, until it was too late.

It was a simple potion, you couldn’t even call it a love potion. Sure, you may have added some reagents that had similar properties one would put in a love potion, but it wasn’t supposed to be for “love.” You just wanted to be more recognized by him. And woof, after you’d slipped that potion into his morning pumpkin juice, you were for sure recognized.

Things started out fine. You had stumbled upon Monoma in the school gardens, a place he rarely studied but it was one of your main haunts. He was sifting through flowers, making an eclectic bouquet full of different varieties of your flora friends. When he’d caught you staring at him, he gave you a bashful smile that nearly melted your heart.

“I was hoping this would be a surprise,” he said, tying a black ribbon around the bouquet that made the various colors of each petal pop out more. He held the bouquet out to to you and when you took it, his long warm fingers lingered of yours. Clear blue eyes scanned your face, lingering on your lips before you brought the bouquet to your nose to take in the sweetened aroma. “The prettiest flowers for the prettiest girl.”

After that, you spent so much more time with Monoma. He seemed pretty normal to you other than how often you caught him staring at you from across the classroom. He’d leave you cute little notes, if you could call them notes; honestly, they were a bit more like sonnets than anything, and he’d bring you nice gifts and pay you sweet compliments. He made you feel special. You had never known that someone who spent most of his time boasting about his power and shutting everyone else down had such a way with words! He was nearly the perfect boyfriend.

Until he started to get a little more creative with his gift giving. You’d find roses left on your pillow when you returned back to your dorm room after a hard day’s work. Warlocks weren’t permitted to enter the witch’s dorms but somehow Monoma figured out a way past certain enchantments. You thought it was cute that he was willing to break some rules for you. After you told him that you were interested in brewing a certain master level potion that required fairies blood, a super rare rageant that not even Aizawa, your potion’s professor, could get his hands on, Monoma came to you with a box full of four vials of fairies blood. That was a bit excessive. The potion only called for a tiny bit.

Monoma grew more violent towards other warlocks in your life as well. He’d hexed your best friend, Hanta Sero, giving him octopus arms after Sero carelessly threw his arm around your shoulders in the main hall, right in front of Monoma and sometime after Kaminari asked you what you saw in your new, probably too invested boyfriend, Kami’s lips were seen sewn shut for about four hours until a professor figured out how to reverse the curse. Kaminari never told you how it happened, but after everyone who was supposed to be your friend started avoiding you, you kinda figured you knew what was going on.

On top of everything else, he was advancing on your hardcore. You enjoyed the attention, in fact, you craved it, but you weren’t ready to go all the way with him and he was beginning to get really pushy. When you didn’t do whatever he wanted, he’d get frustrated, accusatory, he’d make you feel guilty about things you never did! Claiming that you weren’t faithful to him seemed like his favorite thing to do and the only way to get him to stop was for him to use a strange truth spell on you, one that you were always afraid would work so you’d tell him about the potion you slipped him, though the questions he asked never lead to that. Once he was satisfied with your answers, he’d litter your neck and body in hickeys, little bruising love marks to make sure that if you weren’t committed enough, everyone else knew that you belonged to him.

So you knew you had to confront him.

Walking up the steps of the astronomy tower, your shared secret spot with Monoma, the place you’d use to make out amongst other things without being caught by any school faculty, you gripped the note you’d written out for Monoma tightly in your trembling hands, trying to steady your breath. You knew what you’d done and you had to admit to Monoma that you were responsible for how he was acting. Aizawa always said that you shouldn’t mess around with love when it came to magic. You didn’t think you were when you’d made that potion, but deep down, you knew what you were going for. This was your stupid mistake and you had to right your wrongs. You shoved the note in your pocket and opened the astronomy room door.

Monoma was already there, standing by the extravagant telescope, tapping his foot impatiently. “You’re late,” he said, hands latching onto your hips immediately. “I was beginning to think that I was going to have to fetch you.”

Instantly, he yanked you close so your body pressed flush up against his, and he turned so your back was against the wall. His body felt… warmer than usual.

“I missed you,” he murmured, nuzzling into your neck. Almost instantly his tongue slid out and he licked a strip up your neck to your ear, making you shudder against him. “Don’t make me wait for you again, angel. I can’t stand not seeing you.”

He squeezed your hips before trailing a hand up to the edge of your shirt, thumb gently caressing the skin underneath. “How are you?” He asked, playfulling toying with the elasticity of your skirt.

“Um- I’m okay,” you stammered, catching his hand in yours that only made him smirk as he brought the back of your wrist to his lips.

“Just okay?” He lifted a brow, brushing his lips across your skin. “Better now that I’m here?” He closed his eyes and breathed you in. “Oh!...” you took in another long whiff. “You got a new perfume…”

He brought your arms to hang around his neck, keeping your gaze locked into his. You wondered if he could tell just how guilty you were just by looking at you. “Did my sweet girl have a bad day?”

“I’ve just been… a little stressed, is all.”

“Mmmm, I can tell,” he mused, “lucky for you, I know the perfect way of relieving tension.”

You bit your lip, dreading the blood that undoubtedly rushed to your face. Even if Monoma wasn’t all there, he still made your heart jump, especially when he got himself riled up.

“Sound nice?” He smirked, leaning closer back to your face. “I’ll be gentle. You know I only want to take care of you, right?”

“Neito,” you began, turning your head away from his cool, mint scented breath. “N-not right now…”

He scoffed. It was too easy to aggravate him and pissing him off was a dangerous game to play. He never… forced you to do anything you didn’t want to, but he was not above throwing fits. “Then why don’t you tell me what’s going on with you? Honestly Y/N, you’ve been acting strange for weeks, and if you don’t want me to show you just how much I love you, then you might as well come out and tell me who you’ve been fucking already.”

“Neito!” You shot him an incredulous look. “I haven’t been sleeping with anybody! You know I’m a-!”

“Who is it? You can tell me,” he cut over you, not bothering to hear you out. “You know I’ll always forgive you, but I want to know what filth has been tarnishing what’s mine.”

“Nobody, Neito! I’ve never had sex!”

“Was it Todoroki? I saw him talking to you after your Charms class.”

“He was lending me notes! I missed classes because I was with you!” Jesus, you hadn’t even seen Monoma after you had charms, he was like some kind of obsessive ninja.

“It better not have been that trash, Katsuki Bakugou! He’s been eyeing you since the moment he saw that you were with me. I bet he can’t stand seeing me have something that he doesn’t!”

“You’re not listening to me!” You cried, moving your hands from his back to gently cup his face. You watched as his eyes went from feral and angry to soft and loving as you drew your thumbs across his lips, trying to ease him back to his senses. “Neito, nobody’s been talking to me… even if they were, I’d let them know there’s only one guy for me. I… really liked you, Neito. I liked you enough that I did something very wrong and it has hurt you and for that, I’m sorry. ”

“Hurt me?” He didn’t understand.

“I spiked your drink with a love potion. I thought it would just make you notice me, but now everything is wrong!”

The pregnant pause between you and Monoma was nearly deafening. He lifted his hand to neatly place over yours, his body hot. His eyes searched yours, seeming to register what you were saying. But his eyes lied.

“Liked?” His hands tightened over yours. “As in past tense?”

“That’s not the point and not really what I meant-!”

“Oh, darling, don’t be cute with me right now. I’m thinking!”

You only realized how hard you were shaking when he pulled away from you to let you breathe. Monoma ran his fingers through his hair, messing up its usually neat style. He let out an exaggerated sigh and began to pace. You brought the note out of your pocket. If he couldn’t understand your words, maybe it’d make more sense to him if he’d read them?

You reached out for his shoulders, he tensed at your tender touch for a moment before relaxing against you. You hugged him from behind, burying your face into his back and held the note out in front of him. “Please read it,” you asked, muffled by his blazer.

Gingerly, he took the note out of your hand. He read it over; it basically said all that you had done, when you did it, and why you did it. You noticed his back growing damp and you only realize that you were crying when he turned to face you, with an unreadable expression.

Monoma’s thumb found your cheek and he wiped away an escapee tear you hadn’t intended to let him see. He sighed and watched your lips part, a natural, possible submissive instinct you’d picked up since you started dating the warlock. “I love you, Y/N,” he muttered, trailing his warm, now shaking fingers down to your chin. “I love you so much, it hurts.”

“I-I know.” You forced yourself to speak even though your skin was nearly vibrating from anxiety. “And-“ you gulped “-It’s all my fault. But I’m going to fix this, Neito. You won’t have to hurt… anymore.”

Monoma’s hand found your neck, his touch tentative and gentle at first until his fingers wrapped around you and he started to squeeze.

“You know?” He demanded, his face inching closer towards yours. “If you know how much pain I’m going through, then why the hell are you trying to push me away? Why don’t you ever say you love me back? Why is my angel lying to me?!”

“I’m not,” you squeaked back, pulling on his arm but that only encouraged him to back you up against the wall again.

“I’m going to make you tell me who’s making you say these things to me and then I’m going to have you watch as I strap them to a chair and set them on fire!”

“N-no, Neito,” you choked out as he began to raise you against the wall. The corner of your eyes started to blacken as you stared into the raging blue irises of the crazed blonde.

“I’ve done so much for you, Y/N, and I’ve asked so little in return!” He scoffed at the pathetic, reddened face you were making. You didn’t think you could hold on much longer. “Tell me who it is, Y/N. Tell me who it is or I swear I’ll kill every last warlock, hell, every last caster in this whole goddamn school!”

“Aizawa!” You cried out, noting the shifting black figure across the tower windows.

Monoma blinked, registering who you had named. He was silent for a moment, not noticing the older warlock muttering an incantation behind him.

“Filthy slut,” Monoma finally seethed. “You like older men, then? I bet he gets a kick out of that, taking advantage of something so pure-“ he dropped you to the floor “-so fragile.”

Tears were streaming down your face. You couldn’t manage to look at him and didn’t dare look at Aizawa while he was preparing a spell without Monoma noticing.

“I bet you call him daddy before he makes you choke on his cock, huh?” Monoma grabbed a fistful of your hair, forcing you to look up at him. “Once I rid the world of him, I’ll make you do everything you've done to him to me. I’ll be your daddy then, and you’ll be my dirty. little. princess.” He laughed dryly, yanking your head closer to his crotch. “But why wait until then when I have my pretty angel on her knees all ready for me?”

“That won’t be happening.” Aizawa’s low voice sounded across the room. Before Monoma could even turn, Aizawa muttered something in Latin and your boyfriend’s arms were magically bound together and he fell to his knees beside you.

You grabbed Monoma before he could topple over onto the floor, hugging him tightly, whispering ‘I’m sorry’s’ over and over again. Monoma looked at you incredulously before thrashing around in your embrace as Aizawa approached the two of you.

“Obsessive and violent behavior, attempted assault on a student,” Aizawa sighed. “This is exactly why you don’t screw around with love magic, little witch.”

You wiped at your wet face, looking up to your teacher. “You knew?”

“Of course I did.”

“Then why,” you sniffed, looking apologetically bac to Monoma leering next to you, “why didn’t you do something sooner?”

“We have to from our mistakes by facing the consequences,” he said as if your situation were so simple. A potion vial appeared in his hand. “Now it's time to take care of your mistake. Step back.”

You looked to Monoma who had his lip curled up at your teacher. His eyes flicked to you. “Don’t you dare.”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered before scooching away from the writhing warlock.

“Stay away from me!” Monoma snarled at Aizawa as he got a bit closer.

“You need to drink this,” Aizawa said to him, “it’s going to cure you of your ailments.”

“Lying pig!” Monoma all but screeched at your teacher. It burned you to see him this way. This was all your fault, all your fault. “You just want her for yourself!”

Monoma’s eyes once again found yours as he pleaded, “angel don’t do this to me. You love me right? I love you… tell me you love me baby, just this once— KEEP YOUR HOBO HANDS OFF OF ME!”

Monoma kicked his legs up, nearly knocking the vial out of Aizawa’s hands. Your teacher sighed, “at this rate, it might be better to just knock him out.”

“I dare you to try,” the blonde growled.

“Neito, please,” you silently begged, “this is only going to help you.”

Monoma answered you with feral noises, he was practical foaming at the mouth, being over dramatic and kicking himself away from his threat, even while Aizawa backed off and waited for your go ahead.

“If you do this for me-“ you inhaled, heart beating rapidly against your chest “-I’ll do anything and everything you want.” Though, you were sure that after this, Monoma would want nothing to do with you. “I promise you, Neito, anything.”

Monoma scowled at you. “You promise?” He asked. “Anything?”

Another tear fell to your cheek. You nodded.

He finally let up. He stopped his squirming and Aizawa could finally get close to him. Monoma didn’t fail to warn Aizawa that he was going to “be the end of him,” before Aizawa popped the vial into his mouth, and Monoma drained it dry, all while keeping his glare on you.

Minutes passed. You stayed on the floor, allowing silent tears to roll off your face while Aizawa stood cross armed, watching the motionless Monoma intently. Finally, Monoma groaned, squeezing his eyes shut.

“How are you feeling?” Inquired Aizawa.

“I…” Monoma winced. “My head feels like it’s splitting in half…”

“That’s to be expected.”

Guilt hung on your shoulders. Still, you managed to reach out to Monoma’s legs. His eyes opened, he looked right at you, then down to the floor, crossing his legs closer in to himself.

“You should probably go,” Aizawa said to you.

You never wanted this. You never wanted Monoma to be hurt, never wanted him to be obsessive or possessive, never wanted to feel how did you now. You just wanted him to recognize you so you did something vile to him and now you had to live with your guilt and your shame. Now you had to live with Monoma hating you. And you carried your guilt all the way home, using it to cry yourself to sleep.

~

You didn’t go to school the next day. You would have to face your problems sooner or later but after the night you had, you couldn’t face Monoma or Aizawa or anybody else who would without a doubt know about the heinous act you pulled.

You went into town, trying your hardest to forget about who you were, but whenever you saw a couple holding hands or simply exchanging glances, your heart stung. You managed to split Monoma’s head in half while you simultaneously ripped your heart to shreds. It was what you deserved.

Your legs felt heavy as you crawled into bed. You hardly had enough energy to kick your sheets over your body. You thought you just about drained yourself of all of your tears, but when your head hit the pillow, they came rushing back to you. You could only hide for so long. You were going to have to go to school tomorrow.

Sleep crept its way into your bedroom all the while another force snuck its way in. You were busy having a dream of being forced into a cauldron, when a heavy weight was pushed onto your torso. Your eyes snapped open and you found yourself face to face with Neito Monoma.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” he said, a sickly sweet smile crawling across his face. “You were so still, so… perfect… Did you know you talk when you sleep?”

“Monom-!” Before you could get his full name out, Monoma’s lips locked into yours. He moaned as he kissed you, fingers wrapping around your wrists and bringing them up above your head. He took your breath away, but it wasn’t all that uninvited. You had missed him.

He pulled away, sighing as he took in your flustered physique. His body pressed down harder on you and you were finding your breathing to be a bit strained. He was crushing you.

“I waited for you today,” he mused, peppering kisses down your collarbone. “It seems I’m always waiting for you…”

“What… are you doing here?”

“I’m hurt you even have to ask,” he chuckled sarcastically. “Don’t you remember the promise you made me before making me drink that poison?”

You promised him you’d do anything he wanted. “But the potion was supposed to change you back…”

“It didn’t work,” he said thoughtlessly while his hand slid down to palm you breast.

“W-wait!” You grasped his hand but his merely pushed your arm back down, pulling his knees up to hold your sides tightly.

He glowered down at you. “What I mean to say is, the first potion you slipped me didn’t work.” He smirked. “Do you think that I’m so much of a fool that I couldn’t tell that a drink of mine had been spiked? I was insulted at first, of course, but your actions did give me incentive to pursue you. I’ve always had these feelings for my little angel, and soon, you will too.”

In one swift motion, Monoma held both of your hands back with one of his, while the other pressed glass against your lips. Cold liquid was forced down your throat. Panicking, you swallowed, making Monoma grin and coo, “good girl.”

You coughed when he pulled the vial away from you. He hushed you and kissed your forehead. “Things will be better this way,” he whispered as your body began to shake. “You’ll see me just as I see you. We just have to wait a few minutes.”

Your head spun and it felt like your body was sinking into your bed. Your mind was clouding over and there was nothing you could do about Monoma’s wet, hot, hungry kisses across your body. But in a matter of minutes, just like he said, it wasn’t of any negative concern. Your head, along with your heart, was changing.

“Neito,” you sighed his name and leaned up against your bed.

Monoma placed a tender kiss on your stomach before looking up at you with the most dazzling and brilliant blue eyes. You lifted your hand out to him and he wove his fingers through yours.

“Is my angel ready to make good on her promise?” He asked. You nodded and he grinned, crawling up your bed to level his head with yours. “Then let’s start with one simple request,” he said before brushing his lips against yours.

“Tell me you love me.”

~

TAGS FOR EVERYTHING (NOT SPICY): @ayeputita @yandere-inamorata @dee-madwriter @unboundbnha @rizamendoza808, @rubycubix @smbody-stole-mycar-radio @zellllyyyy @sarcastictextstuck @kpanime @captain-sin-allmight-queen @psionicsnow @wickedlewicked @ghost-of-todoroki @kattariapenn @im-an-adult-sometimes @bnhya @local-senpai @eggpienutbuttercroissant @usernamekate94 @reyvenclaww @hi-ho-and-hello @rubyred-imagines

[atmilliways]

As long as anybody didn’t find out, Pickles figured the worst scenarios he had conjured in his head would never happen.

[send me a sentence and i’ll write the next five or more lines]

You got it! This... turned out longer than five more lines, lol. 

Snakes N Barrels era Charles/Pickles. Warning for one night stands, drug and alcohol mentions, questionable disguises, and Charles hitting the club with a briefcase that contains a book and condoms (just in case). 

Bottles & Bodies

As long as nobody found out, Pickles figured the worst scenarios he had conjured in his head would never happen. The gossip, the cold shoulders, the colder looks . . . all the shit he’d left behind in Wisconsin, but would be so much worse to encounter again now, here, in the fucking tabloids and the faces of his bandmates, because he actually liked this life. 

It wasn’t like he was ever going to fool around with any of the guys, even if Tony was pretty cute. As far as Pickles could tell none of the guys ate from both sides of the buffet anyway, and as a general rule the groupies were always girls, so it was easy enough to compartmentalize. When he was being Pickles, the rockstar, in his red gloves and makeup and tight, low-riding jeans, he hit on chicks; when he snuck out to gay bars as Pickles, just some dude, with his blue wristbands and no eyeliner or eyeshadow and slightly less teased hair and even tighter, sluttier jeans, he hit on dudes. 

And usually, just to be on the safe side, he picked guys too loaded to pick him out of a lineup later. 

So why. Why the fuck. Had he picked the most straight-laced looking guy in this bar to sidle up to and ask if he could buy him a drink?

Probably had something to do with the fact that he was a little cross faded on weed and booze. . . . But mostly it was that the guy—young, probably not much older than he was—was hot, and he’d wanted to so he’d gone in the bathroom to snort a little coke until it seemed like a better idea. 

Hot in a preppy sort of way, admittedly, with the glasses and the blazer and the nearly combed hair, nursing a scotch and soda while reading something and taking notes in a steno pad at a small table in the corner. But once you got past that part, there was a serious set of his jaw, an intensity to his gaze as he focused on what he was reading despite the noise of the crowd, and a firm decisiveness in his hands that Pickles had found himself obsessing over in stolen glances for the past half an hour. Good shoulders, too, and Pickles suspected he was pretty fine under that blazer and button-down. 

Pickles grabbed a chair from a nearby table and sat in it without bothering to turn it around, folding his arms across the top of it and grinning at the handsome stranger. “Hey, whatcha reading?”

“Naming, Necessity, and Natural Kinds, by Stephen P. Schwartz,” the guy reeled off automatically. When this wasn’t immediately followed by Pickles losing interest and wandering off, he glanced up and did a double take. “Wait. You’re, ah, Pickles. From Snakes N Barrels.”

For a fraction of a second, Pickles did his best impression of a deer in the headlights. Because yeah, lack of stage makeup wasn’t much of a disguise, but no one had ever actually called him on it before. 

Then he recovered, and all his experience in bullshitting and performing under pressure kicked in. Pickles turned the wattage on his smile up a notch. “Heh, y’think? I could just be a handsome, sexy lookalike.”

The guy shook his head while still staring. “I’ve been to your shows,” he said with unshakable conviction. “I know it’s you.”

Without meaning to, Pickles laughed. “You have? Really?” He let his eyes rake pointedly up and down the other man, since he wanted to anyway. What he saw did not, in any way, scream Snakes N Barrels fan. For one thing, there was an honest to god briefcase wedged under his chair between his nice leather shoes. Not enough piercings or tats, for another—not that he could see at least, to which his lizard brain slyly added Yet. 

After waiting patiently for his eyes to wander back up, the guy said seriously, “Really. You, ah.” Suddenly his confidence seemed to waver, even if his conviction didn’t, and he looked down at his book. “You stand out.”

Pickles considered. He wasn’t thinking too good at this point, which might possibly present a flaw in his whole ‘compartmentalization’ plan. . . . But he had a pretty good radar for when people were interested, and this guy was definitely pinging on it. And somehow, he didn’t really think that someone who’d brought heavy reading to a hookup den was the type to try blackmailing a celebrity in the bisexual closet. People like that had better things to do, right?

It didn’t mean everyone would find out. 

He drummed his fingers on the top of his chair, barely heard it over the ambient noise of the bar around them, shrugged. What the hell. “Okay, you got me,” he said with a smirk, one he knew for a fact was particularly winning. Under the table, he stretched his leg out and rubbed the toe of one sneaker against the other man’s calf. “This your first brush with fame or are you jest happy to see me?”

There was a twitch of surprise at the sudden contact, but otherwise the guy held his ground. “Well, I, ah.” His face was reddening, though. “I like your, ah . . . music.”

“Thanks, dood.” With a wink, Pickles added, “What’s yer name, since you already know mine?”

“Charles.”

“Nice name,” he said, still feeling up the back of Charles’ leg with his foot. “So hey, Charlie. Wanna go appreciate my ‘music’ somewhere private?”

It was a stupid line and probably shouldn’t have worked, but the guy nodded and shut his book, using the steno pad as a bookmark. Pickles took the liberty of finishing the last of the stranger’s scotch and soda before getting up to leave the bar; Charles stowed his book in his briefcase and followed. 

Stupid, impulsive, thinking with his dick instead of his brain as usual. . . . But hey, a guy’s gotta eat. Otherwise what was the point of it all, right?

They got a motel room a few blocks away, but not until after Pickles had pushed Charles against a few darkened brick walls along the way to give him a test drive. Charles kissed back hard, eagerly, like this was some sort of fantasy he’d never dreamed he’d get to live out. His hands ran down Pickles’ back to grab his ass and fuck he was unexpectedly strong. Pickles felt his feet practically leave the ground, literally, and moaned into it. 

By the time they got into a room (which Charles had gamely gone into the motel office by himself to pay for), Pickles had him one zip away from pants-off. That was quickly taken care of, and shirt buttons undone, and sure enough, what he found underneath the crisp white shirt lived up to expectations and then some. Pickles dropped to his knees, shivering in approval when Charles’ hands went straight into his hair. He was less appreciative when he was held back from leaning forward. 

“I, ah,” Charles panted, staring down at him with bruised lips and desire in his eyes. “I have condoms in, in my briefcase.” 

Pickles quirked an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

“Well, it’s. . . . I mean, because, the bar. You, ah, never know, right?”

Probably smart. 

Pickles rolled his eyes but got the condom, rolled it on with his mouth, and proceeded to suck his new friend’s brain out into the protective latex. Then he tossed Charles a washcloth and a fresh Trojan and put on a show of peeling out of the tight jeans and tight t-shirt, making strategic use of the motel lotion until they could get the new condom on and Pickles climbed atop him. He eased down with his head thrown back, scrambling without looking to find Charles’ hands and press them to his hips while his head floated and spun, the perfect high. At one point he realized that Charles had flipped them over, so smoothly he hadn’t even noticed, bending Pickles bare feet effortlessly back his ears as he thrust into him with the steadiness of a drumbeat, and it all felt so fucking good. 

The other stuff was good too—the rush of being onstage, free booze and drugs, groupies whenever he wanted—but there was something in this that he needed just as much. Couldn’t give up one any more than the other, got the shakes if he went too long without it. He’d picked a good one tonight, too. Unlike his usual fare, Charles didn’t seem to be any more than slightly buzzed. Usually Pickles would be offering to share a little bit of his coke right now just to keep his pick of the night awake and functioning; instead, he was being steadily, blissfully fucked into the mattress with a controlled pressure that carried no hint of sloppiness, no possibility of passing out halfway through. Which was . . . kind of a first, and kind of felt like the best sex he’d ever had (without being on the really hard shit, at least, where it was more about the trip than the actual fucking anyway). 

He almost wanted to offer a few lines anyway, just so this could go on all night. . . . But it hadn’t been all that long ago that he couldn’t afford to share, and old habits died hard, so he didn’t. 

At one point Charles was sprawled across the bed, head resting on Pickles’ thigh as the musician leaned back against the pillows and well-rattled headboard, idly twisting short brown hair into tiny braids that wouldn’t stay. Charles’ eyes were mostly closed when he asked, matter of factly, “I’m not going to see you again, am I?”

Pickles chewed on the inside of his cheek for a moment before conceding, “Yeah, prahbly naht.” He yawned, then grimaced—damn accent always thickened up on him when he was tired or coming down, and right now he was both. “Sahhry. I mean, you can still come to shows and stuff, but. . . .”

“No, it’s fine. I understand.” Charles rolled over onto his elbows, looking up at Pickles. “Knowing it’s a one time thing takes, ah, takes some of the pressure off. I’m not, ah, very good at . . . this sort of thing, usually.” He paused, looking faintly embarrassed. “I, ah, say things like that, for example.”

“Dood, me neither,” Pickles said with a laugh. It was true, and he was a little relieved to hear the sentiment echoed by the other man. He wondered, briefly, if Charles would get all weird if he admitted that he slept with women too. A lot of guys did. But that  was a mistake you only made . . . five, maybe eight times, outside of doing it on purpose to make sure these trysts ended when he needed them to. Not necessary in this case, where they both already seemed to be on the same page. He yawned again. 

Men or women, all of his relationships came with an expiration date that could usually be measured in hours, and that mostly didn’t bother him because there were always others waiting when he turned around. Maybe he was kind of bummed to know that he’d never see this guy again, but he’d wake up in the morning and move on. There would always be another body to tumble into the next time he turned around to scratch this particular itch.

~

Several years later, past the band breaking up, past numerous auditions and brief stints as frontman for other groups that never really seemed to stick, after getting over the crushing reality of defeat and admitting to himself that he’d never be able to get his voice to go as heavy as he wanted, Pickles tapped the creased business card Nathan had given him on the edge of the desk and said, “So. . . . Hey.”

“Hi,” Charles replied blandly. His hairline was showing signs of beginning a slow retreat, there were lines around his mouth and eyes that hadn’t been there before, and he looked very professional and joyless in his gray suit and power tie, but it was definitely him. “So. You, ah, have a new band now.”

“Yep.” Pickles tapped the card on the desk again. It had been a very long time since he’d wondered any time he’d seen the name Charles or any of the variations if it would turn out to be that Charles. . . . Honestly, he’d probably only done it for a few weeks before the booze and drugs had washed away any certainty that he’d even remembered the name right. He definitely hadn’t walked into this appointment with a potential manager for the newly formed Dethklok expecting this blast from the past. 

“And you’re . . . not the frontman.” 

That wasn’t phrased as a question, so Pickles just shrugged. “Yeah, that’s Nathan. He’s the one who called. He’d’ve come, but he had work today, so, y’know. Here I am.” He shrugged again. “I’m the drummer.”

“I, ah, see.” Charles wrote something on his steno pad. It was, upon craning very unsubtly to see, the words Pickles the Drummer. “Nathan didn’t, ah, mention that over the phone.”

“Yeah, he’s not real chatty. Good guy though.” Pickles saw the faintest hint of questioning look and felt a sudden, uncharacteristic surge of embarrassed defensiveness over, essentially, nothing. “Not that he’s, I mean, we aren’t, no way, uh, no.” 

Fuck, he regretted ever learning how to talk as a kid. But he’d never been stuck in a conversation with someone who had this particular dirt on him before—even though, technically, he had the same dirt on Charles. The 90’s were almost less forgiving of that shit than the 80’s had been, in their own way. Anxious and fidgety, Pickles  started patting his pockets, looking for cigarettes or something. 

Charles put his pen down with a sigh and took off his glasses, studiously wiping them with a handkerchief. They hadn’t seemed dirty a second ago. 

“Pickles. . . . If you’re worried about, ah, my discretion, I can assure you that I am a professional. We don’t have to discuss our, ah, shared. . . . The fact that we’ve met before. With your band mates, or even with each other, unless you chose to do so. Either way, you can consider that information, ah, confidential.” The handkerchief disappeared into a pocket, and Charles put his glasses back on. “And I, ah, hope that you would do me the same courtesy. Particularly if I do become Dethklok’s manager.”

There the damn smokes were. Pickles tugged the squashed, mostly empty pack out of his back pocket, but paused in the middle of shaking one out as the words sank in. “. . . Wait, you really wanna manage us?”

“Of course. The demo tape you sent me showed a huge amount of promise, especially considering it wasn’t recorded professionally.”

“Damn right it wasn’t,” Pickles scoffed, jamming the cigarette in his mouth and distractedly resuming his self-frisking, this time for a lighter. “Had to record it on a fuckin’ two year old Talkboy that Magnus stole from his niece. Thing’s a piece of shit. Where’d I fuckin’ put—”

A flick of a lighter snagged his attention, and he glanced up to see Charles holding one, already lit. It was one of the windproof ones, matte black and heavy looking. Metal, Pickles thought, and leaned forward to touch the tip of his cigarette to the lick of flame, wondering idly if it was monogrammed. He tried to remember if they’d smoked anything that night, but came up blank and felt . . . weirdly disappointed in himself for not knowing.

“You want one?” he asked, and hoped he sounded casual instead of probing. 

Charles shook his head. “No, I don’t smoke, I just, ah, just work with a lot of people who do.”

Pickles sat back, taking a deep drag and sighing out smoke. It was strange how this encounter was making him a little nostalgic—or maybe just making him stupid. Sure, that one night stand still stood out in his memory as the best sex he’d ever had, but it had only been one night. They didn’t actually know each other, probably didn’t have anything in common. In the space of this one meeting they’d probably exchanged more words than they had back then. But. . . . 

There was something about Charles, even older. Even in that boring suit. A flicker of something—subdued interest, maybe?—dancing behind the flame as he’d conscientiously offered to light Pickles’ cigarette. 

He hadn’t felt the itch for a while, but something about Charles suddenly had him itching like crazy. 

“. . . Okay then, chief. We need a manager, you want to manage us, sounds like a good deal to me.” Pickles took a long drag on his cigarette and then smirked, one he knew for a fact was particularly winning. Just because the wristbands he had on now were black, his hair was tamped down into dreadlocks and his goatee long shaved off, and his jeans were loose enough to give his balls some room to breathe, that didn’t mean he couldn’t still live a little. 

After all, he didn’t have any stage make-up on. That made him, for the moment, just some dude. And Charles, well . . . he could clearly keep a secret. It didn’t mean anyone would find out. 

Pickles leaned forward, resting both elbows on the edge of Charles’ desk as he said, “Why don’t you tell me what you like about my music?”

[fairynavi]

stronger than you | strong! fem! reader hcs

you are a 2nd year manager of karasuno and here are hcs on how noya, tanaka, and ennoshita react to you being physically stronger than you seem

☆ nishinoya yuu

you, along with yachi, were introduced by kiyoko as new managers for the club. you've been in the club for quite some time now and you're well acquainted with everyone now

especiall noya since the both of you are in the same year (and he's very excited about how they have a manager who's in the same year as him)

noya is just an energetic and spontaneous ball

he'll go to your classroom and shout your name so you could go to the clubroom together

you would find it very endearing if it weren't for the knowing looks your friends would give you whenever noya came by

OKAY SO

you joined in your 2nd year after leaving the martial arts club

why'd you leave? you weren't too keen on the suffocating competitive atmosphere in the club

the club president wasn't very good in keeping everyone organised

the club was overall just a mess and you didn't want to get involved in any more problems

while everyone's cleaning up, hinata and kageyama snuck to the court a bit a do extra spiking drills

you heard them bickering but you didn't actually expect they'd do anymore drills

but at this point, you weren't surprised anymore

this time, hinata went a bit all out and the ball came flying towards an unsuspecting noya who was drinking what's left of his water bottle

fortunately, you were nearby

you immediately drop whatever you were holding (which were brooms) and immediately go in front of noya, fixing your stance (like how you would during a hand to hand spar)

you use your arm and hover it steadily in front of your face where the ball was going towards

you successfully stop the ball, which you grab from the floor

you're unaware of the stares from the other people in the gym

"hinata! kageyama! be careful! you could have hurt someone!" you lecture the first years, to which they immediately apologize for (after they've completely processed what you just did)

you turn around and look at noya, who's just looking at you in awe

"noya-san? you okay there?" you wave your hand in front of him, where he finally responds by blinking

he finally processes everything, he's confused, he's blushing, he's staring at you in awe because a girl saved him?? a v v pretty girl saved him from a ball that could've hit his head??

he's just shocked, my dood

for the first time, he's at a loss for words

"earth to noya-san?"

he finally speaks

"[y/n]-san... that... that was so aWESOME! you're... i guess you were stronger than i had initially thought, y'know? thanks for saving my head there! you're so cool, [y/n]-san!"

you're blushing now too

sure, you've been called cool by other people, but it seems that when noya says it, it just feels so different

"thank you, noya-san..."

the next few days, he'll just bother you about where you got so strong and when he learns that you know martial arts, he just WANTS you to teach him some self-defense

he was already attracted to you when you joined the club as a manager

now he learns that you're actually physically stronger than you seem??

bro, he's infatuated

wait no, scratch that

he's head over heels for you

expect a lot of compliments from him

also expect a lot of, "[y/n], do you think you can carry me?"

"for the last time, noya, i am NOT carrying you"

☆ tanaka ryuunosuke

you already knew tanaka, during your 1st year, even before joining the karasuno volleyball club because of ennoshita

but you've only met with him once or twice on the rare occasions where you'd do a group project with ennoshita

you joined the volleyball club in your 2nd year as a manager for the boy's team when the club that you were previously in had disbanded due to lack of members

to everyone's surprise, tanaka recognizes you the moment you enter the gym

you quickly become well acquainted with everyone

it's been like 3 months since you've joined the club and you're comfortable with walking home with everyone

especially with tanaka since coincidentally, you live in the same neighborhood as him

this one particular day, tanaka says he'd forgotten his textbook in coach ukai's shop while you were already walking home with him

you guys weren't that far from his shop but you were already tired enough to go back with him

you let him go and retrieve his textbook, assuring that you'll be fine on your own

he runs back to the shop and you lean onto a pole nearby, waiting patiently for him

that's when two creepy men approach you and begin small talk, getting into your personal space too many times

they crossed the line when one of them tried to lift up your skirt, the other one pinning you onto the wall

before they could do anything else, you immediately go under his arm and out while it was still a bit loose and you immediately strike your hand on his nape, earning a pained groan from the man

the other one hesitated to attack you but he did, trying to punch you, but you immediately dodge, making him stumble and fall

using whatever strength you had left, with your adrenaline helping, you lift the other and drop him onto his companion, earning groans from the two of them

the moment tanaka comes back, he's immediately in front of you, in a very defensive stance, barking at the strangers

he doesn't look at you as he grabs your arms, pulling you close to him as you continue walking home

finally, he looks at you and notices the state that you are in

your blazer's unbuttoned, the blouse underneath lost the top button, your clothes are creased and your hair is just everywhere

you're sweating, still not recovering from the adrenaline rush from earlier

lowkey you look attractive rn

"[y/n]! are you okay?! are you hurt?! the hell happened back there?! did those guys try to touch you?!"

"tanaka, chill, i'm fine. just some random dudes trying to get touchy with me. nothing i can't handle"

he's relieved that you're okay and he makes sure you get home safely (ohoho what a gentleman) and once he gets everything in his head, he's in love

i mean, who wouldn't be attracted to a girl who just DESTROYED two men trying to touch her

the next day when you greet him, he's all blushy and scared because you might beat his ass if you felt like it

he later learns that you were taught self-defense at an early age and continued training up until now

tanaka will stare at you whenever you're talking with someone, hoping you wouldn't notice, but boy's just too obvious about his infatuation

the whole team probably knows his crush on you without him confirming it

☆ ennoshita chikara

you joined the volleyball club shortly after transferring to karasuno in your 2nd year

you're classmates with ennoshita, so you were relieved that you knew someone in the team

you quickly became friends with everyone on the team a few days later due to them being very friendly and kiyoko never leaving you confused during practice

once you're comfortable enough with them, you've shown your very playful side

leading you, along with noya and tanaka, to get some lectures from ennoshita

you were never one to actually do dumb things, but you always encouraged them to do the dumb thing

"im not a bad influence i swear" turns into "lmao yea, you should totally give that snake a pat"

even though you seem playful, you're still very reliable when the situation calls for it

you stopped a good amount of class fights and bickering to avoid it elevating to a physical fight

you've also stopped hinata and kageyama's bickering a few times

of course, ennoshita's noticed this and has developed an admiration to you

he didn't notice the thin line between admiration and infatuation

he finds himself staring at you a lot during practice now, always denying that he had a crush on you and just convinced himself that "i just respect her a lot"

it's currently the last day of the tokyo summer training camp, and you're helping out unloading a few more stuff that they bought

you're carrying two fairly heavy coolers, both of which are filled with refreshments

ennoshita sees you and sprints up to you, offering to help

"oh, there's no need ennoshita-kun, go ahead and eat, you should enjoy yourself"

there it is, that very sweet consideration that sends ennoshita's heart flying

"don't worry [y/n], i want to help you"

you smile and take up his offer, giving him one of the coolers

he almost droos the cooler from how heavy it was

he initially thought it wasn't at all heavy since you didn't at all look like you were having a hard time, he underestimated the weight of the cooler

you look at him in worry but then you burst into a fit of laughter, earning some attention your way

ennoshita was embarrassed as he tried to tell you to stop laughing at him

"sorry ennoshita-kun, but that was the reason i didn't want you to carry it, come on, give that back to me"

he stares at you for a bit, still not over the shock of learning how strong you actually are

you wave your hand in front of his face and he comes back to reality

"no, no, i can carry this, your shoulders might get sore, [y/n]"

AWWWW HE'S CONCERNEDD

while the both of you walk, you tell him about how you underwent some intense (somewhat unnecessary) training during middle school as you were part of the track & field club

once you deemed that the training was far too much and your body couldn't take it anymore so you quit when you went into high school

the reason you transferred was because your mom landed a job as a teacher for karasuno high

he's in awe about... just about everything about you

it's honestly not hard for him to fall for you at this point

he'll listen to you the rest of the day, wanting to get to know you more and more

when someone goes to help you carry something particularly heavy, he anticipates for their reaction over you being stronger than they are

he just loves you at this point, really

i hope i depicted them properly TwT

[isuckatthisdonti]

HHHHHHHHappy Holidays!

Sup doods! Tis the season :) hope you guys are having a great holiday. I know I have been pretty inactive here due to school being a bit busy and wasn’t mentally up for drawing DR bc of the hate anons but I appreciate all the kind support and patience ive been getting. 

Sorry for reposting old art... i like this one since it was the first time i drew all V3 characters in one piece :) 

Anyways! To show some kind of gratitude (and since im in a giving mood) I intend to do a raffle giveaway of couple DR merches! Couple things to keep in mind before you enter:

- All the merch I plan to giveaway are new, not been opened or used. I’m buying a bit more now too. 

- All merch will be Danganronpa related, not IDV or hypmic sorry :/

- It will be a

SURPRISE what you get, and can NOT choose what to get or which character...

.so it’s probably better to

apply only if you like most or all the characters to avoid disappointment

. No complaints please. Some are blindbags so even I dont know which characters are inside. 

-

You need to be able to provide a Name and Address for shipping purposes.

  - I will pay for all the shipping fee and such, no worries on that part. I will also ship internationally if you live in a different country as me no worries. 

- Since im doing this kind of late,

items will arrive AFTER christmas.

sorry.

- raffle winners will be chosen by random. ( using random number generator and counting the # from the comments )  may or may not stream when i do the results

How to enter: 

- Must be my follower for any of my social network account (since this is a follower appreciation thing). Please provide a screenshot proof if chosen. It can be twitter, tumblr, IG, dA, YT, Twitch/Picarto, pixiv, artstation etc...really anywhere if you know and follow me from somewhere let me know if chosen :) (for twitter any of my account is okay! no need to follow all of them ik i have a few alternate acct)

- Comment on this post your favorite way to spend the winter. 

- Reblog/Like is optional

that’s it! sorry for the long post. havn’t decided the deadline yet...might be a few days. 

Take care doods! Upupu!

[fallen-gravity]

Fightin’ Back Chapter 4

Chapter Notes: I’d like to give a shoutout to @elegiesofemptiness for throwing suggestions my way for this chapter and helping me out of a rut.

We’re really in it now, boys. Scary-oke this time around, and the next chapter following this one takes  place in my favorite episode in season two. >:)

AO3

“You have to promise me you’ll only use the journal for self-defense, and won’t go sniffing around for trouble.” 

Dipper crosses his arms over his chest. “Okay, but only if you promise that you don’t have any more bombshell secrets about this town”.

“Promise” Stan replies, placing one hand against his heart and the other crossed behind his back. Dipper squints at him for a moment, but then he sighs.

“Promise”, Dipper echoes, and his tone doesn’t sound any more genuine than his own. 

Maybe he should just hide all the black lights in the house so the kid doesn’t get any big ideas. For now, though…

“Oof, we have a lot of zombie damage to clean up.” Stan pokes at his recliner with his foot. “Where’s my handyman, anyway?” 

As if on cue, the zombified Soos wanders into the room from the kitchen, arms outstretched and eyes glossed over. 

“Holy Moses!” Stan yelps, instinctively grabbing for the nearest piece of furniture to smash it over Soos’s head, before Dipper stops him, placing a hand on his arm. 

“Wait! It says here there’s a cure for zombification. It’s gonna take a lot of formaldehyde” 

“Ooh, and cinnamon!” Mabel beams, popping her head over Dipper’s shoulder. 

“C’mon, Soos, let’s fix you up” 

Mabel picks up one of the dining chairs off the floor and prods Soos in the stomach back towards the kitchen. Dipper’s about to follow her into the kitchen, but Stan places a firm hand on his shoulders to stop him in his tracks. 

“Not so fast, little man,” he scolds. “Don’t think you’re getting off that easy. I saw that zombie pick you up”

“Are you...accusing me of being a zombie?” Dipper turns to face him, and Stan almost laughs that he looks more baffled than he does angry.  “Wouldn’t my head have exploded while we were singing together if that were true?”  He asks, and visibly cringes at the mental image. 

“Well, yeah. Maybe you weren’t infected as quickly as Soos, but zombies don’t always gotta bite you to infect you. It’s about direct contact.” Stan grins. “Matter of fact, most zombies only bite cause they’re hungry! If they’re just looking to infect, they’re more likely to leave a nasty scratch” he offers out his hand. “Lemme see” 

Dipper places his hand in Stan’s, and Stan tugs him a bit closer so he can get a better look at Dipper’s arm. His shoulder looks fine, which means it isn’t spreading as quickly as Stan expected it to. That’s a relief. He turns Dipper’s hand to inspect the other side of his wrist, and sure enough, there are three large gashes right on the spot where the zombie had grabbed him. It doesn’t look like it’s bleeding, but the skin surrounding the gashes are already turning a sickening grayish green.

Dipper’s face goes white as a ghost at the sight of it, and if Stan weren’t holding his wrist he’s almost sure the poor kid would pass out right then and there. Stan squeezes his hand, just to give the kid a grounding gesture to prevent him from passing out a second time. “Whoa, whoa. Deep breaths, kid. You said it yourself! There’s a cure for this. We just gotta follow your sister into the kitchen before she uses it all on Soos, okay?” 

Dipper sighs, and his breath is shaky. “Okay” he replies, and he takes three steps forward before he stops. Stan’s afraid he’s going to pass out again, but he turns back around and points a finger at him. 

“How did you know that?”

“Know what?” 

Dipper’s rubbing at his infected wrist, and the sound it’s making is akin to someone walking through a pile of dead leaves. “How did you know that zombies can infect someone without biting someone? All Journal 3 talked about was how to cure a bite”

...Shit. That must’ve been the first journal that talked about home remedies for monster attacks.

“W-Well I’ve lived here for over thirty years, y’see? You have to learn these things pretty quickly.” Stan straightens out his posture to better sell his lie, and gestures vaguely towards Dipper. “Look at you, kiddo. You’ve had the journal for...what, two months? And I see you going around every day like you own the place” 

Dipper blushes. “I guess that makes sense”

Stan rolls his shoulders. “Of course it makes sense. I’m older and wiser, and all that” 

Dipper chuckles quietly, mumbling something under his breath about I don’t know about wiser, but Stan’s too distracted by the fact that Dipper keeps scratching at his infection to bite back. “And speaking about older and wiser, I of all people would know that all scratching at that thing is gonna do is make it worse” 

Dipper’s hand drops to his side immediately. “Right, right” he murmurs. Stan rolls his eyes, and places a hand on Dipper’s back to gently shove him towards the kitchen.

“Hup to. The last thing we need around here is a zombie with an irrational fear of himself” Stan slaps Dipper on the back and roars in laughter, who only responds with a roll of his eyes. When they step into the kitchen, Mabel and a dezombified Soos are sitting at the table chatting casually. Soos has an ice pack on his head.

“Oh, hey dood!” Soos grins. “Hey Mr. Pines! Sorry about the whole trying to eat your brains thing. I got like, way too into the character.” 

“Uh, water under the bridge” Stan waves him off before he turns his attention to Mabel. “Listen, sweetie, you got any more of the formula?” He exchanges a quick glance with Dipper, who’s hiding his arm from his sister behind his back. “I, uh, wanna toss some of it around the yard. See if it doubles as a free fertilizer for the...dead flowers” 

Mabel gasps, her eyes going wide. “Those poor zombified flower pixies!” She yelps, and gestures to a pot bubbling with oil on the stove. “Take as much as you need. I accidentally made, like, ten batches too many anyway, so if it works you could sell bottles of it in the gift shop and tell ‘em Mabel sent ya” 

Stan laughs, and takes a moment to muss up her hair. “Ah, I knew my swindling skills would rub off on one of ya! Atta girl” he grins, and she grins back in equal measure before returning to her conversation with Soos. As soon as she has her back turned to him, Stan grabs the entire pot and walks as fast as he can towards the back porch without spilling any of the oil.

“Follow me”, he whispers to Dipper once he’s sure he’s out of Mabel’s earshot, and Dipper doesn’t hesitate to trail closely behind. He places the pot of oil on the ground beside the porch couch, and pats at the armrest. Dipper wordlessly complies and takes a seat, and Stan takes one last peek through the window to make sure Mabel hadn’t followed them out to watch him “revive the pixies” or whatever it is she’d said. Once he’s sure that she’s too engrossed in her conversation with Soos to notice they were gone, he takes a knee beside Dipper.

“Alright, lemme see it again” Stan says, and Dipper spreads his arm across the armrest. The infection seems to have spread to the base of his elbow, and the skin surrounding the initial gash in his arm has withered to a faded gray color. Stan sighs, and dips both of his hands up to his wrists into the pot of oil. 

The smell of it makes Stan sick. It’s far from his first time dealing with formaldehyde, and a tiny little demon at the back of his head is screaming at him that Dipper could’ve been coming into contact with it for much, much worse reasons if he came up from the basement to help him just ten seconds later. 

No. He squashes that thought down before it can get any worse, and begins rubbing the oil into the worst of the infection on Dipper’s wrist. It makes him flinch, and Stan’s not sure if it’s because of the smell or the burning sensation.

“Y’see, this is exactly why I tried keeping you and your sister away from the supernatural.” He flicks the excess oil off of his hands, but it’s a redundant gesture because he’s right back to sticking his hands in the pot anyway. “Do you have any idea what could’ve happened to you if I hadn’t heard you in time? Or if I’d looked anywhere else in the Shack for you first? I would’ve been forced to assume the worst”

He’s trying to sound strict, but damn these kids for tearing him down so much that it hurts his chest to even think about it. “I can’t have the people I care about aimlessly running around and throwing themselves into danger”

“I’m not being aimless!” Dipper whines, but hisses in pain when Stan accidentally rubs some of the oil directly into the gashes in his wrist. 

“Mhm,” Stan hums. “And I’ve never spent a year in a Colombian prison”

“I’m not!” he squeaks. “Look, Grunkle Stan, I’m not just running around trying to hunt and capture every monster in the journal for fun, or anything! I’m so close to discovering the identity of the author that I have to follow leads when they present themselves! Nobody can really just...disappear out of thin air, right? He has to be around here somewhere”

Every nerve in Stan’s body freezes up at once. 

I’ve been telling myself that for thirty years, kid.

“Look, kid…” he pauses. What can he say? You’re never gonna find him cause I accidentally pushed him through an interdimensional portal? Oh, and by the way, he’s my twin brother and your other Grunkle and he would probably love you and your sister to bits if he were still here? “...I get it. I do. But you have to understand that I’d never forgive myself if anything horrible happened to you or your sister.” He waves a defensive hand in the air. “I don’t mean to say that you can never go anywhere, ‘cause even I know that tryin’a strap you down and make you sit still would be like caging a rabid animal.” He wipes the rest of the excess oil on his pant leg, and places a gentle hand on Dipper’s shoulder. “I just can’t have ya gettin’ hurt on my watch, ya hear?” 

Stan can’t help but drift his gaze towards his wrist,

More than you already have, anyway.

“It’s not like that. Mabel and I can take care of ourselves”

“Watch it.” Stan points an accusatory finger at him. “You’re twelve. The last thing you need is a hero complex”

“What?” Dipper shakes his head. “No, Grunkle Stan, I mean, Mabel and I’ve already fought half of the monsters in the journal and won. You don’t need to worry about anything happening to us”

Stan raises an eyebrow. “Kid, didn’t I just rescue you two from a hoard of zombies?”

“That’s just the thing! We’ve been chasing after monsters all summer, and this is the first time you’ve ever had to get involved!” Dipper’s beaming, and okay, someone better tell this kid to stop being a picture perfect replica of his brother before he finds out it’s his biggest weakness. “You saw Gideon’s giant robot the other day, didn’t you?” 

Stan blinks. “You mean that giant pile of metal scraps everyone was crowding around?”

“Yeah!” Dipper backtracks. “Okay, well, before that, it was a giant robot.”

“You’re losing me” Stan huffs. “What could Gideon’s broken robot have anything to do with why I should trust you running off on your own?

Dipper blinks, like he’s in disbelief that Stan hadn’t already connected the pieces together himself. “We’re the ones who broke it”

If Stan had a drink in his mouth, he’d be spit-taking all over the place right now. “You two? Wasn’t that thing twice the size of the shack?” 

“Oh, it was. As soon as the bus you put us on to go home pulled away from the bus stop, he tried chasing after us in it because he insisted that we still had something that he wanted”

Stan snorts. “Was he goin’ off about Mabel’s hand in marriage again?” 

Dipper laughs, but then he shakes his head. “No, he just kept rambling on about Journal 1 and how bringing the journals together could, I dunno, end the world or something? And he wanted to bring them together so he could hold the world hostage, or something.” He shrugs. “It didn’t make any sense to me. I mean, I know the author’s missing, but I just assumed he’d been kidnapped by some...thing that didn’t like being recorded. I didn’t think it was some kind of superweapon”  

Stan swears he can feel his blood turn cold. He tugs awkwardly at the collar of his shirt, and hopes Dipper assumes it’s because of the mid-summer heat.

“...But we didn’t have it!” Dipper throws his arms up in the air. “We tried telling him we had no idea what he was talking about, but he just kept getting angrier and calling liars. He had both of us in his...giant robot hands at some point, but then he decided there was nothing else he wanted from me and literally tossed me away”

Dipper’s hands are balling up into tiny, shaking fists. “He tried taking Mabel hostage. I wouldn’t have cared how much he insulted me, but...we’ve never been separated like that before”. He glances down at his shaky hands. “I don’t know what came over me. I’ve never been the braver one between us. But next thing I know, I’m flinging myself off the train tracks” 

“Train tracks?” Stan blinks. “Y’mean the ones up on the cliff?”

Dipper nods, blushing. “I just...went for it. I probably got a ton of cuts from the broken glass when I smashed through the eye of the robot,” he muses, pausing to give his own arm a look over. “But I don’t think I’ve ever felt so much adrenaline in my life”

Stan snorts. “You’re trying to tell me you punched the robot so hard that you knocked it off the cliff?”

“What? No, Gideon was inside of it. He was wearing one of those weird...motion control suit...things. The robot only lost its balance because I punched him in the face.”

Stan roars in laughter. “You punched Gideon in the face?” 

“Yep!” Dipper beams. “Quite a few times, actually. I think with everyone treating him like he’s a god he tends to forget that Mabel and I are three years older than him.” He flexes an arm to show off his nonexistent muscle. “Remember that trick you taught me about punching someone in the face with their own fist?” 

“Hah!” Stan grins. “That worked?” 

“Knocked the robot’s head clean off!” Dipper grins back. “Or, well, it probably would’ve, if that wasn’t what pushed the robot over the edge” 

Stan’s keeling over in laughter. He can’t believe how casually Dipper’s talking about this. Just a month ago, if Dipper had told him the same story detail for detail, Stan would’ve been sure that Dipper was describing a movie he’d watched the previous night. 

“Not bad, kid!” he grabs Dipper into a gentle headlock, messing up his hair. “But what about your sister, huh? Don’t think I don’t see you trying to take all the credit” 

“Oh, not at all!” He’s beaming again. “That’s the best part. Mabel’s the one who saved us from falling to our deaths. Don’t ever tell her I said this, but I think the grappling hook is the best thing she’s ever owned”

Stan nudges him with his elbow. “Yeah, last thing we need around here is both of you having giant heads”. Dipper glares at him, which only makes him laugh harder. 

Stan wipes a tear from his eye with his wrist. “Alright, kid. You convinced me. If you two can come out of fighting a giant sci-fi monster without so much as a scratch, I trust that you and your sister know what you’re doing”.

Dipper’s eyes go wide. “Really?” 

Stan nods. “Really. But you have to promise me you’ll still be careful, okay? I can go back on my word and hide that book away from you faster than you can say journal. Got it?” 

Dipper nods. “Got it.” and then, after a short pause, “I promise”. 

[taleen777]

I’m pretty sure by now most of you have read multiple posts and theories on FF7R’s ending, but here’s my take on it - based on my limited knowledge of Crisis Core, my faint memories of the OG, and Max Dood’s playthrough (I’m waiting for the PC version of the remake).

The overarching theme in this first part of the remake is ‘destiny’. The Whispers exist to ensure that the events of the OG play out in the exact same way, because that’s what’s best for the planet. They were not there before, so why are there here now? If things were going according to plan, there would’ve been no need for them to try and keep things intact. What, or who, could possibly be a threat to destiny itself?

First choice, Aerith. The last of the Cetra. The bubbly local florist who’s also an adept mage and healer. She’s known as a compassionate and kind person among the Sector 5 slums residents. What could she possibly gain from altering destiny’s course? Well, that’s easy - her life. But it’s her death that ensures the planet survives. If there was no other option, she’d let the OG timeline events unfold in the same way. She couldn’t possibly be deemed a threat by the Whispers, right?

Here comes Sephiroth, the bad guy who just can’t be stopped, can he? Now that’s someone who’d want the OG timeline destroyed and erased from the history of the world. After all, he failed. He has much to gain from the whole ‘destiny altering’ business.

So on one hand we have someone who’s hellbent on changing the course of the story we know and on the other, someone who’d be interested in preserving the original timeline. Yet the one who has more to lose should destiny remain intact is Aerith. Sephiroth somehow always finds a way to come back around. Aerith’s got just one shot at experiencing life with all its ups and downs.

Maybe that’s why she fought against the Whispers.

She fought for the freedom to choose her own course of action.

It’s a popular theory that both Sephiroth and Aerith are aware of the OG timeline. If that’s indeed the case, and I do think it is, Aerith knows what’s coming for her. There were a few instances in the remake that made me go, “Yeah, girl wants to experience life in the best way she can... while it’s still possible.” I don’t think she’d go as far as putting her friends in danger just so she could live a while longer, but maybe, just maybe, if there was a way to get her happy ending AND still beat the bad guy, well, why not give it a try?

Speaking of her happy ending, you saw her at the end of the remake, right? The bubbly girl was gone. Her tone was serious, she looked a bit confused, and she mentioned missing “the steel sky”, which is quite possibly a reference to her love story with Zack...

... the man who lived - whether in this timeline or another. It was a glimpse of what could possibly be a huge part of Aerith’s happy ending. Yet she wasn’t happy. Even if we assume she didn’t see what the players saw, although it did look like she was aware of Zack walking right past her and the gang, they still beat Sephiroth and the Whispers. It’s a victory, isn’t it?

Having the freedom to choose comes with bearing the responsibility for the choices you make. By fighting off the Whispers, Aerith made a choice that put her and the gang on an unknown path with an unknown outcome to the conflict with Sephiroth. It’s a lot of pressure and if she made the wrong choices on this new path, she could put the whole planet in danger - and that just isn’t who she is.

So while I do think the next part of the remake will be an unknown territory for the most part, the main plot points will remain the same - it’s just that this time our heroes will have a little more control over the situation.

[teal-crown]

Marinette Update! And Mitty dev-talks!

Hello my friends! Mitt is here with yet another post! Did you miss me? Probably not because tumblr is dead. And I’ve been pretty active on twitter and twitch. lalalala

I’ll be very honest in this post about my feelings and such.

We’ll be talking about the game’s progress, what I’ve been up to, and I’ll also discuss some things regarding the Teal Crown blog.

It’s kind of a personal post! So grab your cookies and let’s talk <3

So, there was a need to make a post like this since I’ve been feeling really weird towards posting progress updates here on tumblr for a few months now.

Updating whoever is still around here on the game and on better ways to follow it’s progress, the developers, and overall what we will do from now on is something I should’ve done a long time ago! aaaa

I also kind of want to see what the reaction to this post is. We are almost at 1000 followers, yet I’m afraid almost everyone is not active anymore, and I’m not sure on who still remembers this blog ahaha. Let’s consider this post a test, too! >w<

Honestly, this is a very comfy place to post, Tumblr’s layout for making posts and everything is still one of the best around for me, however, I’ve been feeling the need to write long and well articulated posts about the progress of the game but for some reason that need has also been draining me quite a bit here even though I do really want to make these posts.

It’s really weird.

I will try my best to post more progress updates here from time to time, but I want to try different ways to let the message across.

It feels like this is supposed to be a blog for the team, but I still keep it very personal like when I started it. I believe that’s my mistake!

That’s the main reason I’ve been getting discouraged from making those personal long dev talk posts by myself.

I’ve thought about moving personal development updates to my Youtube, and that’s probably what I will do in the near future!

I realized that video form is better for this in one of my last streams where I was working on busts for the game. I talked about some insights, feelings, and direction updates. It felt more natural and personal, and I think it’s the next right step to follow.

I’d like to keep a blog for more professional and straight forward updates. I’m not sure, but I’ll probably move out of tumblr and branch out! It’s scary but...

Let’s do this together.

Also, I’m sorry for missing some asks from months ago, I felt like I needed to take a break to get my mind straight on what I want this blog to be. I’ll be answering them soon!

As of right now, the most personal and accurate way to know what’s going on with the development, is to go to our Discord, and poke us there.

We are very close to finishing Marinette’s demo. It’s all mostly done, and I’ve been polishing, adding busts and fixing bugs and some other stuff.

But I want to personally talk with you guys about how I’ve been feeling about it too, as the main developer and artist for the game.

The demo is supposed to have already been done a few months ago, however, I really want to vent to you all that the fact that we are so close to it it’s been making me a mess ahaha

I feel like I’m so proud of it, but the release has been stressing me out a little. I’m scared. I shouldn’t be, but I am!

This stress has been leading me to avoid programming at all, since doing that would mean finishing the game’s demo(?)

Don’t get me wrong, I AM excited! A whole lot!!

But I’m also scared of the reception and everything.

What if it passes completely under the radar and I feel like no one else is as passionate about it? I don’t want to disappoint my team members either...

But then I realize that finishing it is so much more important, and I’m sure there are people that are excited and have been expressing their support time and time again! There’s nothing to worry about... But the thought of indiference kind of agonizes me. I’m scared of having expectations, but it’s innevitable.

This thought has been flowing through my head since I released my short comic. I felt like I worked so hard on it, but I didn’t market it enough. Which leads me to my next point.

I feel like I need to invest a little more into getting the word about the game out there a little more! I’m still quite inexperienced, and don’t know much about how to market a game and get people interested, but it’s important for me as an artist too. I feel like it’s something I have to prove to myself in a way.

I’ll be going to university this year, and I’m unsure on how long it’ll take to finish the whole game. But it’s such a great project that I’m so passionate about finishing.

Because of this, I have been thinking and decided that if the reception of the demo is great enough, I’ll be investing more than my personal time into finishing the game. 

The project is really ambitious, and even though I can tackle it in due time, like I’ve been doing for the demo, if I want it to actually come out this decade, I MUST let go of the thought that I have to do everything myself.

We have a team. Yet, although there are writers, composers and artists to help with concepting, I’m still doing the in-game art and programming. Which would be fine, If I weren’t such a perfectionist in both. I love having the in-game assets mostly done by myself, and I don’t think I can give that up.

However, I feel like I have to give up on doing all the programming by myself.

With this, I mean that after the demo is released, I’ll be seeking someone to work with and program the game with. I’m not sure on where to look, or how to do this, but I wanted to get this word out there. I’ll be thankfull if anyone points me in the right direction.

I’ve also been trying to juggle the game and my own career as an artist, so it’s been quite a fun ride!

Now, Finally...

YES!! MOSTLY DONE!!!

The whole demo is fully playable.

We’ll be entering beta testing when I’m done polishing. I don’t know how long this will take, but I’m trying to tackle a little every day, and with the summer holidays coming, I will probably be done with it this year.

Keep in mind, the demo is quite long!

During the Beta testing phase I will probably start working more towards marketing and building hype somehow.

All that’s left for me to do is polishing some visuals(like adding busts, some sprites for background characters, tutorial and maybe an extra room for the developers), adding some sound effects and missing dialogue which is already written ( as well as flavour text ™ ) and fixing bugs.

As I’ve already said before, for more consistent updates, while I’m deciding the future of this blog, feel free to poke our Discord, my Twitter, or talking to me live on Twitch.

TO FINISH OFF, SUPPORT THE OTHER TEAM MEMBERS

I also feel the need to shout out everyone that’s been helping so far!

You can check out everyone in the Team section of the blog, but I wanna shout them out in this post too, even though some of them don’t have links, but you can poke most of us on discord! (If you guys want me to add different links let me know!)

This is my personal thanks to all of you for putting up with me for so long!

So here goes:

Mitty - That’s me! Hello!!

The3rdLetter - Amazing friend and main composer and writer! He is really amazing, so support him pls!

Luccinia - Super amazing artist that’s been helping with concept arts! Sadly I don’t have a link for her stuff, take my word for it, she’s awesome!

Lyco - Wholesome traditional artist and cosplayer <3 <3

CodeBreakerBlue - Sad fish. Chill dood. Helps with great soundtracks and writing as well!!!!!!!!

Ṟ̶̡͙̮̞̪͋̊̃̕͝͠ǐ̵̟̤͛́͌̈́̊̐͝ņ̸̛̤͈͈̱̹̜̈̋̃ ̷̗͙̣͜͠-̴̘̺̼̖̘̲̙̺͒̀̈́̈́͆̃ ̶̡̜̼͉̙͕̦͔͂̐̌̾͊Ṉ̴̛̜̯͋͗̐͑̇́͐͝<̶̼̈́̌̾ǫ̵̧̞̞͔̤̤̣͕͕͌̋t̶̛̛̪̪̘͆̏̄̑̀ ̶̹̰̳̑̂̄̈̈͘F̷̣̥̘̣͓̥̝̘͘Ọ̸̢̯̪̱̩̞̠̯͖͆͗́̀̓̎̉ų̸͙͔̳̾̓͐͘͝n̸̢̤̦̼̠̼͍̐̓͒͆̈́͜«̴̭͉͖̋͛̔͛̕͠͝d̵̲̥̯̣̯̃͌̈́̔̃̇͠

Bruno - Great composer!!! Super kind and hardworking, please support him, as he has worked on other projects too!

Miku - PRECIOUS!!! ART!!! Amazing artstyle!!! One of the prettiest I’ve ever seen!

Mia - Mitty’s personal pillow.

Moca - Mitty’s personal bully as of now.

Dotto, SktchB00kRose - Amazingly talented voice actors!!!

PinkPlumeria - Writing reviewer!!! Sweet as hecc and mom of the team!

Neve/Nemu - Super sweet. Super creative. Super hardworking and passionate. I admire Nemu, and some of the concept art for coolest stuff is by her! PLS SUPPORT!!

Prifurin - Super duper creative as well!!! Amazing music tracks, gorgeous and thoughtful cool concept art too!!!

  Ending note

Thank you so much If you’ve stuck around this long, we really appreciate it. We hope to bring a great game for everyone to enjoy!

Working on this game has definetely helped me become a better artist and person, I’ve learned a bunch of things, and hope you guys stick around to see us grow and create interesting content.

We really appreciate all the support,

Mitt out! <3

[blackaquokat]

#4 with the Dark and Heist/DA Y/N??? 👀👀👀👀👀

This…could be considered a sequel to the last Dark Attorney prompt I wrote. You can read it here . One of these days I’ll write out the AU/Universe with these two, but not recently.

4. In the Moment Kiss

–

When Dark first discovered the District Attorney wandering about on their own, somehow holding up a corporeal form without the assistance of a deceased human body, his gut reaction was utter surprise. And then, after quite a bit of convincing (with the help of the sudden appearance of Wilford), he managed to get them to come live in the Iplier Tower with the rest of the group so that he could keep an eye on them and figure out how the hell they managed such a feat.

Of course, this would be far easier for him to do if they were not so intent on making a mockery of everything he’s trying to build here.

Their abilities extend to far more than just holding themself together by the fraying edges of their essence. They are able to control reflections and they abuse this ability by morphing his own into funny faces the likes of which he would not ever make by choice. They also have a tendency to show off the fact that his powers of manipulation have no effect on them. No matter how he weaves his words or sugarcoats his voice, the DA remains outside of his realm of influence and a continued thorn in his side, the ever-growing mystery of their miraculous return aside.

Only now that mystery has grown ever since their little reality-bending rendezvous.

Dark gives the DA about three days of handling their hobbies and jobs with the other Egos before he manages to find them alone in one of the unoccupied offices in the tower.

It takes all of fifteen seconds before what he intended to be a genuine (if not without ulterior motives) inquiry turns into a fight.

“I don’t know who you think you are,” they hiss minutes later, “but I don’t care how interested you are in our weird Whatever-It-Was that happened, it doesn’t matter–”

“You think I’m any happier about this?” Dark challenges, only his colors expand and snap back at his lie. Long dormant urges are rising within him, and they nip at him every time he’s in the presence of the DA, from both sides of the fragmented souls always warring and cutting against each other. “You think I want this unnecessary connection? I would be far more content if you fell into my power the way everyone else does–”

“Oh yeah, nothing sociopathic about that statement,” they mock. “And this connection you’re so fascinated by? We’re two impossible things. When impossible things collide, there are bound to be consequences, I don’t know what your big fascination is–”

“We both know why I am impossible,” Dark snaps. “But you? You’re still very much uncharted.”

They step close enough to him that the energy about him fizzles and retracts from their presence, like two magnets repelling. “And I will remain uncharted, you bastard.” Their voice is low, dangerous, and much as this does very little to actually intimidate Dark, he can appreciate the power behind it.

The danger looks oh-so-very enticing in those ancient eyes of theirs. He watches the blue shine across their face for the briefest of seconds as their lips part.

He doesn’t know who moved first. It’s one of the very few times that he can recall ever losing his functions, but when he’s coherent again, he and the DA are once again grabbing at and kissing each other like there’s blood to be shed. Once again, the very air can’t seem to handle their proximity as the walls and surroundings wobble impossibly and crack like they’re in the midst of an earthquake and all the while, Dark can only feel the cold of the DA’s skin and the taste of lemon pastries on their tongue even as he can feel his form splitting and reconnecting impossibly–

When they shove each other away in wanton frustration and reluctantly fascinated horror, he can feel, somehow, a cut on his lip and realized at one point they bit him. Apparently turnabout was fair play, because he also sees a slight bruising around their mouth.

To think we were once so gentle with each other, weren’t we? Dark knows exactly where that thought came from and he shoves it away, red filling the room and fading as quickly as it appeared.

“Get out,” they demand suddenly. The anger in their voice is unsurprising and unexpected. “We’re not letting this happen again.”

So they don’t know why either. Interesting.

Dark obeys, because he feels he’s pushed enough for one day. But he has no intention of dropping his interest in these events.

The District Attorney could lead to his downfall. Or to his rise. He’s willing enough to risk for even the slightest possibility of the latter.

–

Types of Kisses Prompts

@starcrossedforever87 , @dontworryaboutanything , @beereblogsstuff , @falseroar , @intemperantiae , @memetoyoko , @soul-wolf , @marki-dumb , @withjust-a-bite , @raimeyl , @its-dari , @neverisadork , @silver-owl413 , @sassy-in-glasses , @chelseareferenced , @sketchy-scribs-n-doods , @axolittle-boi , @wildfandom , @scribbeetle

[alitheamateur]

Daddy-Daughter Duty

(Giphy)

Have some fluff.

P.S. This tortured hottie should have smiled more in the movie. Simply for fact that it’s impossible to find even a slightly joyous gif to use for fiction as such. Good enough reason, right?

Another Saturday morning with a toe nearly jammed into the cavity of your ear, and very little hours of restless sleep the night before. You stressed and insisted to Tommy that it was crucial you train Ella to her own bed just one door down the hall, but the big brute just didn’t have it in him to turn his only baby girl away.

 Since her very strained birth, Tommy’s hand hasn’t left that little girls’ side. She was making trips to the gym with him at 2 months old just because he couldn’t bare to leave the house without her, despite his desperate need to train for an upcoming match. He’d caudle and swear he was only taking her along so you could finally steal a nap. But, all parties involved knew it all stemmed from his swelling heart, bursting with fatherly pride. Not that you’d complain for a second at the dutiful way he took care of his little family for a single second. But these days, you needed a few hours alone with your always handsome husband.

 “Tommy, honey. Tommy. Hey, you awake?” You whispered across the span of your crowded bed, praying not to wake the snoring little girl between the pair of you.

His lips pouted and bubbled in sleep, just like the tinier set nuzzled into the feather pillow in the middle of your bed. God help you, the child was more beautiful than a 3-year-old need be, and with Tommy’s genes, how could you be surprised? Finally, with a tickle to his hear, your slumbering man roused. Shaking and twitching at the strange alarm clock.

“Sneak down for a cup of coffee with me in the kitchen before she wakes up?” You proposed. You’d get your kicks where you could, no matter how small, with a very active toddler roaming the house 24/7.

The idea suited him evidently, said his lazy, yawning smile. He carefully took a grunting stretch and sank one foot to the floor mindful not to wake Ella, but all for naught.

She puckered a lip, squinting her wrinkly, sleepy eyelids tighter, and latched on to Tommy’s wide, shirtless back like a needy chimpanzee.  He was trapped now, and she would hold on for dear life if he tried to so much as wriggle free from her tiny little clenches. Tommy looked to you, his eyes full of internal warfare, silently apologizing for the inconvenience. The little angel was truly a wonderful child, and gave you no real trouble whatsoever. But, her deep-rooted cling to her father was becoming a bit inopportune.

Ella adored you, you were her mother for God sakes. The woman who shared her lipstick, and let you brush her hair and tie lots of bows in it. But, there was no denying the infatuation she had with the only man in her life. She wanted Tommy to feed her, Tommy to play dolls with her, Tommy to help brush her teeth twice a day. And as a matter of fact, the hellion refused to go to bed at night unless Tommy was following up the stairs to retreat in sleep behind her. It was sickeningly adorable, and you couldn’t blame the precious girl for being so in love with him, because you sincerely felt the exact way. But, she was becoming a tad snarky, and a bit defensive towards you when you tried to step into a kiss with Tommy in the mornings, or laughed hysterically in the kitchen alone with him as she sat on the living room rug watching her cartoons before bed. Ella and her “terrible three’s” were struggling painfully with the concept of sharing. Especially when it came to her daddy.

“She’s got to sleep in her own room tonight, Tommy. This can’t keep up! We’ll never get her through the doors of preschool if she doesn’t learn to part ways from you soon. We’ll have a talk with her before bedtime. Deal?”

……

You spent the day prepping the little princess’ room for her first solo sleeping night. The tiny Victorian, canopy bed had never been slept in, and the frill of her rosy pink comforter was still crisp from the package. You left she and Tommy alone at the park after a picnic so you could make a shopping run and gather some extra special last-minute touches. A nightlight shaped like a bright yellow star, a fluffy white bunny nearly triple the size of her to snuggle up next to, and a very specific doll she had begged for since seeing its advertisement on television. That was only if she made it successfully through the entire night in her own pink bedroom.

When your family of three returned home after a day of playgrounds, ice cream, and feeding the ducks, Ella was sticky with sugar and in desperate need of a bath. She requested bubbles, and you accommodated filling the tub to its rim with bubblegum scented suds. Tommy manned the grill while you bathed the chipper tot, allowing her to give you her famous soapsuds beard. She hysterically snorted and caught a case of the hiccups from her incontrollable laughter. While you were drying her off, and combing through her tangled, chocolate hair, she squeezed her soft little paws to your face and thanked you for her playday at the park. Her ‘I love you’ kisses were your greatest fulfillment.

The three of you grubbed on the healthy, summertime dinner at the kitchen table, and Ella caught lightening bugs with the neighbor girl across the street while Tommy held you on the porch swing as you warmed yourself with a buzzing glass of Chardonnay. She appeared to have used every fiber of bouncing energy throughout the day, so you prayed maybe she wouldn’t have much fight left in her to oppose parting ways with your bed, and crawling into her own.

She climbed the stairs with her favorite sippy cup, and took a familiar left down the hall towards her parents room for some shut eye.

“Ella, baby. Come with mommy. I have a surprise for you!” You scooped her up, kissing her damp hair smelling of ripe strawberries. Tommy was locking up, and flicking off light switches as he made his way behind his girls.

When you stepped through the opened door, her already vivid eyes twinkled all the more at the sight of her new furry friend resting under her turned down sheets. The nightlight was plugged next to the seat of her windowsill, and the fluorescent glow of her little fish tank lit up the bedside table.

“Baby, why don’t you let me handle this one?” Tommy kneaded into the small of your back, kissing the back of your head where the loose braid rested.

You placed Ella’s feet to the floor, and she ran directly for the rabbit tucked into her railed bed. Your husband yanked onto your arm as you passed him in exit so he could snatch a wet kiss. You stood only just outside the door, one thin wall separating you, so you were able to listen in.

“Daddy, oh daddy! Wook, my doodness! Wook at this cute ‘ittle wabbit!”

Tommy ran to her side, seating to the floor with his legs crossed beneath him. She climbed one foot in front of the other upon the bed, trying to wrap her tiny grasp around the stuffed animals neck.

“So cool, bug! What should we name him?” Tommy asked the young one.

“Elsa!” She yelped without hesitation. Everything in your life these days revolved around the particular famous princess.

“That’s perfect! You know what, Elsa looks comfy up there in your bed. Climb up next to her, baby!”

Her innocent, unsuspecting mind did just as she was told, and you heard the squeaks of the mattress when she floundered around to slide into the covers. An airy yawn followed, along with the sloshing of her lidded cup as she took a gulp.

“Seepy, daddy. Go bed?”

It was all too good to be true. Just as promptly as she had seemingly settled herself next to the newly crowned Elsa rabbit, she was crawling back to the floor in retreat to her usual sleep site.

“But, Ella Bella! You can’t leave Elsa all alone. She needs you to cuddle her tonight.” Tommy was so slick, even with white lies to his almost 4-year-old.

Your intelligent, quick-witted daughter agreed, so she simply grabs the fluffy companion by the arm and drags it toward the door, her little gown crooked around her neck.

“No, no, no. Elsa likes your room. She told daddy she likes it much better here than mine and mommas’ bed. You’ll sleep with her tonight, okay? Climb up and get under, sweetheart.” He fluffed the covers, raising up the warm blankets.

“Daddy in.” Ella demanded pulling on the collar of his gray t-shirt. The rattle of her raspy little tone gave away she was swiftly connecting the dots of this ploy, and tears waited in the wings.

“Daddy has to sleep with mommy, Ella. She gets sad without daddy! I have to give her bedtime hugs all night, just like you have to do the same with Elsa. It’s our job to love our friends, baby.”

You wanted to burst in and latch around the man and his broad shoulders. Tommy Conlon was a story book father. He may all too much enjoy the feel of someone’s nose shattering under his fist in the cage, but fatherhood was one aspect of life that he took to so… ordinarily. You knew he’d be a responsible supplier of needs, and certainly love the child you birthed, but his role went far beyond. Tommy was meant to be the daddy to a daughter, no doubt in your mind.

Ella sniffled, and you peeked stealthily around the corner to survey the room. Her little eyes drooped as a tear tickled her round cheek.

“I’ll just be down the hall, pumpkin. Mommy and I will see you first thing in the morning, and I bet she’ll let us have Cheerios, too!”

He cleaned the wetness from her face, brushing some wild curls behind her ears. His substantially sized mitt could’ve palmed her whole tiny head like a basketball. Ella blinked as if her poor eyelids were just impossible to hold open, and you could tell she wasn’t in full understanding of all Tommy was explaining to her. But nonetheless, she laid her head to the pillow, offering up her drink of water to him. Her weak little fist was massaging on the floppy ear of the bunny when Tommy finally stood up to neatly tuck her in properly.

“I love you, champ. Sleep tight.” He kissed her forehead, and his full lashes swept over her forehead.

“Goodnight, angel. Mommy loves you.” You blew a kiss to her from the doorway, shutting off the light, but her restless eyes had already sealed.

Leaving the door open, you reached for Tommy’s hand when he kidnapped you into an embrace with his arm curved over your shoulders. The pair of you watched wordlessly from the darkness of the hallway, appreciating the sleeping beauty calm in her own bed.

“Now, I believe that very empty bed is calling our names, momma. And most definitely, not for sleep.” Tommy dipped his hand into the waist of your pants, palming your backside.

“Finally, it’s mommy’s’ turn for some bonding with daddy.”

TAGS: @eap1935 @mollybegger-blog @littleluna98

[mrs-hollandstan]

Can you make a blurb or somethin about what happens at the mansion with rich!tom, because I didn't know I'd need it until you continued it.

@hillsnholland see what you've done? Hehehehe

NSFW below my doods.

"Would you like me to show you how selfless I can be darling?" Tom rasped in your ear. You could feel the silk shirt at your shoulders, the gold chain around his neck was pressed at the back of your own, the cool leather of his Jaeger-Lecoultre 18-Karat Rose Gold and Alligator watch nipping into your skin. Swallowing, you glanced at him, his eyebrows quirking on his forehead, his fingertips ghosting over your underwear,

"I need you to tell me you want it pretty girl. I can take you right in that door and down the hall, lay you on those really nice cotton sheets, let you get off. But I need you to say you want it." Humming in your throat when he presses at your clit, you tilt your head back, laying it over his shoulder,

"Please-" Before you could say anything more, he took your hand, leading you to a bedroom down the hall with quick steps. Laying you on his bed, you noticed it was another room you spent a lot of time in. A cream colored room the size of your living room back home with soft chocolate colored carpet and double doors at the end that opened into another beautiful balcony, with a less pleasing view of the side of a mountain. You could tell it was Tom's room, judging by the posters and flags hanging from the seemingly endless walls. You could never imagine having so much wallspace. A sharp jabbing at your lower back drew you from your thoughts and when you lifted your hips, you pulled a small golf ball from behind you. You tsked,

"Ass." Tom chuckled as you tossed it off the bed, paying it no mind as it bounced once and then rolled the rest of the way, thumping against the wall as he pushed your dress up your hips,

"God you've got amazing legs pretty girl." Leaning in, he kissed your stomach, his beautiful eyes finding yours,

"You have no idea how spoiled you'd be if you were my girl."

"In your dreams Holland." You panted out, "You're a spoiled little shit. Don't deserve me." He pursed his lips, slipping his hand up to your breast,

"I deserve to see this beautiful body at least. Take the dress and bra off for me sweetface." Raising your shoulders off of the bed, you squirmed out of both articles of clothing, tossing them off the bed and glancing back down at him. He smiles a cocky smile,

"You're stunning. I don't think you realize the severity of me pining over you." Flicking your underwear against your skin, he draws the fabric down your legs, tossing them over his shoulder,

"God I've dreamed about the day I got to see this pretty little pussy."

"You are... revolting."

"Am I now? You're not having a problem with me being between your legs at the moment huh? The idea of you getting head from me is quite appealing." Cocking his head, he raised an eyebrow,

"Right?" You nodded, watching him run his hands up your thighs. Licking his lips, he glanced up, leaning in to kiss the inside of your thigh. Creeping up, he kisses the other thigh,

"If you were my girl, you'd have the best things ever. You could wear the best clothes, the best jewelry, you'd have the most gorgeous flowers daily. Does that not sound good to you?"

"You're spoiled. You don't know how to be sympathetic with anyone. Its," you flip as he leans in and runs his tongue along your folds, "i-it's about you and your money and that's it. I don't t-think you can p-pay the attention I want to me." Taking hold of his sheets as he hums in response, he laps up your juices and holds your thighs apart. Meeting your eyes again, he slides two fingers between your folds, curl in ng them as he sucks on your clit. You gasp and arch your back, reaching down to take hold of his hair. He grunts when you tug, not caring that his hair will be messed up by the time he gets you to your high. At this point, he's desperate to show you he's capable of giving someone else attention. When it comes to you, it's not about the money. He'd give up the money if it meant getting you instead.

Sucking at your clit harder, his lashes flutter when you whimper and tug his hair the slightest again. He reaches up to hold your hips when you buck them into his face, trying to ride his fingers. Holding his hair tight in one hand, and the sheets in the other, he watches you writhe, his heart bursting with joy at the sight of you. He'd dreamt about it for months and here you were now. Laying before him with your legs spread wide to allow him to lay between them. Flicking his tongue across your clit, he hums when your whimper and whine shaking under his arms,

"Ahh, Tom that feels so good." He hums again in response, letting you tug at his hair. He can feel your attraction for him growing the longer he lays between your legs, taking his wrist in your hand. Sliding his hand down, he interlaces your fingers listening to you pant and watching your chest rise and fall. Sliding your hand down to the back of his neck, you hold him close,

"Tommy, m'gonna cum." Leaning back, he curls his fingers,

"Cum for me love. Gotta show you how good I can make you feel." Kissing your bellybutton, he watches your face contort in pleasure, feeling you grow wetter and wetter, the longer it continues,

"Come on love. Cum for me." Arching your back, you raised your leg to press your foot to Tom's shoulder,

"Tommy." Holding his arm, you whimper, arching you back as your orgasm clouds your senses, a scream catching in your throat and coming out as a half hearted cry. Tom coaxes you through it, waiting until your legs stop shaking and your back rests on his sheets before drawing his fingers from you and resting back on his knees. Sucking his fingers off, he stood, leaning over you with his lips grazing your skin, you turned on your side, Tom smiling and kissing your hip before laying behind you. Propping himself on his elbow, he ran his hand up your arm, watching the skin goosebump. Kissing your shoulder blade, he hummed,

"See? I can be selfless sometimes. I'm a spoiled brat, sure, but I can show someone else affection. Especially when I like them." Snorting, you turn to look at him,

"I can't believe those words are even in your vocabulary. You don't like me. You just want to get between my legs."

"That isn't true. I did, get between your legs I mean, bit I would never force myself on you. You seriously think that I offer you all these nice things cause I don't like you?"

"I dunno. I... I guess so." Gently nudging your shoulder back into him, he waits until your eyes meet his,

"I do like you. I have for a long while now. You're the one that hates me. Not me hating you."

"I don't hate you."

"Really? Then why do you keep telling me to piss off and ignoring me and rolling your eyes? You hate me. You can't deny that. Besides, it's kinda hot converting you." Giggling, he drapes his hand over your hip,

"Seriously. You're pretty sexy. I'd like to take you out. Hell we could run away to Europe for a weekend. Have our first date in Paris, whatever you want." Leaning against him, he leaves his lips against your skin, his eyes locked in yours,

"Whatever you want is yours." Turning to completely face him, you sigh,

"I get it. I really do. You'd make an amazing boyfriend. Spoiling your girlfriend in whatever she wants is everything girls ever want. But I don't want you to give me all these material things. The reason I 'hate' you is because you were raised by parents that let you buy friends. They let you have whatever you want and I hate that. All I want from you, if I go out with you is for you to show that you love me. If you feel that there's something I want that you wanna buy every once in a while, by all means. If you go on vacation and you want me to come than I'll go, but I can work for my own money. I can buy my own things, I can buy my own-" Leaning forward, he pressed his lips to your own. Pressing his hand to your lower back, he holds you to his chest. Pressing his forehead to yours, he clenches his jaw,

"I'll do whatever you want. I just... I want you to agree to go out with me." Smiling, you reach up and stroke his cheek,

"Fine." He smiles and then laughs, laying back on his bed,

"God, today's a good day." Giggling, you lean over him,

"This house is really gorgeous." He nods,

"I know how much you like it. I know all the spots you escape to when I throw parties like this."

"Oh so now you're stalking me?"

"No, I've liked you for a long time and I watch you wander sometimes. You wear pretty clothes and I like it. I always pay attention to you because I like your attention." Playing with the chain around his neck, you glance up at him. He meets your eyes for just a moment before a smile breaks out and he leans down to peck your lips,

"Pretty little GIRLFRIEND." Giggling again, you sit up, at the end of the bed to find your underwear,

"Don't push your luck," standing, you drag your underwear up your legs, "stalker."