#( such a fun character we just could not let them go )

[gallusrostromegalus]

I did not care at all for Aizen Sosuke when I first read bleach. I found him boring, and worst, unthreatening.

So it's pretty jarring for me that I have been OBSESSED with him in your AU. I'm rotating him at great speed

Walt Disney was a jackass who was flat-out wrong about a lot of very important things, but he employed a great many geniuses of storytelling, and there's a piece in Disney Animation: The Illusion of Life by Frank Thomas and Ollie Johnson that discusses a key feature of Disney Studios Character Design:

"Of all characters, villains are the most fun to develop because they make everything else happen. They are the instigators, and always more colorful than the Hero. They may be dramatic, awesome, insidious or semi-comic, but they MUST be appealing. Almost any story becomes innocuous if all the evil is eliminated, but we do not necessarily gain strength by being frightening. we want a character that will hold the audience and entertain them, even if it's a Chilling Type of Entertainment."

And I've found that to be an important principle of character design, especially the kind of canon restructuring I do.

Aizen had a LOT going for him in canon- for all of Bleach's other faults, Aizen's conspiracy and THE REVEAL are spectacularly constructed and executed. I legit screamed and threw my mug across my dorm room when I read it in the manga the first time. He's also conventionally attractive and the translations I was reading gave him the speech patterns of Every Douchebag In Your 101 Political Theory Who Thinks He's The Smartest Man In The Room, which made him a terrific combination of Unfortunately Charming, Menacingly Competent and Engagingly Obnoxious.

...But he falls flat in a few key places.

Aizen's reasoning could be MUCH more sympathetic- After all, he is RIGHT. Soul Sciety does suck ass and all the options kind of suck. Who designs a universe like that? An asshole who needs killing, that's who. The best kind of Unhinged Madmen are the kind who spell out their reasoning and you realize that there but for the grace of Not Having Super Powers Go I. Canon!Aizen makes a few Good Rhetorical Points, but seems to lack any personal connection to his all-consuming plan.

Another issue is that nearly every villain with A Plan has a clear end goal AND a lot of the menace is drawn from the fact that the plan *could* work. Aizen's plan for betraying the court guard and then killing them off before proceeding into the Royal Realm to Kill God sorta falls apart when it's clear he planned to use pretty much all his accumulated forces dealing with the court guard and doesn't seem to have a plan for the Even More Powerful Royal Guard, let alone God. For how meticulously planned the rest of the plot is, the last two VERY IMPORTANT steps are just handwaved.

So I sat down and started with the plot beats Aizen MUST hit, and tried to imagine what kind of guy would he have to be to get there? And I came up with this:

Sosuke Aizen is a fundamentally good man with genuinely good intentions who is really trying his best for the whole world.

Think about it- what lengths would you NOT go to if you think you found a genuine shot at Fixing Everything Wrong With The World Forever? We all talk about killing Hitler if we found an actual Time Machine- would you do it if your only chance was when he was a baby? Would you kill an infant if it meant you could stop World War II before it starts? Of course you would! One small life for over 75 million? You'd be insane not to! What if you found out that you could prevent the future extinction of Humanity by killing your best friend today? Ten Billion lives? For theirs? It's simple, really- Hell, it's your Moral Obligation to do that if you were SURE!

-And Aizen IS sure. He is absolutely, totally, completely sure that He Can Save Everyone if he just gets rid of that idiot sitting on the throne of heaven. He's seen the plans! He knows where the gate of heaven is! It's So SIMPLE he just has to get inside, and he knows EXACTLY how to do it, yes it'll be hard and there will be... unpleasant parts but. IT. WILL. WORK.

He is of course, insane.

Aizen didn't have One Bad Day that set him irrevocably on the path of madness. It was a succession of catastrophic disappointments and realizations that he was living in a fundamentally irrational world that made irrational thinking look sane. The Catastrophe that befell his family, working for the central 46 and later the court guard and seeing how the organizations were inept to the point of abuse or corrupt to the core, learning that The Actual House Of God is a place he can just? Go to? Anyone would start thinking you were just a handful of white lies and homicides away from Fixing Everything, Forever.

Not only is Aizen insane, he is nowhere near as smart as he thinks. He is smart- He does have a knack for being able to guess just what will spur someone to action or make them recoil in fear. But mostly he gets extremely lucky Many, Many, MANY times. On some level I think it gives him Confirmation Bias that this is what he's supposed to be doing. Aizen is also nowhere near as smart as (nearly) everyone else thinks he is. His bizarrely good luck makes him look like a hyper-competent genius when really it was really the catastrophic failure of Soul Society as a Society that let a merely mediocre conspirator to evade detection for so long.

Being that he is at most, mediocre, he had to have Outside Help, specifically Gin's emotional support and Tousen's Competence- and if there's a part of the fic that stays true to canon, it's this.

Gin is Aizen's emotional rock in Canon. He's the ONE guy that Aizen genuinely trusts, and considers his 'my only real partner' in his scheme. There's more than one occasion in the manga where Aizen more or less asks Gin "Is this actually a good idea?" and Gin backs him up every time.

...Which is more than a bit at odds with Gin's later stated goal of "I did all this to kill you at your most vulnerable to protect rangiku" . It never rang true to me. So I started thinking why on EARTH Gin would be backing Aizen up like that, and realized there was a hole in my world building that he slotted into nicely :)

On the other hand, the entire fic was started because I didn't like how Tousen's character arc ended, so you can imagine how much he's changed.

But in canon, TOUSEN DOES ALL THE FUCKING WORK.

Lab work? Tousen.

Supervising the arrancar directly? Tousen

Actually getting victims for the Hogyoku experiments? Tousen.

Altering all the archives to keep Aizen's plot hidden? Tousen.

Sending all the Orders allegedly from the central 46? Tousen.

Making sure Unohana believes Aizen's fake body is real? Tousen.

Managing all the day-to-day operations at Las Noches? Tousen.

There's even this little exchange, which is Tousen's first appearance in the Manga:

Aizen establishes this entire meeting is a little fake-out a few pages later with "now isn't that a convenieint time for the alarm to go off?"

which makes him look like he's investigating, but he's also going "Good job on disrupting everyone with the alarm Gin!" It's ballsy of Aizen to do a check-in on his plan with his main nemesis in the room, but also his style.

I think the same thing is happening here with Tousen. To make sure Ukitake wouldn't raise a huge fit about the proposed execution of his beloved lieutenant, which might fuck everything up for Aizen because Ukitake is one of like, three people Yamamoto will listen to (sort of).

...So he had Tousen poison Ukitake to keep him out of the way.

ALL. THE. FUCKING. WORK. It's even in his name! The characters for "Tousen" Refer to a legendary scholar the emperor of China sent out to discover the secret of immortality- only to kill the scholar when he returned with that secret. The character for "Kaname" means "Necessary/Vital/keystone" or "to organize/take account of". His name LITERALLY means "Scholar who is essential for the plan (that we're going to kill later)"

Another thing Kubo did well in Bleach: his name game is Off The Fucking Charts.

-but I digress.

In AEIWAM, it's much the same only this time Aizen sees this very dangerous witness who is immune to his illusions but also extremely snart and capable young man and instead of risking being caught out by the one damn guy who can see right through him, opts to Curse Kaname into doing as Aizen says, and doing all the fucking work of this conspiracy against his will.

It's Not Nice, but Aizen genuinely thinks he's doing Kaname a favor by subjecting him to this degrading and incredibly painful servitude- I mean, Aizen's only other option was to Kill him to keep his silence, and isn't it wonderful that you get to help fix the universe? You're the one always going on about Justice, I don't understand why you didn't jump at the chance to mete out some Divine Justice.

An Excerpt from the captain's meeting in between the Massacre that made the visored and Zaraki's arrival, when Kaname realizes Yamamoto is 100% serious about his promotion to captain of the 9th and goes to throw up in the garden. Aizen offers to go check on him while Unohana very politely reads the general the riot act:

---

"You broke your toy Aizen." Kaname coughs.

"…I really am sorry for running you ragged like this. I really shouldn't have gotten so mad about you hiding the the hogyoku- it was very petty of me." The bastard sighs, taking off his glasses and rubbing his face, entirely genuine.

Kaname stayed on his hands and knees, weaving slightly as another wave of nausea flowed through him, powered by disgust and rage.

"How about this- I've got a lot coming up with the new job, training Gin and disposing of Kiganjo- So how about I promise to not give you any orders for a while? You will have to keep our arrangement a secret and not interfere, of course, but other than that, you're free to do as you please for- a year and a day is traditional isn't it? No, that's not going to heal by then- Oh, would you look at that!"

Kaname didn't have the strength to offer his usual rebuttal that he won't look at anything, ever. The sides of his head tingle like his skul was being pressed between two enormous hands made of static electricity.

"It's 11:11! Alright, I won't give you any Orders until 11:11 am on November 11th, 1911. That's easy to remember! What do you think?" Aizen continued cheerfully, patting his back and the Curse nails.

"…I can't." Kaname groaned. He could scream if he had the energy, but due to Aizen's Illusions, nobody would hear him. "I actually physically can't think. Please…"

"Of course! You really are such a help to me, it would be a shame to lose you. I'll even amend our contract, so you don't get paranoid-" There was a sizzling sound and a new stroke of hot pain up Kaname's spine as Aizen did something to the wretched Bakudo. "There. No compulsions for eleven years and a day. What do you say?"

Kaname grimaced, but dropped his head. Save the energy to fight another day. "…thank you, Aizen-sama."

"Good man! Let's get you on your feet." Aizen beamed, putting his glasses back on and offering him an arm.

---

He genuinely thinks that he's doing everyone a huge favor and if they don't get it it's because they're just not smart enough, but it's alright, He's a Benevolent God and they'll appreciate all his hard work the next time around :)

Aizen is a man who is FULL of joy. He loves what he does! He actively takes pleasure in it! And I think that's something that REALLY delivers in terms of sympathy AND horror for him. Who *Wouldn't* have a great time actually fixing the universe? He's a good man who enjoys doing good works, and this is the greatest work of all!

It also Delivers on the Horror when I get to write the deliciously fun scenes where Aizen is Elbows-deep in a novel War Crime and waxing poetic about how GREAT this is, or being confused why the people around him are reacting with fear. Don't you want to make everything better too?

[lunebulous]

How would Xavier react to seeing you dressed as a bride?

C.w: fluff, non-established relationship, xavier x reader, sfw, corpse bride mentions, not proofread.

You and your friends were planning on having a professional photoshoot done, discussing it over the phone for months. The suggested concepts varied: one of your friends wanted to do the trend with weird poses and everybody wearing christmas sweaters; and it was quickly shut down because 2 of you didn’t celebrate christmas. Another one suggested doing it at a beach, wearing flowy dresses and posing with flowers, but everybody agreed it was too serious, not depicting the real vibes of the group.

Lexy: Come on, flowy dresses and flowers? What's this? a pregnancy shoot?!!

Sammy: nooo we could do it in a fairy wayy, pleeeease

Amely: lmao let’s do it and I’ll go dressed as the father 

After ‘going as the father’ got to the chat, one of them suggested wearing costumes, because all of you were complete nerds for different fandoms, and most of you mentioned in a recent get-together that cosplaying must be fun and you guys were interested in it. As soon as the idea got out, all of you were excited, and you chose your character instantly: Corpse bride.

It was your all-time favourite movie since childhood and you saw a lot of your sensitivity in Emily: the way she chose to believe in love even after her horrendous death, her empathy, and even the worm inside her eye socket, that you attributed to the voices inside your head. 

The thing is: you guys were already paying for a professional photographer - with a discount, thank god - the place and all the transport for six people, so you didn’t want to spend a lot on your costume. You figured some blue body paint, good makeup, some modeling clay and a cheap thrift shop bride dress would do just fine. You already had a blue wig from a previous costume party, and you were confident in your skills to make it look amazing.

The day came, and all of you were already reunited in a studio downtown owned by one of your friend's cousin, who was also the photographer. She was pretty chill with you guys getting ready, a girl’s girl, you must say.

“Oh my god, your hair is so beautiful!” She approached behind your back, hands on her lips as she looked at your hair, pin-straight cascading against your back.

You turned to look at her with a radiant smile. “Ah, you’re talking about me?! Thank you!” And immediately looked to the front again, concentrated on doing Amely’s makeup, who chose to be Lorax.

“You know, I had long hair for most of my life, but I cut it in an impulsive thought and now I miss it so bad!!!” She took a closer look. “Can I touch it?” she takes her camera from her neck, placing it on a small table next to you.

“Of course, feel free to do it! I actually love when people play with it!” You answer, smiling to your almost all-orange friend, who teases: “hm, naughty girl huh.”, earning a stare from you. “Shut up! You have no rights when you’re looking like a sucked-on mango seed!”

The photographer behind you laughs, now combing your hair with her fingers.

“You know what! I have a Kanzashi! A Japanese hair pin, you know? I bought it before cutting off my hair and never got to wear it.” She brings a stool to sit behind me. “Can I try doing an updo with it on your hair as you finish her makeup?”

“Are you sure? I’ll have to take it off to put on my wig!” You frown.

“It’s okay, I just want to see what it looks like!” She says, walking away to get it from a drawer somewhere you can’t see right now.

“I know you just called me a sucked-on mango seed but your makeup is so cute today.” Lorax- Amely said, smiling softly at you. Her yellow giant eyebrows going up and down, making you laugh.

“Aw, thank you. I forgot that I’ll be blue in 5 minutes and went all out on it. I'm even wearing my new highlighter.” The orange friend takes your head in her hands like a basketball ball to take a closer look. “Oh it really looks good”. You tilt your head for her. “Yeah it does, I found it on-” you were interrupted when Anne - the photographer - came back with her hair pin. “Found it!!”

Your other friends cheer from the other side of the room.

—

“On a studio?” Xavier mutters to himself while he looks at his watch, seeing you’re close by. “Why..?”.

He stops completely to check if you sent him a message, but the last one was you talking about how hungry you were, because you forgot to eat and had to rush to meet your friends. Sensing that you probably STILL didn’t eat anything, he thought that bringing you food would be a great excuse to know what you were doing in a studio - but most important - to see you. So that's what he did.

Now leaning on the wall, in the front of the building where the watch indicates you’re in, his head looks to the side as a short-haired woman walks out, lighting a cigar. She nods.

“Excuse me, I’m looking for someone.” He shows her a picture on his phone of you and him, in a festival. “Is she here?”

He tries to be as polite as possible, so he can get in. “I just came to bring her her breakfast, she forgot to eat today.” He starts talking too much, lifting the bag to show her the food.

“Oh yeah, she’s here. The girl with the long hair! I didn’t know she had a boyfriend. You can go in, it’s the last door to the left, second floor. Just knock.” She smiles politely, breathing out smoke in the opposite direction.

Xavier’s ears get red as he looks away, but he doesn’t deny it. “Ah-” he sighs “thank you.”

His heart is beating faster and he knows it’s because he just couldn’t bring himself to say he is NOT your boyfriend, because it’s the thing he wants to be the most right now. He presses the elevator button, trying to shake this feeling off his chest, failing.

Now he starts pondering about how people would see you two as a couple, if someday he’d get the privilege to be your man.

Would he be able to kiss you in public? You don't seem the kind of girl to like that. He'd love it. People would be sure you're his that way. Ah shit, he's whipped.

The elevator door opens.

Chapter 2 here.

[pluckyredhead]

for the snippet commentary ask:

[But there were some weeks that Roy moved a little slower, talked a little softer. Weeks that he poked at the food on his plate, listless and uninterested. Jason knew those were the times that the past reared up inside of Roy and awakened cravings that no food could satisfy.

It wasn’t physiological, Jason knew. He’d done plenty of research on addiction: first as a grieving child searching for ways he could have saved his mother, if only he’d known how, and then again when he and Roy had started living out of each other’s pockets. It wasn’t the ghost of heroin a decade past curbing Roy’s appetite. It was just depression, as if that “just” made it any less pernicious.

They were in one of Jason’s safe houses in Gotham, and the black cloud had been hanging over Roy’s head for days. Now it was nearly two p.m., and Roy was still in bed. Neither of them were early risers, given the late night demands of the vigilante lifestyle, but this was late even for them.

Jason frowned into the open pantry. Roy had barely eaten anything yesterday. “Nothing tastes good right now,” he’d said with a shrug when Jason had pressed.

Jason took out flour, baking powder, and salt, and got to work.

Maybe it was the smell that finally coaxed Roy out of his room, or maybe it was just good timing, but he emerged right as Jason was turning the first piece over to cook on the other side.

“Is that fry bread?” Roy asked, sounding bewildered.

“Sit down,” Jason said. Roy obeyed, watching him in silence as the oil sizzled in the pan.

When the bread was golden on both sides, Jason laid it out on paper towels to drain and sprinkled it generously with cinnamon sugar. He carefully put a second piece in the oil before bringing the plate over to Roy.

“I can’t believe you made fry bread,” Roy said, a little line between his brows. “I haven’t had this since I was a kid.”

Jason knew that. Roy had reminisced enough times about burning his fingers on fry bread right out of the pan that Jason could picture it: little Roy, big-eared and sunburned, fingers and cheeks sticky with cinnamon sugar or honey as he angled for another piece.

But all he said was “You gonna eat it or what?”]

IT SAID 500 WORDS OR LESS & I EXPLOITED THAT I KNOWWWWW i just love this entire part soooo much tho

Lol taxing the ask character count to the UTMOST, I respect it!

But there were some weeks that Roy moved a little slower, talked a little softer. Weeks that he poked at the food on his plate, listless and uninterested. Jason knew those were the times that the past reared up inside of Roy and awakened cravings that no food could satisfy.

My inspiration for Roy's depression comes mostly from this heartbreaking page in Outsiders #45 (2003 series):

(The other major source is, of course, his attempt at suicide by Killer Croc in RHATO.)

Roy is an extrovert who is very very good at masking, so the fact that he's even letting Jason see the depression - something he doesn't do for anyone else but Dinah and arguably Dick, although that was more PTSD than depression - is significant all on its own. He can let his guard down with Jason.

It wasn’t physiological, Jason knew. He’d done plenty of research on addiction: first as a grieving child searching for ways he could have saved his mother, if only he’d known how, and then again when he and Roy had started living out of each other’s pockets. It wasn’t the ghost of heroin a decade past curbing Roy’s appetite. It was just depression, as if that “just” made it any less pernicious.

Jason, meanwhile, is going to quietly do research on addiction and recovery and never actually say anything out loud to Roy. (Fun fact: Ollie did this in canon. What's that thing about how we gravitate to partners who are similar to our parents?)

They were in one of Jason’s safe houses in Gotham, and the black cloud had been hanging over Roy’s head for days. Now it was nearly two p.m., and Roy was still in bed. Neither of them were early risers, given the late night demands of the vigilante lifestyle, but this was late even for them. Jason frowned into the open pantry. Roy had barely eaten anything yesterday. “Nothing tastes good right now,” he’d said with a shrug when Jason had pressed.

Some of this may also be related to my own experiences with depression, as someone who usually loves food.

Jason took out flour, baking powder, and salt, and got to work. Maybe it was the smell that finally coaxed Roy out of his room, or maybe it was just good timing, but he emerged right as Jason was turning the first piece over to cook on the other side. “Is that fry bread?” Roy asked, sounding bewildered. “Sit down,” Jason said. Roy obeyed, watching him in silence as the oil sizzled in the pan. When the bread was golden on both sides, Jason laid it out on paper towels to drain and sprinkled it generously with cinnamon sugar. He carefully put a second piece in the oil before bringing the plate over to Roy.

I've never actually had fry bread so I read a bunch of recipes and watched some YouTube tutorials, trying to find recipes from Navajo cooks especially. Now I really want it but I'm intimidated by deep frying.

I always write Roy with a sweet tooth, hence Jason going for a cinnamon sugar finish instead of savory. Also, I love writing Roy catching Jason doing An Affection and Jason retreating behind grumpily barking orders. NO ONE CAN KNOW THAT HE LOVES ROY. ESPECIALLY NOT ROY.

“I can’t believe you made fry bread,” Roy said, a little line between his brows. “I haven’t had this since I was a kid.”

Roy does NOT know how to respond to being taken care of. I love his relationship with Ollie but I always headcanon it as being pretty much a partnership of equals even when Roy was 10, i.e. they were equally immature. Ollie was his best friend but he was not cooking Roy's favorite foods.

Jason knew that. Roy had reminisced enough times about burning his fingers on fry bread right out of the pan that Jason could picture it: little Roy, big-eared and sunburned, fingers and cheeks sticky with cinnamon sugar or honey as he angled for another piece. But all he said was “You gonna eat it or what?”

GREAT JOB, MAN OF MYSTERY, YOU HID YOUR FEELINGS IMPECCABLY.

[breelandwalker]

Oh. Oh boy. A friend sent me this and my brain gears whirred into action. I know the poll is closed and doubtless other people have shared their opinions BUT both of these characters are favorites of mine and there's already a Witcher 3 vs Baldur's Gate 3 cinematic playing out in my head so....here we go.

If it came down to a flat-out pitched fight without an exit option, yes - I do agree that Geralt would probably snap our poor pale elf over his armored knee. Between Geralt's years of experience hunting vampires, his armor and combat prowess, and the habitual use of Black Blood potions to make his own blood toxic and weaken any vampire that gets within melee range, I think that's a fight that Astarion is not going to win, even as a higher-level rogue, unless he gets very lucky.

However, there are a lot of mitigating circumstances that might change the scenario.

First and foremost, Geralt has scruples, particularly when it comes to thinking beings. He's also technically a mercenary. He does not just go out and kill monsters at random. A Witcher's gotta eat and he prefers to get paid. So unless he received a contract or Astarion was openly endangering someone in Geralt's line of sight, there's every chance he wouldn't even bother with a single vampire spawn.

Second, readers of the novels and players of the "Blood and Wine" DLC will recall that Geralt has worked with elder vampires in the past, the most notable among them being Regis, who is considered an ally and perhaps even a friend. So again, this might lend itself to Geralt choosing to focus on a more dangerous (or more lucrative) target than one pale skinny vampire spawn giggling into his wine. (We're pretty sure it's wine.)

And on the other side of that, Astarion is a CHARMER. He's talked his way out of sticky situations before and there's nothing to suggest he wouldn't at least attempt to do so if faced with a Witcher. Much would depend on the circumstances (mostly the relative threat level or the presence of a contract), but it's entirely possible that Astarion could go, "Can't we discuss this like civilized people?" and roll high enough to either get Geralt to let him speak his piece or hesitate long enough for Astarion to run like hell or call for backup.

(Which puts me in mind of a crossover in which Geralt gets a contract, Astarion banters his way out of it, and they go after the contract-issuer together. That could be fun at a liveplay or smth.)

If we're talking Ascended Astarion though, all bets are off. That's a boss fight any day of the week and there's a chance that Geralt's normal measures might not work as well as he expects them too. In that case, the Witcher might just become a soda can, albeit a disappointing one. Then again, there's nothing that says the fight has to end in Geralt becoming a snack. If the point is simply to neutralize the threat, there's more than one way to skin a Witcher....

This can be any iteration of Geralt, but I'm picturing TW3

[secretmaniacc]

FILL THE VOID

Pairings: the salesman x Fem!oc

Summary: After avoiding him for two days, she finds herself pinned down as he insists they go out to dinner, just as he promised in their bet. Reluctantly agreeing, she anticipates an elegant evening, but the night quickly takes an exciting and dangerous turn.

Warnings: slow burn, language, violence, Dom!salesman x baddie!oc, teasing, degrading, kissing, gun play, Russian roulette, knife play, semi public sex, hair pulling, mentions of blood, oral sex, male recieving, p in v, rough sex, spanking.

Wc: 6.2k

A/n: so sorry for the wait here’s pt.2 for “ride or die” since some of y’all liked it and I’m very happy for that, did some justice this time and spiced it up they can be out of character sometime so forgive me, hope y’all will enjoy it really worked hard on this one, not proofread <3

For two days, she’d managed to avoid him—strategically timing her office hours to when he wasn’t there, ignoring his messages, and pretending not to notice the way he seemed to linger just out of reach. But deep down, she knew it was only a matter of time before he caught up with her. 

That time came at the end of a long day when she thought she was safe. She gathered her things and prepared to turn around and head towards the door, only to feel a familiar presence.

“Thought you could avoid me forever?” His voice was low, smooth, and infuriatingly smug. 

Her hand tightened on the strap of her bag as she turned, schooling her features into something calm and unaffected. “I’m busy. Move.” 

He grinned, leaning casually against the doorframe. “Busy ignoring me? Impressive effort, but I don’t take silence well.” 

“I’m not ignoring you,” she lied, stepping forward to brush past him. 

His arm shot out, blocking her path. “Really? Then why haven’t you answered my messages? Or were you too busy pondering about how much fun we had in the alley?” 

“I don’t owe you an explanation,” she shot back, her tone clipped as she tried to push past him again. 

But this time, he shifted, moving to block her entirely and locking the door with a quick twist of his wrist. The faint click of the lock sent a chill down her spine, though she refused to show it. 

“Let me go,” she said, keeping her voice steady even as she felt her pulse quicken. 

He leaned back against the door, his arms crossed lazily, as though he had all the time in the world. “Not until we settle something.” 

She arched a brow, masking her unease with irritation. “And what’s so important that you’re resorting to theatrics?” 

His grin widened, his gaze sparkling with that insufferable confidence. “I’m a man of my word. And I promised to take you to dinner, didn’t I? Unless, of course, you’d rather recall how I made you feel so good in the alley.” 

She blinked, caught off guard by the reminder. “That was two days ago. It doesn’t matter anymore.” 

“It matters to me.” He stepped closer, the teasing edge in his voice making her heart stutter. “You won, fair and square. So, dinner. Tonight.” 

“Not happening,” she said firmly, though the conviction in her voice wavered slightly. 

He tilted his head, studying her with mock curiosity. “Why so stubborn? Afraid you’ll enjoy it?” 

Her jaw tightened. “I’m just not interested.” 

“You’re lying.” 

She glared at him, determined not to let him see how her resolve faltered under the weight of his gaze. “You’re impossible.” 

“And you’re avoiding the truth,” he countered, stepping closer until there was barely a breath of space between them. “But that’s fine. Say no if you want—I’ll still show up outside your door.” 

“You wouldn’t dare,” she said, though the uncertainty in her voice made her doubt her own words. 

“Try me,” he challenged, his tone light but his intent clear. 

She sighed, her shoulders sagging slightly in defeat. “Fine. One dinner. But don’t make a habit of this.” 

His grin broadened, a glimmer of triumph lighting up his face. “Perfect. Wear something elegant—something that’ll fit the place. I expect you’ll be just as stunning as you were in the alley” 

“Excuse me?” 

He ignored her indignation, leaning in close enough for his breath to ghost against her cheek. His lips brushed lightly against her skin, leaving behind the faintest trace of warmth. “See you tonight,” he murmured before stepping aside and unlocking the door. 

She stared at him, momentarily thrown by the unexpected gesture. The smug look on his face only made her irritation flare, and she pushed past him with a sharp, “Don’t be late.” 

As she walked away, she tried to ignore the fluttering in her stomach, brushing it off as nothing more than irritation. But the faint smile tugging at her lips told a different story. 

-----

She stood before the full-length mirror, the soft glow of her bedroom light catching the gentle shimmer of her crimson dress. The bodice hugged her figure like it was made for her, the delicate cowl neckline draping gracefully across her collarbones, while the fabric flowed into a silky skirt that brushed the floor with every subtle movement. Her long, black hair fell in effortless curls to her waist, framing her face with a touch of timeless elegance. A sheer wrap rested loosely on her arms, adding a layer of ethereal softness that seemed to dance with every step. 

Her phone buzzed on the dresser, pulling her from her thoughts. She glanced down to see his text: "I’ll be there in five." Letting out a small breath, she grabbed her purse, gave herself one last look, and headed downstairs. 

The evening air was cool as she stepped outside, heels clicking softly against the pavement. There he was, leaning casually against a sleek black Audi A6, its polished exterior gleaming under the streetlights. He wore a tailored black suit that framed his tall, broad figure perfectly, paired with a crisp white shirt and a black tie that added a sharp elegance to his appearance. His dark hair was neatly styled, though a rebellious strand fell over his forehead, softening his otherwise sharp features. 

As she approached, his gaze locked on her, a flicker of admiration crossing his face before he straightened and stepped toward her. Without a word, he took her hand, lifting it to his lips and pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles. 

“You look breathtaking,” he murmured, his voice smooth yet sincere, his eyes holding hers for just a moment longer than necessary. 

A faint blush warmed her cheeks, but she managed a small, teasing smile. “You don’t look too bad yourself.” 

His lips twitched into a smirk as he opened the passenger door for her, gesturing for her to step inside. 

She settled into the plush leather seat, the soft scent of new car and faint cologne filling the space. The interior was sleek, with polished silver accents and an impressive digital dashboard glowing faintly in the dim light. She trailed her fingers over the armrest, the comfort and luxury surprising her. 

“You own this?” she asked, glancing at him as he slipped into the driver’s seat, his hands confidently gripping the wheel. 

He chuckled softly. “Why? Did you think I’d show up in something less fitting?” 

She shook her head, amused but still impressed, as they drove in silence toward their destination.  He would make teasing comments here and there that earned a chuckle from her.

The car pulled up to one of the most elegant restaurants in town, its grand facade glowing with soft golden lights. Outside, a long line of patrons waited eagerly, some dressed to the nines, chatting in anticipation. 

Her brows lifted in surprise at the sight. “You didn’t mention this place,” she said, her voice laced with curiosity. 

Before he could respond, two security guards stepped forward, opening her door with practiced precision. One took the keys from him while the other escorted them toward the entrance. She noticed how the murmuring crowd shifted, heads turning as they walked past. 

The guards held the doors open as they entered, bowing slightly in his direction. She bowed back out of respect, but he merely did, wrapping his arm around her waist as they stepped into the opulent dining area. 

The restaurant was stunning. Crystal chandeliers cast a warm glow over tables draped in crisp white linens. Floor-to-ceiling windows revealed a breathtaking view of the city skyline, and a soft melody from a grand piano filled the air with an elegant ambiance. 

They were guided to a private table near the window, the staff pulling out her chair as she sat. As he took his seat across from her, she leaned in slightly, her tone playful. 

“Care to explain why everyone is treating you like you’re some mafia boss?” 

He chuckled, resting his chin on his hand as he looked at her. “Let’s just say I know how to make an impression.” 

She rolled her eyes, but a smirk tugged at her lips. “Oh, I’m sure you do.” 

The waitress approached with a professional yet warm smile, handing them menus. “Welcome. May I offer you something to start with?” 

She glanced at the menu, the luxurious options catching her off guard. “Are there any prices on this thing, or do we just guess?” she quipped, arching an eyebrow at him. 

He laughed softly. “Don’t worry, dinner’s on me. Feel free to splurge.” 

She smirked, leaning back in her chair. “Good, because I was planning to order the most expensive thing just to annoy you.” 

“Be my guest,” he replied smoothly, his grin teasing. “But I hope you know that means dessert is non-negotiable.” 

her eyes scanning the intricate names of dishes written in french. Brows furrowed, she tilted the menu closer as if the words would magically make sense the second time around. 

“What is... uh, rat-a-tou-ille??” she sounded out slowly, glancing up at him with genuine curiosity. 

His lips curved into an amused smile. “Ratatouille. It’s a vegetable dish—stewed with tomatoes, zucchini, eggplant, and herbs. Simple but classic..” 

“Oh, okay. That doesn’t sound too bad,” she nodded before her eyes caught another word. “And this one? Coq... au vin??” 

“Coq au vin” he corrected with a small laugh. “Chicken braised in red wine with mushrooms and bacon. Very traditional.”.” 

She tapped her chin with her finger, pretending to consider it seriously, then moved on to another dish. “Bou-ya... bouillabaisse?” 

“Bouillabaisse,” he supplied smoothly. “.It’s a fish stew with a mix of seafood, Want me to keep translating, or are you planning to make me read the whole menu for you?” 

She shot him a playful glare. “Hey, these names are intimidating, okay? I didn’t grow up speaking fluent…. Uh, whatever this is."

“french” he said, unable to suppress the laugh that bubbled out. “I have to admit, though, this clueless act of yours is kind of adorable.”

She rolled her eyes, heat rising to her cheeks. “Whatever. I’ll just stick to this one.” She pointed to a dish she didn’t recognize but liked the sound of. 

When he glanced at his menu filled with prices unlike hers, his smirk grew wider. “Interesting choice,” he mused, leaning back in his chair. 

“What?” she asked suspiciously. 

“Nothing,” he said, clearly holding back a laugh. “Just that it’s the cheapest thing on the menu.” 

Her jaw dropped. “Are you serious?” 

He nodded, still grinning. “Repick. Or I’ll do it for you.” 

She groaned, flipping through the menu again. “Fine. You pick.” 

He didn’t even look at her menu, already knowing it by heart. “Filet de boeuf Rossini,” he said confidently.

Her eyes widened slightly. “That sounds... fancy.”

“It’s perfect,” he replied with a wink. “Trust me.”

The waitress returned, taking his order for a sole meunière and hers for the beef Rossini. “And a bottle of Château d’Yquem,” he added casually.

When the waitress nodded and walked away, she raised an eyebrow. “Château d’Yquem? What’s that?”

“You’ll see,” he replied cryptically.

Moments later, the waitress returned with a sleek silver ice bucket, placing it on the table with a bottle of golden wine nestled inside. The light caught the liquid, making it shimmer, and her eyes widened as realization hit.

“This is wine?” she asked, pointing to the bottle. 

“Not just any wine,” he said, pouring a glass with practiced ease. “It’s... exclusive.” 

“How exclusive?” she pressed.

He took a slow sip, his lips curving into a knowing smile. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Her eyes widened. “You’re drinking liquid gold?”

He laughed at her incredulous expression, his voice rich with amusement. “Relax. Tonight’s on me, remember?”

She rolled her eyes, leaning back in her chair. “You’re infuriating, you know that?”

“Part of my charm,” he replied with a wink, setting his glass down.

Silence evoked as the air in the restaurant shimmered with quiet luxury, a symphony of muted chatter, piano tunes and crystal clinks filling the room. She leaned back against the chair, her delicate fingers tracing absent patterns on the edge of the table. Her gaze flickered toward the expansive window, the city lights sprawling like a living canvas. There was an effortless grace to her, the way her crimson dress caught the glow of the chandeliers, the silk shifting like liquid fire with her every move.

He couldn’t look away.

His pupils sharpened with intensity as he studied her, the soft curve of her jawline, the way her lips parted slightly as she sighed in quiet awe. Her black hair, cascading in soft curls to her waist, gleamed under the golden light. She was a vision, suspended somewhere between elegance and rebellion, her beauty a contradiction he couldn’t quite define but didn’t want to stop trying to.

She tilted her head, her profile catching the faint light of the chandelier, and his breath hitched. As he took a sip of his whiskey, the taste burned less than the thought that this moment—her, here, now—felt like something he shouldn’t deserve.

He smirked at himself, shaking his head slightly. Get a grip.

But then she glanced back at him, catching his stare, her brow arching in question. “What?” she asked, her voice laced with curiosity.

“Nothing,” he replied, his smirk deepening as he set his glass down. “Just taking it all in.”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t fight the slight tug of a smile at the corner of her lips.

Moments later their food arrived, the rich aroma wafting from her plate made her mouth water. She picked up her fork, taking a cautious bite. The moment the tender beef hit her taste buds, her eyes fluttered shut, and a soft hum of delight escaped her lips. 

“This is... amazing,” she said, already diving in for another bite. 

He watched her, captivated by the way she was completely absorbed in her food. Every little sound she made—those happy, involuntary noises—pulled his attention. For a moment, the bustling restaurant around them disappeared, leaving only her. 

“You’re staring, again.” she said suddenly, snapping him out of his daze. 

“You make it hard not to,” he admitted with a small smile. 

She flushed, quickly taking another bite. “Just eat your food, so we can get done” she muttered. 

He chuckled, cutting into his fish. They settled into a comfortable rhythm, exchanging light banter between bites. At one point, she attempted to spear a piece of his fish with her fork, but he caught her wrist with a grin. 

“Ah, ah. That’s mine,” he teased. 

“Sharing is caring,” she retorted, but he held firm, playfully shaking his head. 

He shook his head with exaggerated defiance, a sly grin tugging at his lips. “You want it that bad? Beg for it.”

She narrowed her eyes, “‘Never mind,’” she said, her voice thick with sarcasm as she went back to eat.

He chuckled, leaning closer. “Come on, don’t act like you didn’t do it.”

“That’s it, I’m leaving,” she said, standing up abruptly and grabbing her bag.

He burst into laughter, his gaze never leaving her. “I’m messing with you,” he said, grabbing her wrist gently and pulling her back into the chair.

She shot him a glare, crossing her arms. “You’re impossible.”

“But you love it,” he replied, giving her an amused smirk.

She sighed, reaching for her glass of water. As her gaze drifted across the room, it landed on a couple at a nearby table—so engrossed in each other they might as well have been the only two people in the restaurant. The man’s hand rested on the small of the woman’s back, and their faces were inches apart, whispering between soft kisses.

Her nose wrinkled. “Ugh. Get a room,” she muttered, her voice dripping with disdain.

He followed her line of sight, his brow arching before a low chuckle escaped his lips. “Jealous?”

She snapped her head back to him, her eyes narrowing. “Jealous? Please. That’s gross. There’s a time and place for that sort of thing, and it’s not next to someone trying to enjoy a meal.”

His grin widened as he leaned back, clearly enjoying her reaction. “You’re awfully opinionated for someone who didn’t seem to mind when I kissed you.”

Her cheeks flushed instantly. “That was different!”

“Oh, was it?” he teased, his tone playfully smug. “Because if I recall, you were the one leaning in first.”

Her jaw dropped. “I was not! You were the one who couldn’t keep it together and kissed me like some—”

“Like what?” he interrupted, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Someone who’s not afraid to take a chance?”

She glared at him, struggling to find a comeback that wouldn’t dig her deeper into the hole. “You’re crazy,” she finally huffed, crossing her arms again.

“not as much as you,” he replied, his smirk softening just enough to make her annoyed

The unspoken tension hung like a storm cloud between them, unshakably present as they lingered in that charged moment. “Are you actually saying you wish you were that couple?” he asked, leaning in with a seriousness that made her heart constrict.

Her heart raced at his words, a flutter of uncertainty and curiosity mixing with annoyance. “I just think PDA is a bit much!” she shot back, a hint of defensiveness creeping into her voice. “I mean, can’t people keep it to themselves?”

“Really?” he challenged, his voice low, brushing against her ear as he leaned closer. “Or maybe you’re just afraid of what it could feel like to let loose, to feel something real for once?”

Her breath caught in her throat as a rush of heat spread across her cheeks. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she shot back, a desperate edge in her voice. She could feel the tension weave between them like a live wire, crackling with possibility.

“Maybe I do,” he replied, that daring glint in his eye making her pulse quicken. “Maybe you just need the right moment to let go.”

The couple at the table nearby erupted in laughter again, and she found herself glancing back at them, trying to refocus. But when she looked up, he was watching her with an intensity that made her skin tingle. “Forget them,” he said, his voice dropping an octave, pulling her even further into his orbit. “What do you want? Something real? Or more of this… competition?”

Before she could formulate a response, he suddenly stood, extending a hand toward her. “Come with me.”

“Where?” she asked, hesitating but feeling a rush of adrenaline at the thought of doing something entirely unexpected.

“A place where we can talk,” he replied, a challenge sparking in his eyes. “Unless you’re too scared to follow.”

With her heart racing and her mind swirling with uncertainty, she placed her hand in his. He led her through the restaurant’s bustling dining area, weaving through startled diners and busy waitstaff. But there was no turning back. The thrill of being drawn into the unknown ignited something within her.

They approached a door at the back of the restaurant, and she felt both exhilarated and apprehensive. He flung it open, and they stepped into a dimly lit hallway lined with fancy doors that seemed to whisper secrets.

“Seriously, where are we?” she asked, blinking in the low light as confusion mixed with an adrenaline high.

“Somewhere more private,” he replied, his voice low and dangerous, eyes flickering with mischief and something deeper. “We won’t be interrupted here.”

Her pulse raced, excitement and fear coiling in her stomach. “Is this your idea of romance?” she shot back, the challenge lacing her voice, even as heat coursed through her.

“Maybe it’s just my idea of taking risks,” he countered, stepping closer, the space between them charged in a way that made her skin tingle. “You might even enjoy it.”

The energy shifted as they stood beneath the dim glow of the overhead light, their breaths mingling in the tight space. She caught herself wanting to feel the weight of his words, the electricity in the air. “What if someone catches?” she asked, half playful and half serious, but the way he was looking at her made her thrill with curiosity.

“Let them,” he said, eyes smouldering, stepping closer until there was barely any space left between them. “Are you really going to back down now?”

She felt a rush of defiance surge within her, mixed with undeniable attraction. “I’m not afraid,” she said boldly, but her voice wavered slightly, betraying the thrill and lust she was trying to suppress.

“Then let’s find out how dangerous this might get,” he murmured, his breath hot against her ear, igniting the adrenaline coursing through her veins.

With that, he turned on his heel, pulling her deeper into the hall, and she felt her heart pounding with excitement and uncertainty. Each step into the unknown only drew them closer together, and she couldn't shake the thrill of what lay ahead—the thrilling uncertainty,

He paused in front of an ornate door that looked far more expensive than the rest, its golden handle glinting in the dim light. With a knowing smirk, he pushed it open, and she was met with an intoxicating scent—rich cologne mingling with something deeper, something intimate that tugged at her senses.

As they stepped inside, the atmosphere shifted dramatically. The room was lavishly decorated, a blend of modern luxury and classic elegance. An oversized leather couch sat in the center along with a table, surrounded by walls adorned with vibrant artwork that seemed to pull her in. Warm lights cast a cozy glow, and a plush rug covered the floor, offering a sense of comfort veiled in sultriness.

“wow,” she breathed, taking in the opulence, momentarily forgetting the tension simmering between them.

“Sit,” he commanded softly, gesturing toward the couch. She hesitated for only a moment before obeying, settling into the soft fabric while he moved around the room, his gaze scanning various items scattered about—a vintage record player, a collection of intriguing books, and an array of exotic liquor bottles.

Stopping at a sleek display cabinet, he opened the door and pulled out a pistol, its silver surface gleaming in the warm light. A grin played across his lips as he turned to face her, an unsettling excitement dancing in his eyes.

“We’re going to play a game,” he said, his voice low and teasing. “Russian roulette.”

Her breath caught in her throat. “Are you serious?”

“Relax.” He waved his hand dismissively, the light glinting off the barrel. “Only this time, we’re playing with a twist. There’s only one bullet, and each time the gun goes off, we have to strip a piece of clothing.”

A mix of thrill and apprehension surged through her. “That’s insane.”

“Maybe,” he replied, his smirk deepening, “but wouldn’t it be fun?”

With a defiant spark in her eyes, she leaned forward. “Fine, let’s play.”

He sat across from her, the couch sinking slightly under his weight, and loaded the bullet into the chamber with a casualness that both intrigued and unnerved her. He spun the cylinder and brought the gun to his temple, pulling the trigger—click. He laughed, a dark sound that echoed in the room,

“Not so scary, right?” he teased, loosening his suit jacket. With a fluid motion, revealing a fitted dress shirt that clung to his frame, accentuating the muscular definition of his arms and shoulders. The sight made her pulse quicken

“Your turn.” He passed the gun to her.

She arched an eyebrow but took the gun, feeling its weight in her hand. She couldn’t believe they were doing this. She spun the cylinder herself, heart racing, and then pressed it to her temple. Click. A rush of relief washed over her.

“Now it’s time to shed that scarf,” he said with a teasing tone. With a quick, decisive movement, she untied the delicate fabric and let it fall to the floor, feeling freer, more emboldened.

“Here you go,” she responded, tossing the gun back to him. The tension was tangible as he caught it effortlessly.

filled with a languid confidence. “Ready?” He pressed the barrel once more to his temple—click. The sound rang through the air like a taunt, a challenge freighted with electricity.

“Lucky again,” he grinned, a spark of mischief in his eyes.

“What’s next? Your shirt?” she quipped, eager to see how far this would go.

His gaze flicked to her, a knowing smile playing on his lips as he loosens the tie taking it off, before he began to unbutton his crisp white dress shirt. With each button undone, the cloth pulled away to reveal the chiselled muscles of his torso, the defined lines and curves making her breathless. He threw the shirt aside, letting it flutter to the ground like a fallen banner of surrender.

She couldn’t help but take in the sight, her breath momentarily caught in her throat. she breathed, both impressed and challenged by the game they were playing.

“Like what you see? Now it’s your turn,” he teased, giving her the gun once more, his eyes gleaming with anticipation.

She took the gun, spun the cylinder yet again, and pressed it against her temple—click. Relief flooded her, but the tension was palpable.

“Let’s play it safe,” she decided, slipping off her heels and leaving her feet bare on the plush rug beneath her. The contact with the soft Fibers felt grounding after the intensity of the game.

“Back to me,” he said, taking the gun from her hands once more. He spun the cylinder, glancing at her with that effortless chill. “Here we go.”

With a languid movement, he pressed the cold metal against his own temple, a shrug of confidence reflecting in his posture. He squeezed the trigger—click. The sound reverberated, leaving an unsettling silence in its wake.

She felt a small knot of apprehension twist in her stomach. Could they keep going like this? The stakes were rising, and she felt the rush of adrenaline coursing through her veins.

He turned to her, offering her the gun again. “Your turn. Only two triggers are left, make sure not to die.”

With a mixture of determination and nerve, she accepted the gun from him. Her heart raced as she spun the cylinder for what felt like the hundredth time.

He stood to remove his shoes, casually tossing them to the side. That simple act ignited something within her, a thrilling edge of power and vulnerability. Just as he prepared to sit down, she lunged forward with a sudden burst of resolve.

With a swift motion, she pinned him against the couch, the gun now aimed firmly at his chest.

"What’s the matter?" he teased, the laughter in his eyes shifting to something darker. “Afraid you will die?”

“Not a chance,” she challenged, taking a seat on his lap, her pulse racing. In a moment of reckless defiance, she kept the gun pointed at him. “You think this is a game?”

He laughed, a wild, psychotic sound that echoed against the walls. his hands resting firmly on her waist, the gun now pressed against his chest as he leaned in closer. “I love it when you take charge.”

“You’re going to regret underestimating me,” she said, catching a glimpse of the wild delight dancing in his eyes.

“so it’s Game over for me?” he taunted, his words dripping with boldness. His hands slowly wandered to her thighs, fingers teasing, sending pulses of electricity coursing through her. “Shame, really. I’d hate to die without pleasuring you.”

Her breath hitched at his insinuation, his cocky demeanour igniting an uncontrollable fire within her. The tension crackled like static in the air, urging her to respond.

“You wish.” she said, her voice wavering slightly with the rush of emotions surging through her.

With a fury of need and desire, she leaned in and captured his lips in a fervent kiss, their mouths colliding in an explosion of pent-up frustration and attraction. The world around them melted away as her heart raced. The moment was electric, and in the whirlwind of passion, she pulled the trigger.

But all that followed was a click.

The sound ricocheted in the silence between them, and her eyes widened in shock as she pulled away. The thrill morphed into a dizzying rush as realization struck—there had been no bullet, no fatal ending, only the raw, intoxicating energy swirling in the air between them.

That's when he took the gun from her hands, his movements quick and decisive, a spark of defiance in his eyes. With a swift motion, he tossed it across the room, the gun landing with a loud thud against the wall.

“If you wanted my tongue against you, then you’ve fucking earned it,” he spat, crashing their lips together in a fierce, hungry kiss.

Her hands tangled in his hair, tugging tightly, igniting a low groan that reverberated into her mouth.

"You wanted to fucking kill me, sweetheart," he growled, biting her bottom lip, eliciting a sharp whimper from her.

“It was your game,” she countered, the adrenaline pulsing through her like fire.

“And yet,” he replied, his voice dark and sultry, “I’d never kill you.”

“I wouldn’t either.” She pulled back, a smirk curving her lips as her eyes roamed over his swollen lips and messy hair, an enticing sight.

“So, why did you aim that gun at me? Say it.”

“Because I was too damn scared, you’d do it instead of me,” she admitted, feeling his grip on her loosen slightly.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you really know how to make a scene,” he murmured, his fingers deftly unbuckling his belt with confidence.

“Kneel,” he demanded, helping her rise before guiding her down so she knelt on the floor, her dress cascading around her like a waterfall.

“You want to act like a little slut? Then suck until your mouth isn’t filthy,” he spat, and she flashed him a smirk as she slid his pants down, revealing his hard on.

Her hand wrapped around the base of him, moving up and down slowly, the rhythm sending soft growls of pleasure from his lips. As she continued pumping back and forth, in a rhythmic pattern the more he strived for her lips.

“Did you not hear me? I said suck,” he snapped, frustration threading through his tone.

She tilted her head, feigning innocence. “You call me a slut yet can’t wait a moment longer?” With a teasing glimmer in her eyes, she leaned forward, taking his tip into her mouth, swirling her tongue around it while maintaining a steady rhythm with her hand. His breath hitched, a bead of sweat forming on his chest as he succumbed to the jolting pleasure.

Without warning he bunched her hair up in his fist and pushed his tip to the back of her throat, thrusting himself deeper into her mouth until she gagged. The sight of her watering eyes only seemed to rile him up.

“Look how fucking beautiful you are, my darling. Take all of me, just like the good whore you are," he breathed, pleasure dripping from his words.

Her eyes glistened with tears. and he watched her head bob back and forth.

"fuck I'm going to—" he gasped, releasing her head and pulling back slightly. But before he could finish himself off, she caught his hand, her determination surging, and continued, letting the warm liquid hit the back of her throat while he moaned, curses spilling from his lips until he finished.

He fixed his gaze on her as she swallowed every drop, wiping her bottom lip clean with a satisfied smile. “You’re not finishing with me down here,” she challenged, cheeky confidence returning.

“Insanity suits you,” he replied, standing and holding out a hand to help her rise. “Now let’s see just how wet you are for me.”

He led her to the table, and a surge of vulnerability washed over her as he slammed her against it giving him full access to her clit, while her stomach pressed against the polished wood. His hands roamed the insides of her thighs, and she softly moans as he moved her lace underwear to the side, his fingers brushing against her trembling skin

Grabbing a fistful of her hair, he pulled her head back, connecting their lips once more, sucking on her bottom lip. After He released her hair, his hand quickly found her clit, eliciting a moan that was both pleasure and pain.

“Make a scene, sweetheart. Let everyone hear how much you enjoy this," he seethed, delivering a sharp smack that made her gasp, her stomach hitting the table harder.

As he moved her dress out of the way, he slowly removed her thong. Her grip tightened on the table's edges, anticipation thrumming in her veins. But just as she exhaled, he pressed a blade to her neck, drawing a gasp from her lips as he grabbed another fistful of hair to pull her back.

“I’m going to fuck you until you beg to finish, sweetheart,” he said, his voice a low growl. “But this is on my terms. Move too much, and your blood will splatter.” She nodded slowly, and without warning he pushed himself inside of her.

She gasped, feeling every inch of him stretching her, she felt his eyes darken with lust as he fucked her against the table. Each powerful thrust accompanied by the sound of the table squeaking beneath her, the blade scratched at her skin making her hiss at the foreign pain of the knife grazing her neck.

“you like that? hmm” he asked, delight etched in his expression.

“I do. It hurts," she admitted, breathless.

“Tell me to stop,”

But the words caught in her throat, her senses overwhelmed as the blade pressed deeper, and she couldn't help but roll her eyes back in pleasure.

“ But that's the thing, you like that huh? You don't have to hide what you truly want. I know you like this blade at your neck. Watch how good you take my dick slut" he groaned into her ear picking up the pace and she could already feel herself coming close to finishing.

A few more cuts on her neck and he flipped her over, her back colliding with the table, the sharp contrast of sensations sending goosebumps over her skin.

He poured his focus on the cuts, pressing kisses over the crimson marks as the metallic taste lingered in the air. The euphoric mix of pain and pleasure sent her into a frenzy, her nails digging into his bare back as he slipped himself back inside of her her.

“You won’t be the only one leaving this room marked,” she moaned in between their kisses. Both of them cursing and filling the room with the sound of their pleasure.

Their bodies moved in sync, letting the euphoria continue and their pace become sloppy. a dangerous dance of desire and desperation, the air thick with their shared moans and whispered curses.

“I’m gonna—"

“Not yet,” he interrupted, the tension in his voice low and commanding.

“I can't—” she yelped when he stopped, a sharp smack to her ass, only hard enough to sting.

“You can, and you will,” he grunted, slamming into her again, her hips bucking against him as he threw her leg onto his shoulder, pushing deeper. His penetrating gaze bore into her, making sure she didn’t disobey.

“Beg if you wanna finish.”

“Please,” she pleaded, breathless urgency coloring her voice.

“You're mine. Never forget that. Got it?" he growled. She hummed in agreement.

“Use your words,”

“Yes, yes, I’m yours, please—”

“I know, sweetheart. I know. Cum for me. Be a good girl,” he murmured, and she quickly became undone. After a couple more strokes he finished after, his head rolling back in delight.

Her legs quivering and the short circuit of her brain stopping for just a moment. It was almost as if her body was made to be with him alone, each pulse and surge a beautiful convergence of pleasure and pain.

He tucked himself back before effortlessly lifting her off the table. Her feet barely touched the floor before her legs wobbled beneath her, struggling to support her weight.

"I can’t walk," she muttered, clutching the edge of the table for support, the remnants of their passion still buzzing in her veins.

"What was that?" he asked, a teasing smile playing on his lips.

"You heard me. Shut up and help me stand up," she sneered, irritation mingling with the lingering satisfaction in her tone.

He rolled his eyes, but his expression softened as he stepped closer, wrapping an arm around her waist to keep her upright. "Alright, sweetheart. I’ve got you," he murmured, his voice low and steady. With gentle firmness, he helped her regain her footing, guiding her away from the table as she leaned into him.

They took a few tentative steps, and he chuckled again, the sound warm against her ear. "You really know how to make things interesting."

“Oh, shut up,” she replied, though a smile betrayed her annoyance. “You’re lucky I’m even standing,” she added with a playful roll of her eyes.

“Lucky? I was thinking of round two,” he shot back with a grin, winking at her as they made their way towards the couch. Unaware of long night they’re about to witness.

part 1

[yeonmuse]

`✦ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ Curtain Call ·˚ ༘

ᥫ᭡ f!reader x lee heeseung ── 𝒢enre. Uni au. fluff, non idol enha. feats. ot7 [reqs are open] ᝰ.ᐟ 𝓁ibrary 🪷

authors notes This is a follow up to Heeseungs side story in Can You Hear My Heart. It takes place directly after the final chapter of Jungwons Mini Series. This is not a Hee X Reader series, but if youd like to replace the characters name with your own feel free to. This is part of admins University series

IN WHICH 𖤓 Heeseung has a thing for the theaters golden girl, he’s been crushing on her for months. He’s got it so bad for her that he somehow lets Jake talk him into attending auditions just to get closer to her.

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Sing for them

October 31st 2019

Heeseung had spent two weeks planning the events of Rena’s special day, he had gone out of his way to not only plan a party, but a special date where he’d give her all of the gifts he had gotten her and serenade her. Heeseung had been a lover of music, born into this world with perfect pitch which made the task of making music and vocalizing fall too easy for him.

“Heeseung, where are we going?” Rena laughs as he guides her blindfolded figure into an empty jazz bar, the place he had rented out for just the two of them. After sitting her down he makes his way to the stage, none of which she could see because she had still been blindfolded.

“You can take it off now.” Heeseung watched as Rena finally removed the blindfold from her face with a smile. He gave her vision some time to adjust before queuing the music. Rena was confused to say the least, confused as to why Heeseung had been up there, even me confused when she heard him start to sing. The two of them had been together three months and she had never heard this before. A smile curled onto her lips as she pulled out her phone to record his performance. Heeseung himself smiled back as he serenaded her, not knowing that her smile held not love but pure amusement. She had gotten exactly what she wanted from him.

Everything about the date had gone normal, so Heeseung had no reason to suspect that something like this was to come. When the two of them arrived at Sunoos house for the party everything seemed to be normal to him. The first ten minutes of the party went by smoothly, until he disappeared for a quick two minutes for the bathroom, he came out with all eyes on him.

“There he is the man of the hour.” Rena sat with a malicious grin on her lips, her phone in her hand and the video of Heeseungs performance up on the tv.

“You really have him whipped Ren, I didn’t think you had it in you.”

“What the hell is going on?” Sunoo pushes past the crowd and stops dead in his tracks at the scene before him.

“I gotta admit you are quite the lover boy Lee Heeseung, honestly at first I thought you were just some annoying loser trying to lose your virginity or something, but you really did fall for her didn’t you?” Seeing her friends laugh right in his face at his expense made his blood boil.

“Rena what the fuck are they talking about?” At Heeseungs words Rena simply tilts her head.

“You didn’t really think I liked you did you? That’s cute.”

“The hell? What the fuck it’s wrong with you?” By now all of the others had caught sight of what was going on and joined Sunoo at Heeseungs side.

“All it took was two months, two months to get you to fall in love with god Lee Heeseung you’re so easy. Even put on a little show for me all for my birthday, how sweet.”

“You fucking played with me for two months? What the fuck Rena?”

“Oops, guess I’m not as nice as you thought I was, huh? God men will fall for anything seriously, you were just a fun little social experiment for me Heeseung, grow up.” She rests her head on her palms and glances at him through her bangs.

“I’m sure you’ll have plenty of girls lining up at your feet now that you’ve had the top girl in your bed.”

“Fuck you.”

“You’ve done that already though haven’t you? And mmm you were so good at it.” In that moment Heeseungs vision blurred and his ears deafened. Even as Sunoo kicked everyone out of his house, leaving only him and the others inside he stood in place completely dissociated from the current events. Two months he had been with her, two months of loving someone that had been fooling with him and playing with him the entire time

Janurary 6 2025 present day

“What the fuck? She did all of that just for the fun of it?” Yns mouth fell open upon hearing what Rena had done to Heeseung, even Chaewon had been pissed off and she never sided with Heeseung.

“Oh bring me that bitch right now.” Chaewon stood from the couch and yn had been right behind her until Jungwon pulled her right back down and Jay steps in front of Chaewon to stop her from doing anything reckless.

“No, it’s not worth it. It was years ago, and we don’t want to ruin someone else’s party. This is a big night for Heeseungs friend. We shouldn’t start anything, let's just ignore the fact that she’s here.”

“Oh there you are!” Heeseung and the others turn around upon hearing a familiar voice, Sakoia makes her way up the stairs, Rena, Nezza and Yuan only a few steps behind her.

“How can I ignore her when that bitch is coming right up the stairs.” Chaewon grumbles.

“Chae.” yn warns and shakes her head at her best friend, as long as she didn’t say anything to Heeseung they’d be okay.

“Oh you were looking for me?” It was obvious to the others that Heeseung was no longer his regular self right now, his confidence was shaken having the woman that broke his heart standing only a few feet behind her.

“Yes! We were all talking downstairs and Rena said that she thinks you two may have gone to the same high school?”

“Shit.” Jay was well aware that if this conversation went any further shit would hit the fan.

“You went to Decelis right? Lee Heeseung? You were part of the soccer team?” Though she was smiling, Heeseung was well aware that she was not to be trusted, he knew very well that hidden behind her smile was something of ill intent.

“Yeah I was.”

“I knew it! It’s me Rena we dated in high school remember? You ever sang that song for me, what was it? This is what falling in love feels like?” The way she tilted her head at him as if it were a mere innocent memory made his blood boil.

“Can I hit this bitch now?” Chaewon asks from behind Jay at which he only shakes his head.

“Wait you sing!?” Sakoia on the other hand who was absolutely innocent in this situation was surprised to know that he could sing, unfortunately she couldn’t seem to read the fact that Heeseung was in no singing mood, in fact he was about ready to talk out the door.

“We have a mic downstairs you should sing for us! I Jvke is one of my favorite artists actually, that songs on the Karaoke list if you want to sing it?” Yuan chimes in from behind the others, the other three girls completely oblivious to the tension between Rena and the others.

“Come on Seungie, just once for old times sake.” Rena took his hand into her own and he immediately saw red as he jerked his hand away from her.

“You’ve got some fucking nerve asking me to do anything for old times sake?” Before he knew it he had been ripping her a new one right in front of the other girls.

“I’m not gonna sit and play your little game a second time. Seungie?” He scoffs and the look he faces her was the complete opposite of the look that he once gave her when he did love her.

“Calling me as if we’re friends when you aren’t anything to me, I hope tonight is the last time I see your face.” He watched as she ran off with what he assumed to be fake tears, the three girls gave him a look of disapproval as they chased after her.

Sakoia gave him a look of disappointment “heeseung what the hell?”

“Koia” before he even had a chance to explain himself she had run off. Once again Rena had fucked things up for him.

Sakoia on the other hand was now trailing behind the other girls wondering if what Nezza had said about Heeseung was right. Was Rena one of his hookups? Just someone to pass him time like Nezza said?

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🔖 @sol3chu @butterflywonz @jwonistic @squiishymeow @river-demon-slayer @lillotus17 @dreeki @jiamini @st4rryst4r @firstclassjaylee @right-person-wrong-time @heesallure

[plethomacademia]

I spent most of yesterday logged off and that took a lot of the energy out of my veilguard critical sails. It's fine. You can see all the places where they had to cut content. There are lots of ideas with little cohesion.

It reminds me of da2 in that way a lot, but I didn't care about it with that game. Sure people just appear out of crates to hit you and there's exactly one cave. There's something to be said for smaller scopes. I loved Kirkwall and I loved the people I got to know over years there.

Sure, this game cannot be a single city and the stakes are too high to take years, you're fighting at least one god no matter what due to the set up in inquisition. (Which ugh don't get me started on that after credits stinger and how they might have set themselves up for failure again.) But did we need six factions, especially when three of them feel half finished at best? Did there need to be a version of galactic readiness which forces you to engage with each faction to the point that you can see the gaps? Did there need to be so many boss fights that they didn't have time to design so they just threw in another dragon?

I like the characters but I feel the gaps there too. There's enough here for me to play with, but this need for everyone to be nice ... Ugh I really hope this isn't the future of this company. Remember when characters could disagree? Remember when you could literally hate fuck? Remember when Ashley shot Wrex in the head?

I guess since this is a whole thing, I'll get out the last part: the romances are really disappointing. I don't mean this in a where are the boobies way, who truly cares. Bioware was really onto something with their last two games and romances. Veilguard suffers from everyone having basically the same progression: empty flirts that feel weird -> a lock in that feels very late and gets you a kiss -> good job gamer here's the sex. This is the me1 and me2 model!

Their last two games had really started to play with allowing different characters to have different ways to engage in a relationship. Some people will never consummate, some want to fuck on the first date. The thing I remember the most from Andromeda is that it let me play my Ryder like the absolute messy nepo baby that I wanted, which included fucking her friend on the couch after playing scifi FIFA and then calling it what it was: blowing off steam, having fun. After that, she was able to have a long, slow build up romance with a pink alien who helped her stop and think for three seconds and become a better person.

This is good! To use phrases that I think Bioware might care about, this is representation! I have always been a fuck on the first date, catch feelings later person, so the whole building to sex always felt off to me. Let some people lead with their bodies. Let some people lead with the feelings. Let people be people! If nothing, it felt even more video gamey and empty changing it back to this and I have a feeling this is once again a victim of cuts in development.

Apparently my sails were still full. I do plan to play this game again, but with the difficulty turned down, enemy hp set to lowest, and free rein to skip cutscenes that made me roll my eyes the first time. I really hope this did well enough that they get to have another shot at mass effect, but I am also worried that this is their new standard and I am going to have found family everyone is nice in space whether I want it or not.

[turtleblogatlast]

Small but significant character moments that I actually really adore are from both the times we see the boys as tots. There is a reoccurrence that happens in both of them that I find so incredibly interesting.

For the turtle tot short, Splinter leaves the boys with weapons. In the short, Raph is the one who suggests they do “what Lou Jitsu would do” and Leo is the one who takes point when Splinter comes back to reprimand them. Leo, in taking point, is the one to defend them and get Splinter off their tails.

And then, in the flashback regarding the Kuroi Yōroi helmet, Raph is the one who grabs and throws “Skully” as a way to replace their missing ball which breaks it into pieces, but Leo is the one who speaks for the group and rushes into action to fix the teapot.

I love this for multiple reasons, but the biggest are how it shows that Raph has always been inclined toward the bold and fun and making the plans to include his brothers in what he loves and believes they’d love, whereas Leo has always been inclined to be the “Face” of the group and shoulder the attention even if it’s potentially negative all while coming up with on the spot attempts to fix the situation.

[hulloitsdani]

What do u think Kiran is

How do u think the order sees kiran

*slowly sits up in my chair*

I think Kiran is a very normal person. This is someone you and I have met before. Be that from the other side of grocery store cashier, waiting in the same elevator, or walking by on a crosswalk. Kiran is a civilian from our world trying to roll with the punches of being warped somewhere completely alien. And you can see it in how they conduct themselves.

I always have a lot of fun writing Kiran’s dialogue because their casual modern speech almost feels like a dialect in comparison to the more formal fantasy tone everyone else speaks with. An “ain’t” will never exit Alfonse’s mouth, you know? And there’s a difference in “Do you have gold?” vs “You got gold?” To me, this gives Kiran an air of unfamiliarity to anyone they interact with. Let’s use Grima as an example, because it doesn’t sound like this grammatical change would make much of difference until Kiran has the audacity to hit Grima with a bro mid sentence. But that’s just how they talk. And as sweet and friendly as they are, there’s always moments like that to remind that no one has the cultural context to fully understand Kiran. Except for the audience, who can realize that Kiran let the customer service voice drop to talk to Grima like he’s an actual person.

And that’s just about how they talk! This view is only emphasized by every other thing about them! They’re a lovable goof, which is normal chill person behavior in the audience’s eyes but feels REALLY ODD to the characters of FE’s medieval fantasy war setting. There is this air of unknown about them that the more socially perceptive will pick up on and will try to come to a conclusion about. Example, I imagine Soren would interpret a lot of this as a dangerous and deeply annoying lack of intelligence from someone he has the displeasure of sharing a tactics table with. Or looping back to the Grima example, he would totally think Kiran has greedy ulterior motives behind that pleasant facade. It takes a lot of work for those types to realize that the discrepancy present isn’t really any of those things. But I also wouldn’t be too surprised if Kiran doesn’t try to directly prove any of those assumptions wrong unless they have to.

Why? Well now it’s time for the implications! Oh how we love the implications.

Because the Summoner is a different story. No one has any fucking clue what that is.

I can tell you what Kiran has pieced together so far. Summoning people from across time and space is apparently not easy. It’s not some school of magical study that some mage could pull off with enough time and research. Trust, Eitri tried. It’s a lot of complex moving parts. For example, the contracts. The contracts Kiran automatically binds their summoned to don’t even compare to the ones Veronica used in book 1. They are far more intense and infinitely harder to break. The only way out of them is if Kiran wills it so. Not even death is an option, because Kiran can come in for the revive. If they had to guess, it’s an older, more completed version of the art. Something lost to time. But no matter the case, Kiran has the ability to take full control of whoever they manage to summon. From a lowly farmer to the divine. And their power only grows.

In a similar vein, if there was any character to canonically see the hud, I think it would be Kiran. It’s genuinely part of their power set. I have previously described Kiran as the party mage until Veronica shows up to be the actual mage, but it would be way more accurate to call them a mystic/seer. They see the map, everyone’s stats, and is doing a fast amount of math to give the combat forecast. Then, upon processing all this information their enemies couldn’t dream of having at their disposal, Kiran can telepathically communicate any change in plans to anyone under contract. Kiran is not inherently some great tactician the moment they touch ground in Askr; they simply can do things no one else can. They’re learning the actual tactics part on the fly. This makes them simultaneously the largest ace up the Order’s sleeve and potentially its biggest liability. If they fall, it could cause a whole system cascade. By that same token, some of the biggest threats the Order has faced are the ones who do their research and rightfully target Kiran.

Now. Thinking critically about all that. That’s downright terrifying. A ridiculous amount of power has been dropped callously into Kiran’s lap and they have to work extremely hard to be moral with it. It’s terrifyingly easy not to be. It would actively take less effort to ‘take the reins’ as it were. But in order to be able to sleep at night ever again, they go the extra mile to not invalidate the will of their summoned. To take over like that. To make a colony of worker bees out of people. Because oh dear god they just summoned a child and the fact that they could easily force them to fight and die for them, only to be revived and do it all over again, is HAUNTING. No. No the Order has an in house orphanage now. This kid is getting adopted and cared for god damnit or Kiran might just pop a blood vessel. And sure that child is going to be a child and there will never be a world where they get along with everyone else, but that’s just going to need be a problem they address when they get there and not an excuse to use Hubris; the power set. Now replace the word child with everyone they ever summoned and you have the wider philosophy they apply to the entire Order.

They’re hyper aware of the power imbalance. They hate it with every bone in their body. They work really hard to correct it in whatever way they can.

So Kiran might not jump on the opportunity to correct those who think lesser of them. It’s… oddly comforting to know someone is keeping a critical eye on them. Holding them accountable. Especially since so much of the order just thinks of them as this quirky yet well meaning host. And, really, what can they even do about that? They have gone over the contract with every hero they summon and despite that they still choose to stay. So, what, do they try to inspire more mistrust? The problem with that they would have to actually do acts that intentionally inspire mistrust. And even if that was successful they can’t just waste the extra man power because every other month there’s some new divine asshole who wants them all dead. And if they fail that means they have to start their life from square one and god they can’t do that again so—

Just breathe Kiran.

It’s fine. You’re fine. Just breathe.

You have work to do.

[baalzebufo]

its a doodle but! i wanted to share my more refined older mabel design, since ive settled on some more stuff since my last post of her

ive seen a few people give her overalls and it feels rly fitting. shes got big pockets because she needs to carry a million things with her. like bugs probably

shes probably taking an art course at a local college

[marshmellowtea]

ngl i do hate this post and i think it's a byproduct of fandom's obnoxious lean toward this idea that in order to be a true fan of anything you have to be ~critical~ of it which is a sentiment that pisses me off immensely. that being said this is a little bit how i feel whenever i point out chris's conservative leaning as a result of his parents on this website ghlkajfd

[simcardiac-arrested]

no actually I’d like to hear your thoughts on the isat ending

Like i said it felt really tropey and by that i meant that it’s just Everything Good Happens forever and…..that’s it ? like idk we were building up to this huge catharsis sort of thing and then we got to it and it was so sudden and not a good payoff and just kind of nothingburger of an ending . the fact that everyone just forgives siffrin bothers me, or at least the fact that they don’t confront them about the shit they’ve said and done. call me a mental illness villainizer but i think if you’re a fucking asshole and doing the most insensitive things to the people you care about then hey, i think those ppl have a right to fucking tell you off for it. likeeee idk being at your lowest point …… not an excuse …. not feeling it chief ……. like sure the message is to move past your mistakes or whatever but ? that doesn’t mean just getting away with it ??? and i just really don’t understand Why everyone forgives him. honestly at the end of the day the ending is just one problem, the root of which are the characters. everyone feels like trope cardboard cutouts. oh, this is the smart one. this is the smol bean. this is the himbo. and they all care for each other btw. Did u hear that? they all care for each other. we’re not really going to explain to you why these people are so close or what they went through together but just trust me man they’re sooo found famy. like …. okay. i’ve played 30 hours of this game and not once did i buy that any of the characters really cared about each other. like??? why???? You’re telling me everyone super cares about siffrin even though they barely know them?? you’re telling me siffrin cares about everyone sooo much even though he never even bothered to find out their problems before ? Wat ? and this just breaks the ending more because literally whyyy do these people care about him so bad. and then it’s just whyyy does siffrin Have to tell them anything he doesn’t even seem to know them that well. everyone feels like colleagues and Just Friends at best. and so the ending just seems really forced. like it was written by that type of tumblr user who’s always talking about aww why does the found family have to break up after the end of the journey :( which is like fiiiiine. i guess. but u guys know that u have to build up to it right?? you can’t just tell me they’re Family Members(tm) 102829 times and that they super care about each other source: trust. you can’t just do that and then expect me to believe it ….. It feels unearned. the ending feels unearned and i don’ttttt understand what i’m supposed to take away from it . that it’s ok to fuck people up because you’re traumatized and insecure?? that you have to talk about your deepest problems with people you barely know??? i just dont know. Like i said if im being honest the problems with this game’s writing are more than just the ending, it just stands out so much because there’s a lot of build up and then just …… That

[arolesbianism]

I wish So Bad that I could confidently recommend lob corp and library of ruina to people because they're both genuinely rly good games and I also need ppl I know to understand the insanity that is project moon but like godddd they are a fucking Investment. Both in time and in brainpower. I generally think ppl exaggerate how hard lob corp is but it's certainly not easy and when it does get hard it gets HARD. Also it literally requires at least one day 1 reset (basically a new game+) to fully beat the game and at this point I've done at least 10. And for lor I'm not nearly as far in and I'm just scratching the surface of the real game but it's a beast of its own. Also 100+ hours and also hard as hell. Like this game does not fuck around with its difficulty spikes it will make you use your brain and it will give you a damn headache in the process. It's also one of my favorite card combat games I've ever played with mechanics that just so beautifully complement each other to create a dynamic and interesting battle system that gives it a completely different vibe and feeling than any other deck builder games I've played to the point where it almost feels wrong to me to categorize them together. But also I am not even slightly joking abt the headache thing every time I play this damn game I close it with a horrible headache and have to take a multi day break. I think everyone should experience this with me <3

[sskk-manifesto]

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[unproduciblesmackdown]

speaking of bsol through speaking of xmas xtrav that like i'm so augh god hand over heart falling over (just like the bloodsong b/c it's the like conclusion of being Overwhelmed By Artistic Effect that then in the ideal version you may as well die) at the thought of the finale where you have the main plot conclude as that Story w/those Themes like ah but even then, the influence, the other the musicians now, that this whole time like yeah you have to do it even if you just keep building or die or were thwarted even prior to that b/c you didn't know you wouldn't be....but that then just like in the opening song Outlaw or sort of distillation of the theme abt being someone making art Last On Land or that at other points other characters have emerged as not really their characters not really a greek chorus but elements of the story helping to Tell It, here's Everyone again for the friendship song altogether & each with an instrument & like not even able to see it but pics & imagining & the enthusiasm & the Thematic Resonance like this is when you are pursuing these pursuits together like _o__ (splayed out facedown emoji) aaauuughhh ;;mm;; bsol finale with everyone showing up playing & singing & dancing the song celebratory finale it's all the Theme when the full cast of Characters had only ever all been together for the one standoff scene at the end & yet obviously We've known them all & everyone is outlaws which is a song like i'm already going sicko mode & this is just the intro, so yknow, The Conclusion, good lord find an iconis musical finale without that place for the celebratory outpouring of enthusiasm right amidst other feelings & situations but Good Lord Here's This in a story that'll always have been all about people's depths & heights & widths & breadths & variations & tumult & all the dimensions, people will have Brought It all over the place & it's like yes leap around together playing & singing this song together which isn't The Story but is such an extension of it b/c bsol has its show within the show quality still infused all in it & if this flurry of Actors Celebrating Outpouring We Put On This Show but still within the show you are seeing as an audience in this venue wouldn't have been part of the original plan with a whole [outside the show within the show] plotline like. embraces bsol holding it so hard my becherished

[unnonexistence]

messing around with magnet words again