#......but......i mean....its working? I guess?

[gotta-winwin]

nana tour seungcheol x reader

a/n: this was a request asking for seungcheol during nana tour - it deviates slightly but i hope it'll still satisfy the itch! we love ourselves a loyal man who knows what's up.

(1)

You supposed Seungcheol not being able to follow his group mates to Italy was a blessing in disguise. Of course, you knew how disappointed he was, watching as he bid farewell to them as they boarded the bus, waving goodbye with a melancholic look on his face. 

“I’m sorry you can’t go.” You mumbled against his shoulder as you leaned against him, looping your arms around his waist, careful not to knock against the crutches on either side of him. “Italy sounds fun.”

Seungcheol had always been the sacrificing type. “It’s okay.” He assured you, pressing his lips against the top of your head as he spoke. “It means I get to spend two weeks concentrated solely on you.” 

(2)

You could tell Seungcheol was taking full advantage of his two week break, trying to do anything and everything he couldn’t with his busy schedule. Lounging on the bed as you watched him game, you couldn’t help but snap a few photos to commemorate the moment. It was rare to see Seungcheol this relaxed, with nowhere to be and nothing pressing to do. He was purely just Seungcheol, your gentle giant of a lover and protector of your heart. 

(3)

Seungcheol makes it his own personal mission to complete your checklist of places you’ve never been with your boyfriend. It doesn’t matter if the two of you will be recognized in public, he’ll rent the damn museum if he has to. The two of you spend the two weeks doing every cringey couple activity Seoul has to offer, as he tries to make up for all the times he’s had to choose work over you.

(4)

You find it hilarious when Na PD calls you instead of Seungcheol for one of his quiz games, quietly shushing the boys on the other line as you flip the camera, Seungcheol asleep with his arms draped over your stomach. He’s snoring away without a care in the world as his members laugh through the screen. You answer whatever silly question they had been given to guess, thanking Na PD for bringing the boys on their first real vacation since debut. 

(5)

You’ve always said that your boyfriend also had a boyfriend. Since you had ever known him, Seungcheol and Jeonghan had always come as a pair. One could not exist or function without the other, this being evident as you would often walk into Seungcheol facetiming his other other half. Jeonghan had also cheekily given you the job of sending him what he deemed as a ‘Cheol selfie’ per day, claiming that it wasn’t fair you get him all to yourself and that he deserves compensation. 

(6)

The night before his members were due to return to Korea, Seungcheol had pulled you aside, distracting you from your book as the two of you laid in bed, the sky outside already a dark shade of blue. 

“You know I love you, right?” He whispered, snaking his arms around your waist like second nature. 

Of course you knew. He never once gave you even a moment to forget. 

“You know I love you more than anything, right?” Seungcheol nosed against your stomach, his face pressed against the bare skin of your waist. “And that I’d quit this job in a heartbeat if you ever asked.”

He knew you’d never ask that of him though. “I started loving you knowing that your job and its odd hours came with you.” You reminded him. “I know what I signed up for.”

“These past two weeks made me realize I want more.” He mumbled. “I don’t want to never be home when we start a family.” 

Your lips curled into a smile, looping your fingers through his hair. “You’ve thought of that?”

Seungcheol nodded against you, tugging you closer. The vows you had made each other, even silently, echoed soundlessly around the two of you. 

Seungcheol would choose you over anything in the world. 

[rhinco]

ID (text from linked article):

A screenshot of the title reading "Path of Exile 2 players are calling foul on Elon Musk's high-level hardcore character after he streams his struggles with core game mechanics" by Lincoln Carpenter published 9 January 2025. The subheading reads "Could've been stream jitters, I suppose."

Screenshotted text copied from the article:

On January 7, Musk streamed an hour and a half of Path of Exile 2 gameplay on his current level 95 hardcore character. In PoE 2, surviving into higher levels in the hardcore league, regardless of ladder placement, is an impressive feat: As you progress, the game stacks layers of enemy modifiers, damage resistance reductions, and hazardous tileset modifiers, and dying once in hardcore means your character is toast. Getting a hardcore character into the 80s is impressive; getting one high enough into the 90s to place high on the hardcore ladder is a feat of skilled gameplay and buildcraft.

The gameplay on display in viewer-recorded VODs of the stream, however, is… well, not that.

Odd signs begin appearing as early as 18 minutes into the stream, when Musk enters his character's stash to reveal a tab that's been named "Elon's map." Considering the other tabs aren't labeled "Elon's currency" or "Elon's catalysts," the tab sticks out. Someone of a conspiratorial persuasion might see it as an indicator that, perhaps, another individual had curated the tab's selection of map-generating waystones for ease of gameplay—like if you wanted to be able to show off your high level character without a real risk of getting it killed.

But maybe it was just a fun little way for Musk to brighten up his own day. Who can say what affectations delight the hyper-wealthy?

He enters maps with a full inventory, then repeatedly attempts to pick up items without inventory space. He doesn't have a loot filter active, but can be seen clicking and dragging items into his inventory—a maddening display that would imply he'd have manually sorted through thousands of dropped items to assemble his character's equipment, which could very well have taken longer than the actual gameplay necessary to reach his current level.

This is all, supposedly, from a player who at time of writing has been able to outpace all but 11 people on the global PoE 2 hardcore ladder. Still, it could've been performance anxiety. Even the wealthiest man alive can get a bit nervy when streaming for the peasantry, I guess.

What's most damning, however, is that Musk seems to show a fundamental misunderstanding of how itemization in Path of Exile 2 works. Late in the stream, he looks over his current equipment. Inspecting his weapon, he says it's "only level 62" compared to his level 95 character. In doing so, he's seemingly unaware that in PoE, an item's effectiveness isn't determined by its level requirement, but by its item level—a separate figure that determines which affixes the item can roll with.

He repeats the mistake as he mouses over each item he has equipped. "My equipment's pretty low level compared to my character level, but it seems to work pretty well," he says, even though it's all high-end gear that's been meticulously collected, crafted, and rerolled to maximize his character's build. It's a misapprehension that, frankly speaking, strains belief.

im surprised no one is talking about how elon musk paid people to make high level hardcore characters for him so he could claim it was all his work on livestream only to be immediately exposed as he couldn't even play the game right

[venusinmyrrh]

You said you love a good fashion doc- do you have any more to recommend?

Designers and tastemakers

Very Ralph (2019). The preeminent American designer of our time, one of the very few who can stand toe to toe with the titans of Paris and Milan. To call Ralph Lauren's work "sportswear" is to call the Sistine Chapel "kind of a big painting".

Halston (2019). Speaking of going head to head with Paris, Halston did it first. Skip Ultrasuede-- this is a much better doc about the king of American 70s disco glam.

McQueen (2018). When people talk about fashion as an art form, chances are they're thinking of Alexander McQueen. Worth watching for the pulse-pounding runway shows alone.

Westwood: Punk, Icon, Activist (2018). Obviously you already know about this one, but it's gotta go on any comprehensive list. Without Vivienne Westwood, punk would have been nothing but a handful of noisy assholes.

Diana Vreeland: The Eye Has to Travel (2011). My icon, my north star, my personal hero. The empress of taste and high priestess of personal style. Watch this doc whenever you need encouragement to do and wear whatever the hell you want.

The Gospel According to André (2017). Diana Vreeland's protegé and a godfather of style in his own right. If it happened in fashion in the last fifty years, André Leon Talley was there for it.

Lagerfeld Confidential (2007). I have a high tolerance for difficult and unpleasant people as long as I like their work. Your mileage may vary, but Karl Lagerfeld's immaculate, relentless taste cannot be denied.

Institutions and events

The First Monday in May (2016). Witness all the hustle, bustle, savvy, and stress that goes into planning the Met gala!

The September Issue (2009). Same as the above, but for the famous September issue of Vogue. Watch this to learn who Grace Coddington is.

Dior and I (2014). How do haute couture collections get made? In 8 weeks from start to finish, I guess, if you're Raf Simons during his first season at the House of Dior. A documentary and a thriller.

Scatter My Ashes at Bergdorf's (2013). No matter what other retailers might want you to think, Bergdorf Goodman is the last great department store. A portrait, already halfway to a time capsule, of what luxury shopping used to be.

Peripheral, but may be of interest

Nose (2021). The passionate, delicate art of perfume creation for the House of Dior. The French landscapes where they source their materials will make you swoon.

Larger Than Life: The Kevyn Aucoin Story (2017). As the makeup artist to pretty much every single icon of the 80s and 90s, Kevyn Aucoin invented the image of that era as much as any designer.

Fabergé: A Life of Its Own (2014). Come for the dazzling jewels and sumptuous objets d'art; stay to find out how this illustrious name ended up on hair care products in the 70s.

Crazy About Tiffany's (2016). Another luxury jeweler whose name alone is the stuff dreams are made on.

Bill Cunningham New York (2010). The original street style photographer, since before "street style" was even a thing. A love letter to curiosity, and a testament to the power of taking an interest in the world around us.

Still on my watchlist

Salvatore: Shoemaker of Dreams (2020). Directed by Luca Guadagnino, which is enough to put this Ferragamo doc at the top of my list.

Advanced Style (2014). Portraits of seven women aged 62-95 with truly fab personal style. Top Letterboxd review is seething about how out of touch they are with the real world, which means I am probably gonna love it.

Suited (2016). A study of gender through clothing in modern culture.

Dries (2017). A year-- and four collections-- in the life of Dries Van Noten, who, interestingly, doesn't see the point of clothes that people can't buy to wear, and so does not do couture.

Yellow is Forbidden (2018). This doc about Guo Pei appears to use her career as a framework to understand the gatekeeping of global culture by the West. Dope as hell, if it can pull it off.

American Style (2019). The political, social, and economic history of America through its fashion. Another one that could be really awesome if done with insight and panache.

Quant (2021). She may share the credit for inventing the miniskirt with two other people, but it cannot be argued that Mary Quant invented 1960s Swinging London. And for that we say thank you Dame Mary.

[lucyvaleheart]

how's that saying go, something something disaster lesbian? heh. keep up. im a disaster in general.

[saymio]

Gyeong-seok Headcanons | NSFW

Pairing: Park Gyeong-seok (player 246) x Fem!reader

Genre: headcanons, smut

Warning: dead dove do not eat, manipulation, age gap, cum eating, might be more but im too lazy to write it down

A/N: not proof read. I def made him pretty ooc but he's just too hot I cant make him vanilla I CNATTT

gyeong seok, the man that watched you from afar. watching your every move as you sat there alone on the bed you had just woken up in.

gyeong seok, the man thats way too scared to approach you.. it was embarrassingly obvious how much older he was than you..if he had to guess itd probably be 20 years. he didn't want to scare you away.

gyeong seok, the man that saved you during red light green light. wrapping his arm around your waist before you could fall last second.

gyeong seok, the man that felt nothing but happiness when you came to him like a puppy searching for an owner. thanking him for saving your life and how you'd never forget him.

gyeong seok, the man that you had stuck with after the first game... glued onto him 24/7. it was clear you were scared and wanted someone who could protect you, and gyeong seok was just that.

gyeong seok, the man that gives you his milk. insisting that you need it more because you're young and need all the nutrients you can get.

gyeong seok, the man that excuses him self to the bathroom to get off when you tell him your age. its so fucked up but he just couldnt help the feeling of his pants tighten a little when you told him you had just turned 20.

gyeong seok, the man that will come back from jerking off to the thought of you like nothing had happened. patting your head and continuing your conversation as if he wasn't imagining all the things he'd do to you that second.

gyeong seok, the man that just couldn't get an inch of sleep when you asked if you could climb onto his bed and sleep with him. he almost picked you up and starting fucking you at that second when you wrapped your legs around him in your sleep.

gyeong seok, the man that convinces you to sneak into the bathroom with him because if it werent for him you wouldve died during the second game. using his generosity as a reason you should help him just this once.

gyeong seok, the man that shoves his cock deep into your throat. grabbing your hair roughly and helping your rhythm against his dick. if he weren't in so much stress he woulve came to just the sight of your drool dipping all over his dick.

gyeong seok, the man that forces you to drink his cum. he'll slap your face if you refuse. "I saved your life twice, and gave you extra food. this is how you repay me?" is all he says before he sees you swallow his thick seed.

gyeong seok, the man that will force his fingers inside of you while the lights are off. even if you say no and try pushing his hand away he wont stop. pumping his large fingers in and out of your hole until you cum all over them. your small hands covering the little noises you make

gyeong seok, the man that can switch up at any second. "if you don't listen I'll kill you, can you just be good" to "I love you y/n, don't leave me. never leave me, I need you." the next second. he always keeps you on edge and scared...sometimes you regret sticking with him.

gyeong seok, the man that promises the two of you will get out so he can introduce you to his daughter. proposing the idea of you moving in and taking care of her while he works. like a normal family should be.. moments like these make you forget the mean things he's done and said... maybe he's just under a lot of stress..once the two of you get out, he'll change right?

Another note: I FEEL LIKE I STILL MADE HIM BORING KMSKMSKMS I made him ooc for nothing....hes so hot doe pls I need more fics of him... hehehhe

TAGLIST: @pollys-doublelife @gongyoosgf

[startheskelaton]

Hi, writing once again. Happy to know you liked my OC, it means a lot to me. In a meantime I happend to create an Transformers AU. Basically Shockwave being a mama's boy and an complete virgin. Seeing some of yours posts about family dynamics with Soundblaster made me want to consider how he would work in that AU. Soo, here it is. The OC name is Milligram, she was Primes advisor before the war and her one biggest dream in life was to see Shockwave have a succesfull political marriage, so you can imagine how happy she is. Also you can count it as a cycle of abuse since she wasn't the best mother. She would be a great grandma tho.

If i had to cosider logistics of all spark AU i guess Shockwave would been an experiment as well.

Got especially inspired seeing how both Megatron and Starscream are concerned about they kids choices in partners. So Soundblaster situation is a little bit diffrent.

Hope you like it!

I’m literally so obsessed with this image

BUT I LOVE THIS SO MUCH ITS SO CUTE!!!!!

I love a morally gray grandmother character so much 💛💛💛

[earthlyangelbby]

Say Anything ❄️

CW: virgin!Eddie, kissing, fingering, blow job, P+V, nervous!Eddie reader is referred to as Angel she/her

Summary: A typical hangout turns into an unexpected sleepover when a snow storm traps Eddie at her house. A first for Angel and Eddie's friendship. But that isn't Eddie's only first that night.

7.8k words

For two months now she and Eddie had been inseparable, ever since they first met at Family Video, where he worked. She’d just moved to town, and Eddie, with his wild hair and easy grin, had been the first person to make her feel welcome. Spending their afternoons together, grabbing coffee, or just hanging out at each other's places was a welcomed new normal. Eddie insisted that in comparison to him, she was an Angel. So that's what he called her. Well most of the time anyway, Sweetheart and Darling still found a way to his list of names for her. 

Tonight, Angel had invited Eddie over again, knowing her dad was out of town. Her bedroom was its usual cozy mess, books, and clothes scattered across the floor. Eddie was sprawled on the bed, thumbing through her records.

The credits rolled across the screen as Peter Gabriel’s In Your Eyes played softly in the background. Eddie stretched his arms behind his head, his lips curling into a sly grin. 

“Alright, I’ll admit it—that was pretty solid. But the boombox scene? Total cheese.”

She hugged a pillow to her chest, narrowing her eyes at him. “Cheese? Eddie, that’s one of the most iconic romantic gestures of all time!”

Eddie scoffed, shaking his head. “Oh, come on. What kind of guy actually does that in real life? Stands outside someone’s window blasting music like a one-man concert?” He paused, his grin turning playful. “If I liked a girl, I’d at least write her a song or something, not just steal a track off the radio.”

“Wow, how original,” she shot back with a smirk. “A whole song? That’s so much cooler than Lloyd Dobler holding up a boombox.”

Eddie leaned forward, elbows on his knees, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Admit it, Angel—you’d totally swoon if a guy did that for you. The letter-writing, the boombox, the whole deal.”

She sighed dramatically, pressing the pillow to her chest. “Lloyd Dobler is the perfect guy. He’s sweet, thoughtful, and knows exactly what he wants. Who wouldn’t want someone like that?”

Eddie chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah, okay. Perfect guy. Sure. But you’d be bored stiff after two weeks with him.”

Her jaw dropped. “Excuse me?!”

“Admit it,” Eddie teased. “You’d miss the fun of someone who actually knows how to keep you on your toes. Lloyd’s all grand gestures and deep talks, but where’s the chaos? The unpredictability?”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “You mean the kind of chaos you bring? Let me guess you’re more of a Fast Times at Ridgemont High guy.”

“That’s harsh,” Eddie said, catching the pillow she threw at him. “But accurate.” He grinned, leaning back into the couch. “Give me Spicoli over Lloyd Dobler any day. At least he knows how to have a good time.”

Shaking her head, she stood up and started gathering the empty snack bowls. “Yeah, that tracks. You’d be too busy making fun of everything to appreciate a real romantic gesture.”

Eddie wandered over to her record collection, his attention snagged by the neatly stacked vinyl. “Alright, now let’s see if your taste in music makes up for your questionable taste in movies.”

“Questionable?” she called over her shoulder, shooting him a look. “Says the guy who probably listens to nothing but screaming guitars.”

“Not just screaming guitars,” Eddie shot back, flipping through the records. He pulled one out, holding it up with a raised eyebrow. “Ah, ABBA. Dancing Queen. A true masterpiece.”

She snorted, crossing her arms. “Mock it all you want, but ABBA’s timeless.”

Eddie held up his hands in surrender. “Hey, don’t get me wrong. I can get down to ABBA.”

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Wait, seriously?”

“Sure,” he admitted, smirking. “I just like seeing how mad I can make you.”

“You’re impossible,” she said, rolling her eyes but unable to hide her grin.

Before she could respond further, the crackle of the radio interrupted them, followed by a stern announcement from the weather service.

"Weather alert: A severe snowstorm is expected to hit the area tonight. Please Stay indoors and avoid unnecessary travel until further notice."

She raised an eyebrow, lips curling into a mischievous smile. “Looks like you’re stuck here, Eddie.”

Eddie straightened up, raising an eyebrow in mock disbelief. “Stuck? What do you mean? You invited me over on purpose, knowing this would happen. You wanted me to sleep over!”

Oh god, is he actually onto me? I mean, I didn’t plan for a snowstorm, but I’m not exactly upset it’s keeping him here longer. I can’t even deny that I might have... hoped for this. He’s probably just messing around.

She laughed, feeling the flush creep onto her cheeks. “It’s not like I planned for a snowstorm. Do you really think I can control the weather?”

Eddie leaned in, his grin widening. “So, you’ve got me stuck here with a snowstorm raging outside. I think that was your plan all along, sweetheart?”

She smirked, raising an eyebrow. “What? Do you think I invited you over just for the snow? Maybe I just like your company,” she teased, trying to sound casual.

Eddie's smile softened “You know I like your company too. I’m glad to be stuck here with you. Better than being by myself in my tin can.” 

She chuckled, glancing at the window where snowflakes were already swirling around. “As long as you don't hog all the covers we’ll be good Eds” 

Wait, what? Did she just—? Eddie’s thoughts raced. Did she really just say that? Does she want me to—sleep in her bed? Does she mean it? Or am I overthinking it? This is it. This is the moment. Don’t freak out, just stay cool, Munson. It’s just a bed.

Eddie’s grin faded for a moment, his eyes narrowing in curiosity. “Wait, so… do you want me to sleep in your bed with you?” he asked, a little taken aback by the suggestion. You have never crossed that line before, and the thought seemed to catch him off guard.

Her cheeks flushed with heat, but she shrugged it off, doing her best to play it cool. “I didn’t say anything about that,” she said, trying to sound casual, but there was a spark of something in her eyes. “I just meant, don’t hog the blankets if you’re sticking around.”

Eddie’s heart skipped a beat, and he couldn’t stop the grin that spread across his face. Oh, she definitely wants me in that bed. It’s in her eyes—she’s trying to act like she’s not into it, but I can tell. His pulse quickened as his mind raced. Okay, play it cool, Munson. Don’t give her the satisfaction of seeing how much I want this.

He leaned back slightly, glancing from her to the bed, pretending to give it a second thought. “Oh, I’m staying. No way am I braving that snowstorm just to freeze in my van.” His voice was smooth, but his thoughts were anything but. She’s giving me an opening. She’s letting me stay in her bed. I mean, she has to know how badly I want this. It’s all there, right? The way she said it, the way she looked at me…

She tried to hide the smirk tugging at her lips, but the playful gleam in her eyes didn’t quite match the nonchalance in her tone. “Relax, Eddie. It’s not like I’m asking you to stay forever.” She paused for a beat, her voice dropping into something just a little quieter, more teasing. “I’m just saying… share the blankets.”

Eddie’s grin widened, a thrill running through him. She’s giving me a chance here. She’s being coy, but I know what she’s doing. His mind spun with the possibility of what might come next. This is it. No turning back now.

“Well, in that case,” Eddie said, his voice low and teasing, “I guess I can handle a little blanket sharing. Not like I’ve got a choice now.”

Her lips fought a smile curving up slightly, “It's getting late, are you almost ready for bed?” 

Eddie let out a dramatic sigh as he tugged at the waistband of his jeans, giving her a playful look. God, this feels ridiculous. But seriously, I can't stop thinking about how she’s letting me stay here. In her bed. With her. This is actually happening, right?

He glanced over at her as she laughed, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “Guess I didn’t plan for the full-on ‘cozy night in,” Eddie said, a smirk tugging at his lips as he stood up, rolling his shoulders before making a dramatic show of pulling at the jeans again. Come on, play it cool. He caught her eye and winked, trying to act like it was all just casual fun, but inside, he was definitely feeling more than just the weight of the jeans. 

She shot him a teasing look. "What? You think those are uncomfortable? You really picked the tightest pair of jeans for a cozy snowed-in night?" she laughed, trying to hold back her smile. "You’re not gonna survive the storm in those."

Eddie glanced down at his jeans in exaggerated dismay. "You think these are the pants of misery?" He sighed dramatically. "Alright, you’ve got me. It’s either freedom of movement or... well, whatever this is."

She couldn’t help but laugh. "Exactly. You need something comfier if you’re planning to sleep." She casually walked over to her closet, pulling it open with a little shrug. "I don’t exactly have a ton of comfy options, though."

Eddie raised an eyebrow, half in jest, half in anticipation. "No sweatpants? Really?"

She turned back toward him with a smirk. "Sorry, not my style. But..." She paused, eyes glinting mischievously. "You could always just sleep in your underwear. No judgment."

Eddie froze for a second. His heart raced. Did she—? Did she just say that? He quickly suppressed the thought, but his mind couldn’t help but wander. "Oh, really? I’m free to just—" He cleared his throat, trying to play it cool. "Well, guess I don’t have much choice, huh?"

What if she’s serious? Eddie thought, his mind working overtime. She definitely wouldn’t suggest it unless she wanted me to, right?

She chuckled softly, glancing at him over her shoulder, amused by his reaction. She continued rummaging through her clothes, her heart skipping just a little bit at the thought of him actually following through. Does he know how hot he’d look in just his underwear? she thought, trying to focus on her task and not the fact that her imagination was already running wild. This is normal. I’m being normal about this. He’s not making a big deal of it. Neither should I.

"Guess that’s the only option," Eddie said, trying to play it off with a smirk, but inwardly, his excitement was building. Holy shit, she just gave me the green light...

She pulled a soft, cotton nightgown from the closet, holding it up to show Eddie. "This is what I’ll wear," she said, casually tossing it on the bed. It was simple, yet elegant—a soft blue nightgown that looked like it could almost flow if she twirled. 

Eddie’s breath hitched. His eyes flickered to her, then quickly down to the nightgown, his mind a little too distracted by the thought of seeing her in it. Oh my god, she looks amazing, even holding that thing up like it’s no big deal... He quickly pushed the thought aside, but his heart skipped a beat. "Nice," he said, a little too quickly. "That’s definitely fancier than my—well, my underwear."

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress a smile. Fancier? I’m just trying to be comfortable… but wow, he actually noticed. "Yeah, well, you’ll be fine in your own boxers," she said with a teasing smile. "Just get comfortable, Munson."

Eddie, still a little distracted by the sight of her in the nightgown, smiled and gave her a nod. God, I can’t wait to see her wear that.

"Alright, alright," Eddie said, his voice a little huskier than usual. "I’m gonna go change. Don’t worry, I’m making myself comfortable." As he walked off toward the bathroom, Eddie’s heart still pounded in his chest, anticipation hanging in the air like a sweet tension neither of them fully acknowledged—yet both could feel.

Her mind was already drifting, imagining him in just his boxers, stretching out on her bed, and her pulse quickened. This is gonna be a very interesting night.

As Eddie stepped into the bathroom, he quickly closed the door behind him, leaning against it for a moment to steady himself. His heart was still racing, a nervous excitement buzzing under his skin. Okay, Munson, you’ve got this. Just wash your face, get your shit together, and don’t act like a total idiot when you get back. He splashed some of her fancy cleanser onto his hands, massaging it into his face as he stared at himself in the mirror. Is this really happening? 

He shook his head, trying to clear the thoughts swirling in his mind. Of course, it’s happening. She’s not gonna make me sleep in a freezing room. She offered it. Don’t freak out. Just play it cool. Don’t act like this is the first time a pretty girl has said you can crash in her bed, even though it is.

In her room, She stood in front of her mirror, gently brushing out her hair, the rhythmic motion soothing her nerves. Her thoughts, however, were anything but calm. I can’t believe I just said that. Did I really just casually suggest he could sleep in his underwear? 

She paused, catching her reflection in the mirror and giving herself a brief, amused glance. He’s here. I want him here. And this feels like... well, like something I’ve been hoping would happen.

She glanced down at the nightgown she’d slipped into, a soft cotton fabric that barely brushed her knees, the cool blue color feeling delicate against her skin. It’s just a nightgown, she reminded herself, but the flutter in her chest said otherwise. No big deal, right?

She tugged at the short frilly sleeves, smoothing them down, feeling her pulse quicken just thinking about Eddie returning.

Eddie stepped out of the bathroom, still drying his hands on a towel, but the moment he saw her, he stopped cold. She stood by the mirror, brushing her hair with slow, deliberate strokes, and the sight of her hit him like a truck.

God, she’s gorgeous. Like something out of a dream. She doesn’t even know what she’s doing to me right now.

She glanced over at him, catching his reflection in the mirror before turning to face him fully. “Hey,” she said, her voice light but carrying an undertone of something... softer.

Eddie cleared his throat, trying not to visibly gawk. He leaned casually against the doorframe, forcing a grin that he hoped didn’t look as shaky as he felt. “Well,” he said, his voice low and teasing, “looks like your pajamas win. Just my boxers can’t compete with... that.”

Her cheeks turned pink, but she held his gaze, her lips curling into a playful smile. “Guess I have better taste than you, Munson,” she teased, her confidence surprising even herself. But inside she was static. She looked him up and down 

Eddie chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck as he tried to steady himself. “Yeah, well, if I’d known the competition was gonna be this stiff, I might’ve brought backup.”

She rolled her eyes, turning back to the mirror to set down her brush, but her smile lingered. Meanwhile, Eddie hesitated in the doorway, the playful smirk on his face betraying the nervous energy coursing through him. He rubbed his palms against the sides of his thighs and glanced at her, casually—but not really—trying to figure out his next move. He hadn’t been this nervous in ages.

“Alright, Angel,” he started, his voice carrying a teasing lilt, “what side of the bed am I claiming? Or are we flipping a coin for it?”

She laughed softly, turning from the mirror to face him fully. Her heart skipped at the sight of him standing there in just his boxers, his usual confidence somehow making the simple gesture of leaning against the frame look ridiculously attractive.

“The left,” she said, gesturing toward the bed. “That’s usually my side, but I’ll let you have it tonight.”

Eddie arched an eyebrow. “Oh, you’re giving up your side? That’s a big deal, Angel. I hope you know I don’t take this responsibility lightly.”

She rolled her eyes, climbing onto the bed and sliding under the covers. “You’re so dramatic,” she teased, fluffing her pillow. “But seriously, the left side is all yours.”

Eddie crossed the room and plopped onto the mattress, testing it out with exaggerated bounces. “Alright, not bad. Better than my van. You’ve got some luxury here.” He turned his head, flashing her a grin. “You sure about this, though? Sharing a bed with a wild card like me? I toss, turn, and talk in my sleep this could be dangerous.”

She smirked, pulling the blanket up to her chest. “I think I can handle it. Just don’t hog all the covers, and we’ll be fine.” He grinned, settling in as he tugged the blanket over himself. His bare arm brushed hers, and she couldn’t help but notice how warm his skin felt. A human furnace, for sure. The thought made her heart flutter.

As she lay there, Angel felt a rush of excited nerves spiraling through her. Eddie settled in beside her, and the small space between them felt charged with an energy she’d never experienced before. She glanced sideways, her breath catching in her throat as her eyes landed on his bare chest, perfectly defined and adorned in tattoos.

Holy hell, he looks good. She couldn’t help the warmth flooding her cheeks at the thought. 

Her heart raced as she shifted slightly, the sheets brushing against her skin. Seeing him in just his boxers made her pulse quicken in a way that had heat pooling low in her belly. 

This is Eddie. My friend Eddie. And here we are, sharing a bed like it’s the most normal thing in the world. Her mind raced with sudden images of what it would be like to lean in closer, to wrap her arms around him and feel every taut muscle under her touch. Just the idea made her core dampen in excitement.

 Is this really happening? Am I really lying here with him?

Eddie, on the other hand, was fighting his own wave of exhilaration. Being this close to her felt electric; her warmth, the soft scent of her hair, the way the sheets curled around her body. Everything was overwhelming in the best way. The moment he’d seen her in that nightgown, he felt a jolt of something primal, something he couldn’t quite place. She looks so beautiful, so inviting. He couldn’t take his eyes off her as they sat in the dim light, the soft shadows playing across her features. 

“Hey, you cold?” he asked. He could feel the way she shivered slightly, her skin just brushing against his arm. He had to suppress the warmth crawling through him at the thought of pulling her closer. “You know, if you need to, I could always offer my cuddling services,” he said, smirking as he waggled his eyebrows playfully. “I can be a professional snuggler. Consider it my personal mission to keep you warm tonight.”

Her pulse quickened at the suggestion. “Oh, really?” she replied, trying to sound casual. But inside, she was a flurry of thoughts, battling between wanting to take him up on it and pretending she was completely unaffected. “You think you can handle my cold touch?” 

Eddie laughed, the sound making her heart flutter again. “Trust me, Angel, by the end of the night, you’ll be the one begging for my warmth. Just you wait,” he said confidently. But his heart raced at the thought. This is it. She wants my warmth. She wants me to hold her. “Come on let me hold you, it’s a snowstorm out there; how can I let you freeze while I’m all toasty over here?” 

Angel could feel her cheeks heat at his words, excitement rushing through her like electricity. The way he said ‘hold you’ sent her mind spinning, and she wrestled with the desire to lay her head against his chest and feel his arms wrapped around her. Why does he have to make this so tantalizing? 

With a soft grin, she placed her head on the pillow directly next to him, inching closer. “Alright, snuggler, show me just how good you are at this.” Her voice came out a whisper, playful but carrying an undercurrent of sincerity that made Eddie's breath hitch.

He grinned, moving slightly closer, daring to let his bare skin make contact with hers. The warmth radiating from her felt amazing, and he could feel how beautifully soft she was against him. “Brace yourself,” he said, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. “It’s about to get extra cozy in here.” He shifted, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her gently nearer, feeling her warmth seep into him. 

Angel melted into him, the softness of his body against hers sending a thrill through her. His heartbeat was steady and comforting, a rapid drum against hers. As his arm encircled her, she felt the tension slip from her body, replaced by the undeniable warmth of being so close to someone she’d grown attached to in ways she could never have anticipated. 

Eddie’s heart raced as he pulled her snugly against him, the heat radiating off her making his insides swirl. This is better than I ever could’ve imagined. The way she fit against him felt so right. He could hear the slight hitch in her breath, and it made the adrenaline rush through him even more. She’s here. Holding me, feeling this. “See?” he murmured, a satisfied grin on his face. “Told you I’d keep you warm.” But inside, he was screaming in delight. The way her body felt against his was overwhelming, and he tried to focus on holding it together. Don’t screw this up, Munson. Just enjoy this moment.

Her heart raced as she heard the thud of his laying so close in the dark. “Mmm Eddie you’re so warm. You feel so strong.” 

 Eddie felt a rush of warmth flood through him at her words, a grin spreading across his face. The way she nestled against him, gripping onto his arm like he was her lifeline, sent a thrill racing straight to his core. He could feel her breath tickle against his skin, and it was like he was on fire, mesmerized by how close they were.  “Yeah, well,” he said, his voice playful, yet laced with a newfound vulnerability, “I’ve got to keep you warm somehow.” As she snuggled closer, her cheek brushing against his, he fought to keep it together, even as butterflies erupted in his stomach. “Strong, huh?” he continued, tilting his head slightly to look at her, the proximity making it impossible for him to hold back the urge to lean in. “You sure you’re not just saying that to get me to flex or something?”

“Mmm, I might just need a demonstration,” she teased, giving his arm a playful squeeze. Her voice was light, but it belied the undercurrent of affection she felt for him. Being this close felt so natural, so electric, and she reveled in the warmth of his body. Something about the intimacy of the moment made her heart race; it was as if every inch of her was hyper-aware of his presence.

Eddie couldn't help but chuckle. “Oh, trust me, if it were flexing you wanted, I could definitely show you that,” he said, a hint of sarcasm dancing in his tone. “But for now, I think I’ll just let my warmth do the talking.” He shifted slightly, turning to face her more fully, allowing her to press against him as he wrapped his other arm around her. As he pulled her closer, he marveled at how it felt to hold her. Her body molded perfectly against his, the curve of her shoulder snug against his chest. She fit as if she were meant to be there.

“Better?” he asked softly, letting his cheek rest against her hair, inhaling the faint scent of her shampoo that was sweet with coconut and cherries—something that felt both invigorating and calming at once.

“Much better,” she murmured, a smile playing on her lips. “You really are the best at this, Eddie.” 

Eddie’s heart swelled. The way she spoke made it sound like he was achieving some kind of monumental feat, like being a master cuddler was a serious accomplishment. He tightened his grip around her, letting his fingers caress her shoulder lightly, the intimacy of it making him feel both bold and protective.

“Glad I could impress you,” he joked softly, trying to maintain a light tone while the weight of the moment pressed in around them. He couldn’t shake the feeling that everything was changing in that instant, their friendship evolving into something deeper, something undeniably thrilling. “You know, after this, I might get a bigger ego,” he added with a laugh, but his eyes held a sincerity that belied the humor. 

As she snuggled closer, burying her face against his neck, he couldn’t help but feel utterly captivated. “You’re too humble for your own good, Eddie,” she whispered, her breath warm against his skin, igniting a spark of something unnameable within him. It was a simple gesture, yet it unraveled him in ways he could never have anticipated. 

For him, the boundaries they’d once tiptoed around began to blur, and as he held her tightly, he realized that he never wanted to let her go. “Just don’t forget it” 

“How could I ever forget you Eddie? You're all I think about.” 

Eddie’s heart hammered against his ribcage, a rapid tempo that mirrored the storm brewing outside. She was right in front of him, a vision of confidence and desire, and he wanted her more than he could articulate. But even as he leaned in to kiss her, there was a subtle tremor in his hands, a physical manifestation of the anxiety swirling in his chest.

“Are you serious?” he asked, the words escaping his lips with a breathless urgency. Doubts flickered in his mind, but her gaze was unwavering, fiery, and absolute.

“Dead serious,” she replied, her voice sultry and sure.

Eddie's heart was still racing as she leaned in, her lips brushing against his in a soft, gentle kiss. He pulled back slightly, his eyes locking onto hers in surprise. "What are you doing?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

She smiled and replied, "I'm kissing you," before leaning in again. This time, the kiss was deeper, more intimate. Eddie felt a shiver run down his spine as her lips met his once more. He kissed her back, his lips moving tentatively at first, but as the moment deepened, he found himself getting lost in the sensation.

As they kissed, Eddie's initial uncertainty gave way to a growing sense of desire. His touches became bolder, exploring the curves of her body. He wrapped his arms around her, drawing her closer as their lips moved together in perfect sync. The fears and doubts that had plagued him just moments before began to melt away, replaced by a sense of excitement and anticipation.

As they devoured each other's lips, their hands began to wander, seeking out the curves and contours of each other's bodies. She reached for him, her fingers tracing around his hips, teasing the hem of his boxers with a tantalizing slowness. Meanwhile, his hands glided up her thigh, slowly inching her nightgown upward, exposing the silky smooth skin beneath.

His fingers danced across her butt, tracing the rounded shape with a gentle reverence. The touch sent shivers down her spine, and she responded by tightening her grip on his hips, her thumbs dipping beneath the waistband of his boxers to tease the sensitive skin beneath. Eddie's hands continued their exploration, slowly creeping up under her nightgown to tease at her sides. His fingertips grazed her skin, sending sparks of desire through her body. Finally, he found what he was searching for - her breasts - and he squeezed them gently, feeling their softness and weight in his palms. Her nipples hardened beneath his touch, and she moaned into his mouth as he caressed her. His thumbs began to circle her nipples, teasing them into tight buds as he squeezed and released her breasts in a gentle rhythm. The sensation was almost too much to bear, and she felt herself melting into his touch, her body arching into his hands as she begged for more. Just as it seemed like they were going to combust from the intensity of their passion, Eddie broke away from the kiss, his eyes locking onto hers with a hungry gaze. "Can I take this off?" he asked, his voice low and husky as he tugged gently on the hem of her nightgown. The question hung in the air like a challenge, waiting for her response as they both stood there panting with anticipation.

As she spoke the words, her voice was a sultry whisper, dripping with desire and submission. "You can do whatever you want to me, Eddie," she breathed, her eyes locked on him with a fierce intensity. The phrase was a dare, a challenge, and a promise all rolled into one, and it sent a shiver of excitement down Eddie's spine.

"I want you," he growled, his voice low and husky with need. "I want all of you." The fabric whispered against her skin as it rose higher and higher, exposing her curves and contours to Eddie's hungry gaze. He watched, mesmerized, as her breasts were revealed, followed by the gentle slope of her stomach and the curve of her hips. Finally, the nightgown was pulled over her head and discarded. 

Eddie's eyes drinking in the beauty of her body. He felt his desire surge to new heights as he gazed at her, his hands itching to touch and explore every inch of her skin. "You're so beautiful," he whispered, his words barely audible over the sound of their ragged breathing.

As Eddie's eyes continued to drink in the beauty of her body, she began to squirm with anticipation, her skin tingling with desire. "Touch me," she whispered, her voice a desperate plea. "Please, Eddie, touch me."

Eddie's hands hovered over her skin, his fingers twitching with restraint. He wanted to touch her, to explore every inch of her body, but he was hesitant to take the next step. He didn't want to do anything that might make her uncomfortable.

"Touch me," she begged again, her voice growing more urgent. "I want to feel your hands on me."

Eddie's eyes met hers, searching for guidance. "How?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

She smiled, a sly smile that sent shivers down his spine. "Pull my panties down," she whispered.

Eddie's hands trembled as he reached for the waistband of her panties. He slowly pulled them down, exposing the soft skin beneath. She lifted, allowing him to slide the panties down her leg and discard them.

As soon as she was naked before him, she reached out and took his hand in hers. She guided it between her legs, placing his fingers against the soft folds of her skin. "Rub me here," she whispered, showing him how to gently circle his fingers around her clit.

Eddie watched in awe as she demonstrated how much pressure to apply, how fast or slow to move his fingers. She gasped with pleasure as he followed her instructions, his fingers dancing across her skin in a gentle rhythm.

As they laid there together, lost in the sensation of their bodies touching, she reached out and took Eddie's other hand in hers. She guided it between her legs once again, this time taking two of his fingers and placing them at the entrance of her opening.

"You can put them inside me," she whispered, looking up at him with eyes that were dark with desire.

Eddie hesitated for a moment before gently pushing his fingers into her body. As they slid inside of her warm flesh ,she let out a moan of pleasure and wrapped herself tightly around him . As Eddie's fingers slid deeper into her, she began to rock her hips back and forth, her body trembling with pleasure. He watched in awe as she moved against him, her eyes closed in ecstasy.

"More," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of their ragged breathing. "I want more."

He looked up at her, his eyes wide with wonder. His fingers are still figuring out a rhythm "You like that?" he asked breathlessly. 

Angel nodded, her hips moving against his hand. “Yes Eddie, feels good, keep going," she urged, her voice husky with need. But then she saw the confusion in his eyes and realized he wasn't sure what to do next. So she took matters into her own hands, reaching down and guiding him inside her.

Eddie groaned at the feeling of his fingers being enveloped by her warmth. God it's so tight. I hope I'm not hurting her. I'm gonna try curling my fingers. 

He started to move, slow at first, not wanting to hurt her. But as she began to respond, her moans growing louder, he found his rhythm. “You sound so pretty for me sweetheart”

Hearing how desperate and hot Eddie sounded was almost too much. “Eddie please... feels good”

"So wet," he murmured. His fingers curled slightly, mimicking the action he'd take once inside her. "You're so tight and warm."

Angel whimpered, already aching for his touch. She wanted him to make her feel even better than her own hand could. "Faster," she begged breathlessly. "I need it."

"Mmm you’re so hot," Eddie replied, his words filled with desire. He sped up sliding two fingers between her folds, eliciting a gasp from her lips. "So slippery and soft," he praised, his voice barely above a whisper. His finger began to pump in and out of her, the friction causing her clit to pulse. Her hips started to move on their own, seeking more pressure. 

Angel reached down and wrapped her hand around his wrist, slowing him down. Grinding down on his fingers. “Focus on my clit and just tease my opening eds. Please. It feels so good”

Eddie listened, quickly pumping his fingers inside her and using the other to rub her clit, “Like that?” he huffed out.

Angel’s head fell back and her moans filled the room. “Oh! Eddie Yes! Just like that. Please. Please. I’m gonna cum.” Angel’s body arched off the bed as Eddie's thumb rubbed hard circles her clit while his fingers continued to tease her swollen entrance. The sensation was enough to send a powerful wave of pleasure through her entire being. She could feel her orgasm building, growing stronger with each flick and slide of his fingers. "Yes! Oh god, yes!" she cried out, her voice thick with desire.

Eddie smiled, watching her reaction, and continued to pleasure her exactly how she asked. He followed into her reactions learning just how to push her to the edge, making her writhe beneath him. His thumb danced across her sensitive nub, while his fingers played at her opening, torturously not giving her what she craved, but driving her wild with need all the same.

"Cum on my fingers, Angel," he whispered, his voice low and seductive.

She let out a strangled moan, her hips bucking against his hand. "I... I'm so close," she panted, her nails digging into his arm. Her whole body felt like it was on fire, every nerve ending screaming for release.

"That's it, baby, don't hold back," he encouraged, increasing the pressure on her clit. "Let go. I've got you."

With a final flick, he sent her over the edge. Her back arched a silent scream leaving her lips as pure bliss exploded through her. Her walls fluttered around his fingers, pulsing in rhythmic waves as she rode out her climax.

As Eddie watched Angel's face contort in ecstasy, he couldn't help but get lost in the sight of her. She looked like a beautiful goddess, her body writhing and shaking as her internal muscles gripped his fingers. The feeling was unlike anything he'd ever experienced before, completely addictive.

Angel finally fell back onto the bed, panting heavily. Eddie could see how worked up she still was, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she caught her breath. He couldn't take his eyes off her, drinking in the sight of her flushed skin and messy hair.

"Wow, that was something else," he said softly, still lost in thought. 

Angel smiled at him, a warm and inviting expression that seemed to light up her entire face. 

"It was incredible," she agreed, her voice barely above a whisper. "You have some skills, Eddie."

He winked at her playfully. "I'm glad my technique is improving." 

Angel let out a soft laugh and reached for him, pulling him down into a deep kiss. Their tongues danced together, tasting and exploring each other's mouths. Eddie could feel his arousal growing with each passing second, his cock hardening and pressing against her thigh.

When they finally broke apart, Angel looked down between them, her eyes widening as she took in the sizable bulge straining against Eddie's boxers. She licked her lips hungrily, a mischievous glint in her eye.

"I think it's time I returned the favor," she purred, her hand sliding over to palm his erection through the thin fabric. "I want to make sure you feel good to Eds. I want to feel your cock in mouth."

Eddie gasped in surprise at her bold words, his eyes widening as he took in the sultry look on her face. He'd never heard Angel talk so dirty before, and it sent a shiver down his spine. The combination of her sweet, innocent demeanor and these naughty, filthy words falling from her lips was intoxicating.

"God, Angel," he panted, his voice strained with desire. "You keep talking like that and I might just explode before you even get started."

She smirked up at him, enjoying the effect she was having. "Is that a challenge?" she teased, her fingers tracing the outline of his cock through his boxers.

Eddie shuddered, feeling himself throb under her touch. "It might be," he admitted, his breathing growing heavier by the second.

Angel didn't waste any more time. She tugged his boxers down, his aching cock springing free. It was thick with a pink tip glistening from all the precum. 

Eddie watched, mesmerized, as Angel wrapped her hand around his length, her hands made him look so big he thought.

She gave him a gentle squeeze, then stroked him upward, her palm gliding over the smooth skin. The sensation was incredible, sending ripples of pleasure through his entire body. 

"Ah, yes," she whispered, her voice husky and full of promise. "This is what I'm talking about."

With that, she leaned forward, her mouth opening to take him in. Eddie felt a jolt of electricity run through him as her lips closed around the head of his cock, the warmth and wetness enveloping him like a dream. He was lost in the sensation, his hips bucking reflexively into her mouth.

Angel moaned softly, the vibrations running up his shaft and making his balls tingle. She began to move her head in a slow, sensual rhythm, her tongue darting out to taste him.

"Holy fuck, Angel," Eddie groaned, his hands coming up to tangle in her hair. "Your mouth feels amazing." He could hardly believe this was happening, that the sweet girl he'd known was now on her knees in front of him, sucking his cock like a pro. The sight alone was almost enough to make him cum right then and there.

"Look at you," he panted, his voice rough with lust. "You’re so fucking sexy, taking my dick like that. You like it, don't you? Like having me in your pretty little mouth." he whimpered out desperately.It was obvious he was losing himself in the pleasure and babbling nonsense. 

Angel hummed in response, the sound sending shivers down his spine. She picked up the pace, her head bobbing faster as she took him deeper. Her cheeks hollowed with the effort, creating a delicious suction that made Eddie's toes curl.

"Damn, sweetheart, you're going to make me cum if you keep doing that," he warned, his breath hitching. "But I don't want it to end yet."

She pulled away, leaving a trail of saliva connecting her lips to the tip of his cock. "Then maybe we should try something different," she suggested, a sly smile playing on her lips. "

Angel laid down on the mattress, “C’mere Eds”

Eddie was excited but also nervous, some of his confidence from just a second ago leaving him, he placed himself between her legs, hovering over her and leaned down to kiss her on the head.  “Tell me if it hurts or if I do something wrong.” she nodded.

He reached between their bodies and grasped himself, pumping it in his hand a few times, lining it up with her opening. He rubbed circles around her opening with his tip. This made her moan, then with a gentle push he inched into her slowly wet heat. She felt tight and silky smooth around him, her inner muscles clutching at him as he filled her completely.  Angel’s breath quickened as Eddie’s movements intensified. Each thrust sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through her body, stoking the fire within her.  "Faster," she gasped, arching her hips to meet his. "Don't hold back."

Eddie growled low in his throat, picking up the pace. The room filled with the sound of their heavy breathing and skin slapping against skin. Sweat glistened on their bodies as they writhed together, lost in the throes of passion.

Angel wrapped her legs around Eddie’s waist, urging him deeper inside her. She could feel every ridge and vein of his hard length stretching her, filling her completely. The pressure was delicious, teetering on the edge of pain and pleasure.

"Eddie!" she cried out, feeling herself nearly there. With one final thrust, she exploded in a powerful orgasm, her body shuddering beneath him.

"Oh my God, Angel," he panted, his eyes closing briefly as pleasure washed over him. "You feel so fucking good."

Eddie groaned deeply, the sound muffled by her neck where he buried his face. His body tensed and shuddered as he followed her over the edge, he pulled out, spilling himself onto her stomach. 

Both panting heavily as they tried to catch their breath. Slowly, reality seeped back in - the feeling of sweat cooling on their skin, the scent of sex thick in the air. He pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. Then laid beside her. As their bodies slowly relaxed after the moment they had just shared, Eddie's body trembled unexpectedly. It started with a slight shiver, then gradually grew more pronounced, his muscles involuntarily twitching. His chest heaved as he tried to steady his breathing, but something about the vulnerability of the moment made his whole body shake.

Angel noticed immediately, her brows furrowing in concern. "What’s wrong Eddie, you're shaking?" she asked softly, her voice laced with a tenderness that matched the care in her eyes.

Eddie didn’t respond at first, his body still shivering, his fingers curling against the bed. He tried to hide it with a forced laugh, but it came out shaky. "I….I don’t know ." 

Without hesitation, Angel pulled him closer, her hand gently rubbing his back in soothing circles. She kissed his shoulder lightly, her voice full of reassurance. "You don’t have to be tough with me, Eddie. It's okay to feel... whatever you're feeling."

Eddie let out a shaky breath, his body still trembling in her arms. He swallowed hard, trying to find the words, but his voice was a little off like he couldn't quite gather his thoughts. "I don’t know what’s happening. It's like... my body’s just freaking out."

Angel continued to hold him, her hands tracing his skin with a comforting rhythm. "It's okay," she whispered again, her voice soft as she pulled him even closer, her warmth radiating against his. "It’s normal, you’re safe. I’m here."

He clung to her, the tremors beginning to slow, his breathing finding some steadiness as she whispered words of comfort. Eventually, the shaking stopped, and he exhaled deeply, the weight of everything finally sinking in.

"I just like you so much," he murmured again, but this time, there was a deeper sincerity in his tone. "I... I don’t know what I’d do without you."

Angel smiled softly, her hand brushing the damp hair away from his forehead. "You don’t have to know," she said gently. "I’m right here, I’m with you Eddie."

As Eddie’s breathing finally steadied, a crooked grin crept onto his face, though his cheeks still carried a faint flush. He looked at Angel, his eyes warm and glinting with mischief.

 "You know," he said, his voice still a little shaky but laced with humor, "when the snow clears, I think I need to head to the post office."

Angel blinked, confused for only a split second before realization dawned on her. She narrowed her eyes, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. "You’re not seriously talking about sending me a letter like Lloyd Dobler, are you?"

Eddie chuckled, the grin spreading wider as he tilted his head back against the pillow. "Busted," he admitted, the laughter in his voice easing the last bit of tension lingering in the room. "But hey, if it worked for Lloyd..."

Angel rolled her eyes, though she couldn’t suppress the smile that followed. "You’re ridiculous," she teased, nudging him lightly. "Do you even know what you’d write in that letter?"

He shrugged, a mock-serious expression crossing his face. "Something profound. Like, ‘You’re amazing, and I’ll stand outside your window with a boombox any day.’"

She laughed, the sound bright and genuine as she leaned into him. "Oh, you’re full of it," she said, shaking her head fondly. "But you know what? I wouldn’t mind getting a letter like that."

Eddie’s grin softened into something more tender as he looked at her, his hand brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. "Noted," he said, his voice low. "But I think I’ll stick to telling you in person. Feels more... us."

Angel’s smile widened, and she rested her head against his chest again, listening to the steady beat of his heart. "That’s perfect," she whispered, her fingers lightly tracing patterns on his skin. "Just don’t expect me to buy you a boombox."

Eddie laughed, the sound rumbling through his chest. "Deal," he said, holding her tighter.

Thanks so much for reading! Let me know what you think in the comments/tags

[beelanddiavolosimp-blog]

Can you write about what the brothers would say about mc pegging them? 😌 Like mc asks and what would happen if the brother said yes?

Ohhh yes I've been waiting for a ask about this 😺

Brothers & side characters reaction to MC asking to peg them

Lucifer

Once the words came out of MC's mouth he looked at them horrified. "What?" He asks like MC just said something wrong on accident. Once he found out MC was serious he shut it down. "Absolutely not only I'm allowed to top " he huffs out. Though through some begging he does say maybe.

Mammon

He immediately turns red and yells out a "WHAT!?". After calming him down he then mumbles out "uh...maybe if yer nice about it..." Let's be honest he does want it and he doesn't want it nice

Levi

"E-EH!?" He immediately panics. Of course he knew what that was how could he not. He calmed down enough to speak and looks at MC with a red face and nervous trembly voice "I-I might agree t-to that..." He stutters out

Satan

His eyes widen and he sits there stunned for a moment. "Uh...what?" He says still shocked MC would ask such a thing. Once he finds out they are serious he blushes hard "....I might think about it okay. DO NOT SPREAD THIS AROUND" He states

Beel

Completely confusion. Once MC explains what it is he blushes. "Ah....I could try it ..I don't know how well it would work .." he says. He of course was willing to anything MC brought to the table

Belphie

He immediately glares at you but his face is red. "Are you serious MC?" He says bitterly. He kept being sassy before suddenly stating after some silence was left between the two "....maybe" and he storms off as MC has a sly grin on their face.

Diavolo

He blushes hard but laughs a bit nervously "c-come again MC?😃" He says. He eventually nods his head he's down for anything he's literally head over heels for MC completely. "It sounds exciting...I'll be willing to try it!"

Barb

He raises a brow and sets down his tea. "If you're serious about it then so am I" he says and looks MC dead in the eyes. He's not backing down from a challenge and also it's pleasing MC sooo

Solomon

His eyes widen "what-" he then laughs a bit thinking MC is joking. "Oh you're serious..." He then looks away then back at MC like he's contemplating something before sighing "I guess ...I'm willing to try it out" he says. He really doesn't know where this will go...

Simeon

His whole face heats up and he stutters out "W-What?" He knew exactly what that was because he's thought about it often. He does shyly nod after Mc responds again.

Meso

He immediately spits out his tea and starts coughing. He glares at MC with a red face "don't play with me you know I wouldn't enjoy that" he says and pouts turning away from MC. Great another bitch fit

Thriteen

Stares at MC and sighs "finally I was waiting forever" she suddenly says. She's been wanting MC to for a while now. "Everything is ready when you want to do it" she says oh so nonchalant.

Raphael

He looks at MC then sighs "I don't know what that means but I'm sure it has some sexual innuendo to it" he says and rubs his temple. After Mc explained his cheeks tinted a bit "well...its not as bad as I thought it would be" he says and MC perks up "I never said yes" he immediately chimed in shutting down MC. He does think about it though.

[xxplastic-cubexx]

now i aint ever had no one on the enemy team call me out.... lol ...... abysmal they say this right as the mvp screen pops up too.....

[spr1mkle]

a broken clock is right twice a day

happy 7-year anniversary to alternate reality show!!! one of my all-time fav ii episodes :)

bg + transparent under cut

[s0fter-sin]

what up i’ve been obsessed with would you fall in love with me again like every other person on the planet and i can’t stop thinking about penelope’s final verse

she’s so angry; angry that odysseus would dare to suggest that her love for him has faltered or his actions were enough to destroy it. she’s been waiting, working her fingers raw unweaving her shroud every night, not sleeping as the suitors camp inside her home; every day a threat to her and her son, to her kingdom if an unworthy man - and they are all unworthy - should take the throne. she knew they wouldn’t wait forever, that at some point her deception would be realised; her dedication to her husband means she is at constant risk and the first thing odysseus does when he sees her - if this even is him - is question her love for him?

the very first thing he says (other than her name) is, “i am not the man you fell in love with.” penelope asks him if it’s really him standing there or if she’s “dreaming once more”. once more. she’s felt the cruelty of hope before; has looked at her doorway and seen odysseus the same as when he left (which is probably partly why she’s so shocked by how he actually looks) and felt unfathomable pain when her hopes were dashed over and over again. she asks if he is really her odysseus and he says no

yes, in his mind, odysseus can’t see how he can deserve her love after everything he’s done - the atrocities he’s committed, to himself he isn’t the same man, “i see a man who gets to make it home alive, but it’s no longer you” - but all penelope hears is her husband, the man she loves and waited for, doubts the strength of her love

penelope asks what kind of things he’s done and it must be shocking to hear; his actions so different from the man who left her behind even if he did them in name of returning to her. but when she asks him to move the bed, it’s as much a challenge as it is a test. she’s asking him to prove that he is the monster he claims to be; that if he’s changed so much and become so heartless, he should have no qualms about ripping the symbol of their love from its roots. and it’s also her only way of actually determining if this man who claims to be her husband yet doesn’t take her in his arms, is actually him

“just a moment of labour would bring me some peace” - if he does what she asks, then she will know either he’s changed so much that he’s no longer her odysseus or he’s another fake and was never hers to begin with; that her husband didn’t just stand in front of her and claim she can’t love him as he is. but she’s done. she was already willing to die when she stood behind the twelve axes she challenged the suitors to shoot through. she’s so tired. she just wants it all to be over

“only my husband knew that, so i guess that makes him you” - i guess. even after telling her something only odysseus and her knew, penelope’s still not convinced that it’s truly him. how many men came to her door claiming to be her long lost husband, banking on time and distance to dull memory of his face and voice, on her longing and desperation for odysseus to blind her into believing them?

but if this is her husband? if the man she’s loved through decades of absence has finally returned to her?

“i will fall in love with you over and over again” - an exhausted promise, the core of who penelope is and how she feels; assuaging his doubts and his own clear pain

but

“no matter how long it’s been, you’re mine. don’t tell me you’re not the same person, you’re always my husband” - penelope is screaming at him; how dare odysseus say this to her? dismiss her love and her suffering? he saw the men outside, he’s smart enough to know what they were here for and instead of apologising for being gone for so long, instead of begging for forgiveness for inadvertently putting her and their son at risk, instead of embracing her and putting an end to her torment, odysseus doubts her

“and i’ve been waiting, waiting” - the tone shift of penelope screaming at him to lamenting how long she’s been waiting is heartbreaking; it’s quieter as she gets lost in the pain of her grief, her anger failing as she recalls the memories of her long years of solitude. odysseus tries to call her back with his gentle “penelope” - such a contrast to his own exhausted anger at being asked to destroy their marital bed now that he understands why she asked that of him - but she can’t hear him; she’s too trapped in the memories. he tries again, still gentle but more insistent, and this time she does hear him and her anger comes rushing back along with her grief. her “waiting, waiting,” becomes almost accusatory; she’s been alone for so long and it’s bc of him, bc he wasn’t there, bc he left her waiting

that abrupt “oh” at the end of the verse isn’t just a vocalisation; in that moment, she’s realising that she has realised that he truly is odysseus. she knew it was him before she even processed it. she wouldn’t be this angry if he were anyone else; love and grief and anger coalescing in one single divine moment where penelope finally believes her odysseus has returned to her

“for you” - she’s been waiting and waiting, years turning to dust, her sleepless nights and days spent living in fear and preemptive grief- and it was all for him. odysseus is actually here. which means her waiting is over

“how long has it been?”

“20 years”

“i- i love you”

[presiding]

AITA? the guys at the pub told me to find a woman because she's sleeping with my enemy but all i had was a picture of her ass that i extorted from a well-known pervert. he couldn't name her and i didn't recognise her ass so i gatecrashed a party. i narrowed it to 1 of the 3 hosts but they were basically the same woman, idk, i cant tell them apart. some guy in a mask told me he was in love with the woman i needed and would deal with everything, i just needed to get her into the basement. so i told her she was in danger and she followed me into the basement where i strangled her. i never got proof she was involved but i guess it doesnt matter cause i found the ass i was told to find. i told my daughter's governess and she went quiet but the guys at the pub clapped me on the back. AITA?

poetic justice in revenge games: what's with lady boyle's last party in dishonored (2012)

a longpost i'd prefer someone else made tbh

references at the end

—

where to start?

dishonored 2012 is a revenge game (tagline: "revenge solves everything" [see also dh2: take back whats yours]), where high/low chaos story outcomes represent different types of power fantasies for the intended younger male (1) core audience.

the story & level design

each dh1 level is designed around the concept of revenge. with Corvo as the player character, each betrayal he experiences in the story gives the player rationale to seek out a target for justice in each level.

"The difference between Dishonored and how it works in Half-Life 2 is that it's a lot more personal. I think you get that involvement because the character has personal relationships with people from the beginning. And it's very clear that people have fucked with you in a very personal way," [Austin Grossman] said. "I'm biased, of course, but I think Dishonored grips you much more viscerally, more emotionally." (2)

dishonored is a game about choice: between low or high chaos options, each level's story can justify your decision to kill or neutralise - (nb: this means each target must have done enough wrong to "deserve" death) - and each level design prioritises player decision-making/freedom.

a common misconception about dishonored 1 is that its a game about morality, or right and wrong, but i argue its not that deep (affectionate). the chaos system is more about your role in the city's ecosystem than a morality simulator - kill more people, rats feast, the plague gets worse and the city becomes more chaotic.

poetic justice

because dishonored is a revenge game, each level involves choosing a fate for your primary target/s that will feel like justice to you, the player.

while assassination is always an option, the ultimate goal for each level is to engineer a fitting end for your victim.

this ‘low chaos’ option is reinforced in two ways - if poetic justice isn’t fun enough on its own, the game also rewards you with achievements for choosing ‘nonlethal’ fates.

[sidebar: enough players gave feedback that they didn't enjoy the confusion of choosing the 'right' way to play, that this feedback loop was removed from dh2:doto and deathloop (3)(4)]

storywise, low chaos/nonlethal endings are designed to feel like poetic justice.

to achieve this, the target's neutralisation must be 1) uniquely tailored 2) to the deserving victim.

a common phrase you’ll see in the dh fandom communities is:

“the nonlethal fate was worse”

but if you inspect the villain's actions/planned actions there’s an aspect of scale. your decision to incapacitate a single person leads to countless lives improved, in addition to avenging their role in the character's downfall (see also: the central premise of game called dishonored). this aspect of scale in wrongdoing (eg. villains extend their villainy to not just the player but in-universe to many people) gives a feeling of heroism to acts that might otherwise feel cruel.

because this game is designed around catharsis in revenge, it's important that the player feels that their actions are both fitting and justified - generally in a “turnabout is fair play” sense. these actions may be cruel viewed without context, but they are justified in terms of scale - this game isn't about being moral, or following the law, it's about revenge.

dishonored examples of poetic justice:

campbell branded a heretic and cast out because his power came from weaponising Overseer beliefs & systems

delilah trapped in the paintings she planned to capture a child in.

sokolov who trapped civilians for experimentation, was trapped in an animal cage

each villain demonstrably, within the game’s narrative, earned their fate - and because these are fates they planned to inflict on others, or already had done worse, the player character feels justified in their choice, and by additionally tailoring to each character, there's a sense of personalised and fitting revenge.

with the exception of…

who is Lady Boyle? good qn.

in dh1, there is only one female primary target - Lady Boyle.

canonically, the player must neutralize her because she is providing funding to the man on your daughter’s rightful throne.

in broad story terms, you are asked to find her because she is burrows' mistress.

the clue to her identity is a portrait of her ass ("finest hindquarters in all of Dunwall" - Sokolov), and when you get to the party, almost no one knows who she is even though she's the host.

in terms of level design, she is literally interchangeable with her sisters - the game randomly changes who your target is, and the character models only differ by colour. in terms of the universe, she's less a person, more of a sex symbol. as well as anton's comments about her ass, there's also the pendleton brothers' comments about wanting to fuck her, as well as multiple partygoers comments about the boyle sisters' sexual availability. there's a lot of gossip ingame but little is substantiated (as a reminder: the majority of dh players have only played dh1 and have not/will not read the canon books).

from both an internal logic perspective, and an external logic perspective, it “doesn’t matter” who this only female target is. she's barely a person, more a piece of ass.

poetic justice (for her)

unlike other primary targets with their tidy poetic endings, Lady Boyle (canonically Waverly) is not personally responsible for mass deaths (unlike, say, Sokolov), nor has played an active role in your downfall. let me expand on that.

a comment i've seen a bit:

"well she deserved it because she's partying while the city burns"

a woman planning to stay sober because she's afraid someone's after her doesn't sound like she's having fun.

her funding is not proven story-wise other than hearsay until Corvo has already finished the mission (a note from a guard in the next mission mentions the Boyle funding has dried up) (otherwise its speculation, its not actually in campbell's black book).

there’s no evidence she is providing this money willingly, nor even that she feels positively about Burrows (the letters in game hinting at romance are from him). one of the plot-points is that burrows was using his former role as Royal Spymaster to blackmail nobility with secrets. so, there's just as much a chance that she was his victim. (i've heard others say this is canon but i wasn't able to find evidence for that... if you know something i am curious!)

to complete this mission low chaos/nonlethal, you either need to lure her upstairs to drug her, or strangle her, or lure her to the basement before doing either of those things.

your options are to knock out a woman who has done you no direct harm, and you have no concrete proof she's done you indirect harm, and then traffick her unconscious body to someone you have no reason to trust.

let's review:

is her fate warranted in terms of scale? we only know it's true she was giving money to burrows in hindsight (eg. second runthrough), so not really no.

is her fate poetic justice? she is sex trafficked not because she regularly kidnaps people, but because she is the woman target, and is reduced to the sexual availability that so many NPCs comment on—she is not even a specific woman, given that she is gameplay wise randomly interchangeable with her sisters.

so it's not a case of turnabout being fair play.

yes, there’s a canon ending but that’s not the point here—we’re talking about the experience of playing dh1 first run.

let's rewind to another quote from the writer above:

“[...] it's very clear that people have fucked with you in a very personal way,"

assuming that the point of each level is catharsis for the assumed player, you can read this another way:

if your entire understanding of Lady Boyle as a character is that she is an unmarried woman who is presumably sleeping with your enemy (she's referred to as "the lord regent's mistress" regularly),

and she is someone that many people want to fuck, or at least comment on her sexual activity or attractiveness,

and as the assumed player you view any of this as punishable,

then... I suppose it is poetic justice that she will be locked in some creep’s sex dungeon for the rest of her life as revenge, regardless of her lack of role in your downfall, and regardless of how willingly she aided your enemy.

in other words, in this narrative's logic: sexually attractive women have this coming. as a target, lady boyle is less of a character and more of a trophy to be won.

contrary to poetic justice which is tailored and deserved, Lady Boyle’s fate of being handed unconscious to her stalker, is neither tailored (there was no precedent for this to happen to her - contrast with the targets who take lives), nor deserved (there’s no proof she had anything to do with corvo specifically, other than being his enemy's mistress. its debatable she was funding burrows willingly).

the purpose of a system is what it does

in a game that prioritises player choice, it is not possible to progress the game without choosing either to sex traffic Lady Boyle, or kill her.

this isn't equivalent to random bits of lore you can skip - you cannot get progress past the 5th level without making this call.

it's bad faith to argue "maybe he just locked her up and never intended to sexually assault her" within a universe that provides, unprompted, comments on this woman's body, attractiveness & sexual availability.

It is also canon. this is what corvo decided to do.

but isn’t the empire just sexist?

"when he says bring the bottles, i bring the bottles. when he says undress, I undress." - recurring maid NPC voiceline [multiple environments]

the world introduced within dh1 is sexist and sexually violent. this is valid - i include these themes in my own dishonored fics too, so the issue isn't the inclusion of these issues.

the difference here is that this is a game in which player choices are inherently about justice. rather than being a bystander trying to the right thing in a cruel world, you are an active participant in sex trafficking, and you are rewarded for this behaviour (achievements, a reward later in your room, and this contributes to the 'low chaos' ending).

this isn't corvo fighting the in-universe sexism, he's not even leveraging it --- this is corvo and therefore the player perpetuating it.

there’s no specific storyline reason to mete out a karmic punishment to lady boyle, then, well... is this cathartic to the player? given dh1's target audience, it's not a huge logical jump to say the story assumes you the player won't notice that this isn’t a deserved ending (accurately, given how few talk about this. and we've had years to talk about this). she's a sexy interchangeable woman who might be sleeping with your enemy, and there's rumours she's funding him too, and at that point ingame that's enough for her to deserve this fate.

my most generous take is that it’s lazy writing to forgo a poetic ending for a level/target.

a canonical retcon

the developers later expressed regret about this (see below harvey smith tweet).

presumably to address that "corvo is canonically a sex trafficker" thing, they added a storyline to a supplementary book which demonstrates that Lady Boyle was able to manipulate their way out of being kidnapped by her stalker.

imo this doesn't help:

this information is not in the game - almost no players will know of this (consider the # of book sales vs # of videogame sales). in writing, if it’s important, it will be both in the story and clear to the audience.

It reinforces myths that victims of sexual violence are deserving, or are lying/exaggerating etc. “you lived so why are you complaining?” and/or "well she was a manipulative bitch in the end so she deserved it all along”

gritty 'realism'

“its realistic because women are raped and stalked every day”

hiram burrows has cctv.

people love realism while the power fantasy caters to them. part of the power fantasy of corvo attano as a character is how the women in-game treat you (cecelia trusting you, emily being adoring/attentive/learning from you, esma boyle & lydia etc wanting to fuck you, piero talking to you/begging as though you're the arbiter of callista's honor in the bath scene, and saving countless NPC women). and this level, this target, is part of the power fantasy.

the thing about narratively punishing characters for being women, or having the wrong skin colour etc—is that, when you defend those writing choices by saying its realistic within the context of a fantasy game, you’re saying that inequality and the structural violence supporting it is inevitable, even when everything is made up.

additionally, it's gatekeeping: you're saying that escapist power fantasies are only for certain people. comparing “poetic endings”, there is a massive difference between the real-life statistical likelihood of, for example:

“put to work in your own slave mines,”

“getting kidnapped by a stalker.”

in my experience, people invoking ‘realism’ as a defense of their favourite media don’t want to discuss the ‘realistic’ things — more often, they want the people for whom their ‘realism in fantasy’ is reality to shut up so they can go back to enjoying their gritty fantasy, with other people's lives as wallpaper.

but pres i like this game

me too.

on that note, thanks for reading this far - its natural to resist analyses that critiques something you like. its easier and more comforting to shrug and say everything was justified.

as genius as many elements of dishonored 1 is, it is still a game for young men made in 2012... which isn't an excuse, just a reason. dh1 had every opportunity to not slip into this type of lazy writing - there's no particular reason to handle lady boyle & this mission this way as its not even satisfying at a player/audience level.

this isn't one miss-step, this is multiple miss-steps, and is less commentary on in-story/in-universe sexism, but more just regular sexism on the side of the devs, which is in turn excused at an audience level.

by working out what a game did well or poorly, we can learn how to do better in narrative design. we can also learn to identify similar plot shortcomings in other media.

and, from my perspective - it's another little contradiction to sit with in the things we enjoy. ah, dishonored, you beautiful ugly perfect fallible game.

talking about it

it's important to talk about this storyline.

don’t use the main fandom tags to criticise people who find this storyline shitty. it's weird. even if you don’t care about extending base-level empathy to people who have survived sex trafficking and rape/assault, it’s also citationless behaviour; the devs said lady boyle's fate was a miss-step.

part of why this is rarely talked about is - well, it’s hard. its emotionally difficult to talk about sincerely, and its even more rare to find an audience who will listen.

as a person who has survived similar violence, i feel like i need to write an 2,000 word essay with citations to prove that the only female villain in this game is treated in a way that isn’t justified in a doylist sense, nor in a watsonian sense. and honestly? that's not great.

citations:

1 - Dh demographics targeting (pdf) 2 - Quote source 3 - Dev interview & (4) article with dev quotes

[tribow]

Ah yes let me listen to

While I get some work done mmm I wonder what's going on here.

"...This stuff is also happening on music platforms like Spotify too, so it's not like using another musical platform is really an option."

HUH!??!?!?! WHAT!??!?!?

"And even if it was, that shouldn't be the solution."

NO. NO! NOOO!!!

You can't, you can't just dismiss the competition! Youtube and Spotify are not the only places to listen to music are you kidding me!??!?! Both Youtube and Spotify are music platforms that heavily rely on algorithms to deliver music to you. Of course bots and AI slop are going to take advantage of that! This video talks a lot about how Youtube playlists and recommendations are getting ruined by the slop. That's a shame, really, but consider what you're saying here!

There are options!!!!

Bandcamp and Soundcloud are right there!!! They're right there!!!!!

I go to the first page of Bandcamp and what do I get??? Featured Artists being promoted by Bandcamp, a list of current top selling albums on the platform, new and notable albums that were released on the platform recently, and encouragement to explore the tags.

What do I get on Soundcloud??? Music I recently played, Recommendations based on songs I previously liked, Other recommendations based on who I follow and listen to, Soundcloud's featured artists that get promoted.

Both platforms use tags that are set by whatever musician uploaded the music. They both encourage you to curate your music yourself or explore what others have curated. Yes, there's some algorithm stuff on their front pages, but these algorithms are properly built to promote real people and not just bots taking advantage of the system. Soundcloud has a feed just like other social media platforms, and that feed is only for what YOU follow.

Heck, you could even use Audius! I don't personally use the platform myself, but it functions like an alternative to Soundcloud. It has much of the same appeal. Its front page shows what music is currently trending, but guess what, it has a feed and it encourages you to curate it!

I get it, a lot of artists don't use these platforms, but what ties them all together is that they're doing what we want them to do: Actually support musicians. Artists aren't incentivized to use the platforms strictly because they're less popular, but it doesn't mean these platforms are worse than Youtube or Spotify.

Spotify sucks ass! They're literally infamous for being infested with bots, fake genres, and barely paying artists. You can buy an artists album for $5 and you would be paying them more money than they would get if you listened to them on Spotify for 5 months total.

Youtube pays a bit better, but they don't give a flying fuck about music! They're trying to have the whole cake and eat it too with movies, games, and other social media interaction. (text posts, polls, pictures, and the such.) They want people to be using their platforms and ONLY their platforms for everything. Your eyes must be glued to their screens at all times, so what if the algorithm hands you slop? You'll watch it right? It'll promote whatever keeps you there no matter who or what it is! (as long as its legal)

Don't sit around waiting for these platforms to change for the better. LEAVE. If you want to support artists then support them on other platforms if they're available on there!

And I know, I know Soundcloud had a whole exodus some years ago because whoever makes the decisions at Soundcloud is some out of touch buffoon who's getting desperate and doesn't know how to make the platform profitable, but you know what happened with almost every stupid decision Soundcloud made? They rolled it back or it didn't follow through with it. They're at the mercy of the userbase. The platform has issues, but I'd never give it up for the lack of respect and slop Spotify and Youtube have. Soundcloud's my musical hellsite (affectionate)

Bandcamp, as far as I know, has 0 controversy outside of the big companies who bought them and laid off half the Bandcamp staff. That wasn't Bandcamp's fault! They just got fucked over by Epic, otherwise they're still doing great! Bandcamp just needs to modernize their platform a little bit. (HOW IS THERE STILL NO VOLUME SLIDER)

Again, no comment on Audius, but hell maybe I'll start using that too.

And if you're SO INSISTENT on using Youtube for music, don't rely on the algorithm for your content! You can curate what you see on there you know! Subscribe to people, actually look at your subscription feed! If you want to use recommendations, you can adjust that too! Every time you see some AI bullshit click on those 3 little dots and either click "Not Interested" or "Don't recommend channel". I hate Youtube's guts when it comes to music, but they at least gave you options to if you hate what the algorithm is showing you. Use them!

Fuck!

Sorry that video got under my skin, it's not a bad video all things considered, but that one point got me heated.

[widowromanova]

Sniper (part 2) - Natasha x Female Reader

warnings: mentions of violence, SMUT!!!

word count: 4891

a/n: here's the asked for part 2 (with (part of) their backstory) ;)

You shouldn’t have hesitated, you couldn’t afford to hesitate. God! How could you be so reckless! You had spent so long training just to avoid this. And yet, when you saw her tonight, the same fire in her eyes that once drew you in, every carefully constructed wall you’d built came crashing down.

It had been years since the two of you were more than just co-workers. Back then, it hadn’t just been reckless - it had been dangerous and intoxicating. Natasha had drawn you into her orbit effortlessly, she had a way of making you feel like the only person in the room, the only one who mattered, even when you both knew that wasn’t true.

The secrecy wasn’t just about breaking SHIELD’s rules; it was about protection. You had both made enemies, people who wouldn’t hesitate to use your connection against you. Hiding it wasn’t just to keep your careers intact - it was to keep each other safe. But the risk had only made it more intense.

It all started at that party, "God, what a cliché," you thought. SHIELD’s annual gala was never your scene, but Fury had insisted on your attendance, throwing out some half-hearted excuse about team morale. You had arrived late, your shirt buttoned-up wrong, trying to disappear into the background.

And then you saw her.

Natasha was standing at the edge of the room, her back to the wall, a glass of champagne in hand, her body dripping in a silk black dress. She looked untouchable, like she always did. But her eyes - those sharp, calculating eyes - were scanning the crowd with purpose. She wasn’t there for the small talk or the niceties. She never was. And yet, when her gaze found yours, something shifted. For a moment, the room and its noise blurred, the crowd nothing more than a collection of moving shadows. Her lips curved into a small, knowing smirk, and you knew she’d seen right through your plan to fade into obscurity.

She approached you first. Of course she did. Natasha never waited for anyone to come to her.

“You look miserable,” she said, her voice low and teasing. “Let me guess, Fury dragged you here too?”

You’d laughed, caught off guard by the lightness of her tone. “Something like that. And you? I thought you thrived in situations like this.”

Her smile widened, but there was a glint of something deeper in her eyes. “I do, but that doesn’t mean I enjoy them.”

“Yeah, not exactly my idea of a good time,” you admitted, looking around the room.

She tilted her head, studying you with that sharp, assessing gaze. Her eyes flicked downward, and a small smirk tugged at her lips.

"Not your idea of a good time," she said, her tone laced with amusement. "Or maybe you’re just bad at dressing for it."

You frowned, confused, until she reached forward and tugged lightly at the collar of your shirt. It wasn’t until she stepped closer, the faint scent of her perfume brushing past you, that you realized what she was doing.

“Your buttons,” she murmured, her voice low, almost playful. Her fingers worked deftly, undoing the mismatched ones near your collar. “You can’t walk around looking like this- it’ll ruin the reputation Fury worked so hard to build for you.”

She delivered the last part with a dripping sarcasm that made you huff a quiet laugh despite yourself. “Oh, is that what Fury’s worried about?” you shot back, the corner of your mouth twitching into a smirk.

Her lips curved into a knowing grin as she finished fixing your shirt. “Absolutely. You’re the poster child for professionalism,” she said, her tone still laced with mockery.

“Thanks,” you muttered, feeling warmth creep up the back of your neck. You weren’t sure if it was from embarrassment or the proximity of her hands, brushing just lightly enough against your chest to make you uncomfortably aware of how close she was.

“Don’t mention it,” she said, her tone casual, but when she looked up, there was that spark in her eyes again, the one that made it hard to breathe. “There. Perfect.”

She patted your chest lightly, the gesture half-teasing, half-sincere, before stepping back with a satisfied smile. “Much better. Now you look like someone worth talking to.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t fight the small grin tugging at your lips. “I didn’t realize I was under inspection.”

“Always,” she quipped, looking you up and down in a satisfactory manner before grabbing her glass of champagne again. “You should know that by now.”

And just like that, she had you. In the span of a minute, Natasha Romanoff had taken a mundane moment and turned it into something you couldn’t stop thinking about. Looking back, you wondered if that had been her plan all along.

She tilted her head, studying you for a moment that felt longer than it should have. Then, with a mischievous spark, she handed you a drink. “Come on. Let’s make it more interesting.”

That was how it began - not with a grand declaration or a dramatic moment, but with Natasha pulling you out of the gala and onto the rooftop, away from the crowd. The conversation had been easy, surprisingly so. You had laughed, teased, talked about things you probably shouldn’t have, and for the first time, you saw Natasha not as the infamous Black Widow but as someone real.

The rooftop was quiet, the distant hum of the city below filling the silence. You leaned against the ledge, while Natasha stood a few feet away, her posture relaxed but somehow still charged with an energy that made her impossible to ignore.

For a while, neither of you said anything. It wasn’t the uncomfortable silence of strangers or colleagues forced into proximity, but something more natural. You could hear the faint clink of her glass as she swirled the last of her champagne, her gaze fixed on the horizon.

“You know,” she finally said, her voice softer now, almost thoughtful, “this is the first time I’ve been able to breathe all night.”

You turned your head to look at her, the moonlight catching the sharp angles of her face. “Yeah? Doesn’t seem like anything gets to you.”

She smirked at that, a small, almost wistful expression. “Maybe I’m just good at hiding it.”

Something about the way she said it made your chest tighten. There was a vulnerability in her voice, and you wondered how many people ever got to hear it.

She set her empty glass down on the ledge, turning to face you fully. Her green eyes held yours, unguarded in a way that felt disarming.

“Why do you do that?” she asked suddenly, her tone shifting.

“Do what?”

“Act like you’re not interesting,” she said, taking a step closer. “Like you’re just… background noise in a room full of people.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but she was already moving, closing the distance between you with a deliberate slowness. Her hand brushed your arm, light and tentative at first, then bolder as her fingers trailed down to your wrist.

“You’re not,” she murmured, her voice low and steady.

You should’ve stepped back, put some distance between you. Instead, you found yourself rooted to the spot, caught in her pull. Natasha’s free hand reached up, her fingers brushing the side of your face, lingering just long enough to make your breath hitch.

For a moment, everything else faded - the gala, the rules, the risks. All that mattered was the way she was looking at you.

“Tell me to stop,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper, her lips hovering just a breath away from yours.

Your heart pounded, each beat louder than the last as her words echoed in your mind. You should’ve said something - anything - but the way her eyes searched yours stole the breath from your lungs.

Natasha tilted her head, closing the gap the rest of the way, her lips brushing yours with a softness that sent a shiver through you. The kiss wasn’t rushed or demanding, but deliberate, as if she was waiting for you to pull away, to stop her. When you didn’t, her hand slid from your wrist up to your neck, her touch both steady and grounding.

Your hands found her waist, hesitating for a moment before you pulled her closer, the tension melting away. And now, all of a sudden, the cool night air seemed warmer.

When she finally pulled back, her forehead resting against yours, her breath mingled with yours in the space between. She didn’t speak right away, her eyes flickering over your face as if she was committing every detail to memory.

“This changes things,” she said softly, a small, wry smile tugging at her lips.

“Yeah,” you murmured, your voice barely audible, “it does.”

From then on, you met in secret. The first time you met was two days after the gala, when you received a message from an anonymous number with a single address and the words “8 PM.” You debated whether or not to go, well aware that anything involving Natasha would likely lead to trouble. But something about the thrill of her pulled you in.

At 8 o’clock, you arrived at the address, a small, unassuming apartment building on the outskirts of the city. You climbed the stairs and knocked on the door, pulse racing with anticipation and uncertainty. The door opened revealing Natasha, dressed casually in a black tank top and jeans, her hair pulled back into a messy bun. At the sight of you, a slow smile curled at the corners of her lips.

"You didn't give me much choice," you replied, trying to sound nonchalant despite the way your heart rate spiked at the sound of her voice.

She smiled softly, stepping aside to let you in. The apartment was cozy, dimly lit, and almost surprisingly normal-looking.

"Drink?" she asked, gesturing toward a bottle of scotch sitting on the kitchen counter. You nodded, accepting the glass she handed you. The silence between you was heavy. You watched her as she took a sip of her drink, studying you for a moment before finally speaking.

"I wasn't sure if you'd show up," she admitted, setting her glass down on the countertop and leaning on her arm against it. You shrugged, "Curiosity got the best of me, I suppose."

She raised an eyebrow, her smile growing into an almost predatory smirk. "Curiosity, huh?" You didn't respond, choosing instead to take a long drink. The scotch burned your throat, but you drank until you felt the heat in your cheeks cool.

Natasha tilted her head, her eyes roaming over you in that assessing way she had. She took a step closer, her proximity making it harder to think. "You're tense," she observed, her voice low and smooth. "Relax. I don't bite," she ran a hand up and down your arm. You swallowed, feeling your pulse quicken. "I'd bet money you do," you quipped back.

Her smile widened. "Maybe I do," she murmured. "But not tonight." She held your gaze, her expression unreadable. For a moment, all you could hear was the sound of your own heartbeat drumming in your ears. Then, she lifted her hand to your face, her fingers lightly tracing the outline of your jaw.

"You're making this difficult," she murmured, her touch leaving a trail of heat. "I didn't expect you to be so..."

"So what?"

She paused, her eyes searching yours. “So… different,” she said finally, her voice soft but firm, like she wasn’t sure she wanted to admit it. “I’ve been trying to keep things simple, but you…”

Her words trailed off as her hand rested against your chest, her thumb brushing the fabric of your shirt. The faintest smile tugged at her lips, “You make it quite hard.”

The space between you seemed to shrink. You wanted to ask her what she meant, to press her for clarity, but you already knew the answer. You swallowed, your mouth suddenly dry. "Simple isn't really your style, is it?" you managed to say, your voice betraying the emotions churning inside.

Her wry smile deepened, a glint of mischief sparking in her eyes as her fingers lingered at your jaw, her thumb brushing lightly over your skin. “Simple is boring,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

You tried to reply, to find some clever retort that would keep you grounded. All you could focus on was the way she looked at you, like she was daring you to close the last sliver of space between you.

“Natasha…” you started, but her name came out more like a sigh than a warning.

She tilted her head, her lips curving into a knowing smirk. “What?” she asked, her tone teasing but soft. “I thought you liked complicated.” Before you could answer, her hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you closer.

And then, without hesitation, she kissed you.

It wasn’t tentative or unsure; it was deliberate, purposeful, like she wasn’t going to give you a chance to second-guess her. Again, her lips were warm, soft, but there was an urgency beneath it.

You responded instinctively, your hands finding her waist as you pulled her against you, deepening the kiss.

When she finally pulled back, her forehead rested against yours, and she let out a soft, almost amused breath. “See?” she whispered, her voice laced with a hint of triumph. “Complicated isn’t so bad.”

Her hand was still on the back of your neck, her fingers tracing idle patterns that sent shivers down your spine. "No," you breathed, your voice a low rumble against her skin, "it's not." You reached for her, pulling her head to the side to kiss her neck. She let out a soft, almost surprised gasp as your lips found her skin. Her fingers tightened in your hair, her body instinctively arching into you. You traced a line of kisses down her throat, tasting the salt and sweetness of her skin. Each press of your lips seemed to ignite a fire in her, a barely restrained need that mirrored your own. Her hand roamed down your back, nails scraping light and dangerous, sending another shiver through you. "You're not playing fair," she murmured in your ear, her voice ragged and breathless.

You smirked against her skin, pulling her closer, your hands sliding under the hem of her shirt. "Who said I was playing fair?" You pushed her backwards until she was against the wall, pinning her there with the weight of your body. Her eyes darkened, a mixture of desire and challenge in them. You reached up, grabbing her wrists and pinning them above her head. She let out a small gasp, her lips parting in surprise, her chest rising and falling with each laboured breath. She could have easily freed herself, but instead, she leaned into you, her body pressed flush against yours.

You tightened your grip on her wrists, holding her captive as you dispersed kiss after kiss, tracing the veins on her neck. She arched into you, her mouth brushing the shell of your ear, a low whisper of “What do you think you're doing?” You didn't respond. Your lips found her jaw, trailing a path of fire down her neck. Her body responded to your touch, her breaths uneven, her skin flushed. A quiet moan escaped her as you kissed along her collarbone, and you felt the tension in her shoulders start to loosen. But before you could go further, Natasha’s hand found its way to your hair, fingers tangling in the strands as she pulled your head back sharply, bringing your eyes to meet hers.

“I didn’t say you could keep going,” she said, her voice breathless, a playful edge beneath the words.

You could see the challenge in her eyes, the same one that had always drawn you in - fearless, confident.

“Maybe I don’t need permission,” you murmured, your lips curling into a teasing smile.

She raised an eyebrow, a silent challenge in the air between you, before her fingers slid from your hair, holding your face in her hands. “I like it when you’re bold,” she said softly, her voice now a mix of approval. Her thumb brushed over your lower lip, a gesture so intimate it made your heart skip a beat. “But," she continued, her voice a low, gravelly murmur, "don't get ahead of yourself."

"And why not?" you challenged.

Natasha smirked, the challenge clear in her eyes. "Because I said so," she replied firmly, her fingers tightening around your jaw.

She took a step forward, closing the small distance between you. Her body was now pressed against yours, her gaze intense and unwavering. "And if there's one thing you should know about me," she continued, her voice dropping to a seductive whisper, "I always get what I want."

In one swift motion, she turned, slamming you against the wall, her body pinning you there as her mouth found yours. The kiss was fiery, possessive, her tongue demanding entry as her hands gripped at your shirt, pulling you closer. Her leg pressed between yours, her knee rubbing slightly against the growing wet spot there. You could feel her smirk against your lips, her teeth nipping at your tongue. Her hands were under your shirt now, nails scraping down your stomach.

She pulled back slightly, breaking the kiss, her chest heaving with each ragged breath. Her thumb traced over your lips, swollen and tender from her, her touch feather-light yet utterly possessive.

"Still think you're in charge here?" she murmured, her voice a low husk. Her grip on your hips tightened, her knee pressing into you further, eliciting a low moan from you. She looked you up and down, "You're wearing too much."

Without waiting for a response, she started tugging at your shirt, pulling it up and over your head in one swift move. Her gaze raked over your exposed skin, a look of hunger in her eyes. You watched her, goose bumps pebbling across your skin. She took her own shirt off now, her skin gleaming under the light, a canvas of muscle and scars, a stark contrast to the delicate curve of her hip. She moved closer, pressing herself against you, her bare skin against yours. Her hands roamed over your body, mapping every contour, every muscle. She traced a line down your chest, nails scratching lightly against your skin. Her mouth found your neck, her lips grazing over the sensitive flesh there, her breath hot and heavy against your skin. You began to fiddle with the clasp of her bra, desperately trying to undress her.

She pulled away slightly, her hands catching yours, pinning them against the wall above your head. Her expression was stern, almost predatory, a silent command to stay still. "Patience," she murmured, her breath tickling your ear. She let go of your hands to reach behind her back, unclasping the garment herself. You watched as she seductively took it off to drop it at your feet then pulled the waistband of her underwear down as well, dropping them beside her bra. Her hands skimmed over your hips, her thumbs hooking into the waistband. She looked up at you, a silent question in her eyes, seeking permission. You could only nod, words failing you. Your brain was a hazy mess of need and the sharp awareness of every inch of your body where she touched you.

You felt the material slither down your legs, heard the whisper of it falling to the floor. You were exposed now, vulnerable in a way you hadn't been before. But there was no shame in your nudity under Natasha's gaze, only a growing sense of belonging. She harshly grabbed you by the face again, your lips clashing as she haphazardly walked you over to the sofa where she pushed you to sit down.

You landed on the couch with a thud, your breath leaving you in a rush. Before you could even catch your bearings, Natasha was on you, straddling your lap, her body pressed flush against yours. Her mouth found yours again, her kiss rough and demanding. Her weight was pinning you to the cushions, the feeling of her skin against yours sending sparks through you. Your hands found their way to her hips, gripping tightly.

You moved your leg to position itself between hers, watching her as she tensed slightly at the movement, a small gasp escaping her lips. She broke the kiss to bury her face in the crook of your neck, her teeth nipping at the sensitive skin there. You could feel her shiver, her body involuntarily rocking against your leg.

"Eager," she murmured against your neck, her voice a ragged whisper, "aren't you?" Her tongue traced a path down your throat, pleasure searing through you. She ground against your thigh, seeking friction, her breath coming in uneven gasps. Your hands tightened on her hips, guiding her movements despite the loss of control. She whined in your ear, as you managed to gasp out a few words, your voice thick with desire. "I thought you were the one in charge," you panted, your fingers running up her sides to caress the soft skin of her back.

She pulled back slightly to look at you, her eyes dark with desire. "And I am," she replied, her words punctuated by a roll of her hips against your thigh. "But," she continued, her voice dropping as she let out another moan, "I like it when you get... unruly."

Your hands roamed over her body in response, one staying on her hip while the other moved higher, tracing the curve of her breast. She arched into your touch, a soft moan escaping her. The sight was almost too much to bear, the way she responded to you like a drug. She leaned in closer, her mouth finding yours again, her tongue insistent, demanding entry. She moved against you, each roll of her hips against your leg driving you both closer to the edge. You were lost in her.

Your fingers slowly moved down her stomach, stopping just above her pelvis. Her breath hitched at the feel of your fingers so close to where she wanted them most. Her hips instinctively thrust towards your hand, a silent plea for more. A low moan escaped her throat, her eyes dark and burning into yours. "Stop... teasing," she gasped, the words barely more than a ragged whisper.

You smirked at her, watching her domination over you waver, your hand staying exactly where you placed it. Her body was tense against you, a barely contained coil of energy waiting to snap. The look in her eyes was a mix of frustration and desire as she shifted her weight, her knees digging into the couch on either side of you. "I said stop..." she repeated, her voice a low growl. But her body betrayed her words, her hips still moving on their own accord, seeking out your touch. Your fingers trailed lightly over her skin, drawing lazy circles that drove her wild, but never quite giving her what she wanted.

Her eyes darkened, a growl-like sound rumbling in her throat. She grabbed your face firmly, her grip just on the edge of being painful. "You're playing a dangerous game here," she muttered, her body pressed flush against yours. Her fingers tangled in your hair, forcing your head back, leaving your neck exposed to her. Her mouth latched onto the sensitive skin of your neck, teeth sinking in just enough to make you gasp. "You're making it difficult to stay in control," she breathed against your skin, her breath hot and ragged.

"Good," you simply say.

Your words make her pause, her mouth still against your neck. You can feel her smirk, a mix of irritation and amusement as she laughs, "You do realise," she purred, her voice low, "that I could have you begging on your knees right now if I wanted?"

"Yeah, but..." your hand moves over her clit to trace circles, "you really don't want me to stop this, do you?" A shudder runs through her body, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment before opening again to lock with yours. Her breath catches, a stifled gasp escaping her. She tries to hold on to her composure. "Not... fair," she manages to say, her voice shakier than before. You smirk, your fingers continuing to move down to enter her, stretching her out perfectly. She lets out a low growl, "God.." Her hips snap against your hand, desperate for more. "Just... like that," she gasps, her body betraying her words. Her hands grip your shoulders, nails digging in, leaving little moon crescents in your skin. It is beyond clear she has lost most of her composure.

Her body tenses again, her thighs trembling slightly around your hand. Her eyes are dark, clouded over with desire, her breaths coming in short, uneven gasps. "Don't stop," she whispers, the words barely a breath.

"I wasn't planning to," you tease.

"Shut up," she mutters, but there's no real venom in her words, just a hint of desperation that betrays how badly she wants you. Her hands slide down from your shoulders to your biceps, holding onto you like a lifeline. "Who knew," she grunts, her voice catching.

"Knew what?"

"That you could..." her sentence cut off with a moan, "reduce me to this." She manages to gasp out the words between ragged breaths, her body arching into your touch. You can feel how close she is, her body strung tight like a bowstring, ready to snap. "Just... keep going.." she practically pleads.

You keep going, your fingers dancing over exactly the right spot, driving her higher and higher until-

Her head falls back, a strangled cry escaping her lips as she comes undone. Her body shivers against you, her nails digging into your arms. Her limbs tremble, her head dropping forward to rest against your shoulder as she tries to catch her breath. "You..." she breathes.

"I, what?" you retort, a wide grin playing on your face. She lifts her head, her eyes meeting yours, still swimming in a heady mix. "Why is that look so damn attractive on you?" she mutters, still riding her high while her hands still grip your arms tightly.

You laugh, "What am I, Nat?"

"Annoying," she mutters, her eyes narrowing. "Possibly aggravating," she continues, her breathing slowing down slightly. But despite her words, her hands don't let go of you, her body still pressed tightly against yours.

"Now why would you say that?" you question, feigning hurt.

"Oh, let me count," she muses, her voice regaining some of its usual sardonic edge. "Your smugness when you get the upper hand, your infuriatingly attractive smile-", you watch her with admiration, a smile forming on your face, "-the fact that you somehow always manage to push all my buttons. Not to mention, you're doing a damn good job of driving me crazy right now." Her words are an equal measure of wanting to strangle you and wanting to kiss you senseless.

As if to prove her point, she pushes against you further, her body moulding to yours. She leans in, her mouth at your ear, her breath hot against your skin. "You have any idea what you do to me, huh?" she whispers, the words a murmur in your ear. "And right now, I don't know if I want to kill you or kiss you."

You pretend to pay attention, your mouth slowly finding her neck again, your tongue tracing a path over her skin. She lets out a soft sigh, a shudder running through her at your touch. Her fingers rake through your hair, a possessive gesture as she holds you against her. She's trying to regain a semblance of control, to take back the upper hand.

But despite her best efforts, her body betrays her. She arches into you, a moan escaping her as your mouth finds that sensitive spot below her ear, "Fuck you, L/N..."

"I was hoping you would," you quip. The rest of the night became a blur, the walls of your memory stained with the hazy scent of sex that lingered throughout her apartment as you found... comfort... in each other for the next day.

But for all the passion, there had been cracks in the foundation of which neither of you could admit to at the time. Natasha had always been an enigma, parts of her locked away so tightly even you couldn’t reach them. And you - you had started to wonder if loving her was just another risk you hadn't been strong enough to take.

Tonight, you had faltered.

Your grip on the rifle tightened, and you exhaled, watching your breath curl into the night air. Natasha was always in control, and somehow, despite everything, you had let her slip through your fingers again.

The rooftop was quiet now, but your thoughts were anything but. Because she wasn’t just an assignment. She never had been. And the next time you saw her, you weren’t sure if you’d be able to pull the trigger - or if she’d already have you in her sights first.

a/n: hope you guys enjoyed, there will be a part 3 (i have more to add to their backstory, i just did not want to put it all in one part ;)) the smut will continue!

[dunmeshistash]

@heattth Japanese does have swear words (most common one being kuso, meaning `shit`), but it does use them less than English. More importantly is the degree of politeness of the sentence, which is relevant here. You analysis of the japanese is mistaken in that regard, the use of the auxiliar verb "teyaru" to mean "do" is not merely "non polite" (which in this case would be using the plain verb 'korosu', I think), it is a much more aggressive and/or demeaning. It is rude langauge. It kinda means "to do [verb] for someone beneath me". It is a form usually used when speaking about animals or plants, it is rude language when talking about a person (or sentient being, I suppose). In that sense, I can see when the cans thought just "I will kill it" felt a little to weak for the emotion that is paced in the sentence, and figured that a swear word would work better in English. However, I also understand that it can be jarring to have swear words for characters you don't feel would use them, and it is really hard to know when it is appropriate for a Japanese character to use swear words liberally, so I understand the official translation position as well. They probably figured that the word "it" would carry the intended emotion on its own.

I thought of kuso but searching it online made me confused if by itself it was a swear word or not, it servers the purpose of one tho so I guess it counts! I mostly said it didn't cause what I understood is that the words/expressions become swears based on context (?) instead of being something that is always a swear (like fuck)

That was my understanding from coming across stuff like this but I think how I said it was a little misleading.

"Besides obvious sexual / body part words, none of these words that these recent posts have called "cursing" or "swears" are hidden and kept secret from children, nor are they censored on TV, or considered to be "curses" that bring evil from merely saying them, like many religious people believe with the word "damn"."

Anyway... I thought the "teyaru" was rude speak but I wasn't sure so I didn't comment on it, thank you!

Hello!! I feel like I’ve seen versions of the panel below where Mithrun says “I’m gonna fucking kill it” instead of “I’ll kill it.”

Do you know what translation it is and which is more accurate to the original? Thank you, have a wonderful day :D

Hello! That's how EHScans (Fan-translation) translated it

Here's there original

Just to preface this, I'm not that good at japanese so I'm just trying my best here.

I think what he's saying is a broken 殺してやる (he says parts of it broken up while trailing off: [てやる] [殺] [殺してや] )

The direct translation is just "I'll kill (you/it)" japanese doesn't really have swear words (as far as I know) so mostly swears are added in translation based on a few things like context, personality of the character speaking and if they're using the "non polite" speak - japanese has polite and impolite/rough ways of speaking so usually when a character uses rough speak swears are added in translation to convey that. In english you usually can't really convey that if you just translate directly, for example there's different ways to say "you" in japanese and depending which one you use with who in what context they can be rude or not but they all just translate to "you". Actually there's a really funny thread where straycatj's landlady is trying to explain to people which form of you to use cause everyone is confused and learned differently lmao

Anyway.. since Mithrun is probably furious here and is the start of his revenge obsession I think the "fucking kill the fucker" does fit but it's not really "more correct", unfortunately translation isn't that straight forward and two translations can be different while both being technically "correct", adaptating is a big part of translating.

Once again, I'm not really that good at japanese, I only studied it for a few months some years ago so if I got anything wrong please let me know 😅

[cavegirlpoems]

On Blorbability

I think one of the strengths of modern D&D is the ability to efficiently describe the blorbos you make with it using understandable components. Like the template of Alignment + Species + Background + Class lets you put together a quite evocative picture of who a character is quite efficiently, just by swapping in and out those components like those mix-and-match monster flipbooks.

Like, to take a character I played, when I say:

Lawful-Evil Drow Monk with the Inquisitor background.

you can immediately picture that character, right?

You can do this indefinitely. "Chaotic-Good Halfling Bard Criminal" or "Chaotic-Neutral Human Barbarian Outlander" or "Lawful-neutral Elf Wizard Accademic". It clicks.

There's a sweet spot of having the right amount of slots you pick from, 3-4. Less than that and the blorbo comes out flat, more and its too granular. An OSR character is probably one template (class), two if you're doing race+class AD&D style, and thats not quite enough detail to go full Blorb. Same with most PbtA games where you just pick a playbook. A gurps character is pretty darn granular, and is also not a particularly legible blorbo even if you can be very expressive with it.

The actual *stats* don't matter, what your attributes and spells and gear are don't matter much, the point is that you're madlibsing archetypes together in a legible way.

Like take vampire the masquerade as another good example of an extremely blorbable game. Here, the actual weight of your character is carried by attributes/skills/disciplines/backgrounds/merits, right? But you can still describe them with that same combination of archetypes. Here's a character I'm playing right now:

Ancilla Noiad Anarch on the Path of Harmony.

Age + Clan + Sect + Path. Simple. Four tags and you get a good picture of who this character is. And like, I bet you could take a good guess at what she's like mechanically, right? From that description, I bet you're picturing somebody with Survival and Stealth and decent combat and probably leaning hard into Protean, and that's accurate!

Here's some more VtM characters. "Camarilla Ventrue Elder on Humanity", "Camarilla Ventrue Elder on Honorable Accord", "Sabbat Tzimisce Elder on Path of Ecstasy", "Independent Giovanni Neonate on Humanity". If you're familiar with VtM, you can picture the shape of these characters.

+ + +

So I'm taking this idea and applying it to my Magical Girl project. You have two playbooks that slot together - one magical and one mundane - and then you pick whether you're heroic or villainous. And on top of that, in the late game you might become Something Else like a Spectre or a Princess. So that's 3-4 mix-and-match slots. A player character can be expressed as:

Villainous Ruffian Blaster

and you can picture who she is. The combinations work. "Heroic Recluse Spy", "Villainous Fangirl Summoner", "Heroic Weirdo Cheat becoming a Princess", these are legible just from the options picked.

Which I think is a good sign, it means its easy to picture and communicate the sorts of characters you can have in the game.