#....i need to not tell myself that. i need to build in space for breaks or i will burn myself out

[thewertsearch]

Ask Comp 28/12

Anonymous asked: In the same vein as the Seer of Light/Witch of Space fakeout in the human session: do you think any of the trolls seem to not fit their assigned classpects, to reject it and imitate another, or to trade classes or aspects with another troll?

It's hard to tell if a given character fits their Title, when I don't know what each Title is supposed to symbolize.

Eridan, for example, didn't originally seem to evoke Hope. When I realized his 'hope' was essentially romantic delusion, it started to make a little more sense - but I have no idea if that's actually compatible with the Aspect's true meaning. We've only seen one Hope Player, so we don't know which aspects (lol) of his story are Hope-themed, and which are just Eridan being Eridan.

@relaxxattack asked: COMPLETELY unexpected coming from me (lol); but i doubt scratch, omniscient as he is, completely misunderstands slick’s motivations. i read it that perhaps slick’s emotional investment really is preventing him from killing snowman, despite all his lip service otherwise. i mean why else would scratch resort to auspisticism, the role made for breaking apart inconvenient pitch couples? plus all the brawler-like violence and threats of death— it really seems like he does need to force slick to cooperate and kill her

I kind of like that, actually. It would be pretty fun if Slick, of all people, managed to ruin Scratch's plans - and by having a heart, to boot!

@manorinthewoods asked: Proposal for the future: Whenever a flashback occurs, you take a guess as to whether or not it is a Dream Bubble. ~LOSS (14/12/24)

Yeah, I might actually give this a shot. I feel like I could do a pretty decent job of discerning whether a flashback is a Bubble, just based on whether the characters involved are currently unconscious or dead - although I can clearly still be fooled.

Anonymous asked: If Terezi hadn't been convinced beforehand (by Gamzee somehow?!) that Vriska was killing at random and absolutely had to go, I couldn't help but imagine at the time that Terezi COULD have saved Vriska if she tried, proving luck doesn't matter… by pulling a Harvey Dent and swapping her coin for a clean double-sided scratchless one just before flipping it, which her luck-stealing couldn't possibly make land scratched. It even would have proved to Vriska that she can't account for everything.

That would be pretty crafty, and I really like her hypothetical style - but honestly, I think Vriska was too far gone to be talked down. The fact that she stole that coin's luck in every timeline makes me think it was probably impossible to make her stay.

@caliquill asked: early in the liveblog you identified a Strider Ramble as a stress ramble. so it delights me that you have finally seen a TRUE Strider Stress Ramble. everything comes full circle.

Oh, true! Man, that's a deep cut.

I should have known, really. It's a pretty consistent character trait for Dave to get less ironic as he gets stressed - we already saw that at play in Davesprite's timeline.

@martinkhall asked: A lot of people seem to miss that he found his quest bed. Reading through his posts again this time I find myself wondering between his "dear departed family" and his imps being described as "sportitive rascals" if he prototyped a dead son. That sounds like a phrase that could descibe a young boy.

Aw man, that's heartbreakingly plausible. If we don't see Fedorafreak's story concluded in-universe, I will absolutely be looking for good Fedorafics when I'm done with the comic.

@bellcarved asked: you know, with the mention of a server player, i'm now imagining somebody else watching through the build menu and sending fedorafreak messages during this whole thing. "ff, i have the code for a bottle of water, and it only costs one unit of build grist. stop drinking your urine and generally treating this like a wilderness survival show, you are going to die. ff please respond."

Our man chose 'freak' as his handle for a reason. <3

@morganwick asked: Note that when Fedorafreak combines his pants with his shirt, it produces a "useless, excessively tall pant". This was after Pantskat had already become a meme.

It's so funny that this one wonky panel became so much of a meme. You just know that if Homestuck was ten years younger, it would have turned into an Among Us joke.

Anonymous asked: I think at one point Hussie said that fedorafreak's title would be the "gent of piss" but it's rather likely that they were just being silly. I also think that the title of a hope player would befit fedorafreak :) @marinerofthestars asked: for some incomprehensible reason hussie did in fact give us canon/‘canon’ fedorafreak lore on his formspring. he has the Title Gent of Piss and his server player (who survived at least long enough to get him into the medium) is 2busy4this (iirc they don’t actually appear elsewhere in the comic. guess hussie was. too busy for them) @morganwick asked: I believe Hussie has said that Fedorafreak's title is Gent of Piss. @skelekingfeddy asked: according to hussie fedorafreaks classpect is the Gent of Piss

Disrespecting our king! I have to assume that was a joke, because FedoraFreak deserves so much better than the Piss Aspect. I like Gent, though.

I was going to say I hoped that 2busy4this was able to enter the session - but really, that just means they'll die by Tumor, rather than meteor.

@morganwick asked: It was actually Fedorafreak's appearance on page 2918 that arguably made him a meme with the fandom.

It's been fun checking in with our king as we progress through the comic. I assume his memetic status is due to drinking his own urine - hence, the 'Gent of Piss' title that Hussie apparently saddled him with.

@clueless-rarito asked: Damn when I first read it didn't really sink in how fucked up the whole derse suicide mission situation was and how heartbreaking their whole conversation about it was. It's really the kind of thing you get a lot more from seeing someone else react to it

It's so twisted, isn't it? These poor children just want to protect each other, but each of them is convinced that the only way to do so is to die. Homestuck is so fucked sometimes.

@morganwick asked: Not to be too alarmist or presumptuous, but: did you not have anything to say about pages 3918-3920, or did your post(s) on those pages get eaten or otherwise lost?

Honestly, I just didn't have any commentary about them. They really just continued to depict the gradual return of John's memories, which I'd already talked about.

Sometimes I simply don't have that much to say about a given panel, even when the current arc is as exposition-heavy as this one. They can't all be mini-essays, y'know?

@wickedsick asked: Do you think Ghost John x Davesprite would count as…. Doomed yaoi?

Ayyyyyy!

@suroboro asked: So what you're saying is… that Terezi has gone Blind with Rage? (0;

Ayyyyyyyyyy!

Anonymous asked: after you finish homestuck you should 100% check out tumblr user meraki-sunset's crow strider au - it's wildly spoilery but i think as a davesprite lover you will enjoy it

Ah, yes, I'm pretty sure I know about this one! I've also been sent some of the artist's (non-spoilery) art, which looks absolutely gorgeous. It's definitely on the list!

Anonymous asked: This whole section is one of my favorite parts of Homestuck. All the conversations are so genuine and emotional, quiet and intimate, building anticipation but also savoring the moments they have before the end… ough. I gotta say, though it's probably the aspect I've understood the least since my classpecting phase, you really do strike me as Life oriented with a lot of the things you say :P

I still really llke the idea of being a Life Player - partially because I tend to gravitate towards healing, regeneration and resurrection abilities in games. I love getting tanky as fuck in Terraria, for example.

@manorinthewoods submitted: You know who, specifically, could have prevented Perfect Jack if she'd listened to her Denizen? Vriska. Vriska made the Choice that caused Bec Noir, unwittingly. If she hadn't, and if Denizen Choices truly do allow you to alter your own fate, then Jack never would have entered the troll session. Of course, whatever choice Vriska made to ensure Bec Noir's creation must have been earlier than the Veil. Potentially even in the presession! But if she just hadn't been Vriska, then… ~LOSS (19/12/24)

Wait, does it have to be earlier than the Veil? I don't think Vriska should even know about the kids' session until the game has already ended. Did I misapprehend some aspect of that plotline?

@krixwell asked: Worth considering in light of these revelations about Denizens and Typheus in particular: the parcel pyxis system, which fairly consistently takes things where they need to be. If Typheus controls the Breeze on LoWaS, he's basically the local mailman.

Heh, I like that. Perhaps that's why the Breeze will 'carry you to where need to go' - because it's being controlled by a postman, and a postman knows the destination of every package they handle.

@ramdomartkid asked: What do you think about the theory of the kids being homeschooled? As mensioned before, John never talks ab other ppl that aren't hs characters, (and aren't his neighbors) but he also never mentions why he's not at school at the beginning (or a b-day party with classmates) Same goes 4 Dave but Bro doesn't rl have that much motivation to put Dave in school in the first place. Less time for training. Rose…idk same as John And then Jade bc it's canon But that's just a theory…a webcomic theory (sorry if there are errors in grammar, english isnt my native language)

16:13 is fairly late in the afternoon, so John might have just returned from a day at school. I do think the homeschooling theory has merit, though - particularly with Dave, for the reasons you've already stated.

And yeah, Jade sort of had to be homeschooled if she was going to have any formal education at all. It would have ended pretty early, though. :(

@corporalotherbear asked:

LMAO

I feel like an identical exchange has occurred between Rose and Mom Lalonde.

@necrowyrm asked: In the past I thought of you as "thew" due to those being the letters I typed into Tumblr to search you. Recently, Tumblr has demanded an additional letter, so you are now "Thewe" (pronounced completely differently)

From thoo to thooie. It feels like I'm going through a Pokemon evolution!

Anonymous asked: You know that dream Dave talked about? Someone decided to illustrate it and GOODDAMN did they cook!

God damn, you were not kidding. This is such a macabre interpretation of the description he gave, and I love it.

@skelekingfeddy asked: ok im finally continuing with this quadrant ask series lol. i do think theres a side of propaganda to the quadrant system, despite what ive said about it. because even though its based around biological/evolutionary impulses…so is humanity’s concept of heteronormativity. the quadrants are a rather rigid, inflexible system, which is enforced by threat of DEATH. im willing to bet that, for example, certain trolls may feel only red attraction, or only black attraction, or only concupiscent attraction, or only conciliatory attraction, or zero quadrant-based attraction at all, or feel attraction completely outside of the quadrant system. the taboo against polyamory in one quadrant, like you’ve said several times already, is another flaw with the system. the quadrants system is predicated upon biology, sure, but so is cis/heteronormativity. i dunno, this is just my analysis of the quadrants xp idk if hussie was actually thinking about any of this when he was writing hs haha……

I pretty much agree with your take on quadrant propaganda.

In my opinion, any rigid framework of relationships - be it ours, Alternia's, or another - will inevitably fail to describe the full spectrum of possible relationship dynamics. Not every human is straight, gay or bi, and not every troll wants hearts, spades, clubs and diamonds.

Anonymous asked: wanna uh, put in my input on that kismessitude thread someone else sent to you. i disagree for a lot of spoilery reasons but mostly i just want to point out some things regarding a few specific assertions "jack and the queen's romance is tragic and meant to be compared to mom and dad, and the tragedy is unrelated to their romance" yes, mom and dad getting killed by jack noir is like, completely unrelated to their romance. they were literally just vibing and they got murked, would have been the same if it was a platonic hang out and they werent flirting at all. i buy that. we can't really compare that to jack noir and the queen, though, since jack kills the queen over the harlequin costuming. jacks and black queens are constantly attacking each other (over their several incarnations at this point i think they've lost like, 3 limbs between them and an eye. and of course jack killed her too in their like, third scene together). i just don't know how we're supposed to take that as 1. tragic given that a lot of the time it's played for slapstick comedy or "lol look at how much they hate each other" or 2. unrelated from their pitch romance. the dynamic of their pitch romance is them tormenting each other and in one case it ends with jack murdering the black queen. that's not equivalent to dad & mom. also, a few other points: i don't know how we're supposed to take the tavros & vriska stuff, because while they are definitely toxic, they seem to be pursuing each other in the RED quadrant, not in pitch… and it feels like the standards for toxicity are different there. also, something really important: eridan doesn't say anything about 'kismessitudes ending in death' in that conversation on page 2343. he says "CA: you could either play along as our auspistice and do a little mediating like you wwere fuckin hatched to CA: or wwatch she and me devvolvve into fuckin full fledged kismesisses the kind like you dont get once in ten thousand swweeps". the only mention of death here is in terms of COLLATERAL damage, not of them killing each other. eridan talks about killing all landdwellers (but not his friends, because theyre not like other girls i mean lowbloods! man the writing was on the wall with him). not about killing vriska. and this tracks way more with what alternia is like, for me personally- they don't care what two individuals do to each other, but when it begins to interfere with empire on a larger scale, then they would like a mechanism to break it up. ultimately, quadrants are something that WILL come up again in homestuck (spoilers, but i feel like that's obvious, lol. you have another what, 5000 pages?), so you'll get to form your own opinion on it. i just felt really baffled about the arguments because they… felt like they were missing contexts or taking leaps, so i thought i would weigh in. no hate to the other commentator! homestuck quadrant discussion is fun to me.

Interesting thoughts here, in response to a submission about quadrants from earlier in the year.

I don't think I'd ever personally call Jack/Black Queen 'tragic' - but I wouldn't use them as a model for troll kismessitude either way. They're a different species, so they're going to have different standards.

As for Vriska/Tavros…. to be honest, I don't think you could really quadrant them in a way that makes sense. Vriska hated Tavros too much for hearts, but didn't respect him enough for spades. As for Tavros, I don't think he's ever wanted anything to do with Vriska.

Anonymous asked: You might have noticed the unique Strife artstyle in this section of the story. These sprites were created by the art team for a Strife flash that never came to fruition. Now that you've seen the content that was made in place of that flash, I believe it's not a spoiler to send Hussie's commentary on his original plans. What are your thoughts on this alternate path and do you prefer the way the story was ultimately presented? What do you feel about his discussion of pros and cons? (1/2)

Sadly, I don't think we received the second half of this submission. I have been enjoying the artstyle of the recent arc - and if you resubmit Hussie's commentary on it, I'd love to take a look!

Anonymous asked: What mystical powers would the Dave of Guy title give a player? What insane abilities would the class of 'Dave' and the aspect of 'Guy' have?. ~DJ

David means beloved, and Guy is the name of a famous revolutionary.

Therefore, I believe the Dave of Guy would be 'beloved' by the very concept of disagreement, revolution and rebellion. In other words, the Aspect would always favor them, causing situations involving it to resolve in their favor.

If they argued against you, they'd win. If they fought against an institution, that institution would crumble. As long as they were fighting against some status quo, fate would smile on them.

Anonymous asked: If stuff about voice actors blows your mind, Casey Mongillo and Kira Buckland both got their start voicing Karkat and Vriska respectively in Youtube animations. Also "The idea of a work of fiction that subverts or wholly rejects the notion of ‘canon’ is pretty interesting, and on an academic level, it would be kind of cool to analyze it." Have you heard of this little show called Doctor Who? Because "there is no canon" is the position of the brand. I can elaborate on why if you're interested.

Oh, interesting! I was actually thinking about Doctor Who while answering that ask, because the idea of a story that stopped caring about its own lore was an unwelcome reminder of Moffat's era on the show.

I'd be really interested in hearing your thoughts on Doctor Who re: canon discourse, if you're willing to send!

Anonymous asked: i think you should talk about moffat

I was very tempted to compile a full essay summarizing my thoughts on Moffat, but I don't really have the time right now. Rest assured, some day I will absolutely go off on the Moffat era of Doctor Who - and let's not even talk about Sherlock.

@manorinthewoods asked: You may not be able to imagine Nepeta and Eridan being pals, but all the Erinep shippers certainly could. ~LOSS (15/12/24)

Please tell me their ship name is catfish.

@bladekindeyewear submitted: Now that the clock has “landed” on Just for Vriska, I wanted to talk a bit about how a WHILE back you pointed out Terezi’s coin flip as a crucial moment of morality… to me at the time, I believed that if any moment doomed her to a Just death, it was Vriska’s actions around that coin flip, that it was more important than just a narrative performance: Terezi was begging Vriska to leave even a SHRED OF CHANCE in the hands of the trolls to have her stay instead of leave, to give the other trolls even the last of a gambler’s luck of a collective say in whether or not she pursued this course of action that endangered them, and she stole it. Made it a constant across all timelines. I think that’s what crossed the last line of moral ambiguity, that she would not allow her friends a shred of agency over how reality unfolded… except to kill her. I felt THAT is what forced it to be Just, and that injustice is indeed perhaps a matter of trampling over the rights of others.

Perhaps, perhaps.

Mind you, I don't know if it's necessarily always a good or heroic thing to allow a Sburb Player full agency over their actions, nor is it necessarily a bad thing to restrict them, in certain cases.

If Eridan, for example, had been allowed to live his truth on the Veil, no lowblood would have made it out of there alive - and I wouldn't necessarily bet on the highbloods' survival, either. Kanaya was absolutely in the right when she cleaved his agency into two roughly equal pieces.

Vriska was definitely in the wrong when she rigged the coin, but I don't think it was because she didn't allow her friends agency - it was because she was going to get everyone killed. If Vriska had rigged a game against, say, Gamzee, and stopped his rampage as a result, she'd absolutely be doing something heroic, no matter now much she was trampling on his agency to do so.

@manorinthewoods asked: I am rereading my favorite HS fanfic, Like One Sundered Star, to research for Slurb (Sally Sburb), and I have determined that it may be viable liveblogging material, at least towards the second half. Unfortunately, it's image-poor, incredibly long, has a slow and almost a bit weak beginning, is less blog-dense, and also requires a different fanfic to be read first if you want to understand what happened at the start. ~LOSS (14/12/24)

That's the one that's as long as Worm, right? I'm definitely not saying no, but I also think I'd need a lot more free time to do it.

Plus, the lack of images, I think, would throw me off. That said, I did consider liveblogging Worm itself, back when I was reading it. I do think I could liveblog an entirely text-based story, but I'd probably have to rethink my approach.

@securitycapecreature asked: John kissed rose to save her live, same with jade kissing dave, karkats shipping chart is coming true before our very eyes

For a bisexual alien, his shipping is awfully straight, isn't it? I still think Rose/Jade makes much more sense than Rose/John.

@elkian asked: Game rec for Sally: I think you'd enjoy In Stars And Time, a tragicomic timeloop game. There's a handful of Homestuck references (including in the SASASAP artbook) and the humor+gameplay concepts are reminiscent of Undertale but it stands on its own. I'd actually strongly rec playing Start Again: A Prologue first, it's about 2-ish hours and sets the stage for ISAT. Both are really funny which I didn't expect from glancing at the promos so putting that there

I saw that one trending on Tumblr recently, and I'm a sucker for time travel stories. It's on the list!

Anonymous asked: Theres been fun discussion of the way homestuck uses the word play in meta gaming sense but noone's mentioned the word act yet have they? That's not a game word, that's an THEATER word. entire narrative of Homestuck is structured like a play script: it's separated into acts, narration is stage direction, all the dialogue is PLAYER DIALOGUE bc all the characters are actors playing their roles. and if you fuck up your role you get kicked out and REPLACED. exiles arent just npcs theyre STAGEHANDS

Ooh, I like these musings. It reminds me of how the Locked Tomb short story The Unwanted Guest plays with the idea of theatre as a metaphor. Taz Muir's Homestuck phase strikes again!

@bladekindeyewear asked: As we edge ever closer toward this Act’s inevitable conclusion, you asked if for a theory recap we could compile some of the DISPROVEN theories for you— and I’m sure we’ll find a good few to run by you for fun. Though the original Homestuck forums and threads are irrecoverable so much has been lost. But one of the things troubling me is this: Homestuck’s mysteries can be DEEP, leaving much implied. What about theories we formed at the time that were NEVER fully confirmed, might still be important, and which we shouldn’t even be implying to you whether there was any more evidence later because THAT would be a spoiler in and of itself? I think that’s what’s been getting me to hound you the most about opportunities to suggest more theories about stuff from past pages and thoughts we had SOLELY based on evidence we had AT THE TIME or earlier, because sometimes there may be shit amasses circumstantial evidence so many layers deep without EVER being confirmed, because as Andrew liked to put it, “Homestuck is a story that is also a puzzle”. And this onion has some deep effin’ layers we wouldn’t have even THOUGHT we might have reached without working together for years rereading this beast. If you’re still going about it solo, I thought at the end of this act you could use some of the keys we THOUGHT we found DURING this past act that we believed were finally unlocking deeper layers to squeeze twice as much juice or more out of every page.

See, the main problem here is that if a theory was never confirmed, then knowing about it sort of implicitly spoils parts of the comic. The more I know about what won't happen, the closer I get to knowing what will happen.

Therefore, I'm going to say 'not until much later on'. The kind of meta you're talking about would be absolutely fascinating to me, but I think it'd change my perception of the comic too much while I'm still liveblogging.

Anonymous asked: Jade on the page 3946 looks like those weird worms (worm on a string) :D

It's time to come off the string, Jadesprite. Release your true power!

Anonymous asked: You probably have a hundred of these by now, but at some point, those mini-side-story banners get hover-over Alt Text, so keep an eye out for that. Anonymous asked: don't forget to look at the top panels in this section :) rockernator2 asked: Don't know if anyone else has told you this, but there is (or is going to be) alt text on the upper pictures. Anonymous asked: make sure you keep an eye on what's happening at the top of the page! Anonymous asked: You've probably gotten at least one mention of this already, but if you haven't noticed it, it's worthwhile to look at the "banner" at the top of the page starting on page 3797. @bananonbinary asked: psst in true doc scratch fashion, the top panels actually have some alt-text if you hover the mouse over them. he's gotta make you work for it. @bananonbinary asked: oh dang oh shoot oh no thats not for a little bit yet i misremembered rip sorry Cat

[probably good to know early so you can watch out for it - C]

Noted! I just took a look back through the entire Scratch Sequence, and there's been no alt-text thus far. I have been worried about missing stuff in this sequence, given that there's so much going on.

@elkian asked: The Mendicant's Mauler Monologue took me the fuck OUT xD @metroid-fusion asked: hey sally the mailbox description joke was really really funny. youre good at homestuck

Something that is both normal to want, and possible to achieve!

I think PM herself would approve, too. She loves choosing violence.

Anonymous asked: "At some point, I'll have to check if any other lands feature musical symbolism." You mean like that giant record turntable thing in LoHaC? :P @sanctferum asked: "At some point, I’ll have to check if any other Lands feature musical symbolism." I don't remember if there's anything like that on LOFAF other than like, frog croaking (and what a musical genre that is! their albums are already sold out on whatever remains of Prospit, I'm sure), but boy does LOHAC not only have a giant CD, but one that's also the session's scratch construct. Dave's destiny must be to drop the sickest mixtape of all time, while trapping the pimp within his crib like it is hot. @wickedsick asked: "At some point, I'll have to check if any other Lands feature musical symbolism."

Yeah, it's definitely a possibility. (in all seriousness, Dave manipulates the stock market through time travel the way a DJ manipulates and mixes songs (represented through vinyls)?)

fucking LOL. This is what I get for liveblogging at 2am, I guess!

@garnetduodecim asked: Technically what doomed the time line wasn’t John dying, it was Dave prototyping Lil’Cal @bladekindeyewear asked: Doomed John said if he hadn't gone to see his Denizen, Dave(sprite) wouldn't go back and fix things so they could exist… but Dave THOUGHT John's death was why he needed to rewind. So what "doomed" the timeline before John even reached his denizen? One frightening possible answer: CALSPRITE. A prototyped Lil Cal wouldn't have been sent to Alternia in the wallet to be the base for Doc Scratch and guide their universe's creation. LIL CAL'S temporal necessity may have killed the timeline!

The order of events isn't entirely clear here, but you're right - Cal might very well have been prototyped before John flew through that Gate.

Future Dave immediately prevented both events when he travelled back, so it's impossible to say for sure - but I like this theory. That damn puppet is just... inescapable.

@pineapple-temporarily-moving asked: jsyk, you seem to have misinterpreted the line about trolls' eyes changing color when they grow up! only their irises change from gray to their blood color, their sclera do stay orange. mindfang is, indeed, old Anonymous asked: Trolls' /irises/ fill in with their blood pigment as they get older, not the orange part. Mindfang probably had blue eyes, we just don't generally get to see characters' irises. @abysswarlock asked: The eye color thing Vriska was saying was that the grey irises fill in with the troll’s blood pigment color, similar to how the kids iris colors match the color they type in @elkian asked: I always read Vriska's "fill in as we age" thing refer to the irises mentioned previously, but it's kind of just interpreted however. And Homestuck has so much symbolism and stylistic choices that it's not really clear lmao. @skelekingfeddy asked: im pretty sure the ‘eyes filling in with their blood color’ refers to their irises not their whole eyes

So no red-eyed Karkat?

0/10. Literally unreadable.

@krixwell asked: You mentioned in the ask compilation you just posted that the Aspects might operate on a meta level as well as a physical. You've already covered Void, but what do you make of the other Aspects through this lens? @heliotropopause asked: "Maybe Aspects can work on a meta level, as well as a literal one. Like, perhaps Void is the aspect of author uncertainty, […]" the meta level is honestly the most interesting aspect to aspects to me, and i'd love to see you have a go at it; there's definitely some analysis to be done there. @ariamaki asked: "Maybe Aspects can work on a meta level" AN IMPORTANT LESSON WAS LEARNED THIS DAY. I would love to hear your (current) thoughts as to what this would mean when expanded out to the other Aspects, because this is something I think about a lot.

So, this is a type of meta interpretation that I do like analyzing - but to be honest, I don't have many other meta interpretations for specific Aspects. Not yet, anyway.

That said, Sburb is essentially a story that forces itself on its Players, so it would be kind of cool if the Titles were part of that forced story, in some abstract way. I have started to wonder if Time and Space might represent plot and setting, respectively - but so far, that's only a half-baked idea. I'll definitely be returning to this idea in the future, when we've seen a little more of the other Aspects.

that forces its Players to act out its plot, so it would make sense if its titles can be interpreted from a storywriting perspective. The two I have right now are Time as 'plot' and Space as 'setting', they're the most key parts of a story, and the most essential aspects (Time for the scratch construct, space for the frogs.).

@galaxa-13 asked: "GT: my feathers are all ruffled, and i can no longer tell my ass apart from a big orange earth vegetable!" The joke here is "I can't tell my ass from [blank]" which is a pretty common saying when you're frustrated and confused. So John is basically saying "Oh yeah, you sure trolled me good! Because that's clearly what you're doing, trolling me. I am so ruffled!" Anonymous asked: For your information, an orange is not a "big orange earth VEGETABLE". Now, try and use your deductive skills to figure out what orange vegetable is being talked about. ~DJ

I know it was referencing a pumpkin, but I've honestly never heard that saying before. Perhaps it's a lot more popular in the US - or perhaps I'm just one of today's lucky 10'000.

Anonymous asked: Based on what you like about the comic (the same stuff I like) I doubt you would like any of the homestuck sequel/continuation stuff other than [one thing]. There's not much technical stuff, and I personally was really put off by the content of the sequels. I know some people like them but homestuck and it's sequels are very different types of stories. Anonymous asked: Regarding the epilogues (and Beyond Canon) to me, they feel like an interesting story - not necessarily things I would think the characters “would ‘actually’do”, but the themes about growing up, young adulthood, and friendships really resonated with me. A lot of the talk about “canonness” went over my head until it was pointed out to me, and I think that enhanced my enjoyment of it - I related to the story being told, and sort of regarded it as less what I thought would “really” happen and more an interesting idea telling me deep truths about myself. @manorinthewoods asked: To chime in on my view of the Epilogues - honestly, I think they are not particularly good, and until James Roach takes over 2 it's not particularly good either. I don't know whether I'd be sure in saying that reading them detracts from Homestuck, but I think I'd be comfortable saying that they are a continuation of what I feel to be a slow downward swing in quality after Act 5 - and an understandable one, given how Hussie must have been going through the mother of all burnout. ~LOSS (10/12/24)

Sounds about right. We had a bit of a chat about this on the Discord, and came to the conclusion that the tie-ins are probably going to be less appealing to me than the comic proper.

I'm going to default to a 'liveblog-lite' format for them, but reserve the right to do a deeper dive if I'm enjoying myself enough to warrant it!

Anonymous asked: In order to make 'Hostess' fit 8 letters, you'd have to use a typing quirk like Mindfang did with the Expatri8. As an example, the Condesce could have named her )(ostess, assuming that all ancestors share their typing quirks with their descendants. ~DJ Anonymous asked: If the main source for the Hostess' life is Mindfang, then yeah she'd probably have an 8 letter title. Otherwise, her title can be whatever number of letters you want. People do like sticking to the 8 letter rule for OCs, but compare - do real humans not often have given names with a different number of letters than 4, and surnames with a different number of letters than 6 or 7? Almost makes you question if all trolls really have 6/6 names.

Plus, the idea that Homestuck humans all have 6/7 letter surnames is a little weak anyway.

Four-letter first names might be a rule, but is a '6/7 letter surname' hypothesis really that much more likely than the hypothesis that there is no rule, and our four surnames are just between six and seven letters long by random chance?

@armchair-factotum asked: "Like, how does Rose’s chalk relate to bringing life back to her oceans? Did Hussie have different Quest in mind for her, back then?" Well, high concentrations of chalk in soil and water raises the pH, which might make it dificult for some plants and animals to live in? The "sand" on her island was all white and potentially made of chalk after all Anonymous asked: To elaborate on how the grist types/WV's items relate to the land quests: Oil is clogging the pipes that are integral to the salamanders' culture, preventing the Breeze from freely blowing through and delivering things, and the clouds trapping the fireflies are either smog from the oil or would normally be kept dispersed by the Breeze. Most of Rose's basic grist types (chalk, lime, marble) are forms of calcium carbonate, which is mostly formed through biological processes in the ocean, particularly through the accumulation of the shells of dead sea creatures like mollusks, corals, and foraminifera; chalk is formed from the skeletons of millions of dead plankton, and other forms of limestone also often contains fossils. Her beaches are the bleached bones of what once swam in the seas. Amber and rust are gumming up the gears of Dave's land, and the winter of Jade's land is implicitly a nuclear one. Last one is kind of ironically resolved by igniting a volcano, given sufficiently powerful eruptions can in theory create a similar winter effect. Not directly relevant, but I invite everyone to look up Verneshots, fun concept related to volcanoes and meteors. I feel like in the alternate Homestuck where the land quests are more explored, Hussie might have worked those in. Even less directly relevant, the term Siberian Trap(s) refers to both a volcanic event and a chess opening, which again I think could have been a fun Battlefield element in a story more focused on Sburb mechanics. @galaxa-13 asked: Rose's chalk related to her quest of bringing life to the ocean in that it was chalk that poisoned the water to begin with. By killing enemies and collecting the chalk grist as loot she was removing the poison.

I really like the implication that the chalk the Imps were dropping actually came from LOLAR's soil - almost like the Underlings themselves were born out of the ground.

And fuck, LOFAF's a nuclear winter! That's so good!

Anonymous asked: just want to take the time to HIGHLY recommend Homestuck Made This World ("a podcast about the critical analysis and contextualization of homestuck") its done by 2 media studies guys and its really great! they end up talking about doc scratch as one of an ongoing series of author figures, starting with the narrator of the comic (obvious), then dave (literally has a conversation that is an edited version of one of hussies chatlogs), bro (shares hussies interests + some anecdotal stuff related to smuppets (listen to the pod)), then hussie the self insert (an escalation of the narrator), and now doc scratch… (spoiler it keeps hapening) Anonymous asked: If you're into podcasts and people discussing Homestuck, you should at some point check out Homestuck Made this World. A podcast by two literature PHDs, one a long time Homestuck fan and one who's never read it before, discussing the comic a couple hundred pages at a time! They have a lot of great discussions, and the longtime fan also provides a lot of context for what was going on in the fandom at the time the pages originally posted.

Noted! I might listen along to it when I finally get around to rereading Homestuck. That's what I did with We've Got Worm.

Anonymous asked: i dont think anyones mentioned yet that the "hiding in an attic from bullies with a scary-ass wolf head" is also a never-ending story reference. Specifically in that thats literally the entire meta narrative the book was built around that the movie left out. the "puking on bullies" thing is also only in the movie and not in the book. Hussie Knows his references. @pages-in-movies asked: Congrats on hitting the milestone of being introduced to the main pillars of Homestuck: Jungian shadow, Gnosticism, The Never-ending Story, and the quote "nothing new under the sun"

At some point, I'm going to need to host a NeverEnding Story movie night. That, or Con Air.

[ilovedthestars]

i have. too many things to do.

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[dilf-docs]

X Si Volvemos

ex older bf!logan x younger fem!reader

summary: there are many things you and logan disagree in; but not when it comes to things in bed.

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap (phew), smut, ex!logan, exes to ????, p in v, creampie, reader's in her early to middle twenties so her frontal lobe hasn't developed yet; don't expect any reasonable thinking on her side, logan is on his middle to late 40s, angst (duh), this happens in an AU where mutants don't exist bc i don't wanna complicate myself with timelines lol hence time isn't really important but it's contemporary, the vibes i bring to the function are more sad than horny and i'm sorry, toxic too! may build a series around it?

word count: 1,925 words

side note: the incredible @bpmiranda's got me with a very bad case of ex!logan fever :( plus after listening to karol G's album mañana será bonito and seeing i may or may not be obssesed with romeo santos, i got the song in the title on loop: as you can see, it's all very fitting ++ don't forget to check out her stories, they're so good istg!!!!

You shouldn't call.

"Logan" you speak. His name burns in the tip of your tongue, like a secret you're not supposed to tell.

He shouldn't answer.

It's quiet at first on the other line, until a rough voice says I'm here, appearing to be distant, but who is he trying to fool? As soon as he saw the number pop on the screen, his fingers moved with a learned urgency.

You shouldn't keep calling.

"I need you" three words to cover those you actually mean; hanging in the spaces between the silence.

I miss you. I love you.

Your hear a heavy sigh on the other end.

He shouldn't keep answering.

"Princess..." Logan pleads, "don't do this"

You know better than that, he wants to say, but keeps his mouth shut. Just to hear your voice, just to-

"Please, Lo" you whine out. Logan grabs his jeans with force, the fabric strained under his white-knuckled grip. It takes him a lot not to run to you right there and now.

"Don't" but his voice cracks as much as his resistance.

"I've got the house" you whisper the prayer; a routine so sacred none of you seem to break it, "just for us"

"Y/n" even saying your name is painful; like the most addicting and damaging drug to ever exist, "stop"

Logan loved your stubborn heart, but there are times where he wishes you weren't like this.

"I'm sorry" and then he hangs up.

I'm sorry for not being who you needed. I'm sorry I pushed you away. I'm sorry I keep on coming back after I said I would leave you alone. I'm sorry I can't keep my promises.

You feel it around your neck―bruises in the vocals your voice has failed to scream; it chokes you with rage.

"Are you stupid?" you ask yourself in the mirror.

What are you doing? Why are you doing this to yourself? Do you love him more than you love you?

You dial again, but this time, it's a girl who picks up.

"Yeah?"

"Hi. Wanna go out?"

Logan feels so out of place, but this used to be your favorite bar, and he's desperate for a drink.

Listening to your voice has always made him weak, but after you broke up, it drives him crazy.

He empties another glass, feeling pathetic. This is how bad it's gotten: you've got him scouring the places you used to go, chasing your ghost, trying to get a glimpse of your silhouette or a whiff of the phantom of your scent, the lavender haunting him; getting under his skin.

A song beggins playing, and it's the same vinyl set from two years ago. The night he met you: a pretty young thing so out of place in an old bar like that, playing hard to get, only to end the night moaning over him, fogging his car's windows, saying his name in a way no one else had before. He still remembers the way your legs trembled but he held you, beads of sweat confusing themselves with the glitter on your skin. Logan doesn't know what that is, but he's marveled, so in awe of you, everything of you: young, new, exciting.

But every new thing wears out, and the gap he swore wouldn't matter came crashing in years that built a distance between him and you.

So he did what he did best: ruin it. Deny the feelings bubbling inside; let them consume his reasoning, pushing you like he had done with everyone who cared about him before.

When he broke your heart, he took a part with him. So you keep coming back, looking for it; trying to piece yourself together. And he let's you: because God knows you have a part of himself too.

He's so drunk he probably imagines the hint of lavender in the whiskey tinted air. He's so desperate to see you again, he's seeing your face among the crowd. He's definitely gone insane: hearing that laugh he misses every day.

"Y/n..."

The music pauses: all you can hear is your name being said in that way like it belongs to him.

"...Logan"

He walks in autopilot over to the table you and a group of girls are sitting. They're all beautiful―beautiful people attract beautiful people, but he's only got eyes for you.

"What are you doing here?"

He raises a glass he didn't know he was carrying, "having a drink".

Your lips purse, and Logan doesn't know if it's because you're laughing at him or sad.

"I see" but you divert your gaze, looking at your outfit's neck. The outfit you chose: a black dress that pushes your tits on top. They are on display, and Logan feels played by you―his eyes trained on the strained fabric, tongue watering like it did when he would lick your sensitive nipples.

"I see too" he says in automatic, and one of your friends laughs. He looks away, thanking the low lights, or you'd see the red embarrassment on his face.

You stand up and walk over to him, and your friends sense it's time to leave the two of you alone.

"Why did you hang up?" you throw the question so casually; the nerve you have.

"What do you mean?" it's the only thing that comes to his mind. Very stupid, indeed.

You scoff, "delete my number, then"

"You keep on calling" he bites back.

"And you keep answering"

You never shut up. He hates that.

"I may have to stop"

You get closer, way too closer. So much, your hot breathe clouds his judgment.

"Try to" you dare.

And he tries, he really tries. But not today.

Not today when he takes you home, finally looking complete with you in it again. You had moved out after your last discussion, saying you'll never be back.

"You haven't changed a thing" you murmur in between kisses, and he can sense a bit of melodrama in his voice that makes him roll his eyes despite the dull ache on his chest.

He picks up your body swiftly, carrying you up to the bedroom.

"Why would I?" he asks, voice so low and small you almost miss it.

"Because you hate me" you avoid his eyes, even if your faces are too close, loosing all that corageous character of yours, "said you would get rid of it; of everything that reminded you of me"

But when he drops you softly on the matress, there's still that lamp you got him in the night table.

"I couldn't" he confesses.

I couldn't, he means, because I couldn't let you go.

But you both know it won't work out, something you knew right from the start: because toxic loves only fulfill basic needs. This isn't healthy, but he forgets it all as soon as you're moaning his name. Still, he promises himself he will say goodbye to you this time, even if it's inside of you.

"Shut up and kiss me, then" you're always pushing him around, making him do the things he desires to but doesn't want to do.

So he obliges, leaning in, the lavender so strong all over your sweet skin, poisoning his mouth on every kiss he leaves. He feels you squirm under him, goosebumps along your skin, prickling against his, so visible he can see and feel it even in the dim lit room.

"Take it" Logan doesn't look at you, but when he does, you feel him stare deep into your soul, "I know you want it"

He's sliding his dick inside you as soon as the sentence is over, the permission to take you and use you implicit. He robs a drawn-out groan out of you.

"So tight for me" he murmurs against your shoulder, sharp breaths and soft groans flooding your ears. His cock hits deep within you, hard thrust no one has ever been able to replicate, making you gasp for air, burying your face in the plush pillows now drenched in your sweat.

"You're so deep" you hiss, hot and overwhelmed, waves of pleasure hitting like water against cliffside rocks. "So big, Lo" you whine, dizzy at the way your pussy stretches for him.

"Just for you" he grunts out, and it's the truth. No matter how dark the room is or how many faces he avoids, he always looks into the eyes of the other women he fucks, his heart sinking when he can no longer pretend it's you, "fuck, squeeze a bit more".

Hearing his deep voice, rough when you fuck, always making you soak, coating his dick in your juices. You grip tight, as tight as the nails that hold onto his shoulders, making him moan at the pain.

"Like that, princess. Good girl" you moan at the praise, "I know you could take me, all of me"

He grunts and pants, holding you tighter as his cock pumps faster, in sync with your now closer to happening orgasm.

Before it, he slows down his thrusts, "where do you want me to cum, princess?"

He wants to, inside of you, but he can't do so, not when he promised he wouldn't ruin your life. But making you his, marking you as only his, makes his dick inside you twitch. Fuck, he's so balls deep inside you all he can think is filling you up silly.

"Inside me, Lo" like you read his thoughts, and it always amazes and scares him; how deep inside his mind you are. Never happened, not in his four decades of life. And that's part of the problem: he's closer to death than you are but it's only with you, young―blossoming with life, that he feels truly alive.

So how can he say no, when you plead and beg with those pretty doe eyes of yours? Who could imagine such a sweet thing to be so needy. He feels like you could ask for his heart, and he'd carve a hole in his body for you―bleeding out of love; dying with a smile.

"Such a greedy little thing, princess" he mocks, but his tone betrays him―dripping in adoration, "want me to fill you up all nice?"

A broken wail is what he takes as your answer, your mind in blank.

He finds himself letting go, way faster than he should; he just misses you and your needy dripping pussy that much. You can't hold back longer either, rush flowing through your veins, much more satisfying than the alcohol you had drank an hour ago.

Logan paints your insides with layers of his hot cum, mumbling a soft:

"Anything for my princess" he keeps going, panting as he's milked entirely dry, "anything you want, my girl"

Your vision is still spotty, mind fogged: you're sure that's the reason the hurt hasn't settled in your heart yet.

Then the silence comes, like it always does now.

"Y/n" you always love when he calls you by your name, but you hate the way he's saying it now. Like a goodbye.

"Don't-" you plead, begging he shuts up. But he pulls out, and says:

"It's for the best"

You don't want what's best. You want him.

"Can't believe you wore this dress" he traces the pattern of the tight clothes, damped in sweat, "you know it's my favorite. Why?"

You fail to supress a smile, even if it's tired and almost sad, "I knew you couldn't say no".

The truth is, you know many things: like how this is never going to stop until it's destroyed you both.

[onetrickyslicklie]

what i need is to let out all my frustration on her. i’m so fucking feral i don’t even give her a chance to strip. i just tear the clothes off of her myself, push her down to the bed on her hands and knees, and thrust every inch of my cock inside her. look at that princess, you were already wet. all it took was for me to toss you around like a toy for your cunt to start dripping? you’re so in love with being manhandled, dirty fucking girl. gripping your hips, i start spreading your pussy open with my thick cock, making you scream. i take one hand, lean over and grab a fistful of your hair, and force your face down into the sheets as i fuck you into the mattress from behind. scream now, baby. using my other hand i grab your wrists and pin them behind your back so your face sinks deeper into the bed. look at that, princess, i have total control of you now. i can use you however i want back here. i could take your asshole, too, if i wanted. and you can’t fight back. you’re all fucking mine, little whore. fuck, your pussy clenches so hard around my cock when i threaten you. good girl, you know your fucking place. i pick up the pace. all you can do is scream into the fabric as my skin slaps against yours. as my thick cock separates your walls, sliding deep in your warm and wet hole, my shaft grinding on your walls, the tip of my cock hitting your cervix, filling you until there’s no space left in your cunt. it feels so fucking tight, the pressure’s building inside your hole. thrusting so deep that it hurts you. you’re not used to a cock this big breaking you. but you don’t seem to mind the pain. you beg for daddy to slow down, but if you really wanted me to then why are you creaming on my shaft? why are you arching your back and bucking your hips? cause daddy’s hitting that special spot right? atta girl. i take one hand, wrap it around your throat and pull you up in front of me so you can hear my voice right in your ear. so you can feel my breath on your neck. i reach the other hand around your waist and start rubbing your clit as i abuse you from behind. tell the truth, princess. you don’t want me to stop at all. you love when daddy ruins you. you love when daddy hurts you. say it! now tell me you’re just a whore made to be fucked. tell me your cunt is built to be filled by daddy’s cock only. atta girl. i love breaking your mind, darling. you’re addicted to having my cock stretch your tight little cunt. you’re addicted to hearing me grunt and growl in your ear. your purpose is to be my free use slut. tell me that’s your purpose! good girl. i love feeling your pussy twitch and throb as you degrade yourself. you need to cum, don’t you? good. let go baby. cum for me. nothing else exists besides daddy’s cock in your pussy, and his fingers massaging your clit. cum as i squeeze this long girthy shaft inside you, never slowing down. feel the hot ropes of cum draining from my cock and breeding your soaked princess pussy. cum with me, baby. you don’t have a choice

[revelboo]

Maybe some optimus, metroplex, or tfp ratchet pretty please🙏 I have no special reason bc you always make sure we're fed regularly I'm just addicted to them💅 *looping around your legs like a cat and you're holding the treat bag*

Also I am floored over some(all tbh) of the other characters recent chapters and just how many different paths all these stories are on and how well they all flow like do you somehow have extra storage space in your brain??? Where can I get the update installed for myself😂how the hell are you sorting all these bc you may pump them out fast but thats still like a lot of things to track😅 plz tell me you have a comically large brick of sticky notes you're slowly going through bc otherwise real talk if youre just rawdogging this all by memory plz ignore the request and give your brain a rest🙏we ly but plz make sure to take breaks with lots of snacks and sleep💗

Nah, I just keep track of them in my head. I’m weird like that 😅 I’m doing better now. First day I’ve woken up without a headache in two weeks

I Can Feel You Pt 11

Metroplex x Reader

• Rasping softly, brows creasing in frustration that he can’t speak. Still. Keeps his head turned toward where you’re sitting on a table with Ratchet’s tools as the medic works to repair the drone’s damaged systems. To give him a voice again. Something pulls, hurts and there’s a burst of staticky noise. “Little one,” he says, not his voice, but his words. And you stand, little fingers fisted in the blanket Ratchet has given you. “I think everything should be back online now, but take it easy. This drone’s been inactive for centuries,” Ratchet says. But he’s not listening, focused on you as he mass shifts the drone to your size, the energy strain slamming through him in drowning pain. Crippling him and severing the connection to the drone. Hearing Ratchet’s frustrated, “What did I just say?”

• Visor dimming, the drone sags. “Metroplex?” Looking from him to Ratchet when the medic vents tiredly. “Is he gone again?” Nodding, the medic slams down a tool a bit rougher than necessary. “Can I sit with him until he comes back? Please,” you add as he frowns at you.

• “Probably not a good idea. Any involuntary movement could hurt you even at that size,” he mutters so you content yourself with sitting on the edge of the table, legs dangling. “We should at least get some answers,” he grumbles. “No matter how much damage we repair, he’s rerouting energy somewhere and staying critically low.” Hesitating as he begins cleaning his tools, he looks at you, expression critical. “Hound told me you’d said the Titan was speaking to you.”

• Face heating at the memory that speaking isn’t all you’d done, you shrug weakly. “He was lonely. I started talking to him first.” Because you’d been lonely, too. Overlooked a lot of the time by the Autobots just because you’re so small, an after thought most of the time. Easily forgotten. But Metroplex had heard you, seen you. Reached out in return. Echoing your loneliness and halving it.

• Again. Frustrated as he retreats deeper into himself, knows he needs to build energy again. Be patient. But the drone is there with you. It’s mass displaced. These are steps forward, not stumbles. He just has to remain on course. You’re waiting for him. You’ll be right there. He needs to believe it, desperate to hold you in his arms even if they’re borrowed. To recharge with your heartbeat against him, to hear your soft voice and to be able to answer. Wants to hear about your day, your dreams, everything. And he’s getting closer to that goal. Closer to you.

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Amusing myself all the way to Pier Park leaving notes

[soulofapatrick]

Nothing Changes - Aaron Hotchner x female reader

Summary: You wake the next morning to an empty bed and panic

Words: 1.3K

Warnings: None; fluffy

Notes: I'm really sorry for writing so much Hotch, I'm rewatching criminal minds and all these story ideas for him have been on my mind

Waking up to an empty bed, I feel my heart sink as the realization hits me: Hotch isn’t lying beside me anymore. Panic flutters in my chest as my mind races through a flurry of thoughts. Of course, he left. He couldn’t stay, not without risking our jobs, our reputations, and maybe even our friendship. What if one of the team found out? What would they think of me? They’d probably assume I’m taking advantage of Hotch, especially considering it’s only been two years since Haley’s passing. The man seems to still be grieving, and here I am, complicating things even more.

The distant sound of the shower running breaks through my panic, and relief floods through me, mingling with a tinge of nervousness. Maybe he hadn’t left entirely. Maybe there’s still a chance, a hope that last night wasn’t just a fleeting moment of weakness, but something more. Last night was the first time we gave in to the building sexual tension between us.

His clothes are still strewn across my room, a tangible reminder of the intimacy we shared. I can’t help but replay the events of last night in my mind—the way his touch ignited a fire within me, the way his eyes held mine with an intensity I couldn’t ignore. The way he was so gentle yet so dominant, knowing how to work my body right.

As I slowly come to wakefulness, the sound of the shower grows louder, filling the empty space with its steady rhythm. Part of me longs to join him, to lose myself in the warmth of his embrace once more. But another part of me hesitates, afraid of what this newfound connection might mean for us both.

Before I can decide both of our phones are ringing, the shrill sound makes my head hurt and I’m groaning, burying my face in the pillow Hotch had previously slept on. The phones ring till they stop and I count to four before both start ringing again, ruining the peace this almost domestic moment.

I’m smacking the bed in faint protest before wriggling over to the nearest phone and answering, “Yeah?”

No one speaks for a second before I recognise JJ clearing her throat, “We need you in, we’ve got a case.” There’s amusement in her tone that has me frowning before my heart drops for the second time this morning.

“JJ…” I pause, swallowing thickly, “This is Hotch’s phone, isn’t it?” I groan, turning my head to look at the bedside table to see my phone sitting there, “Oh god!”

“I won’t say a word,” She pauses and I hear her stifle a small laugh, I won’t tell if you tell me all about it on girls night.”

“Deal.” I reluctantly agree before hanging up and throwing Hotch’s phone somewhere on the bed.

I climb out of bed, feeling the cool air against my skin as I pad to the bathroom, wearing nothing but Hotch’s button up I throw on haphazardly, not bothering to do it up.

Hotch stands under the shower, his silhouette obscured by the mist, like a figure emerging from a dream. The gentle stream of water traces the contours of his body, sculpting shadows and highlights that accentuate every line and sinew. Droplets cling to his skin, glistening like diamonds in the soft light filtering through the steam.

His shoulders, broad and powerful, bear the weight of countless burdens, yet in this moment, they seem almost weightless, as if the water washes away the weight of the world. The water cascades over his chest, tracing the ripple of muscle, each movement a testament to strength and resilience.

His jawline is sharp, chiseled, a portrait of determination and resolve. The water courses over it, tracing the curve of his lips, the faintest hint of a smile playing at the corners. There’s a vulnerability in that smile, a glimpse of the man behind the stoic facade, and it steals my breath away.

His eyes, closed in peaceful repose, are hidden from view, yet I can imagine them so clearly—deep pools of darkness, windows to a soul that has weathered storms and emerged unbroken. They say the eyes are the windows to the soul, and in that moment, I feel as though I can see straight into his.

Every inch of him is a study in contrasts—the strength and vulnerability, the resilience and tenderness—all wrapped up in one beautiful, complex package. And as I watch him, bathed in the gentle embrace of the water, I feel something stir within me, something deep and unspoken.

It’s as if with each droplet that falls, my heart beats a little faster, my breath catches a little tighter. In that moment, I realize just how deeply I’ve fallen for him, how every part of me longs to reach out and touch him, to pull him close and never let go.

I give in to that want, stepping towards the shower, the warm water enveloping me like a comforting embrace. With a quick motion, I shrug off his shirt, feeling the fabric slip from my skin, and I step under the water next to him. Droplets cascade over us, mingling with the steam, as I close the distance between us.

My fingers tremble as I reach out, brushing lightly up his toned bicep, tracing the contours of muscle beneath his skin. A small sound escapes him, a mixture of surprise and pleasure, as he looks down to meet my gaze. His cognac eyes soften as they meet mine, warmth and affection swirling within their depths.

His hands find my hips, fingers tracing patterns against my skin, as if mapping out the curves and contours of my body. There’s a tenderness in his touch, a gentleness that belies the strength of the man before me. With each caress, he stirs something deep within me, igniting a fire that burns brighter with each passing moment.

I feel a surge of longing, an ache that resonates deep within my soul, as his touch sends shivers coursing through me. It’s as if every nerve in my body is alight with electricity, every sense heightened by the intensity of his presence.

And then, without hesitation, he pulls me flush against him, his lips finding mine in a searing kiss. It’s a collision of desire and longing, a meeting of souls bound together by the undeniable pull of attraction. His lips are soft against mine, a gentle exploration that sets my heart ablaze.

“Can we just stay here?” I mumble, pulling away from the kiss to rest my head on his chest, feeling his heartbeat beneath my cheek. I don’t care if we’re late, if I have to dry my hair before we leave, if we miss the plane. I don’t care for anything except the safety of Hotch’s strong arms wrapped around me.

“I don’t suppose the only reason you came in was to shower with me, was it?” He hooks a finger under my chin and makes me look up at him, an eyebrow raise and an amused look on his face.

“No,” I can’t help but pout, drawing a chuckle from him and he ducks down to press a kiss to my forehead, “we have a case.”

“Well,” he brushes my now wet hair from my face, “We have about an hour.”

“It takes me 45 on a good day Hotch.” I grumble and his eyes widen a little in disbelief as I’ve never told anyone where I live let alone how long it takes me to get to work until now. Until the very man I’ve been dreaming of for months is standing, very, very naked in my shower.

“Alright sweetheart, we’ll pick up some coffee on the way in.” My heart flutters at the pet name, my cheeks heating up and I’m burying my face in his muscular chest, “Sweetheart?”

“What happens when we enter the office?” I mumble against his chest.

“Nothing has to change.”

“Nothing has to change?”

“I promise”

Criminal Minds Masterlist TAG LIST - updated 21st Dec 2023

@guacam011y @rosaliedepp @kajjaka

[stargazedwinchester]

Stanford ♡ Sam

Summary: You meet your new roommate, Sam Winchester.

Word Count: 1,320

Pairing: Student!Sam, Student!FemReader

My new upload schedule has changed! There will be a new post every Wednesday and Saturday 12:30 GMT (Excluding this one). Part 2 to this will be up Christmas Day meaning there won't be another imagine until the 1st of January. I'm posting this one today because part 2 will be Christmas themed and I don't want to post it late as it'll lose the feel of the story if that makes sense? Anyway, enjoy!

The intricate designs on the walls of Stanford University were unreal. The building’s age exceeds a century; its continued beauty is astonishing. You make your way through the vast arches, looking down at the map of the University provided by senior students standing by the front gate.

‘Dorm 143,’ you hum to yourself, the signs on the walls guiding you in the right direction. You guide your way up the stairs and take a right turn, walking down a lively corridor. You find your room and unlock it with your key, then you’re greeted with a stuffy odour and a plain dorm. Observing the empty space, you plant your bags on the left side of the room. The walls are a boring white and the curtains are bland. There’s no character to this place and you can’t wait to waste your student loan on decorating, so it feels like home.

You open up a window to allow fresh air to flow through, when the door bursts open and the bustle from outside echoes throughout the dorm. A 6 foot something guy balances 2 boxes on top of each other, tossing them on the floor. He doesn’t even notice you before looking up.

“Oh, hey! Sorry, I didn’t see you there,” he exclaims, fixing his fringe, smiling at you cordially. He’s wearing a light, muted blue Nike sweatshirt and a suede jacket on top with dark denim jeans and Nike trainers. He’s a very cute guy and you’re unsure whether he’s got the right room.

“Sorry, I’m Sam. Winchester.” He pauses, holding out a hand for you to shake. You take it. You smile back at him. “I’m Y/N. Are you sure you have the right room?”

“Yeah? Why wouldn’t I?” He asks and you shrug. “I dunno. You don’t seem the type to study law.” He snickers at your comment, furrowing his eyebrows. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You just don’t look the type, that’s all.” You look down at the floor, somewhat embarrassed at what you’ve just said to him. Sam chortles. “Right… Okay.” He says, he turns around and places the boxes he brought in on the right side of the room. You feel very awkward at this point, so you take yourself toward the door to go outside and pick up the rest of your stuff. “Where’re you going?” Sam asks curiously, and you glance at him quickly. “I need to go pick up the rest of my stuff from my car,” you say, “it’s okay. I can get it myself.” You insist and Sam walks toward you. “Let me help you.” He towers over you as he holds the door open. You feel bad if you reject his offer, so you allow him to follow you down to your car, anyway. It could help having an extra pair of hands to bring your things up.

You lead Sam to the pickup truck that you borrowed from your parents, multiple boxes filling the passenger side and even more in the back. Unlocking your car, Sam immediately jumps in and picks up two boxes at a time. You attempt to take two as well, but fail miserably. He chuckles at you. “Here, give it to me,” Sam says, and you carefully place a box on top of the ones he’s already holding.

“So… What’re you doing for the rest of the day?” He asks, trying to break the silence.

“Well, it’s probably gonna take me a while to unpack my things,” you pause in thought, oblivious to what he’s attempting to ask you. “How come?” You question and he shakes his head lightly. “No reason.” He smiles at you. You reach your door and you let yourselves in. Sam places your boxes on the floor carefully, then leaving the room once more. He tells you he’s going to pick up the remaining boxes and for you to stay there. You turn around and look at Sam’s side. There’s a noticeable difference between yours and Sam’s boxes. He had only brought two whilst you have five overstuffed boxes sitting along your bed frame. You almost feel guilty for him. The minimal amount of stuff he’s brought makes you ponder what his life was like before this, before Stanford became reality.

You pick up his coat that was sprawled out on his bed, his wallet barely hanging out from his pocket. A small, frayed polaroid photo peeks out from inside the wallet, a photo of Sam and another guy with short, brown hair and a dark brown leather jacket. He’s wearing an amulet, it’s a brushed bronze colour on a black chord. They seem happy. You notice some lights in the dim background and a quaint Christmas tree; you assume the photo was taken last year. A gentle smile graces your face at the thought of him sharing Christmas with someone. Disregarding the amount of things he’s brought with him, at least he has family to lean back on and that’s where the best memories are kept.

Sam suddenly strolls in, his eye’s taking a second glance at his polaroid quickly being thrown on the bed. He sets the boxes down and places his hands on his hips. “Were you going through my things?” He scoffs, his eyebrow flicks up in disbelief. “I was tidying your things and a polaroid fell out…” You tell a white lie, nothing that would hurt him. Sam laughs lightly, his deep dimples complimenting his face. “It’s okay. It’s my brother and I,” he starts, picking up the picture and examining it himself. “He’s called Dean. Before last Christmas I hadn’t seen him for 2 years. Our father travels a lot and we never get a chance to get together as a family.” Sam looks at you, some regret lingering in his eyes. Your gaze drops to the floor. You just know that there’s something more going on that he’s not telling you, for obvious reasons. Sam notices the change in topic. “Dean’s an asshole, but he’s my brother. He’s a good guy.” Sam places the polaroid in his wallet and hangs his coat up on the rack at the end of his bed.

A few hours had gone by, and at this point you have given up on putting things away and tidying up. Sam sits on his bed, scribbling something on a notepad. He has been quiet since your interaction earlier. Sam had helped you put your things away, but then gave up when it came to your clothes. You relax on your bed, letting out a deep sigh.

“God, I need to get out.” You complain, Sam not moving an inch. He doesn’t even look at you. You sit up on the bed, looking directly at Sam. “I want to go out.” You repeat, and a smile creeps up on his face. “Then go out,” he starts, “no one’s stopping you.” He then goes back to whatever he was writing on his notepad.

“Come out with me.” You suggest, and he huffs.

“Now, why would I want to do that?”

“Because we’re roommates, Sam. We have to get to know each other.” You explain, hoping that he will give in. He sets his notebook down and stands up. He walks over to grab his coat and passes you yours. “Fine. On one condition.” Sam has a cheeky look on his face that proves he’s about to test the waters.

“Go on,”

“You agree that this will be our first date?” He asks, and your cheeks flush red. “I can’t pass up an opportunity to take a pretty girl out.” He adds, making your heart skip a beat. “Sure, it’s a date. But on one condition,” you copy and he lets out a chuckle. “Yeah?” He moves closer to you, his height clearly showing the difference between you both. “Only if you drive.” You prod at his chest, causing him to recoil playfully.

[sandflakedraws]

You made the unexpected turn into Trolls and i decided it looked interested and followed you! Still haven’t actually watched anything, just kinda immersed myself in the fandom.

the trolls world is just ripe for nonsensical world building, amvs (we callin them fancams now? i'm not sure), and lore mechanics... and then shockingly, trauma dives.

like! because of the kind of media it's in, there are some horrific and tragic implications that are only glanced at, simply left untethered. there's not enough time to cover 2 decades of trauma in an hour thirty minutes for little timmy. But I Have The Time. I will sit with those implications.

and then!!

they get to have their cake and eat it too because of that very same media.

of course they're going to be dancing and singing with the people who only seconds ago tried to eat them! that's just what you do!

of course they're going to tell the people torturing them to death that they deserve to be treated with kindness! everybody does!

the picture it paints for me is of these like. incredibly anxious little trolls, with a whole culture around an almost toxic kind of positivity with very big troubles, and even bigger hearts. and that's like. joey kryptonite. they almost got me back in the first film, but i was mostly satisfied with the character arcs. so i didn't feel the need to break out the fandom playdough.

and then the third one came in with a steel chair like 'hey what if branch was just one part of an entire tragic family. what if they ALL had decades of trauma because of a bad decision they made as teenagers, which permanently skewed the trajectory of their lives. what if they needed some space to define themselves outside of their Band Titles (and by proxy their role in the family) and were then punished for that decision by the narrative, denying them the chance to reunite again. what if a promise sat forcefully broken for just as long and yet the bond didn't disintegrate. what if the love was still there.'

and i never stood a chance

[blissfullyecho]

My Level-Up Requires “Me Time”

Let’s talk about how irreplaceable my ‘me time’ is. I’m not talking about a quick break here and there, but true solitude… the kind where it’s just me, my thoughts, and my energy. Some people are afraid of being alone, but I thrive in it. It’s my space to recharge, refocus, and realign with my goals. I don’t need the noise of the world to feel grounded; I’m most powerful when I’m fully present with myself.

In the quiet, I get to reconnect with my inner voice, the one that’s always been there guiding me toward the next level. I don’t rely on others to tell me who I am or where I’m going; solitude helps me hear my own truth without distractions. It’s in these moments that I build the foundation of my success—clearheaded, calm, and unbothered by outside opinions. I don’t need anyone’s company to feel whole. My own company is the most fulfilling. So while others are out chasing approval or validation, I’m over here building my empire in peace, enjoying every moment of solitude. It’s not loneliness—it’s self-love at its finest and it’s so true when they say that when you truly love your own energy, the world can’t help but notice.

[asirensrage]

Dealing with Unwanted Attention - The Hashira

An exploration of how the Hashira (+bonus) help you deal with unwanted attention from a neighbour.

Modern!AU!Demon Slayer (and female!reader).

Adult!Hashira (except for Muichiro and Tanjiro and co who are all teens)

Rating: T

Pairings: Nothing explicit but suggestive... (aside from Tengen&wives)

Warning: swearing, some violence/threats, mention of possible stalking (they've been staring at them for a while), slight poisoning, neighbour being a creep, mention of them wanting to watch women make out.Un-beta'd.

Word count: ~ 4800

Notes: Based on true events (mainly the neighbour staring and stopping the reader to confess their feelings). I wasn't planning on writing this in 2nd person pov, but it kept trying to change into it as I wrote, then when I was trying to choose between 2nd and 3rd, my friend chose 2nd and a random wheel picker chose 2nd...so I gave in to the universe. This got long. Enjoy!

Please let me know what you think and if I got the characterizations right. One of my fave lines I've written is in this, see if you can guess lol.

What they arrive to:

You try to be polite to your neighbours. There’s no need to be rude, even if you’d rather be left alone by them, but you didn’t expect it to lead to this. You know the man has been watching you. You could feel his eyes on you when you were outside and he was on his balcony, but you’ve never said more than a thank you to him for holding open the door for you so you’re not entirely sure how you’re in this mess. 

He’s confessing to you. This man that you’ve never officially met until right now, who might actually be younger than you, who is telling you he’s an alcoholic but that he’ll change. For you. How does he think this is appealing? You’re trying to find an exit, you don't want to be completely rude since you live in the same building and you’re likely going to see him again, but you want out. Now.

The reactions:

Sanemi

“Who the fuck is this?”

You let out a breath at the voice, relief setting in deep in your bones. “Sanemi,” you turn with a smile, grateful for his timing. 

He’s not looking at you. His eyes are on the man standing in front of you, who’s still trying to reach out to touch you. Again. Sanemi moves, stepping forwards until he’s in front of you, blocking the man from your view. He stares at you for a moment, taking stock of the relief he can practically feel radiating from you. “Are you ready to go?” he asks. You don’t have any plans, but you don’t care. You’ll follow him anywhere right now. 

“Yeah. Sorry to keep you waiting.”

“Tch. You should be,” he says. He sounds irritated but you know him better by now. 

“Excuse me,” the man behind him interrupts. “We’re in the middle of something.”

You watch as Sanemi’s expression shifts into something slightly murderous as he slowly turns to look at the other man. “Did I fucking ask?” The man steps back and Sanemi takes the motion to move forward, getting into his personal space like he tried to get into yours. “You know him?” Sanemi directs the question to you despite not looking back. 

“He lives here.” 

“I’m introducing myself,” the man says. “We’ll be friends.”

“Friends?” Sanemi scoffs. “She has enough friends.” He steps forward again, forcing the man back. “You ever make her uncomfortable again or even try to touch her again, I’ll break your fucking hands, got it?” 

“Uh, yeah.” 

“Good. Fucking creep,” Sanemi turns back to you, ignoring him. “Come on.” He waits for you to move, keeping himself between you as he leads you away from the building. “He ever bothers you again, you tell me.”

You grin up at him. “I will. Thank you.” 

“You just got lucky I showed up.”

“...why did you come by?” 

He doesn’t answer. 

Shinobu

“My my, what’s this?” 

You turn to look at the voice, relief setting in that at least you won’t have to do this alone. Shinobu doesn’t offer you a hug, but she stands next to you, glancing at the man before looking back at you. “New friend?” Shinobu asks, a light smile on her face. 

You know better than to assume that your friend is being polite. “A neighbour,” you confirm, ignoring the flash of anger you catch on the man’s face. Great. Another thing to deal with. 

Shinobu hums lightly before she turns to the man. “Is there something you needed?” 

The man blatantly looks over her before smiling. “I am introducing myself. Hopefully, we can be friends. All of us.” He is either unaware of the danger the small woman presents or ignores it. Either one marks him as an idiot. 

“Oh? Are you incapable of making friends?” 

He blinks in surprise and you know he’s unsure whether or not to take offence. Shinobu has a way of saying things in her light voice that most men don’t realize are as cruel as she intends them to be. “What?”

“Are you unable to make friends?” she asks again, smile still in place. “I assume that’s why you’re cornering a woman who’s clearly not interested. It’s a bit pathetic, don’t you think?” 

“Pathetic?” he catches the insult and scowls at your friend. 

“Yes,” Shinobu nods. “Does that make you angry? There are ways to fix it, that don’t involve my friend.” 

“I’m not pathetic! I was–” he’s cut off as he reaches forward. Shinobu’s hand grabs his wrist before he can reach you. He tries to pull back and frowns slightly as her nails scratch him as he pulls away. “I was introducing myself,” he continues. 

“Then you’re done and now you can leave,” Shinobu nods. He looks as though he’s going to protest but he sways slightly before blinking rapidly. 

“Did you do something?” you ask Shinobu, who looks at you innocently. You know better though. 

“Hmm…it might be a reaction to the latest experiment. Perhaps it got on my nails. I’m sorry,” she smiles at the man. “You should be fine with some rest. It’s not nearly enough to be fatal.” 

The man pales. “What?”

“You should go,” Shinobu says. “Unless you’re willing to be a test subject. I’m sure no one will miss you if you’ve cornered women before. Perhaps you should be more careful, no?” 

The man basically runs from her and you watch as he leaves. 

“What was really on your nails?” you ask, looking at Shinobu. 

“A mild paralytic. He’ll survive,” she says. “I came to ask if you wanted to join me for dinner?”

“After that? Absolutely.” 

Gyomei

Someone calls your name and before you can even turn to look, you see the man in front of you blanch. You know the voice and it’s entertaining to see firsthand how intimidated someone can be by your friend behind you. Especially when you know that he’s the kindest one of you all. 

“Are you alright?” 

“Gyomei,” you greet warmly. “What are you doing here?” 

“I came to see if you would join me for the afternoon. Are you busy?” 

You look at your neighbour who is still staring at the tall man in shock. 

“Oh,” Gyomei says. “My apologies for interrupting.” He turns to the man. “I am Himejima Gyomei.” 

Your neighbour introduces himself and you try not to be annoyed at how he’s stepping back now that someone else is here. Especially when it’s another man. “Are you friends?” your neighbour asks. 

Gyomei looks down at you. “I am very lucky to have her in my life.” It’s not an answer and you have a feeling he’s done it intentionally. Whatever. You’re not going to complain if it gets you out of this. 

You smile up at him. “I think I’m the lucky one,” you say. You mean it too. Gyomei is a calming presence in your life, someone steadfast that you know you can rely on. He rests his hand on your shoulder and you relax under it. You’re safe with him. 

He turns back to your neighbour. “Please, continue your conversation. I can wait.” 

“No,” your neighbour says. “It’s fine. I didn’t realize…” he trails off before wandering away without saying goodbye. 

“Are you alright?” Gyomei asks again. 

“Yeah,” you say. “I am now.” 

Obanai and Mitsuri (because ofc they're together)

You notice when his gaze shifts from you to something behind you. Then you hear it.

“You’re outside! Did you know we were coming?” 

You turn to see Mitsuri heading towards you, Obanai behind her, his eyes already on your neighbour who is staring…at Mitsuri. You turn and move, just enough to block his view. Mitsuri doesn’t have a problem showing off any of her assets, but that doesn’t mean your creep of a neighbour could stare. Ew. 

Misturi crashes into you with a hug, as though it’s been years since you’ve last seen each other and not days. You hug back just as tight, grateful for the company. 

“What are you doing here?” you ask. 

“We came to take you out!” Misturi pulls back and motions towards Obanai. “We missed you!” 

You weren’t sure if that was the truth but a quick glance at Obanai shows that he’s moved to stand between you two and your neighbour. He nods toward you and you can’t help but smile back. 

“Where are we going?” you ask. 

“Dinner,” Obanai says. 

“Excuse me!” your neighbour cuts in, moving to the side so that Obanai is no longer blocking him. "Hey, we were talking.”

“Oh!” Mitsuri turns to face him. “I’m sorry!” 

Obanai glares at the interruption. “Who are you?”

“Her neighbour. We were just getting introduced.” He gives his name again, this time reaching for Mitsuri’s hand. He does not get far. 

“You often touch people without them wanting you to?” Obanai asks, his grip tightening on the man’s wrist. Your neighbour tries to pull back but is unable to. 

“He was just introducing himself,” Mitsuri says. “Weren’t you?”

“Of course!” Your neighbour says. “Can’t people be friendly?”

“No.” 

You have to hide a smile as Mitsuri giggles at Obanai’s response. 

“Go ahead,” Obanai says. “I’d like a word with your neighbour.” He doesn’t look at you, keeping his eyes on the man whose wrist he’s still holding. 

“Okay!” Mitsuri grabs your hand and starts pulling you away. “Nice to meet you! Don’t be too rough, Obanai, okay?” Once they’re far enough away, Misturi lets go and looks at you. “Are you alright? You looked uncomfortable.”

“Yeah,” you say, smiling softly. “He came out of nowhere. I’m glad you were there.” 

“Don’t worry, Obanai will let him know you’re not interested. Besides, you have us!” 

You hug Mitsuri again with one arm. “I do!” 

Muichiro

You step back as your neighbour moves forward, reaching for your hand again. Why does he keep trying to touch you?

“I don’t think she likes that,” a voice comes from the side. Both of you look and your face lights up when you see who it is. 

“Muichiro! What are you doing here?”

His head tilts slightly as he looks at you. “You said I could come any time.” 

You smile slightly as you nod. “You’re right, I did.” The kid was always welcome but it was rare to see him without his twin. “Where’s Yuichiro?” 

“He said he’d come later. He thinks he’s figured out a move that will beat me in shogi.” 

“Is this your brother?” your neighbour cuts in. He smiles at the younger boy and introduces himself. Muichiro ignores him. 

“Are you going out?” he asks. “Can we join you?”

“Yes,” your neighbour adds. “We can walk with you. Get to know each other better.” You recoil from him reaching for you again and step back.

“Not you,” Muichiro cuts in. “You are not invited.” 

“What?” 

“You’re not invited,” the kid says again. “I don’t think you should touch her anymore. She doesn’t like it.” 

“Listen, brat, no one asked you.” 

“Hey!” you cut in, scowling. Why was it always easier to defend someone else than it was to defend yourself? “He’s right. You can’t just invite yourself. Thank you, but I’m not interested.” 

He reaches for you again but Muichiro knocks him over as the boy moves forward. “She said she’s not interested.” Muichiro stares at the man on the ground for a moment. “You shouldn’t bother women who aren’t interested.” He looks back at you. “Should we call someone?”

“It’s fine,” you say. “Come on, let’s go meet Yuichiro on the way. I’ll buy dinner.” You both leave the man to pick himself up and you silently pray he gets the hint. 

Giyu

You almost don't hear your name being called. The lack of reaction doesn’t stop Giyu from moving forward and standing next to you. 

You look up at him in relief. “Giyu!”

“I called,” he says. He glances at your neighbour who is watching you. “Are you busy?” 

“No,” you shake your head, hoping that he’ll be able to at least get you out of this. Even as hopeless as he was socially, you know that he’ll pick up on your hints. You’ve known each other long enough. 

“We’re in the middle of a conversation,” your neighbour says, looking unimpressed that you’re dismissing him. 

Giyu looks at him before turning back to you. “Are you hungry? I wanted to talk.” 

“Sure!” 

“Excuse me,” your neighbour interrupts again. 

Giyu gives you an unimpressed look but turns to face him. “Can I help you?”

“You’re interrupting. I was just getting to know your friend.”

Giyu stares at the man for a moment. “I don’t think she wants to know you.”

Your neighbour’s jaw drops. “Who are you to say that?”

“Her friend.” Giyu looks at you again. “Do you want to stay?”

You shake your head slightly, just enough to convey your desire to leave. You might have to never come back. Or maybe you could convince him to move. “Let’s get something to eat.”

“There’s no need to be rude!” your neighbour snaps.

“She’s not rude,” Giyu says. “It was clear she wasn’t interested before. You should pay attention.” You try not to laugh at Giyu of all people pointing out ignoring social cues. You adore him more for it. “Let’s go.” 

“Hey!” your neighbour reaches out, aiming for Giyu’s shoulder to stop him from leading you away. He doesn’t make it. Giyu steps to the side, turning as he grabs your neighbour’s hand and directs the motion straight to the ground. 

You can’t stop the gasp at the sound of him hitting the ground. 

Giyu holds him there for a moment. “Are you done?” he asks. He finally releases him and steps back. “You should keep your hands to yourself.” Giyu looks at you again. “Can we go now?”

“Yeah,” you smile. “We can.” 

He offers you his hand to step over your neighbour and leads you away. “If he bothers you again, call us.”

“I will.” 

Kyojuro

Someone shouts your name and as soon as you hear it, you calm down. Things are going to be okay. You turn towards the voice and grin. “Kyo!” 

“I hoped you were home!” He strides forwards towards the two of you. He looks between you both. “Am I interrupting?”

“No!” you exclaim as your neighbour says “yes.” 

Kyojuro looks at you both before he nods. “I see. My apologies regardless.” He smiles at your neighbour and offers his hand. “I am Rengoku Kyojuro. Who are you?” 

You watch as your neighbour introduces himself almost warily as if he’s not sure what to make of the situation. 

Kyojuro turns to you, stepping closer and smiling down. “Are you free today?”

“Yes.”

“Excellent. Continue your conversation, I will wait.” He crosses his arms over his chest and turns to face your neighbour. The man looks stunned to be pinned by Kyojuro’s gaze. You know the feeling but you wait to see if he’s going to continue to confess under your friend’s stare. 

“I uh…” your neighbour glances at Kyojuro again before he looks at you. “As I was saying, I want to know you more! If you don’t like that I drink, I’ll stop.”

You look at Kyojuro whose expression hasn’t changed but you can see the tension in his form. You wouldn’t notice if you didn’t know him like you do. “I heard you,” you say carefully. It’s safer now, you feel, to decline his interest outright with someone else with you. “Thank you, but I’m not interested.”

“You haven’t even given me a chance,” your neighbour says. You don’t want to. “We could just spend time together.”

“No thanks,” you say, shifting closer to Kyojuro without thinking. 

Your neighbour steps forward, reaching for your hand again. “I’m not trying–” 

“She has made herself clear,” Kyojuro interrupts, his hand on the man’s wrist, preventing him from touching you. “Do not dishonour yourself further and press for her attention.” 

“Dishonour? I’m just trying to ask her out!”

“And she refused,” Kyojuro says, still staring at the man. “I fear that if she should accept, the flame of her heart would be drowned by the weight of your desire. I cannot accept that!” 

“I didn’t ask you,” your neighbour snarls. 

“You did not! But I am here regardless and thankful for it, if only to protect her from your refusal to hear her disinterest. Leave now.”

“You can’t just–”

“I can! I trust that you will not embarrass yourself further. Should I hear that you continue to push or attempt to take advantage, I will not be as forgiving as I am now.” 

The man stares at him for a moment before Kyojuro finally lets go. Your neighbour stumbles back slightly. He glares at you both, rubbing at the wrist Kyojuro held before he walks off, heading to the building. Kyojuro watches until the man disappears into the building before he turns to you. “Are you alright?” 

You move without really thinking, wrapping your arms around his waist and hugging him tightly. “Thank you.” 

He pauses for a moment before he brings his arms around you, holding you against him. “It’s alright,” he says softly. “I am just glad I was able to be here.” 

You pull back. “I appreciate the help. What brings you around?”

“I wanted to see you, of course!” He lets go as you move away. “As you are not busy, would you be willing to join me? I have something I wanted to show you!”

“Of course! Let’s go!”

Tengen

An arm drapes itself over your shoulder. If you weren’t familiar with the weight of it, the scent of the man who pulls you into him, you would have recoiled. “What’s this then?”

You look up at the built man who towers over the rest of you. “Tengen! What are you doing here?” 

“Came to see you, of course! Who’s this?” Despite the cheerful tone, he doesn’t take his eyes off your neighbour. 

“My neighbour,” you say after a moment as you realize the man in question is still looking at Tengen. 

“Hm,” Tengen leans down, putting his face next to yours and ignoring your neighbour. “You miss me?” He grins as he asks, eyes on you. 

“Didn’t I just see you the other day with the others?” you quip back, used to his flirting.

“Who are you?” the man finally speaks up.

Tengen glances over at him and you can practically see him considering if he wants to deal with the man. He straightens, keeping his arm around you, and grins. “Uzui Tengen! Flashiest man around and the love of her life!”

“You’re not the love of my life,” you say automatically.

“I could be,” Tengen says. He leans down closer again and his voice lowers. “Don’t you want to give us a chance?” 

“We’re talking,” your neighbour cuts in again. “In fact, if she’s not interested, it’s all the more reason she should say yes to going out with me.” 

“I would think that the she in question should make the choice,” you mutter. 

“Why would she date someone as unflashy as you?” Tengen asks, looking unimpressed. 

Your neighbour seems taken aback by the question. “What? Why wouldn’t she?” 

Tengen makes a point of looking the man up and down. “You have no flair! No flamboyance! In fact, it’s very unflashy of you to keep ignoring her like this while you talk about her, right Angel?” 

“Hmm,” you nod in agreement. 

Tengen tightens his grip slightly “Do you want to go out with this boring man?” He asks. 

“No.”

“There you have it. Now,” Tengen leans towards your neighbour. “In fact, I don’t think you should bother her again and if you do, well…I’ll show you how flashy I can be.” 

The man swallows slightly, as though he’s suddenly reminded of Tengen’s size. “Uh sure,” your neighbour says. He glances at you. “Sorry.”

You don’t get a chance to respond because Tengen leads you away, arm still around you and heads towards your building. 

“You’re not going out anywhere, are you? Thought we could order in. Unless you want to go out. Karaoke?” 

“Are we going to invite the girls?”

He grins at you. “Of course!”

Bonus!

Tengen & his wives!

You hear the squeal first and then Suma crashes into you. You hug the woman back, used to how affectionate she is. 

“What are you doing here?” you ask,  completely distracted from the situation with your neighbour as you look to see Makio and Hinatsuru heading towards you.

“We missed you!” Suma says, pulling back. 

“Will you let her go?” Makio demands, yanking Suma back as they get close. “You’re interrupting!” 

“Sorry!” Suma lets go. “I was just excited!”

“It has been a while since we’ve seen you,” Hina agrees. She looks over at your neighbour before turning back to you. “Sorry for interrupting. We hope you don’t mind that we dropped by unannounced.” 

“Not at all,” you smile at the three women that now surround you. Makio has shifted, taking point to be in between you all and your neighbour. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“I bet,” Makio says. There’s a brief moment where you all communicate silently with each other. The slight widening of the eyes, the nod and shifting of the shoulders. The way friends have communicated about the people around them for ages without words. It’s enough that the three women are all aware that you’re uncomfortable and are grateful for their help. 

“Excuse me.”

They all turn to look at your neighbour who looks delighted at the sudden prospect of more women to interact with. It probably helps that all three of the new ones are gorgeous, well-endowed and wearing low-cut tops. 

“What?” Makio asks, unimpressed. Suma shifts slightly to stand closer to you. 

“Sorry to interrupt,” he says before introducing himself. The women all stare at the hand he offers but none of them reach to take it. He pauses before finally dropping it, but he steps closer. “We were just getting to know each other,” he says. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friends?” 

No, you think. You don’t get a chance to answer though because Makio turns her back on the man and faces you again. “Have you eaten?” Makio asks. 

“Oh yeah!” Suma grabs your arm and you feel a rush of affection for these women who have shown up and are trying to help. “If you have, we could get dessert!” 

“You’re not busy, are you?” Hina asks.

“No,” you shake your head. 

“Hey!” your neighbour cuts in again. “There’s no reason to be a bitch. You could have just said you were into girls. I wouldn’t have minded…especially if I can watch.”

Your jaw drops open and you can see the way the others nearly shake with anger. Before any of them can step forward, your attention is drawn behind him as Tengen appears.

“Oh ho! What’s this?” His hand slaps down on your neighbour's shoulder. You can see his grip tighten. “I didn’t just hear you call them something so unflashy, did I?” 

“Tengen!” You all call out, your voice tinged with a little more relief. As glad as you are for the company of the girls, you don’t want to subject them to your neighbour more than you have to. 

Tengen grins at the four of you before focusing back on the man he’s holding. “Now, what were you saying?” 

“What? Nothing!” 

“Liar!” Makio snaps. 

“He called her a bitch, Tengen,” Hina says softly. She loops her arm around yours on the side that doesn’t have Suma. 

“He said he wanted to watch!” Suma adds. 

“Oh really?” Tengen’s eyes narrow. “Perhaps you girls should go ahead and I’ll catch up…after I teach this one some manners.” 

“Good,” Makio nods.

“We’ll let you know where we decide to go,” Hina says softly. “Come on.” The girls usher you away from the building where Tengen is still keeping your neighbour in place. The man looks slightly terrified now but Tengen waves you all off with a grin. 

“I’m so glad you’re okay!” Suma exclaims, still keeping her arm around yours as they walk. 

“Yeah,” Makio agrees. “How long has that creep been bothering you?”

“He’s been staring for a while but just came out of nowhere today, telling me he liked me and wanted to go out. He said he’s an alcoholic but would stop for me.” You see the look the women give each other. 

“Maybe you should stay with us,” Hina suggests. “Just for a bit.”

“Yeah!” 

You laugh slightly. “I don’t know. I’ll have to go home eventually, right? I’m sure he got the point.” 

An arm wraps around your shoulder as Tengen appears, inserting himself between you and Suma. He laughs as you both adjust to the new position. “He sure did!” He towers over all of you but Tengen has never felt threatening. At least not to you. “He won’t be bothering you anymore. And if he’s still staring, call us. We’ll deal with him,” he promises. 

You smile up at him. “Thank you.” 

“You don’t have to thank us,” Hinatsuru says softly. “We’re happy to help.”

“Yeah!” Makio adds. “He’s lucky Tengen showed up before I got to him.”

“I don’t know about that…” Tengen says, “but I know I am with such flashy girls!”

AND

Tanjiro, Nezuko, Zenitsu and Inosuke

The man is holding your hand in a light grip that tightens as you try to pull away. You’re trying not to be rude but his hand is clammy and you never wanted to be touched. You have a feeling you’re going to have to snap and then deal with the repercussions later. 

Your attention shifts to the sound of feet hitting the pavement and a familiar voice calling your name. You yank your hand from your neighbour before turning and moving back, managing to avoid Inosuke’s attempt at a tackle. You shift and watch as Zenitsu falls, his attempts to hug you failing. You’re used to these kids and at this point, it’s a game when you meet. 

Zenitsu whines at your avoidance. 

“Haha!” Inosuke slides to a stop and turns back to you. “You won’t avoid me again!” 

“Stop tackling her!” 

You ignore Zenitsu and Inosuke as they start arguing and turn to Tanjiro and Nezuko as they stop next to you. “What are you all doing here?” 

“I hope you don’t mind,” Tanjiro says softly. “We were passing by and saw you. We thought we’d stop and say hi. I tried to get them to stop from running at you. Sorry.” 

“It’s fine,” you wave him off. “I’m glad to see you.” Nezuko moves forward and offers a hug and you hug back, noticing the way Tanjiro moves between you and your neighbour. Your gaze softens. He’s such a good kid. They all are. 

“It’s been awhile,” Tanjiro agrees. 

“Excuse me,” your neighbour cuts in, moving around Tanjiro. “Didn’t realize you were so popular with children. Are you related?” 

“No,” you say, not willing to give more than that. 

“Who are you?” Inosuke shoves himself between you and your neighbour. You can see the man trying to move around the kid, but Inosuke has a way of making himself known. “Fight me!” he demands. 

“What? I’m not going to fight a kid.” Your neighbour looks for you but you let go of Nezuko who raises her eyebrows, silently asking if you’re okay. 

You nod back, smiling at the girl. 

“You think you’ll beat me?” Inosuke says. “You couldn’t touch me. I’m the greatest!” 

“Who is that?” Zenitsu asks quietly, coming up to your side now that Inosuke is distracted. “Do you know him?”

“He’s my neighbour,” you say. “He was just…introducing himself.” You wince as you say it. 

“You didn’t seem comfortable. Do you want to leave?” Tanjiro asks, focused on you as Inosuke drags your neighbour to more open space in his demands to fight. “We can walk you to where you’re going. Or inside,” he offers. 

“Thanks.” You smile in relief, even if they’re just kids, you’re grateful you’re no longer alone. 

“Fuck off!” All of your attention turns to the sound of your neighbour yelling at Inosuke. “You freak!” 

“Excuse me?” You move around the children, striding towards your neighbour. To hell with being polite. “What did you just say?” He turns to you, surprise crossing his features as though he’s forgotten you were there. 

“I–I was just–”

“Just what?” You snap. “He’s a kid and you’re swearing at him?”

“He’s not leaving me alone! I’m trying to talk to you!”

“I don’t want to talk!” You stride forward, aware of the eyes on you. “I haven’t shown the slightest interest and you kept pushing and trying to touch me!” His eyes widen but you don’t stop. “They’re fifteen! And they have more sense and observation than you do. You don’t treat people like that, even if they’re annoying and you don’t keep pushing your attention on to someone who doesn’t want it!” 

“I’m sorry,” he reaches for you again.

“Fuck off!” you use his own words against him. “Come on, Inosuke, don’t waste your time fighting him. You’d likely win in seconds. Let’s go.” You turn and walk back toward the others. 

“You’re so cool!” Zenitsu cheers as you return.

“That was impressive,” Tanjiro agrees. “Hopefully he’ll listen.”

“If he doesn’t, I’ll come back and show him how weak he is!” 

You smile at Inosuke and reach out to ruffle his hair. He ducks out of the way. “Thanks. Come on, let’s get out of here. You guys want to walk me to my friends?”

“Yeah!” 

“Let’s go!”

“I’m going to get there first!” 

“What!? Wait for us!”

taglist: @raith-way @chrissymunson @veetlegeuse  @chickensarentcheap @residentdormouse 

[locomoqo]

Hello! Can I request an angsty+platonic Eugene fic where the reader is his younger triplet who was recently hospitalised after somewhat contributing to the Hunt For Gun arc with Yuseong anf Mandeok? And Eugene is just regretful and starting to doubt himself? We knew he really cares about Yuseong and Mandeok to the point of crying to say that he can't live in the 'dream world' without them and I need someone to elaborate on that because darn he's so pretty when he cries.

a burning hill

ft. Eugene

details: platonic/familial angst, gn!reader

A/N: anon u r so real he is such a pretty crier

Eugene shuffled through the dimly lit hospital hallway toward your room, the sterile scent thickening around him with each step. The sight of his siblings and Mandeok, lying battered and motionless, echoed in his mind, filling him with a gnawing guilt he couldn't shake.

He had visited Mandeok and Yuseong earlier, his attempts at composure failing in the face of their injuries. Mandeok’s fractured leg and Yuseong’s shattered knee, both injuries rendering them helpless, lingered painfully in his memory. And now, seeing you like this… it was too much.  

The sight of you, his younger triplet, lying unconscious amidst the steady beeping of monitors, broke something inside him. Bruises marked your skin, and bandages covered cuts, each one a testament to the brutal fight you had endured. For a moment, he reached out, brushing a few strands of hair from your face, his fingers trembling. How had he let things spiral so far out of control?

The minutes stretch on, Eugene’s mind spiraling into guilt, his thoughts filled with haunting questions. 

If I can’t protect the people I care about… what am I even doing? 

How can I call myself a friend, a brother, when I can’t shield them from this? 

He had always believed in planning ahead, in staying one step in front of any obstacle. But now, staring at you, broken and still, his plans felt hollow, his ambition a cruel mockery. He clenched his fists, feeling the frustration building, the pain of helplessness seeping through.

“I didn’t want this,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper. “Not for any of you.” He shook his head, a bitter smile tugging at his lips. “I kept telling you… all of you… to prioritize yourselves over the goal.” His shoulders slumped, the weight of his guilt pressing down on him, his usual confidence dimmed, replaced by a shadow of self-doubt.

The memory hit him suddenly, flashing before his eyes: the locker room, days before the hunt for Gun began. He could still see Mandeok’s grin, the determination in your eyes, and Yuseong’s silent nod of agreement. 

They had all crammed into that narrow space. “I’m sorry, Eugene,” Mandeok had said, “But I won’t be able to do that,” his voice laced with a serious edge. “I want to let you live in the dream.” he said with a wide grin.

You nodded, firm and unwavering. “We’ll do it, Eugene. Whatever it takes.”

Yuseong hadn’t spoken, but his silence held a promise, a quiet strength that reassured them all. He had patted Eugene’s shoulder, a gesture that was simple yet said everything: they would follow him, no matter the cost. Eugene had felt a strange mix of pride and fear at that moment, a heaviness in knowing that you all trusted him so completely.

But now, back in the stark hospital room, that memory felt like a curse. 

How could he have let this happen? 

He gritted his teeth, fighting back tears. “I thought… if I just planned everything right, kept us one step ahead… that it would be enough,” he choked out, voice breaking. 

Eugene leaned forward, his forehead resting against your hand, his composure unraveling as he struggled to steady his breathing. He had always prided himself on staying calm, on being the mastermind who could control any situation. But here, with no one to witness his breakdown, he let the tears fall, each one a mark of the guilt and pain he’d been carrying.

“I… I can’t do this without you,” he admitted, barely audible, as if confessing it would make it any less real. “I can’t live in that ‘dream world’ if you’re not there… none of you.” His grip on your hand tightened, his silent plea echoing through the room: if he could, he would take on all the pain in your place, a thousand times over.

As tears slipped down his cheeks, slow and sorrowful. His vision blurred, and he could barely see through the veil of tears clouding his eyes. But he didn’t care anymore. For once, he allowed himself to put his emotions on full display.

“How am I supposed to call this a victory?” he whispered to the stillness, his voice cracking with each word. The dream he had worked so hard to create, the vision he had poured every ounce of himself into, now felt like a bitter mockery. All the planning, the sacrifices—it had all led here, to this cold, empty moment of regret.

As he sat there, wrestling with himself, Eugene could feel the hands of regret wrapping around his neck so tightly. Every decision he had made, every order he had given, now felt like chains, binding him in guilt.

And the worst part? He couldn’t tell if he’d ever be able to forgive himself for it.

[theunholybastard]

Kinktober: October 9th - Breeding (Papa Emeritus III x Female!Reader)

Tags: Established Relationship, Breeding, Mentions Of Miscarriage, Hurt/Comfort, Rough Sex, Praise, Light Body Worship, Multiple Orgasms, Cunilingus (Terzo Is A Munch), Fluff And Smut, First Person POV

My knee bounced up and down in anticipation, sat on the edge of the bathtub, waiting impatiently. When it's time, I gulp, anxiously looking down at the tiny test in my hand. Negative. Again. Tears start to brim in the corners of my eyes, but I quickly brush it off, taking a deep breath to self-regulate. I was used to the disappointment.

Me and Terzo have been trying for a baby for nearly a year, to no avail. I've seen dozens of negative pregnancy tests, and even the ones that appear positive at first, I end up losing that pregnancy soon after. I try my best to keep my head high, but the more negative tests keep building up, the bigger the pit in my stomach grows, swallowing any and all hope I've held onto. It was like a sick joke, the dream of having a family being just out of reach.

I toss the test in the trash, stepping outside the bathroom with a sigh. Terzo, who had been pacing around the bedroom with his hands clasped behind his back, stops in his tracks when he hears the door creak open. His head immediately snaps up, gaze nervous, expectant. "Well?" He asks tensely. I say nothing. I don't have to. My expression says all that needs to be said. Terzo frowns.

"Oh, amore..." His arms immediately encircle me, engulfing me in a bone-crushing hug. My heart ached as soon as I heard him speak, clearly trying his best to be strong for me, yet I can hear the disappointment in his voice. My throat grows tight as I choke back a sob, my hardened exterioir starting to crack.

"I thought... I thought it would take this time..." I sniffle, unable to hold back the everflowing stream of tears stinging my eyes as they cascade down my cheeks. "I don't u-understand... What's w-wrong with me?" I wept uncontrollably into the crook of his neck.

"Shh, shh... Nothing is wrong with you." Terzo reassures firmly, stroking my hair, his chin rested on the top of my head. "These things just take time, tesoro..." I pull away from his embrace, practically pushing him off me, remaining inconsolable.

"How much time? How much longer do we have to wait?" I heave frustratedly, my voice raw and cracking painfully with every word. Terzos eyes glazed over, powerless as he watched me break down. I know he hated seeing me in such despair, over and over again, while also feeling equally as devastated. I hardly consider the fact that this is destroying him, too.

Terzo swallowed harshly, rubbing his eyes before the tears even dare to escape, trying to remain stoic. "We'll keep trying." He croaked calmly, sounding as if he's trying to convince himself that everything's going to be okay more than he's trying to convince me. "We'll keep trying..."

My bottom lip quivers, my eyes already red and puffy, snot building up in my sinuses, no doubt looking like a hot mess. "I... I need to be alone right now..." I whimper hoarsely, overwhelmed and needing time to wallow in my sorrows by myself. Terzo nods understandingly, even though I can tell he's reluctant. I avoid looking him in the eyes, for fear that it would send me over the edge even further.

"Let me know if you need anything, amore." He murmured. "Just don't keep yourself locked away for too long, si? I love you, tesoro..." And with that, he left the room, gently closing the door behind him, granting me the space I asked for. I immediately fell onto the bed, burying my face into the pillow to sob hysterically.

-

I can't pinpoint when exactly I managed to fall asleep, but I woke up suddenly to a delightful smell. Opening my eyes, I see Terzo, holding a plate of my favorite food in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other. "I knew you'd be roused awake as soon as I brought your food in." Terzo grins, admittedly relieved to see me up.

"I thought this would make you feel better." He says, placing the dish down on the bedside table. He shakes around the bottle of wine enticingly. "And this is here to make me feel better. But you're welcome to have some too, of course..." He kneels down beside me, brushing strands of hair out of my face, gazing into my eyes sincerely. "How are you feeling, tesoro?"

"Terrible." I chuckle humourlessly, my nose stuffy and voice slightly nasaled. I feel nothing but numb at this point, empty. Terzo smiles weakly, squeezing my hand and gently stroking the skin with his thumb. He'd seen me in this disheveled state a hundred times before, but this time it was different. I felt so defeated, resigned, and to Terzo it seemed like I was giving up, which terrified him. "I know." He acknowledged, smile fading. "Me too..."

We sit together in silence for what feels like hours, halfheartedly picking at the food he brought me with a fork, my appetite lacking. Terzo lay down in the bed beside me, an arm wrapped securely around me as he takes a swig of his wine straight from the bottle, neither of us so much as looking at each other, devoid of our usual energy.

"We will have a baby." He declared, his brows furrowed with a look of unwaivering determination. "One of these days, it will take, and we'll have a little one of our own in our arms, filling our life with joy and stinky diapers. But until then, we will keep trying. It's not hopeless, cara mia. You need to know this." I couldn't help the faint smirk that grew on my face. It always warmed my heart to see his determination and resilience shine through, even in the hardest of times.

I nod in silent agreement, but he tuts, setting the bottle of wine down to use his spare hand to grab me by the chin, gently maneuvering my face to look at him. "I want to hear you say it, amore mio." He insists, gaze unwavering. For some reason, his face so close to mine, his commanding tone, sends a shiver down my spine and a fluttering sensation in my chest and... somewhere else. I breathe in. "It's not hopeless." My words came out a bit shaky, but still resolute. "We will keep trying."

Terzo takes notice of the subtle shift in my demeanor, cocking an eyebrow. He can feel my breathing starting to pick up, and he's immediately on guard, eyes flicking down towards my lips briefly; I know that look. "Who knows," he purrs. "Perhaps the one that takes... Could be conceived tonight?" He suggests, half-jokingly. His usual confidence waivers, unsure if he should be suggesting that kind of thing while just hours ago I was in such a fragile mental state.

My body is hyper-aware of his proximity, the scent of him surrounding me, his gloved hand trailing down from underneath my chin to caress my neck. "I wouldn't mind trying." I shudder, my breath hitching audibly as he leans closer, lips ghosting mine. Heat pools in my core, the idea, the hope, that tonight might be the night, that maybe we could finally get what we'd been wanting for so long. It sets my blood on fire.

He closes the gap between us, lips pressing together, exchanging kisses, sweet and tender at first, but they quickly build to be more passionate, desperate. Our teeth clash together from the force, but we are both too wound-up to care, our tongues intertwining and sloppily fighting for dominance. His hands slide over my body, slipping under my shirt to grope my bare breasts in a firm, possessive hold. "Get on your back." He whispers lowly, leaving no room for questioning.

I do as I'm told, excitement rushing through blood, causing a full-body shiver of anticipation. Without another word, he rolls on top of me, trapping me between his body and the mattress. He licks his lips hungrily, wasting no time tearing off my pajama pants and my underwear with renewed vigor, lowering himself down to press his face against my sex. "Need to get a taste of your cunt before I stuff you full..." He gruffs before delving his tongue into my hole, lapping up as much of my slick as possible.

I clench, my hips gyrating against his face, in need of friction on my clit. I let out a noise between a gasp and a moan, obnoxiously loud and needy. He knows exactly what I crave, and runs his thumb across my slit, up to the little bundle of nerves that so desperately needs attention. He puts pressure on my clit, rubbing it in slow, circular motions, as his tongue delves in and out of me, devouring my pussy as if it was his favorite meal.

Terzo, with his impeccable skill, has me cumming on his tongue within minutes, greedily slurping down every last drop of my juices. My vision is blurred from the intensity of the orgasm, my body tingling in a daze. Before I can come down fully from my high, Terzo has already hoisted himself up over me, swiftly taking his throbbing cock out and plunging deep in my walls. Hes always loved fucking me after making me cum with his mouth, claiming I was all the more wetter, warmer after a good, hard orgasm.

Usually when we were intimate, he was gentle, loving. We made love, sensual caresses and sweet nothings whispered into one anothers ears. But tonight, he was fucking me. His hips snapped brutally against mine with reckless abandon, giving me no time to adjust, which in return only made me squeeze tighter around him. There's no time for softness now, only a deep and primal urge to breed.

"F-fucking good girl. S-so tight, fucking milking my cock. Satanas!" He growls, his eyes trained on the way my body bounced and jiggled as he pounded into me, especially my belly. He rubbed his hands up and down my torso, gripping the supple flesh appreciatively. "You are going to look so beautiful when you swell with my child. Seeing this fucking stomach, all round and full of me... I won't be able to keep my hands off of you, tesoro."

This was a side of Terzo I've never seen before. Desperate, greedy, borderline animalistic, like he was addicted to my cunt and was using me as a means to get his fix. He was filthy, starved, and filling my womb with his seed was the only way to satiate his hunger. He thrusts harder, faster, till it's almost too much for either of us to handle. Almost. Terzo has always pleased me so good every time, better than anyone else ever has, but this time was incomparable. I was so embarrassingly wet, creaming on his dick, watching the white foamy mess encapsulate his member below, making a mess of his well-trimmed pubic hair.

My head is spinning, another orgasm brewing within me once again. The coil in my abdomen tightens with every thrust, ready to snap. "Are you ready for Papa to breed you? Are you ready for me to make you a mother? Cum on my cock, cara. Let's cum together." His words are exactly what I need to hear to cause the dam inside me to finally break, indescribable pleasure sparking throughout every nerve ending in my body, forgetting everything I've ever known, nothing remaining in my mind but pure bliss.

He finishes soon after me, a final rut into my tight walls as he spills himself impossibly deep within me. I welcome the comforting warmth of his seed filling me, feeling so close to him in more ways than one. For a moment, we are one, truly one, and there is no moment in history more beautiful to me. Dick softening, he pulls out of me, eliciting one last whine from him. He drops to my side, chest heaving, the both of us feeling boneless and tired.

"You okay?" He murmurs, compassion and concern etched in his voice. I nod, my mind too far gone to speak properly. The only thing I can focus on is the blobs of his spend leaking out of me and dripping down my thighs. He is warm and secure, and I've never felt better or safer than I do right now with him. Of course, I do hope his seed will take root, but the idea of getting to be fucked like this more often makes me hope we will have to keep trying, again and again. I don't ever want to go an evening where I'm not stuffed full.

-

[bubblergoespop]

My Top Regulus Quotes

oh silly little crazed invisible man i love you

“You belong to me. And I belong to you.”

“I’m going to pour myself into your mind like water, filling up the blank spaces. Whispering my love into the quiet corners, tearing down all the walls you’ve built up over your life until you’re open and empty and light.”

“Mine.”

“I’m going to crush every one of your stars in my fist until they’re dust orbiting around the source of your gravity—me.”

“Who do you belong to?”

“I love you so much. I love you enough to do all of this. Because you deserve all of this. I want to give you exactly what you wanted. To never be alone.”

“Please don’t fight.”

“Nothing else matters. Nothing but us. We’re all that matters.”

“I held back because they were my people, I didn’t want to hurt them.”

“You are mine. And I am yours. And we are one.”

“I know you’re scared. That hurts me. I don’t want you to be scared. I don’t want you to be scared of me. But I’m patient.”

“No, I won’t harm him. Just the opposite. I’ll free him. From the burden of knowing what a disappointment he is to you.”

“Love is stronger than fear. And my love will strip away every ounce of fear. Every ounce of resistance until you’re nothing but my love.”

“Remember me, my charge. Remember your Regulus.”

“There is no E’Laetum, there is no Min’Ara. But the feelings that are attributed to them, the warm, happy feeling of their smiles. When I see you, when I hold you, I feel that warmth and that light in my chest. I don’t need Skygods to feel good, I need you.”

“Don’t worry. I won’t hurt him. I’m not cruel. It’s not his fault he’s inferior. His sin is inadequacy, not ill intent. It would be unjust to hold him to a standard he could never possibly reach.”

“It hurts me. Don’t hurt me.”

“Memories are stars. They feel present. They feel close. But they’re not. They’re not. They’re infinitely distant. […] The light that they give, the source died so long ago.”

“I’ll make you free. By making you mine. Even more deeply, ineffably mine.”

“You'll push, but your strength will go out. Mine won't.”

“Tell me you’re mine.”

“I want to fix you. You’re broken, but I love you and I want to put you back together the right way”

“I never wanted to fight.”

“I made you mine. You are mine.”

“I’ll take everything every time. In every cycle. In every shape you take. You’re always mine.”

“You don’t need to be enough. You need to be mine.”

“I break you to build you. I shape you and mold you and hurt you to help you. I can be your peace if you’d just let me. If you’d just stop fighting me.”

“You made the wrong choice.”

“I need you I need this I need to be whole again I need just one second of peace why can’t you just give me that—“

“There is no help coming. Help is already here.”

“You’ll choose me. Like I choose you. Every time. In every shape. In every form. I choose you. I’ll always choose you. Always.”

[talenlee]

Lessons Lee Mulligan

I want to be better at running tabletop games.

I’m not bad at it, by the way. I haven’t had to contend with players giving me complaints any time in the past… maybe fifteen years. The games I run generally receive praise and players show up because they want to play them. I am currently on a break from running a game though you know watch this space, but I still think of myself as a storyteller, a game runner, and it is with that in mind I have been gritting my teeth in frustration at how good Brennan Lee Mulligan is at it.

I don’t have any malice for the guy. I admit, I had a wildly incorrect read on him as a person when I first started watching him. Somewhere along the way he mentioned that he’d never had alcohol or drugs, and I immediately started to edge him towards the ‘formon or exvangelical’ basket. Then in the Starstruck Oddysey campaign he mentions his mother’s name and his godfather’s name and I realise that actually he’s basically indie comics royalty, and that was quite a thing to realise.

Quite frankly, finding out how his mum feels about him and what she did for him as a child makes me feel very distressed because it seems so impossibly nice and good in ways that disorient me. It’s like watching Bluey, I can’t understand a world where a dad is that nice to his kids.

Still, Brennan Lee Mulligan is good at being a storyteller, dungeon master, game-master, whatever term you want to use, in a way that makes me want to take notes. Some of it is unuseful and unapplicable – I don’t have a custom mini maker on hand and can’t afford one and don’t even get to play on a physical tabletop any more. Some of it is the comical pointlessness of the system that he uses – watching D&D 5th edition involves needing to know almost nothing about the game, because all that really matters is if a number rolled is high or low, and he’s used it for murder mysteries and criminal heists just fine, because whatever else the system is doing, the focus on what the story demands is all it needs to make function.  Instead I want to focus on things Brennan does that I think I can use in my own games.

I suppose just in case, I’m going to talk about some minor details from a Dimension 20 campaign, Fantasy High that talk – obliquely – about spoilers for the first and last episodes. You might not want to read this if that’s a thing for you.

He’s Very Good At Actual Improv

Shock, horror, the guy who ran an improve school and has had years of playing around in improve performance with his friends he trusts is really good at it. The ability to build on what others are doing, enabling them in how they do it, and to trust them to not fuck up what you’re telling them, or the vibes you’re putting onto your

This isn’t a radical diagnosis of his storyteller abilities. Brennan’s job involves numerous other types of web show, including appearances on Game Changers and Make Some Noise which are both shows built out of improvisational comedy.

What can I extract from that though?

An immediate thought is that Brennan is careful with word choice and is extremely unselfconscious about others. Commonly in his dialogue you can hear the phrase you see that they say, which is obviously, when extracted, gibberish – at best it’s padding. It’s also, and this is important: fucking fine. People don’t make supercuts of him saying that, they make single big cuts of the thoughtfully constructed improvised monologues, which are delivered with the high dudgeon of a preacher. I think those are like lego constructions – he knows the pieces, he knows the structure to fill them out, and fills the spaces for them piece by piece.

General knowledge and presentation is useful for this skill. Be aware of a wide variety of ways people communicate, for example. It’s not like Brennan is a master of voices – you generally can tell you’re hearing Brennan say something when he voices an NPC – but the fact he has a swathe of different ways of talking, a bunch of Different Guys to dream up and get mad at – is a useful part of the skillset.

I don’t have players (at the moment) who are avidly into this kind of thing. But recognising the players as audience to experiences, and not players antsily waiting their own turn, is useful. I think Brennan treats solo interactions with players away from the group as if those interactions are interesting and fun for other players to watch, and part of that is, I think, built out of treating engagements as performances. They aren’t things to get out of the way, they’re the material players and people are there to watch.

He Does Put In The Work Ahead Of Time

I have a theory about the conclusion of the first Dimension 20 campaign. It’s not provable and I honestly don’t care to hear Brennan’s take on it, because it doesn’t matter if it’s true or not. What matters is what it tells me about what’s possible.

For those of you unfamiliar, Fantasy High’s first campaign was centered in a magical high school for adventurers. It introduced the players to the character of Arthur Aguefort, a delightfully reckless wizard with preposterous power in the field of Chronomancy that seemingly is always one step ahead of whatever his silly actions indicate. In this same story, there’s a prophecy, keeping a dreadful villain contained, and that villain’s containment is breached at the very end of the story, and then there needs to be stuff around that prophecy. It’s a pretty good story, especially in the way that Arthur’s plan is seemingly derailed by the player characters dying in episode 2, and then he sacrifices his life to bring them back. At the end of the story, Arthur comes back to life, in a big dramatic moment that gives everyone a chance to refresh mid-fight with a boss that’s otherwise a bit beyond their abilities. Cool story, cool bit, and it all dovetailed with the prophecy, because of the specific character who died getting a miraculous natural 20 at the last moment.

Except.

I think that with the way the prophecy was worded, and with the secondary details and characters connected around them, it would be entirely possible to conclude the prophecy and defeat the baddie if any of the other characters had been the person to do it. The character who triggered this refresh didn’t have to be who it was, anyone could have done it and the explanation of the prophecy would work just fine, thanks to some homonyms. If I’m right, not only is this a cool mentalism trick that makes Brennan look psychic, but it’s also an example of the powerful advantages of being prepared ahead of time for a spreading network of possibilities.  

I don’t do as much prep work as I want to do. Or rather, more correctly, I don’t do as much prep work for my games as I want to have done when the time comes to run the game. The difference is pretty subtle, but it’s present. Part of it is, I think that prep feels both easy and boring, the deadliest mix of things for my kind of player mindset. When introducing players to locations I so rarely have lists of things like NPC names and random traits on hand for them to grab a stranger off the street to talk to, and keeping those characters distinct from one another is easier when I have those tools on hand. Having short descriptors of places, lists of street names, just the detritus that makes up a place, that would make life easier for me when trying to organise details and let me use a lot of anchoring details.

Making those lists, however, is pretty tedious!

What makes this even funnier in the context of the now is that really, ‘make me a list of descriptions of NPCs for a steampunk street in Vienna,’ is exactly the kind of thing that a large language model software system would be really good at but doing that runs the risk of generating characters that sound boring, and I’m not wild about the idea of engaging with those systems where I don’t have to.

Conclusion

If you’re like me, an older millennial who’s never succeeded at much of meaning, and you see cool people doing things around you that you think ‘oh wow I’d love to be doing that,’ you don’t have to let it fester in you and make you sad. You can take their examples and use them as guideposts for how you can do the things you want to do. Engineering someone else’s success is impossible, but you can at the very least recognise what it is about how they work that excites you.

Check it out on PRESS.exe to see it with images and links!

[the-writer-ofthe-fandoms]

Silent Cosmos (Edward Cullen)(Ch. 1)

Pairing: Edward Cullen x GN! Mute!Reader

Words: 3.0k+

Warning(s): Mentions of past car accident, mentions of minor character death/parents dying, swearing, implications of past bullying, mentions of high school lacking services, blood mention.

A/N: YAY i finally have this done. I’ve had this idea since before i started grad school and finally got it done! I hope yall enjoy :) This series takes place before Victoria’s army comes to Forks and Edward may be OOC but like, oh well.

Also in this series, Bella and Edward had a mutual break up w/ no hard feelings <3

Series Masterlist

---

"On foot

I had to cross the solar system

before I found the first thread of my red dress.

I sense myself already.

Somewhere in space hangs my heart,

shaking in the void, from it stream sparks

into other intemperate hearts."

--Edith Södergran, 'On Foot I Had to Cross the Solar System'

On one unfortunate night when you were seven, a drunk driver hit your parents car. Your mother on the passenger side died instantly, your father later succumbed to his injuries in the hospital. You were injured severely, but the doctors managed to keep you alive... At the cost of your voice. Chunks of glass tore through and stabbed your neck; the damage to your larynx was the worst, the second was nerve damage. You could speak in a very harsh, almost whisper-like, voice but it caused an intense amount of pain. You were upset. You hated that driver for what they took from you.

Your aunt and uncle took you in, and were able to help you adjust as you grew. They learned and taught you sign language, they helped you cope with the loss of your parents as best they could, and were always supportive. Despite their work lives keeping them away, they always tried their best to give you attention when they had the free time.

You found ways to enjoy life again, particularly in the stars. They were almost comforting to you when you were alone, looking out your bedroom window. You weren't sure why you have such an affinity for space and what it holds. Maybe because your father brought you out at night to point out all the constellations and their stories. Those moments with him started your interest. And now, you believed your parents were amongst the many stars in the vast universe.

You grew content with not having a voice. You adapted and overcame the curveball life sent your way. You just wished the pain wasn't constantly lingering.

---

It was the day you started going to your new highschool in Forks. It wasn't ideal transferring to a different school, but your uncle's job called for it. He was a firefighter and he was offered a sizable pay increase and rank promotion to fire captain if he took up the position for the Forks station. Your aunt, a nurse, was able to transfer to Forks hospital. They discussed the idea of moving with you of course, and you not wanting to hinder your uncle's promotion or damper his excitement, you supported the move from California to Washington.

You could already tell this rinky dink school wouldn't have anyone that understands ASL and the school said they are still looking to hire someone to be an interpreter of sorts, so you were mentally preparing yourself for the mess you may be entering. At least you transferred only three weeks into the new school year, that would make any school work you needed to catch up on relatively easy. It also helped it was your senior year as well.

As soon as you got out of your car, all of the heads of the student body snapped in your direction. You guess they've never seen a new kid before. You make your journey towards the building, hoping that no one would bother to talk to you. You already saw a teen walk up to you, he had straight black hair and a toothy grin.

"Hi, I'm Eric. You're the new kid." He seemed friendly.

You offer a little wave and sign, hoping he would get the inclination you could not speak.

"Shit... I don't know sign except..." He gave you the sign sorry before pointing to his ears and back to you. You shook your head and tapped your throat. "Oh! You can't speak." You nodded. "Sorry about all the confusion. Welcome to Forks High, home of the Spartans. I'm pretty much the eyes and ears."

You simply nod along when necessary and smiled as he gave you the very quick run down of most of the immediate gossip of school, which was centered around you, the new kid. He seemed like a nice guy but glancing at the clock you passed by in the hall you knew it was close to your first class.

"And don't get me started on the Cul-What?" You interrupted him as you held out your schedule to him, pointing to your first class. "Oh yeah, guess class is starting soon. Lets see... you're in 103 for English with Mr. Baker which is..." He glanced up. "Right down the hall. I have History right next door."

You smile at his help and follow him through the sea of students.

You wave Eric goodbye and enter classroom 103. You felt eyes of everyone land on you, but none more eye-catching or captivating as the gold pair near the back of the classroom. His gaze was intense, eyes wide, as he stared at you. You held his gaze. You weren't sure what to think at the moment but before anything could come to mind, an older gentleman walked in and stole your attention. You assumed correctly this was Mr. Baker.

---

Edward was the first to arrive for his first period class. He was always punctual, but there was a difference now. He no longer had Bella in tow.

It was a mutual end to their quick relationship. While her blood did appeal to him greatly, the fastness of their relationship hurt them both emotionally at the end. It was purely fascination of each others beings that they mistake as something else. While it did hurt, Edward could admit to himself he wasn't distraught over it. They remained friends and he was content with that.

Slowly, other students began filling the classroom as the clock ticked on. Everyone filling seats they usually sat in despite there being no assigned seating. No one ever sat next to him, often feeling intimidated by his status as a Cullen. The vampire paid them no mind, occupying his attention to watching the typical Forks rain traverse down the window he always sat by. He tuned out everyone's thoughts the best he could, letting his usual melancholy about his nature linger in his mind.

Edward perked up when he heard an fast-beating heart breakthrough his attempts of zoning out. Shifting his focus to the doorway his eyes latched on to the new student.

You.

It didn't take reading thoughts to feel the buzz of a new student arriving in the small school.

He felt... strange. Much like with Bella, your scent invaded his senses and made him thirsty, yet, that wasn't what caught his immediate attention.

It was the eyes. Something about them captivated Edward. He wasn't sure what about them had him staring at you, who now stared back at him. The vampire attempted to discern your thoughts and he caught an inkling of curiosity starting to bleed out before the teacher took your attention away.  His stayed on you, and didn't pay him any mind or had any idea he wad, and focused his enhanced hearing on the conversation.

"Hello, new student?" The teacher greeted and softly spoke your name. The auburn haired male watched as the you nodded.

Edward's curiosity peaked when he finally heard their thoughts, clear as the days outside of Forks.

"Yes, that's me. Do you know sign?" He heard their thoughts as he watched their hands easily relay in sign language. I'm expecting a no they internally sighed.

"Oh shoot I wasn't told..." A worried look passed on the teachers face as his sentence trailed off. Edward can hear his thoughts complain that the school failed to inform him about the new student outside their name and grade. A look of exasperation briefly flashed on your face.

Who would of fucking thought Forks High, a small-ass school, would not inform their teachers. Fantastic. Wonderful. I love it. It was a pointed statement that had Edward both mildly shocked at the language and pretty amused. I wonder how much others outside of Eric will put up with me here.

Edward sighed. He knew he shouldn't involve himself with another human but he couldn't help it. Whatever captivated him and the resignation you mentally expressed already had moved him. He got up from his spot and quickly moved to the front of the classroom.

"Apologies, I don't mean to cut in but I know sign."

---

You blink at the golden-eyed student he approached you and the teacher. You felt a grateful smile tug on your lips as you faced him. Immediately, you felt some appreciation and felt good about being wrong on your previous assumption.

"Thank you, Edward." Mr. Baker smiled in relief. Edward gave the teacher a small, tight lipped smile at him and faced you. The teacher introduced you to him. "And this is Edward Cullen."

"I'm sorry for any inconvenience." Edward spoke as you signed, his voice soft and velvety. Observing his face, you watched as his brows furrow at your statement, which became almost a second nature for you due to the way your previous school treated you. You often faced irritated glances or your existence ignored entirely outside the feo close friends you accumulated.

"Please relay to them-" Mr. Baker spoke but you immediately shook your head and held up a hand.

"I am neither deaf or hard of hearing, sir. I just can't speak." Edward translated for you again. "I look forward to class with you both." A smile appeared on his face again.

"You too. And you aren't being an inconvenience at all. It's the fault of the school, really." Mr. Baker offered a kind smile. Edward left the two of you, as if knew he wouldn't be needed again. "Take a seat wherever you want, I don't do assigned seating unless it becomes an issue." Mr. Baker gave you a kind smile and gestured for you to pick out a seat, while he moved to the classroom computer. You take a glance around, only seeing three spots open.

Your eyes landed on the one next to Edward, causing you to perk up. Though, you hesitated, his small smile and the single, subtle nod assured you it was fine to sit by him. Holding your backpack strap a little tighter, you move between desks to join him.

---

Edward watched as you sat next to him. You offered him a quick smile before you started pulling out your notebook and your small pencil case. You didn't look over at him as you stared up at the board, waiting for class to start.

The vampire was curious and while he knew it was an invasion of privacy, he couldn't help but try and focus in on more of your thoughts. Except he was met with...

What? His brows furrowed. Edward felt overwhelmed for a moment, his sense felt almost deprived as he tried peering in your mind again.

Edward suddenly saw what he perceived as a galaxy. Stars, planets, moons, a sun... it was vast and it was breathtaking. It wasn't something he never saw before, this detailed, in a humans mind. He was able to view this scene for just a few fleeting moments until he suddenly felt warm energy push against his mind.

The vampire blinked. His presence was back in classroom 103. He glanced toward you. Paying close attention, he didn't see anything that indicated you were in any way aware of what just occured. He heard the teacher swear under his breath as he attempted to get the projector working, and used this moment to speak with you.

Softly, he called your name, bringing your attention to him.

"How are you liking Forks?" Edward recognized he was a bit awkward, but you gave no inclination that you minded or judged him.

"It's wet. But I don't mind it. The scenery is nice." You signed and it was as if the cosmos that warded him from your thoughts was lifted. Hearing your thoughts again after being blocked out by the cosmos left him perplexed and curious.

"Forks does have its charm in scenery." He chuckled. "But I assume that isn't why you moved?"

"No, but it definitely is a bonus." You smiled. "My uncle got a promotion so we moved up from California."

"What does he do?"

"He is now the fire captain here."

Edward had a kind smile and offered a small congratulations to him. He then spoke again, "What does your class schedule look like?"

You reached into your zip up hoodie pocket and pull out a folded piece of paper. Unfolding it, you slid it to his desk. His golden eyes scanned the paper and he felt some sort of happiness that your schedules almost align completely. The only class difference was your last two classes, which would have you taking gym and history without him.

"Looks like we will be seeing each other a lot. We have almost all the same classes."

That's a relief. Edward suppressed a smile at your thoughts. I hope we can be at least friendly with one another.

"Since we have most of our classes together, would you like to be friends?" He asked. He could already hear Rosalie scolding him for getting involved with another human, but he didn't particularly care what she would think.

You were another anomaly to his, otherwise, stationary life. He has no plans to try and initiate a quick romantic relationship again. He simply was curious to the stars that lingered behind your eyes.

---

It was nearing lunchtime. You glanced out the window of your math class while the teacher closed out her lesson and began explaining what the homework was going to be. You were very grateful for Edward sticking by you in each course. He was able to help you talk to your teachers, answer and ask questions, and made Forks high a little more welcoming.

You had met two of his siblings in that time frame, Emmett and Alice, who were both a delight. Alice already expressed how much she was excited to finally get to know you, which you assumed she was wanting to meet the new kid, and Emmett offered to watch your back in gym with the biggest grin you've seen on a persons face. It also warmed your heart to find they also knew sign too.

The initial worry of being a forever outsider like before began melting away. So far things have been pleasant unlike your last experience.

As you mind wandered off to old school memories of bullies and loneliness, you were still unaware of Edward trying to discern your thoughts again. You missed the look of confusion and frustration on his face. Although, you did manage to hear him make a noise that sounded like frustration, which snapped your attention on him.

"Everything okay?" You ask him. He glanced up at the teacher who was now facing the board writing the homework down.

"Just... wanting class to be over." Edward gave you a tight lipped smile. "Mrs. Johnsons' classes are usually a bore."

You nodded with a smile and silent chuckle.

The class bell rang, signaling an end, and practically everyone ran out for lunch. You eyed the crowd trying to leave and shrug your shoulders. You scribbled down the equations Mrs. Johnson assigned before putting your class materials away and preemptively pulled out your brown bag lunch.

You glanced to Edward while you both stood up. You weren't sure if you should continue sticking by his side until it was time for your last two periods or find your own corner to decompress. Perhaps giving him a break from-

"Are you ready?" His soft voice cut through your thoughts. You blink, pausing for a moment, before nodding.

"Lead the way." You smiled, though you were sure it came off as nervous. There will be so many people...

"Would you like to sit with my family and I, or would you like to go somewhere quiet?" You looked at him a bit shocked, were you that easy to read? You could see the twitch of his lip like he was going to respond but he kept quiet.

"Somewhere quiet, just for today."

"Follow me then."

---

Rosalie sighed as she leaned against the table, waiting for her siblings to join her and Emmett for lunch. She then looked to her partner and leaned against him, who laughed and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. Her golden eyes followed Bella's form with a glare as she sat down with her friends.

"Come on, babe. Her and Edward have no hard feelings." Emmett spoke in a quiet tone.

"It's still a danger to us." She grumbled.

"Nope! She still becomes a vampire like us." Alice suddenly sat down with a bright smile.  Jasper was quick to sit down next to her.

"Even after what happened with the Volturi and James?" Emmett asked.

"Yep. While the course of her and Edward's relationship definitely changed, she still becomes a part of our clan."

"Great." Rosalie rolled her eyes and then glanced around at the table. "Speaking of Edward, where is he?"

"Probably off with the new kid." Emmett smirked. "They seem pretty nice. Edward's been helping them since they can't speak."

"Another human?" She looked to her partner then to Alice. "Did you..."

"Have a vision of them? Yes. The day before Edward and Bella parted their romantic relationship, I had a vision of them coming to Forks. And then after meeting them, I saw them and Edward, looking pretty close." She smiled and giggled.

"Great, another human who is going to choose to be a vampire." Rose scoffed.

"Rosalie-" Alice's usually bright expression drops. Everyone at the Cullen table looked at her with worry as it appeared her eyes glaze over. Jasper immediately gripped her hand under the table as he could feel a wave of sadness wash over from her.

"Darling?" Jasper whispered.

Alice blinked rapidly. She looked to the others with a worried expression. "I... I didn't see the specifics but... It wasn't their choice."

It was silent between them. Rosalie's eyes were wide, Emmett clenched his fist under the table, Jasper tried his best to calm everyone, and Alice simply blinked and tried looking to the future again.

She could see you, crying and writhing as the venom from a bite on your arm took hold, blood all over you. Edward and Carlisle were right by your side, speaking. But she couldn't hear what they were saying.

All she heard was a high pitched ring.

And then the vision flashes a blinding white and she swears she could feel intense heat against her face.

She was back at the table again with her family. It was the same vision as before. Never had she seen such a bright light, heard such a noise, or felt anything like that from a vision.

"We have to talk to Carlisle."