#And again - I don't think he'd be so committed to doing all that unless he was convinced they were going to survive

[creatingblackcharacters]

hello! just did a read-through of your pinned post and really appreciate all the information, resources, and perspective!! it's really helpful for me as both an artist and writer <3

i really liked the sections on Black hair and had a more specific question!

i'm currently writing a Black character who's going to be in a wilderness survival situation for 2-3 months or so? are there any specific hairstyles that would be better suited for those conditions? (for context, it's summer weather, fairly dry and mountainous climate! and he's got coily hair!)

currently, i'm considering twists because he could feasibly do them himself if he needs to retwist? and maybe cornrows but idk if they'd hold that long. locs are unlikely for this character, i don't think he'd be able to fully commit to them LMAO

also! completely different question but when posting fanfiction, do you prefer when characters that aren't explicitly Black in canon but are explicitly written as Black in the fic tagged? ex. Black Jayce (Arcane) or Black Hermione Granger (side note on that one bc she's not explicitly written as Black in the books but she's been played before by Black actresses and it's a popular interpretation of her!!)

apologies for the long paragraphs but thank you so much for taking the time to provide these resources! have a lovely night :D

1. It doesn't have to be in a style. He could just have his regular afro that grows out of his head. If he's got access to some extra water, a pick, and a scarf for his head, there's no need to do anything extra. But if you want some short braids- if that's what he's willing to do- then that's fine too.

2. Hm. I mean, doing it would be cool for us who want to read! So there's no harm in it! It will let people overtly turn away from your fic or complain, though (people don't find Black characters "relatable" and may say that).

I know for me, I have said "Patroclus is Black" in my notes, but never in the tags. Mainly because I don't think I should have to; if you get into my fic, read that he's Black, and suddenly you're not having the same experience, that's a reflection of YOU and YOUR antiblackness. 🤷🏾‍♀️ Because why you don't like it as much no more, 👀👀 unless- I shouldn't have to clarify shit, fr. Let em read it and find out on the way! There's no denying it when I'm done describing and glorifying him 👍🏾

But that's me lmao; again I don't think there'd be any harm in it. Some Black readers might go "oh! Something for me!" because it'll be easier to spot and thus cater to, and that's always a bonus. Just make sure you actually do a good job, because don't draw someone in with promise of diversity and don't deliver.

[lvciddreqms]

Pairing: Christian Maddox x reader (Motorheads)

Genre: fluff, romance

Warnings: none

A/n: this was requested!! This ones long!

Don't think, just drive

You didn't think anyone noticed. The way you walked past the student parking lot everyday, even when it rained, even when the weight of your bag left red lines on your shoulders. Even when your old but perfectly decent car sat at the curb, untouched. But Christian Maddox noticed. He always did.

"Hey." He called out one afternoon, casually leaning against his car with the easy confidence of someone who'd been born behind the wheel. "You allergic to engines or just committed to the cardio?" You stopped mid step. "What..?" He pointed his chin toward your car, parked down the the street like a forgotten thought.

"Saw you walk by again. That car of yours got ghosts in it, or...?" You rolled your eyes, trying to walk off. But he fell into step beside you, boots scuffing against the pavement. "You scared to drive?" You stopped. His voice wasn't mocking. Not really. Not like the others. He said it like he'd seen it before. Like he got it. "I just... never really learned." You muttered, trying to sound casual. "My uncle left me the car, but I didn't grow up around this stuff."

Christian gave a slow, thoughtful nod. "Well, that's a crime." You blinked. "What is?" He smirked, looking you up and down-not in a sleazy way, but like he was assessing you. Like you were a car that just needed a tune up. "Letting that machine sit there unloved. She deserves the road, so do you."

You squinted. "And what? You're gonna teach me?" He shrugged. "Unless you want Logan to do it.. but he's a little intense." You cracked a small smile. "Alright, one lesson. If I die, I'm blaming you." He grinned, stepping backwards towards his car. "If you die, at least you won't be walking."

That Sunday, he took you too the empty lot behind an old grocery store that had burned down when he was a kid. "No one's ever going to come back here." He said, throwing the keys into your lap. "So relax, you can only embarrass yourself in front of me." You sat stiff behind the wheel, fingers gripping it like a life raft. "Okay." He said, voice softer now. "Let's start with just feeling it. No gas yet. Just let the clutch out slow."

You stalled. Twice. Christian didn't laugh. He leaned across you, his arm brushing yours as he gently adjusted your grip. "Loosen up, you're not wrangling it. You're dancing with it." "That's stupid." You muttered. "That's poetry." He shot back, smirking. "Now, try again." This time the car rolled forward, and didn't die. You gasped like you had just won a race. "I did it!"

Christian's smile went fill tilt, eyes shining under that messy blonde hair. "Hell yeah you did, you're a natural." You glowed. You didn't even mean to, but you did.

After an hour, the car was off and the sun was low. You were sitting on the hood, sweat clinging to your back, laughter still in your throat. "Why do you even care?" You asked, tipping your head back to look at him. "Why help me?" Christian paused. He had his way of going quiet like he heard something you couldn't.

He paused. "'Cause I know that not everyone has somebody to teach them. I got lucky with my brother. And now you got lucky with me." You softly smiled at that. "You just gotta figure it out. Trial and error." He said. "And what if I'm all error..?" He met your gaze, his voice a little rough around the edges now. "Then I'll stay in the passenger seat until your not."

Your heart fluttered stupidly in your chest. And he must've noticed, because he looked away with a shy smile, like maybe he wasn't as fearless as he pretended to be.

The drive out of town was quiet. Your knuckles were white on the steering wheel, shoulders drawn so tight if felt like you couldn't breathe all the way in. The windows were cracked open just enough to let in the late evening wind, cool air brushing against your neck, your face, your nerves. You weren't even sure how Christian had convinced you again. All you remembered was him showing up at your door with that calm infuriating grin, and saying. "If you're going to be scared, at least do it with me in the car."

Now, here you were. A stretch of empty road. Trees blurring into green tunnels. You at the wheel. Him beside you. And a weight in your chest that hadn't been lifted. "I shouldn't be this bad at it." you said, voice low. "You're not bad." Christian said, shifting slightly in his seat, eyes scanning the road. "You're just scared."

You glanced at him. "Isn't that the same thing?" His head shook once. "Not even close." You stalled again. The car jolted, and the engine cut off with a pathetic cough. You flinched, heart in your throat. Christian didn't say anything. Just leaned forward, turned the key, and brought it back to life. "You alright?" He asked softly. You nodded, even though your hands were trembling. He noticed. Of course he did.

"I used to be scared too." He said, like it was some kind of secret. "Didn't even wanna sit in the drivers seat after Logan crashed my dad's old Chevy trying to teach me. I was twelve. Thought the whole thing was cursed." You lightly scoffed. "You? Scared?" He half laughed. "Terrified."

There was something oddly comforting about that. The idea of him, with his wild confidence and his stupid fast car, once being frozen in the same place you were now. "I don't know why it gets to me like this." You admitted with a sigh, fingers flexing on the wheel. "It's just.. It feels like if I mess up, even a little, it all goes wrong, fast." Christian's voice lowered, quieter now. "That's not just driving talking, is it?" You didn't answer, you didn't have to.

Later, when you finally managed to shift into second and keep going, it felt like unlocking something in your own chest. The engine didn't stall, the tires didn't scream. You were just moving. That was all. And somehow, that was everything.

You felt Christian watching you, but he didn't say anything until you parked. You were still breathing hard, adrenaline curling in your lungs. "I didn't think I could do it." You said, staring at your own hands. "I thought I'd panic, like always." "But you didn't." He said softly. "You kept going.."

You turned your head to look at him, and he wasn't smiling like he usually did. He looked serious. Like this meant something to him too. "Y'know." He said. "Most people think strength is about not being scared. But it's not. It's about doing it anyway. Even when you are."

You stared at him, the words settling deep. Familiar in a way that made your chest ache. "I don't feel strong.." you whispered. He reached out, slow, careful, like giving you a chance to pull away, and placed his hand over yours on the gear shift. "You don't have to feel it." He said. "You already are." The car was off. The windows open. The whole world felt still.

And for a second you didn't think about the fear, or the car, or how close his hand was. You just breathed. And you didn't let it go.

The next time you drove, it was your idea. You caught Christian by surprise after school, standing by his car with your keys in hand and your heart thudding like it wanted out of your chest. "Wanna go for a drive?" You asked. His eyebrows lifted. A smile tugged slow at the corner of his mouth. "Look who's getting brave." You rolled your eyes. "I'm still scared." "Good." He nodded. "Means you'll respect the road."

And maybe you'd never say It out loud, but you trusted him-more than anyone. With the silence, with the fear, with the fragile way your heart held itself together. You ended up back on the road neither of you knew the name of. The kind of place maps forgot, with trees taller than houses and birds cutting through the sky like they had somewhere more important to be. This time, you drove farther. This time, you didn't stall once.

And this time, when you parked at the top of a hill, engine cooling with slow clicks, you didn't rush to break the quiet. Christian sat beside you, one arm draped out of the open window, wind tugging at the loose strands of hair falling across his forehead. He looked...relaxed. More than usual. Until you asked. "Why do you do it?" He glanced over. "Do what?"

"Drive so fast." you said. "Push yourself so hard. Like you've always gotta prove something." His eyes didn't meet yours at first. He stared ahead for a long moment, jaw tightening like there was something heavy behind it. And then. "Because when I'm driving, I don't have to think." He said quietly. "Not about the stuff I can't fix. Not about the fights at home. Not about how I'm not enough for the people who are supposed to give a damn."

The last part came out like he didn't mean to say it. He finally looked at you. And you saw it-the truth behind the grin, the weight behind the confidence. He looked tired. Lonely, in the kind of way that didn't show. You didn't say, "I'm sorry." You didn't say, "that sucks." You just moved your hand and covered his. And he didn't pull away.

The silence between you changed after that. If softened. He turned his hand over, let your fingers slide between his, and it felt so easy, like it had been waiting to happen this whole time. His voice was soft when he spoke again. "You didn't walk today." You smiled faintly. "Nope. Drove the whole way.

He leaned in a little, just enough that his shoulder brushed yours. "Proud of you." You leaned forward, slow, careful, and kissed him. It was slow and a bit messy. It was soft, and uncertain and real. The kind of kiss that didn't need fireworks because it was built from something gentle, something steadier.

When you pulled back, his eyes were still closed for a second too long. And then he smiled. "This counts as your reward." He said, voice low and teasing. You laughed, shaky, nervous, breathless. "Guess I'll have to keep practicing then..." He nodded, already leaning back in. "Guess you will."

It wasn't the kiss that changed everything. It was what happened after. The way you didn't look away when it got quiet. The way Christian leaned his forehead against yours like he didn't want to move, didn't want to lose that steady rhythm between your breaths. The way your fingers didn't untangle from each other until the stars started coming out and neither of you could ignore the hour anymore.

And the way, when you got home, your legs still felt like they remembered the curve of the road, and the way his hand found yours without asking. You weren't together. Not officially. Not out loud. You weren't not either.

A few nights later, you found him in your driveway. It was almost midnight. You heard the knock on the garage first, soft, short. Like someone trying not to get caught. You peaked out your bedroom window and nearly tripped yourself over rushing down the stairs. Christian was standing there, grease on his face. "Do I even wanna ask..?" You whispered, stepping into the warm summer dark.

"She wouldn't start." You blinked. "... your car...?" He gave a stiff nod, embarrassed. "Engine's being a brat. I didn't wanna wake Logan. Or y'know..dad." The words came out strained. Like he hadn't mean to say them. You didn't press. Instead, you opened the garage. "Come on, let's fix her up." You'd never seen Christian frustrated before.

Not like this. He tried to hide it, smirking through gritted teeth, brushing off every swear, but you could tell. His hands were too tight on the socket wrench. His shoulders too tense. The kind of pressure that didn't come from an engine. "Want me to hold the light..?" You asked gently. He exhaled. "Please." You stood beside him in the garage while the fan whirred overhead, casting lazy shadows across the walls.

His hair was messie than usual, pushed back with one hand. There was a small smear of oil on his jaw you kept looking at. He kept looking at you. "You ever think maybe you're the only person I can breathe around?" He said suddenly. "What..?" You tilted your head. He didn't repeat himself. Just ducked back under the hood like he hadn't just said the one thing that had been sitting in both of your chests for weeks. You set the flashlights down. Walked around the side. And gently put your hand on his on the edge of the car.

"Then don't hold your breath next time." You whispered. He looked up. His eyes were tired. Guarded, hopeful. And then he kissed you again. Right there, grease smudged, sweat, the garage light flickering above like some kinda spotlight. It wasn't quick or scared, it was real.

Afterward, you sat side by side on the floor, knees brushing, the engines still half open and forgotten. "Think I fixed more in there or in here?" he asked, tapping his chest lightly. You bumped your shoulder into his. "Let's call it a tie." He smiled. "I think I'm going to need more nights like this." You didn't say it, but your heart did. So do I.

You weren't being careful. Not really. You told yourself you were, waiting until late to text, slipping into the passengers seat with your hood up, leaving the garage door cracked just enough so it wouldn't creak when Christian pushed it open. But secrets have weight. And you both started to carry it differently. He started brushing your hair behind your ear without thinking. You started holding his wrist when he got quiet, not his hand, like that would somehow make it less obvious.

But everything between you, was becoming. Becoming harder to hide. Becoming more than what you'd meant it to. It was a Thursday night when you slipped into his car, face flushed from climbing out your window. Christian was already behind the wheel, drumming his fingers among the dash, sleeves pushed up, that silver chin catching in the dark.

He didn't say anything. Just reached across the seat and squeezed your thigh lightly, comforting, familiar, his version of, hey I missed you. You squeezed his hand back. "Drive anywhere." you said. He did. You ended up near the lake. The sky was clear, stars spilling over the tree line like static.

Christian parked off the dirt path, and turned off the headlights. The sudden quiet, wrapped around you like a second skin. You leaned against him, cheek on his shoulder, while music hummed low through speakers,some old rock song that he could barely sing alone. "Yknow." He said eventually. "I could do this forever." You tilted your head, Diving with her. "Drive with me?" "yeah." His voice was softer now. "Yeah, but also just... Be like this. With you, where it's quiet and no parents watching.

You turned your face into his hoodie to hide the smile you didn't mean to show. "I like it when you talk like that." He looked at you. "You make it easier." He said. You kissed him, soft and slow, like you were still getting used to the shape of something you didn't know you were allowed to have.

You hadn't planned on being at the race. But the second Christian texted you, Tonight, big one, come if you want. You were already putting your shoes on. The meet was half way down the county road, tucked behind a half abandoned orchard. It was one of those hush hush races that somehow always drew a crowd anyway-headlights cutting through dust, engines echoing like thunder through trees. Boys with too much to prove lined up like they had something to lose.

You spotted him instantly. Black hoodie. Chain glinting. Leaning against his car like it was an extension of him. Confident, cool. Until he saw you. And everything about him softened. He didnt smile, not really. But his shoulders relaxed, his jaw unclenched. His eyes did this quiet thing they only ever did around you. You walked up, pretending not the notice the way people glanced.

Let them. "You came." He said, almost surprised. You nodded, standing Then close. "Of course I did." Christian looked like he wanted to say something-like maybe he was thinking about Logan, or the fact that this was the first time you'd showed up when people could see. But he didn't say anything.

Just leaned in slightly and muttered. "Glad you're here." and maybe that was enough. The race was a straight shot down the orchard road. Nothing fancy. Just raw speed and nerves and the kind of danger that tasted like freedom. You stood near the starting line, arms crossed tight against your chest, heart thumping. Christian climbed into his car. You watched him settle his hands on the wheel, crack his neck, tap twice on the dash like it was some kinda ritual.

When the signal went up, you could barely breathe. And when it dropped-he flew. His car roared to life, tires screaming against asphalt, headlights slicing the dark. The crowd faded. The noise blurred. All you could see was him. Focused, fearless, fast. And free in the only way he really was-when he was driving.

He won. Of course he did. And when he stepped out of the car, you ran. Straight to him. He caught you mid laugh, arms locking around your waist like instinct. "You're insane." You said breathlessly. "You know that?" He kissed your cheek. "Yeah, but I'm your problem now." You looked up at him. The crowd was still lingering. You knew eyes were on you. You could feel them. Logan's somewhere in the mix, probably burning holes in the back of Christian's hoodie.

But Christian didn't pull away. He touched your face, brushing his thumb across your cheek bone. Then he leaned in, kissing you. Right there. In front of everyone. Like it didn't matter. Like he want scared anymore. When he pulled back, he kept his forehead pressed to yours. "I don't care who sees." He whispered. "I don't wanna hide this." You swallowed. Your voice came out soft. "Me neither..." Christian's car sat cooling behind you, engine ticking like a heartbeat. And for once, neither of you were looking over your shoulder.

[saints-who-never-existed]

Y’all ever think about at what point in the story Blanky first took Hartnell under his wing?

Part of me thinks it was happening in the background from the very beginning.

Hartnell demonstrates a feel for the ice right from Episode One when he’s the first to notice the descending pack ice, to understand the significance of it, and to call for Blanky’s advice.  But he’s also at his most vulnerable in those first few episodes. He’s rudderless and no doubt still grieving the loss of his brother. That’s half the reason he falls for Hickey’s manipulations at first and I have a hard time believing that any of that would’ve happened if he’d already had Blanky’s support behind him. 

I think the more likely option is that it came about when they were abandoning/preparing to abandon the ships. 

Hartnell’s grown a great deal already at that point - instead of dwelling in the past he’s very much looking forward to the future. He’s gained confidence and maturity but most of all, he’s absolutely full to the brim with hope and courage and I can see that being just as important in Blanky’s eyes as a knack for reading the ice. 

At the end of the day, that hope and courage is what it comes down to. 

I don’t think Hartnell would take up the challenge of learning the skills of an ice master in the first place if he wasn’t hopeful and completely convinced that he was going to survive. 

But I also have to wonder if Blanky, particularly after his injury and particularly having a better idea than anyone of what lay ahead, decided to pass on his skill and knowledge because somewhere in the back of his mind he was convinced that he wouldn’t... 

[ckret2]

Chapter 90 of human Bill Cipher and the Mystery Shack having entered an uneasy alliance against their shared enemy: the government. Agent Powers begins to suspect his date "Goldie" is hiding something; but it's impossible to tell who to trust when the rest of the town is hiding something too.

Boy is the town ever hiding something.

A lot of somethings, as it turns out.

(There's a code in this chapter! If you're not an eager code-cracker, don't stress about figuring it out, the solution's given later in the chapter. If you are an eager code-cracker, you oughta solve it first before you read the rest of the chapter.)

####

Powers usually woke up before his alarm; but today, the alarm dragged him out of a dream to blink blearily at the thin predawn glow filtering through the thin motel curtain. He couldn't remember what he'd been dreaming about. Something about triangles that glowed like the rising dawn.

The bed seemed bigger than it had the night before. Colder. He was suddenly acutely aware of how lonely his life was.

The motel room didn't have a coffeemaker or microwave. He remembered being frustrated by that oddity in another local motel last summer. Strange how he could remember details like that, but so little else about last summer's investigation. He'd get something at the police department.

He cleaned up, dressed, put his case file in his briefcase, and headed out.

####

"You're an early riser, Agent Powers," Sheriff Blubs observed. "Still on Washington time?"

"Washington is in the same time zone as Oregon," Powers said. "I rise with the sun. Keeps my circadian rhythm regular, keeps me sharp on the job."

"I meant..." Blubs petered out, shrugged, and sipped his coffee.

The police department's coffee was bad, but got the job done. The food on hand appeared to be slightly stale bagels and very fresh donuts. Powers would have to get a proper breakfast later.

"Find what you were looking for at the Mystery Shack?" Blubs asked.

"No," Powers sighed. But, admittedly, he'd been distracted. "But we're not done there yet. We're expecting more specialized equipment from HQ."

Blubs nodded. "Always something going on there," he muttered. "Think you'll arrest Stan Pines again?"

"Hm. According to Mr. Ramirez, he's out of town."

"Huh! Is he?"

"Allegedly. Traveling the world with..." He trailed off, fully registering what Blubs had said. "Sorry—'again'?"

"Like when you brought him in to interrogate last year?" Blubs said. "I assumed nothing came of it, since you let him go without any charges."

He had no recollection of arresting Stan Pines last year. He had no recollection of arresting anyone. He didn't even have the authority to make arrests unless he had reasonable grounds to suspect someone had committed a federal felony. And yet, something about the claim itched at the edge of his brain, like trying to remember what had triggered a case of déjà vu.

The sheriff and his deputy had been Powers's liaison with local law enforcement last summer. They'd been friendly and helpful through the whole investigation. If anybody might know what had happened and be willing to help...

He turned to Blubs. "Sheriff Blubs, did anything that you might call... unusual happen last summer?"

Suddenly Blubs couldn't meet Powers's gaze. "Well uh—never mind all that." (Déjà vu prickled at the back of Powers's mind again. Hadn't Blubs said something like that a few days ago?) Blubs took a deep sip of his coffee. "Say, do you like those donuts? Durland makes 'em!"

"Does he."

"Best donuts in Gravity Falls, if you ask me! I'm trying to watch my weight, but, hoo. Just can't resist his donuts."

Powers almost tried to push Blubs back toward his original question, but...

Have you asked anyone if anything weird happened here last summer? Try it. They act like they didn't even hear you. It's strange.

... maybe not.

####

A steady beeping interrupted Dale's sleep. He slapped his alarm clock, hit something flat and glassy instead, and opened his eyes to see what it was. He was in the car with Trigger, who was also asleep; had they both nodded off?

Last night's memories came rushing back. The old lady. They must have fallen asleep because of the coffee!

She must have used decaf.

Dale blinked at his tablet to see why it was beeping.

"Oh!" He swatted Trigger's shoulder. "Trigger!"

"Mrgh?"

"I've got the missing flash drive's signal again!"

"What?" Trigger sat bolt upright. "Where is it?"

"It's..." Dale frowned. "Ten feet in front of us?"

They looked out the windshield.

A goat, chewing a branchful of leaves, stared at them.

They exchanged a look, then scrambled out of the car. Trigger shouted, "Hey!"

The goat startled and galloped for the woods.

"Stop! Halt! Come back here!" Trigger ran after it.

Dale started to follow, turned around and jogged back to the car, retrieved his keys and phone, locked the car, and then sprinted to catch up.

####

Powers's phone buzzed in his pocket. He answered, "Hello?"

"Hey!" Dale's voice sounded breathless. "We'll be in a bit late! We're in hot pursuit of the flash drive!"

"Excellent," Powers said. "'In hot pursuit'?"

"I think a goat ate it!"

Faintly over the phone, Trigger's voice said, "Which way'd it go?"

"Uh... left, go left!"  To Powers, Dale said, "By the way—thought you should know, we saw Goldie come to the Mystery Shack around one in the morning last night."

Powers's stomach flipped. That was after he'd dropped her off. "What? Why?"

"Don't know. Just thought you'd want to hear."

Baffled, he said, "Thank you. Keep me updated," and ended the call.

"Hey there, lover boy!" Durland elbowed Powers, startling him. He waggling his eyebrows. "Lazy Susan says yooou had a little date last night!"

Powers felt the back of his neck heat up. Gossip traveled fast in a small town. "Er—yes." Not very professional of him, but. "Someone I met in town a couple of days ago named Goldie." (What had she been doing at the Mystery Shack so late?)

"Oh, Goldie!" Blubs said. "Well! He's just a delight."

Powers gave him a quizzical look. He? "We... might be thinking of different Goldies."

Durland said, "Short brown gal? Big yellow hair and a gold tooth?"

A memory from dinner flashed through his mind's eye: a loose golden curl that had come loose and dangled softly in front of her eye; her gold tooth peeking out as she smirked like she knew something no one else did. His stomach flipped. "I... yes, that's her."

"Yeah, we know 'er! We're in the club for—"

"We're in a social club," Blubs cut in. "H—shhe's been looking to get out and meet new folks, I'm glad she ran into you."

A club? Why would a tourist join a club in town? "Is she... local? I was given to understand... well, I suppose I assumed she was a tourist." She'd talked like an outsider. Like it was her and Powers against the rest of this strange town. But then, she'd also talked like she knew this town well.

"Oh, she's an out of towner, but she's staying over at the Mystery Shack for a while. Old colleague of Stanford's, I think," Durland said. He looked at Blubs. "How long is she staying, did she say? Was it for the summer?"

"Could be. I don't think she's mentioned," Blubs said. "That place really fills up in the summertime."

Why hadn't she said anything? 

If she was Stan's colleague, why hadn't he turned her up during their investigation into Stanford Pines's background? (Why had he investigated Stan Pines? He tried to remember.)

Why had she had him drop her off somewhere else, so far from the shack?

What was she hiding?

When Blubs stepped out of the room, Powers turned to Durland and said, voice low, "I need to ask you something. It's important."

"Sure! What is it?"

"Has there been anything... odd happening in town?" he asked. "Possibly paranormal in nature? Maybe involving the Mystery Shack?"

Durland's face immediately closed off. "Oh! Ohhh. Uh—never mind all that. Hey, Bluuubs?" He hurried from the room. "Do you need some, uh—help with the paperwork?"

Powers's eyes narrowed.

He flipped open his case file to skim while he waited for an update from his men—and a jolt shot up his back. There were only three pages in the folder. Where was the rest of it? He checked his briefcase, then rushed outside to check his car. He'd let Goldie read the file; had she...? No. He didn't want to think so.

He drove back to the hotel.

####

As soon as he unlocked the door, he saw a disheveled pile of papers lying on the dresser. He sighed in relief. They must have slid out of his file before he put it in his briefcase. He'd been distracted that morning. Careless of him. (He always seemed to be strangely careless in this town.) He put the papers back where they belonged, shut his briefcase again, and turned toward the door.

There was a rumpled paper on the floor with bright red writing on it.

He picked it up. A short message had been written with a thick marker, the large letters filling the page: "STOP DIGGING UNLESS YOU WANT TO LOSE ANOTHER AGENT."

Another agent?

Powers called Dale, tapping his foot anxiously until he picked up. "Dale! Are you alright?"

"As... as well as I can be, sir." He was breathing heavily. "A little winded. That goat's nimble—"

"What about Trigger? Is he still there?"

"Uh...? Yeah, he's nearby."

"Are you sure?" Powers demanded. "100% sure?"

"H... hold on." A few seconds of panting, and then he said, "Yessir, right here. I've got him by the hand." (Powers heard Trigger quietly ask, "What are we?")

"Good. Have either of you seen anything suspicious, anything at all?"

Trigger leaned closer to the phone to say, "I believe I saw a gnome, sir."

"I didn't see it," Dale added.

"He had a pointy red hat," Trigger reported gravely. "I could have punted him."

Didn't sound like something capable of vanishing a federal agent. "Very well. Watch each other's backs closely," Powers said. "And let me know if anything happens."

Dale said, "You got it, sir."

He hung up and studied the message again. He flipped it over; on the other side of the paper was a flier, prominently headed "Gravity Falls MUSEUM," with a calendar of activities from May. (Apparently, on Wednesdays children could try "gravel panning.") Somebody had scrawled a message on the paper in pen:

TYQ FOP

DYEIGNQL LS FAOE LLY BZYMQUFUW LYVQ DIGQ VQRIJI SAG AG LIYQ

OFWYQ KIM RYJF QWIE

Gibberish. And nobody in his team knew how to crack ciphers...

But he knew somebody in town who did.

He hesitated for just a moment; then dialed the number Goldie had given him last night.

####

Just around the corner of the motel, Stan was pressed to the wall, catching his breath. That had been a close call. He'd arrived at the motel after Agent Powers had left for the morning, picked the door lock, returned the highly classified documents Bill had pilfered, and dropped in the threatening letter Mabel had written; but he'd only barely gotten back out before Powers pulled into the parking lot. He hadn't expected Powers to return nearly so soon. (He half wondered if Bill had planned it that way. He seemed like the kind of con artist who would work throwing a partner-in-crime under the bus into his plan.)

He tiptoed past Powers's door, then ran down the block for his car.

####

Bill was dragged from sleep by the feeling of his burner phone buzzing under the couch cushion. Not already. He'd barely gotten to sleep. He'd only just started his second REM cycle. He groaned, yawned, picked it up, and tried to sound perkier than he felt. "Yello?" He stifled another yawn. "What? No, no, I'm up. Been awake for hours. 

It was the call he'd been expecting. He sat up, suddenly much more awake, grinning broadly. Right into his trap. So far so good. He stretched, only half listening while Powers explained the situation. "A cipher? Yeah, sure, no problem." He grabbed a skirt and tank top, "If it's that urgent, I think I can clear my schedule! Meet you at Greasy's?"

He stuffed foundation and mascara into his umbrella, thumped down the stairs—nearly tripped in his haste—and thudded on Soos's door as he passed. "It's showtime!"

####

When Powers arrived, Goldie was already outside the diner, leaning by the door. (Had she come from the Mystery Shack?) As soon as he was out of his car, she called, "Hey, Bermuda! Making me wait for you?"

"I got here as soon as I could."

She was less made up than last night, and he realized with a sudden burst of warmth that yesterday she must have gotten gussied up for him.

His attention caught on one of her earrings as it reflected the sun into his eyes. Odd; she was wearing the same aqua green triangular earrings she'd worn yesterday—one had a gold star on it—but he hadn't noticed there was a bright gold eye painted on the other triangle. Surely he'd just missed it, though; why would it have gained an eye between last night and today?

Now that he'd noticed it, it was a reassuring sight. He saw that symbol everywhere back in Washington: over opera houses, on the gates of graveyards—even on the ceiling of the Bureau of Covert Investigations' lobby, surrounded by rays of brassy gold. When the BCI first formed, the All-Seeing Eye had been part of its logo—before the Department of Cover-Ups had hastily passed down an order to change it to their current eagle-and-magnifying-glass logo, and then covered up the order. But it hadn't been worth it to renovate the old art deco building's decor, and the Eye of God still benevolently watched over the agents.

As Powers opened the door for Goldie, he asked, "Did you call me 'Bermuda'?"

"I'm dropping a hint! I think you'd look nice in Bermuda shorts."

"O-oh."

She flashed him a brilliant smile as she swept past. "When's the last time you took a vacation, anyway? The beach in town's a lot nicer without a suit on."

In spite of everything he'd heard this morning—it was a relief to see Goldie again.

He could ask about the shack later.

Every booth and half the counter were filled up; they were seated at the end of the counter. Powers sat between Goldie and the crowd, trying as much as he could to shield their conversation from eavesdroppers. "Busier at breakfast than dinner."

"Oh, yeah, Greasy's is the hottest coffee spot in town."

"Is it that good?"

"Dunno. I prefer tea," Goldie said. "It's got more to do with the celebrity endorsement than the coffee itself. Fiddleford McGucket used to hang out here, chain drinking coffee pots. Now everyone wants to get coffee where the great inventor McGucket used to—but now that he's made it big, he doesn't come here himself anymore." She scoffed. "Doesn't that figure!"

"Ah, yes. McGucket." He'd been surprised to see that name in the news. "When I was in town last year, I heard a great deal about a local homeless man who squatted in the junkyard—an 'Old Man' McGucket. A relation of Fiddleford, or...?"

"That's the same guy."

"Huh. The man the locals described didn't sound like a genius inventor."

"He wasn't. A year ago, as far as anybody in town knew, he was just the village idiot." Goldie shrugged. "And all the sudden, the Northwests lose all their money in some kind of fraud deal nobody can make sense of, and now he's living in Northwest Manor!" She let out a disbelieving huff, and Powers was sure he detected skepticism in the cock of her brow. "I guess you can never tell, can you?"

He studied Goldie's face—so beautiful, so intelligent, smiling at him like he was the most fascinating thing in the world. Hiding just how close she was to this town. Pretending she had nothing to do with the Mystery Shack. "I suppose you can't."

Once they'd ordered breakfast, Powers showed Goldie the threatening letter and the note on it. She studied the code critically. "It's not a simple substitution cipher," she muttered. "It can't be anything complex, not if they're just scrawling it on a museum handout and throwing it away like trash. Maybe Vigenère—you need to know a code word for that one. Either they have a standard code word we'll never guess; or, they made it something simple that the recipient would know to look for... Got a pencil?"

Powers fished around in his briefcase for a pencil and handed it over. Goldie pointed at the flier's heading—"Gravity Falls MUSEUM"—underlined the word "MUSEUM," which was larger than anything else on the page, and muttered, "Worth a shot." She drew a complicated grid lettered A to Z along the top and left sides, crossed with vertical lines and horizontal lines and diagonal lines, then wrote the word MUSEUM over and over above each letter in the encrypted text—MUS EUM MUSEUMMU... She tried to explain how the cipher worked as she set up her grid. It flew over Powers's head.

"Now let's hope I grabbed the right word." She started out needing to trace the grid to find each letter, but the farther she got in the message the less often she had to look at it, until she'd translated the whole thing:

HEY BUD

REMEMBER TO LOCK THE PNEUMATIC TUBE ROOM BEFORE YOU GO HOME

UNSEE YOU NEXT WEEK

She pushed the paper over to Powers—"It's not a lot to go on."—and dug into the omelet that had arrived while she was translating. "What does 'unsee' mean?"

"I have no idea." He stroked his chin thoughtfully. "It looks like somebody wrote on a scrap paper they had on hand."

"That's not much help," Goldie lamented. "Anybody who's visited the museum since May could've grabbed this calendar—and whoever grabbed it first wrote a note on it and passed it to somebody else. Anyone could have sent this to you." She gestured at the paper. "Maybe you guys can dust it for prints?"

"That takes longer than most people think. And we've both touched it now."

He reread the message. Pneumatic tube room...

Slowly, he said, "I think the museum has pneumatic tubes. I remember seeing them last year."

"Did you?" Goldie's brows shot up. "Huh. Isn't that convenient."

"It is." There couldn't be many other places in town with pneumatic tubes. Maybe the post office, but he doubted it. "This may have been written from one museum employee to another. That would narrow down the suspects..."

"Mind if I come along?" Goldie asked.

Powers gave her a puzzled look. "To?"

"The museum! I don't think I've ever been to the museum! You've got to investigate it, right?" She grinned crookedly. "You know how much I love to see you at work."

Powers tried to ignore the flush creeping up his neck. "I can't allow that. If whoever sent this threat is there, this could be dangerous. I don't want you in harm's way."

The cheeky grin slid off her face. Seriously, she said, "Then that's exactly why you need me. You don't expect me to let you walk in there without any backup, do you?"

She had a point. If Dale hadn't called him yet, he and Trigger were still pursuing the goat. He wasn't sure he could trust the police here.

He wasn't sure he could trust Goldie, either.

But she was willing to admit there was something strange in this town when nobody else was. He wanted to trust her.

And she was right. He did need backup. "Okay; but I want you to stay near the exit." He took out his phone and texted Dale's number to Goldie. "And if anything happens—get help."

####

Goldie promised to stay upstairs, looking at the exhibits; and Powers followed the pneumatic tubes to a staircase, down into the basement...

...and through an immense wooden double door, flanked by lit braziers and framed in an arch of stones, which had a carving depicting two hands cradling an eye that had been X'ed out with blood red spray paint.

Which was a weird thing to find under the museum in a town with barely 5,000 people.

He'd heard rumors about a secret society in the Pacific Northwest whose symbol was an eye with a red X through it—one of the rare secret societies that actually managed to keep its secrets. Was this...?

He eyed the lit braziers nervously—had somebody been here recently?—but closer inspection revealed the flame was actually fueled by gas. Perhaps they were always lit. Dangerous, in a museum filled with old, dry papers and fibers; he began to wonder whether the museum was a mere extension of whatever this was, and not the other way around.

He pushed through the door.

Stone subterranean chamber, more lit braziers, a life size wood carving of a robed man with outstretched arms and a crossed-out eye on his chest standing in front of what looked like a shrine. Powers wasn't one given to flights of fancy, but if he were asked to imagine where an evil secret cult might meet, he'd be hard pressed to think of anywhere more perfect than this. All it was missing was a stone table for human sacrifices.

And the room was filled with hundreds, maybe thousands of pneumatic tube canisters.

He picked a few up. All of them had names written on them, a few labeled "(VISITOR)" or "(TOURIST)", most followed by the word "MEMORIES". He recognized a couple names from his investigation in town. He tried to pry one open and couldn't. What was in these things?

He found a filing cabinet near the carving, with a paper taped on top that read, "TOP SECRET! Do NOT open unless you're permitted to see the Society of the Blind Eye's secrets! (That means NOT YOU, Jeffrey!)" Ah, well—eye with an X through it, they would be called the Blind Eye, wouldn't they.

Powers pulled open the top drawer. There were only a couple of files in this one: one contained what looked like a list, again written in code; the other held what looked like blueprints to some sort of weapon called a "Memory Gun"—and if the notes on its usage and repair in the following pages were anything to go by, the Blind Eye had one of these things and was using it regularly.

As he flipped through the blueprints, a browned, square piece of paper slipped out of the folder and fluttered to the floor. He picked it up. It looked faded and aged, smelled like coffee, and was criss-crossed by diamond creases. Jumbles of incomplete diagrams and letters covered the paper.

As he turned around, a light caught his eye—not the yellow-red flicker of the braziers but a sickly digital glow. There was a computer monitor against the wall, its screen black but for a glowing green X'ed out eye. It sat atop a box labeled "↓INSERT↓"; the label pointed toward a pneumatic tube canister half-slottered into what looked like an oversized battery holder.

Powers scanned the room to make sure he was still alone; then pushed the canister fully into the holder.

It clicked and locked in. The green eye disappeared. The screen displayed a slender woman in her late thirties with coppery hair and a couple of figures in red robes partially visible in the shadows behind her. Metal cuffs bit into the sleeves of her well-worn flannel shirt, pinning her arms to a heavy chair; as she struggled to free herself, a camera swung from a strap around her neck, but somehow Powers doubted she was a sightseeing tourist. She snarled at the video camera recording her, "Where am I?! What do you think you're doing?! If you don't let me go, I swear I'll strangle you with your own stupid red bathrobes—"

An unseen person with a deep voice and a vaguely British accent said, "Be calm. Cooperate and this will all be over soon."

"Like hell am I cooperating! Let me go!" She shrieked at the top of her lungs, "HEEELP—"

One of the robed figures behind her stepped forward and clapped a large, meaty hand over her mouth. The deep voice said, "All we want is for you to tell us one thing: what is it that you have seen?"

The meaty hand tentatively uncovered her mouth so she could reply, then jerked out of the way when she tried to bite him. She snapped, "Nothing! I haven't seen a single stupid thing! You dragged me in with a bag over my head—"

"Did you not run into town, screaming in fear, claiming you were being chased by... some tall, faceless monster?"

"I—What? What does that have to do with—?" Her eyes widened. "What are you, the monster's cult?"

"Quite the opposite." The recording camera moved closer to the woman's face. Someone else snatched the woman's camera away by the neck strap. "Just be calm, think of that faceless monster... and in a moment, you'll never think of it again."

"What do you mean?" The rage slowly drained out of the woman's face, leaving only fear behind as she stared directly into the camera's lens. "What does that thing—? Don't! Don't—"

The recording ended. Static snow filled the screen. What in the world had Powers just watched?

He removed the canister from the slot and the screen went black. The label on the canister read "MRS. CORDUROY MEMORIES". He knew about the Corduroys; the eldest daughter worked for the Mystery Shack.

He had a report on Raina Corduroy's 2009 disappearance in his folder.

There was a date written on the tube canister. It was three days before her disappearance.

Goldie had told him Dan Corduroy was scared of something in the trees.

He flipped open the folder on the Memory Gun; held the canister up against a similar-looking part of the blueprints labeled "MEMORY CANISTER"; and read the other labels on the blueprints: "ELECTRIC TAPE (STORES MEMORIES)," "MEMORY SPECIFIER," "RADIATION BULB (DISASSEMBLES NEUROLOGICAL PATHWAYS)"...

And in a moment, you'll never think of it again.

It couldn't be possible.

He grabbed another memory canister laying on the right corner of the console. "MR. AND MRS. GLEEFUL MEMORIES." He'd visited a Gleeful Auto Mart just a few days ago.

He popped it into place. The screen lit up.

A woman with gray-streaked dusty brown hair sat on a plush pink sofa, sobbing into a tissue and struggling not to hyperventilate. A man—it was the Mr. Gleeful from Gleeful Auto Mart—wrapped an arm around her shoulders comfortingly. The angle was low, aimed at their knees, as though the camera had been left on a coffee table.

"It was awful," Mrs. Gleeful sobbed, "he was—he was lifting things and—throwing them around like some kind of poltergeist, or—or a demon— I've never seen my little Giddy that furious before, I've never seen anyone that furious before..." She grabbed a fresh tissue. "He's—he's got some sort of devil in him, we need to call a priest or a doctor or something—"

"Now, now, honey." Mr. Gleeful held her tighter and patted her arm. "You don't mean that. He's always been a mite tempestuous, you recall; and he's just practicing with those new powers of his—"

"Well I want those powers gone!" She pounded her fists on her bony knees. "Those powers and that awful book and—and—" She burst into heaving sobs again, flung an arm around her husband, and buried her head in his shoulder. "I just want my sweet little boy back."

Mr. Gleeful grimaced uncertainly and murmured, "I don't think I could get that book away from him if I tried." He picked up the camera—not a camera, Powers realized; the "memory gun" was designed to take recordings—and aimed it at himself and his wife. "Don't give yourself a headache crying, sweetheart; you won't worry about him anymore." He squeezed her shoulders reassuringly. "And I'm sure he'll make a better first impression on us with those powers next time."

For a second, she could only sob hitchingly into his shoulder; but then she asked, voice tiny, "Next time?"

Mr. Gleeful squeezed his eyes shut.

The recording ended.

Mr. Gleeful clearly knew what the memory gun did. He'd used it voluntarily. On a suspicion, Powers searched his wallet for the business card Mr. Gleeful had given him.

His name was Bud Gleeful. HEY BUD.

Goldie had sent him to Gleeful Auto.

Maybe it was nothing. Maybe Bud Gleeful was a mind wiping cultist and owned the best car dealership in the county. All the same—Powers turned so he could see the door from the corner of his eye, watching it warily, as he picked up the next canister.

It had Preston Northwest's name. He was one of the most important people in town. The patriarch of the richest family in Oregon—until last summer. Descendant of the town founder—allegedly. (Powers had gone undercover at last year's Northwest Fest and seen a few things that made him doubt the credibility of the Northwest family history—but nothing firm; and he couldn't very well interview that ghost now. Something shady was going on, but that wasn't his department.)

He clicked the canister into place. The screen lit up.

The memory gun turned back and forth as Preston paced back and forth in front of his manor's windows, delicately holding a narrow stemmed glass of what looked like bubbly white grape juice, but was probably much stronger. The deep vaguely British voice was back: "Would you explain what exactly it is you called on us for, Mr. Northwest?"

Fuming, Preston said, "Some... child dug up the truth about the town's founder—as well as the founder himself! This is unacceptable!"

"It certainly sounds traumatic," deep voice agreed. "Then you'd like us to... 'liberate' the child from the burden of this memory...?"

"No no no, you don't get it—the founder is still alive! Still alive! Just... running about out there!" He ran a hand through his $300 haircut. "I can't imagine how, he must be over two hundred years old, but—well, you know what this blasted town is like!"

"Intimately," deep voice said distastefully. "Then you want us to erase the child's knowledge that the founder is alive. And perhaps yours? You seem... distressed."

"Wh—?" Preston whirled around to stare at deep voice in outraged offense. "No, not me, you fool! I want you to find the founder, and make him forget his history! His whole life, if you have to!"

There was a pause. "That isn't how we operate, Mr. Northwest."

"I don't care!" Preston began pacing again, taking a deep drink from his definitely-not-grape-juice. "I could have you broken up in an instant if I wanted—nothing in this town runs without the Northwest Family's stamp of approval, and don't forget you're using the facility my grandmother commissioned—so if you want to keep operating, you operate how I say!"

There was a longer pause. The deep voice said, slowly, menacingly, "You really do seem very upset, knowing about this man running around in the woods. You really ought to forget all about him. And us."

"What?" Preston turned again; but this time, his eyes weren't on the speaker, but staring straight into the gun. "Oh no. You can't! You know you can't, how do you think you'll afford all your little custom canisters without my money?!"

"I don't think we'll need to worry about finances."

"Of course not," a clear female voice said. The gun swung around to frame Priscilla Northwest, standing in the doorway at the far end of the room. She said evenly, "As we discussed, I've arranged for your society to continue receiving its annual donation from the Northwests. You have nothing to fear."

Preston gaped at his wife in disbelief. He didn't even notice that the gun was slowly turning to aim at his head again. "Scilly? How do you know about— But— But why— How dare you—"

"You're too wound up over this," Priscilla said evenly. "You need to get it off your mind, darling. You're going to give yourself frown lines."

"Get it off my...?" His broken, dazed laugh was cut off sharply by the end of the recording.

Tape after tape of this. This was pretty obviously some sort of secret society that had been wiping people's memories around town—but to what end? What was the pattern? A woman who'd seen a monster, the parents of "child psychic" Gideon Gleeful (was he a real psychic?), the disgraced descendant of a fraud of a town founder... and if all of these recordings were like that, and if there were hundreds of recordings...

He looked down at the canisters scattered across the console—and spotted a fourth one. Name turned directly toward him, almost as though it wanted him to find it. "GOLDIE LOCKE (VISITOR)".

A chill ran down his spine.

He plugged it in.

Goldie was in the same chair where Mrs. Corduroy had been restrained—wearing a rumpled white button-up and an undone black tie, hair disheveled, teeth bared, one eye squeezed shut tight in pain, the other wide and furious. Her arms weren't strapped down like Mrs. Corduroy's had been; instead, they were wrenched behind her back. Apparently someone had restrained her first and then flung her into the chair.

She was already talking when the recording started: "—it doesn't matter what you do to me! Threaten me any way you want, I won't talk!"

"Talking is exactly what we don't want you to do, Ms. Locke." The deep voice was back, although sounding a little rougher than in the other recordings. (It was clear there had been a struggle; Powers hoped Goldie had broken his nose.) "And we'll make sure you never do."

Goldie flinched, both eyes opening. "You're going to...?"

"No, not that. We don't use such messy methods. It's enough to make sure you don't remember your current assignment—or anything that could lead you back to it."

"My team will be looking for me—"

"Your team won't remember you. We'll be dealing with them shortly." The gun lurched a foot closer to Goldie's face. She flinched again in fear. "I hope your life is flashing before your eyes, Ms. Locke! Because this is the last time you'll ever remember it!"

Her wide eyes got wider. “Wait—! No! Whoa-whoa-whoa wait wait stop STOP STOP—"

The recording ended.

Leaning on both hands over the console, Powers stared into the static snow with mute horror.

######

(Post-TBOB changes: added half the sentence "and don't forget you're using the facility my grandmother commissioned" to suggest it was Abigale Blackwing who built the big stone chambers under the museum. The rest of Preston's statement was the same, since I'd already decided the Northwests were bankrolling the Blind Eye—Abigale was just a bit of serendipity. And I think that's it? This chapter was impacted more by the official Gravity Falls coloring book than by TBOB.

PSA: this is the first chapter from Powers's POV, which means it's the first chapter that almost exclusively calls Bill "Goldie" and "she/her." So, a reminder: canon has exclusively called him "Bill" and "he/him" since 2013, and so do I except when I'm writing the POV of characters who don't know who Bill actually is. You, reader, know who Bill is.

I've had trouble in the past with commenters using the wrong name/pronouns for Bill just because he's been stuffed inside a body he does not identify with; so, don't let a chapter from a character who's wrong make the situation worse, please. Thanks.

Anyway!! We're shifting into conspiracy mode y'all. Wish Agent Powers luck. I'll be interested to hear y'all's theories on where Bill is going with all this; some parts of the hints/foreshadowing have been more overt than others.)

[bamfkeeper]

SFW Alphabet: Nightcrawler

a/n: yayy I finally got around to writing again, as I said here's a Nightcrawler alphabet. It feels good to write for the first time in a few months. I plan on writing actual fics though, once I have more out I'll take requests. For now, enjoy a SFW Alphabet! A NSFW will come later hehe. I'm getting the feel of writing him so I'll work out any kinks of things I don't like as I write more of him. I'm going to try to mix the variants of him and not stick with a solid version, so there will be mixes from comics and other shows, etc in his characterization. I hope you enjoy <3

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?):

Kurt is very affectionate, he's a lover, so he likes to be close to you at all times. He likes giving you hugs, kisses, or simply giving you gifts like flowers or chocolates.

He likes spending time with you too, and he will call you sweet things in German because he likes to see you blush.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?):

He'd be a great best friend, always making sure you're doing good and supporting you through bad times. He'd be a blast to hang out with, he'd teleport you around Genosha and show you all the lovely sights.

He'd always make sure you felt cared for, even as just a friend, he'd still ensure you were safe and sound. He likes to have fun, so anytime you wanted to do something, he'd be down.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?):

Kurt is a huge cuddler. He is so soft because of his velvet skin, so he is extra warm. He makes the best cuddle buddy for winter because he keeps you warm, like a heated stuffed animal.

He loves to hold you, he often will rub your back or play with your hair, he will also read to you in German, which almost always lulls you to sleep. He loves to have his tail wrapped around you as well, keeping you secure.

Sometimes he likes to be held though, his upbringing at the circus didn't offer him much affection that way, so he cherishes it when he can be more vulnerable with you. Sometimes he puts that goofy self away and he crawls into your chest and curls up.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?):

Settling down is always something Kurt has wanted to do, but with his lifestyle, it can be hard to determine when.

He's always wanted a family, and he values that at his core, he would talk about settling down a lot with his partner and together, you'd figure out a good time. I think he'd want to settle when Krakoa comes around, after the attack on Genosha, your plans to settle had to be pushed back.

Kurt is German so of course he can cook. He is an excellent cook at a lot of things, but some foods he doesn't normally eat are a bit rough for him. He learns from trial and error.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?):

If he had to, he'd do it in a way where your feelings would be taken into consideration. He'd be as gentle as possible, and he'd let you know that he still cares about you.

I don't think he'd want you out of his life, (unless you cheated or did something really bad), so even if you broke up, you'd still remain good friends.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?):

Being a religious man, commitment is important to him. If he were with you, it would only be you he'd loyal to and he would date in hopes to marry.

He would go off of you, but dating is a trial run for marriage, and he dates for that. He would imagine your lives together, and he would like to marry after a year or so.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?):

He is very gentle, he is sweet and tender and learned to be that way because of all the hatred he experienced in his life. Everyone was afraid of him growing up, so he learned to be extra sweet and gentle to make up for his 'scary' appearance. He doesn't want anyone to be afraid of him.

Physically, he is as tender as ever, his touch is so light and sweet. He loves to caress your back or cheek while you sleep beside him, even his tail will run gently up and down your body.

He is very in tune with his emotions and empathetic to those around him. He is understanding, and is always ready to help you if you feel overwhelmed or upset at all. He is very good at dealing with emotions, and will always do his best to make sure his partner is okay.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?):

Kurt loves hugs! He hugs friends, family, lovers. He does it all the time, and he is one of the best huggers out there. He can squeeze happily, hold tenderly, and spin playfully.

When he embraces you, you can feel the love radiating off of him. It is one of your favorite things to feel him hugging you, and of course his tail wraps around you!

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?):

He would be a little nervous, but he would say it first. He'd either randomly blurt it out to you, or he'd make sure you were having a special time together and he'd speak it tenderly to you.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?):

Kurt can get pretty jealous, it stems from his insecurity. When he gets jealous, he will remain close to you with a hand on your hip or around you. He might kiss you on the cheek to tell whomever you're speaking to that you're taken. His tail will wrap around your arm or leg too.

He will grumble against you later on, he might feel a little more insecure after, but some reassurance and he will be okay again. If he got really jealous, he'd teleport you away and he'd take you somewhere so he could make sure you and everyone else knew you were taken.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?):

Oh his kisses...such sweet, amazing kisses. He has experience, so his kisses would be perfect. He'd learn what you like, and he'd make sure you were breathless every time.

His lips would gently graze over yours, he smiles that cheeky grin of his and he would press them fully into yours. The kiss might be tender, might be a little more passionate, but his soft lips would make you wrap your arms around his neck and hold him close.

He loves lip kisses of course, but he also likes to kiss your wrists and the back of your hand if he's feeling playful. He likes getting his temple and neck kissed, even if it makes him blush.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?):

Kurt is excellent around kids. He knows how to handle them, and he is quite playful with them. He always tells you how he wants a few little ones in the future, and he hopes you do too.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?):

Kurt isn't a morning person, he is a little whiny and grumpy when he wakes up, and he is rather clingy. He doesn't like to get out of bed but will trudge after you and hold you from behind if you make breakfast.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?):

Kurt loves his sleep, he values it. In the circus growing up, his mistreatment went as far as being isolated to a cage with a thin layer of hay as cushioning. So, now that he can have an actual bed, he adores it.

He likes soft blankets and pillows, curling up in them like a nest, and holding you close to him. He buries his face in your hair, or he snuggles into your chest for safety.

He doesn't snore, he learned to be silent when he sleeps, you don't ask why. But he makes a tiny purring noise, and his tail stays wrapped around you to make sure you're still there when he wakes up.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?):

Kurt is a pretty open person. Some of the things of his past that are hard for him might take him a while before he tells you, but he just needs to work up the courage. You know that he was mistreated in the circus, so don't pressure him to tell you. He will tell you everything, it just takes time.

He might tell you something that he is uncomfortable with that reminds him of his past or childhood, his playfulness is more serious when he talks about it so you know he's not joking around. He is so grateful you take it seriously and it makes him love you even more.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?):

He is very patient, he learned to be growing up. He can handle quite a lot of shit before he might get a little riled up and upset. Even if he does get angry, he tries to be as reasonable as he can.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?):

He is like a safe, he locks away everything you tell him. Favorite flower, favorite color, little things you like and dislike. He remembers what seasonings you like best with what foods, how you like things cooked, literally everything.

He remembers important things like allergies and triggers, preferences, places to go, everything you say is so important to him. He surprises you with his knowledge too, even you forget you've told him things until he brings it up in conversation.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?):

Definitely when he said he loved you, it was such a special moment between you two and a defining day in your relationship. You grew so much closer, and it was a near perfect day. When he heard you say it back, he swore he died and went to heaven. His heart swelled so much and that day is definitely a core memory for him.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?):

Kurt is protective to a degree. He knows you can handle yourself, but he absolutely won't hesitate to step up and defend you. If anyone speaks about you in a poor manner, he jumps to defend you, especially if you aren't there. He doesn't let anyone talk bad about you.

If you are hurt or can't defend yourself, expect him to be more agile and aggressive than you've ever seen. He will swing those swords and defend you like precious treasure. (Which you are to him).

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?):

Every single date you have, Kurt puts so much effort into. He makes sure things are perfect, he remembers all the little things, he makes sure that you are enjoying yourself and that you have a wonderful time.

Every gift is special and sentimental. Even if it's silly and small, like chocolate, it is always your favorite flavor and brand.

Kurt will adjust to your love language, and acts of service is something he does a lot for you. He will cook, clean, anything if you're too tired to do it. And he never complains, always doing it with a smile on his face.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?):

The only thing that might be perceived as bad is he might be too playful sometimes. He might be a little too light hearted and silly when things need to be more serious, but he gets better with this habit as your relationship develops.

Sometimes his insecurities about his appearance can fester and they can make him slightly more irritable because he feels like you can do so much better than him. Just be sure to reassure him and it usually helps a lot to hear you say sweet things.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?):

Kurt for the most part doesn't seem too concerned with his appearance, but he does have insecurities when it comes to his looks. Sometimes if he sees an attractive person speaking to you, he feels a little down when he thinks about his own looks.

Besides that, he is very aware of his hygiene because he is covered in velvety fuzz, so he washes himself every day and makes sure he is clean.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?):

Absolutely. Kurt loves you with all his heart, you are his everything. Without you, he would feel like a piece of himself is missing. One of his worst fears is losing you, he often has bad dreams about it and wakes you up at night to make sure you're still with him.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.):

Kurt was not a contortionist in the circus, but he might as well have been. Kurt is incredibly flexible, able to bend and twist in unnatural angles. He will show you all sorts of things he can do and loves to hear your praise.

He shakes off from the shower like a wet dog.

One of his favorite smells is fresh, buttery popcorn.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Kurt is a devout Catholic, so he wouldn't want anyone bad mouthing his beliefs. Kurt is very accepting and wouldn't try to convert you or make you believe in things you don't want, he keeps his religious beliefs to himself and only speaks if asked about it. However, if you bad mouth him or his beliefs, he will bristle and he won't like it.

He is open minded to hearing discussions or answering questions if you don't believe, but as long as they are respectful. If you talk poorly about it, he won't be interested in continuing the conversation.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?):

As mentioned before, Kurt loves to sleep. He didn't get a lot of good rest in the circus. So now that he is able, he tends to nest and curl up in a pile of soft blankets and pillows. He loves feeling secure and safe, which is something he never really got before.

If you rest with him, he's either holding you or snuggled into you. He likes to sleep in a dark place, it makes him feel more relaxed. Some nights when he has trouble, he listens to religious passages and he falls asleep quickly.

Thanks for reading.

*BAMF*

dividers by @/adornedwithlight

[toxycodone]

The way i need kabru to teach me the anatomy of the human body by using himself as a model and he’s explaining how all the vital points are laid out but he’s struggling because my hands are dipping a little too low below his belt and squeezing his neck a bit too firmly

vital points (kabru of utaya x reader)

wc. 1.5k

cw. romantic/sexual tension, nothing explicit

No one in Kabru's party is a particularly skilled dungeon crawler. Despite all efforts it seems his party is always taken out before they can do any true exploring of the dungeon's secrets.

Therefore, being the excellent leader that he is, Kabru has decided to take it upon himself to give out combat lessons. And it's only logical he starts with you first. Mickbell has his own specialties--poison darts and all. Kabru's not sure if he'd even be interested in lessons. And even if he was, would he even pay attention? It's probably not worth the trouble. Kuro is well, Kuro. What part of that demihuman's body isn't a weapon? His sharp senses make him one of, if not the most well-equipped members of his team. It's the main reason Kabru keeps a demi-human, one partly monster, like him around. Aside from the fact he's a package deal with the half-foot. Kabru's sure Kuro could make it throigh the dungeon on his own.

Daya is the second best. Strong. Capable. A weapons expert. She can take a hit and throw it back with ease. Rin and Holm are the magic users. Combat would likely be wasted on them. Rin's frail, but she already has similar knowledge to Kabru as she grew up with the same foster mom. And Holm...likely wouldn't agree to lessons. He's maintained a commitment to do no harm to others unless absolutely necessary. Kabru's not going to try to convince him to learn his way around a weapon and how to maim unless it's completely critical.

However. That leaves you.

You're different. Not entirely useless, but not entirely skilled on the other hand. Kabru's still trying to figure you out. Quite the enigma you are to him. He's come to the conclusion you're a jack-of-all-trades type of figure. For now, at least. You don't exactly take away from the party. But you're not hindering their descent, either. It's intriguing from an anthropological standpoint, yet infuriating from his stance as leader of his party.

But again, he wonders what skills you do possess, exactly. Everyone has their specialties, be it what it may. He wonders if combat might be something he can help you succeed--no, excel--in. He'll bring out the best in you via this method, and come to learn more about you in the process. Two birds with one stone. In the back of Kabru's mind, his own desire rears its head. The desire to be close to you. He's not exactly sure why or where this desire stems from. However...it can be satiated via a combat lesson. Three birds, he muses. You pique his interest in a variety of ways.

When it first comes to combat, jumping right in is never ideal. The first means of success comes from mapping out vital points. The human anatomy is a good start. Dungeons are full of demi-human and human adversaries alike. It's important to know them for one to defend themselves, unarmed or not. And these vitals seem to remain uniform among all creatures.

Head. Neck. Abdomen. Groin.

The four major sensitive groups one should know. He's starting small for now. Too much information could be overwhelming. It wouldn't be worth to teach you so much at once that

You're in front of him now, bright eyed and bushy tailed. Not in a literal sense. A metaphorical one. Well, your eyes are bright. He's always liked them. Not that it matters. Why is he thinking of this?

Kabru shakes his head a little, trying to steady his thoughts. Back to business.

"The first lesson in defense is understanding anatomy." Kabru muses, looking through his notes. There's no real time to fetch a book at this point. Or a model. Kabru's not necessarily gifted at art either. Not that a simple drawing would do.

He can serve in its place, as an example. A physical specimen would be the most insightful. You're probably a hands on learner, he decides. It's definitely not as an excuse to have you close to him. Definitely not. Not that he's entirely against that, though.

"Starting with the head. There's plenty of areas you can exploit there," Kabru points to his eyes. You follow suit. They're such a striking blue. Hypnotic. Mesmerizing.

"Eyes are the easiest to access. They're the first thing humans notice. You can predict someone's movements by figuring out where they're looking towards. It'll likely show you where they intend to attack." Kabru leans forward absentmindedly. "They're also sensitive. Even a simple move can distract or blind an opponent. Don't be afraid to strike there. Even though Mickbell might tease you for fighting dirty. All's fair in dungeon combat."

You chuckle and agree. Kabru's pleased his attempt at humor landed. It seems to lighten the air around you two.

"Next, the neck. There's two main points here you want to recognize." Kabru takes your hand, offering a reassuring smile as he does so, then presses it to the underside of his neck. They're a little cold, you note. And almost dainty. His hands aren't particularly calloused. He must take good care of them.

He guides your index finger to the skin on the outside of his neck. His skin carries a hint of heat to it.

"This is where the external jugular is located. It's one of the most important veins in the body. It carries blood to the head and neck area. Just a simple cut can slice through it. A simple turn of the head is enough to expose it."

He moves your hand more inward, now pressing slightly into the divot close to his trachea. His chest rises slowly, then falls. There's a faint beating under the skin now. Kabru's pulse.

"The internal jugular is here. If you can land a hit here, do it. You'll have to go deep and make sure you slice clean through the skin. It can disable a foe in seconds."

You try to keep your mind on the lesson. But his skin is remarkably soft. And smooth. You're close enough now to count his stubble. Well, you would if there was any to count. How does Kabru manage to keep himself so well groomed on dungeon excursions. Maybe you could count those thick, lovely eyelashes inste--

A simple call of your name breaks your thoughts. Not only were you not paying attention, but your fingerpads dig slightly into his skin. You struggle to find an explanation for your absentmindedness, then decide to pin it on you being hyperfocused.

Kabru, ever so forgiving, decides to move on without further question. Internally, you thank him for preserving your dignity. What's left of it. You're almost certain he's caught onto the fact your no longer solely doing this for the sake of combat knowledge.

"The abdomen hosts a majority of the body's necessary organs. The lung's can be pierced easily through the ribcage." Deft fingers lead you across the expanse of his chest. You're a bit shocked. Without his armor, Kabru's a lot smaller. Being revived time and time again has left its mark on his body. There's still power to him though. His muscle isn't all gone. You can surmise your leader has quite the lithe build.

Kabru continues to go on, despite you not listening. He likes to talk about anatomy, for one. But he's also trying to hide his own amusement at your reaction to touching him. You're admiring him in your own way. Which means you may harbor similar feelings towards him that he has towards you. Interesting. He takes note of this as your hands are guided lower.

Stomach. Liver. Kidneys.

And last is the groin.

Kabru's puzzled. He didn't really consider how this would play out in his hands-on anatomy lesson. Desire clouded his mind earlier, but now that he can peek through it...the realization of the situation sets in. How should he proceed? He can tell by your reactions you're fascinated by the lesson at the least. Kabru's sure you need this lesson. The groin is probably the most effective place to punch, kick, or slice in a pinch. As inappropriate as it is, in general and a workplace sense, he still wants you to keep touching him.

His hands leave yours. He's leaving it up to you, now. Whether you choose to continue or not will tell him what he wants to know--if he's been going too far or not.

"The groin is the last area you should become familiar with. I'm sure you're aware, but it's particularly sensitive." Kabru's not sure whether to look at you or your hands. He goes for the latter when your fingers trail over his belt, threatening to move towards the linen of his pants below.

"The genital area, more specifically. No matter the sex. A swift punch, kick. Even just grasping it. You can get an advantage in combat. Either as a distraction, or...."

Your fingers keep going lower. He's sure you aren't paying attention, now far too invested in your personal lesson on anatomy. There's a slight bulge in his pants. It's stiffens when you ghost over it.

Kabru's breath stifles. He swallows his spit like it's cement.

"A-and that's the gist of it."

Kabru stutters for the first time ever, you think. Your curious hands flee his body as a result, now returning to your sides. That was...exhilirating. So simple, yet...you can tell the two of you are craving more.

"Uh," You're first to break the awkward tension. "Thank you, Kabru. For the lesson. It was very informative." A certain tone lingers on the last word. Kabru can practically see the air quotations around it. His dark skin deepens with color. For once in your span of knowing him, Kabru's eyes don't tear into you.

"Right. It's my duty as your leader, after all. Thank you for listening. We can go back to the others now."

Kabru is known for his penchant for understanding others. Almost being able to predict their next moves with ease. However, your next move is wildly unpredictable, tossing out everything he once assumed about your attitude and demeanor.

You ask when the next lesson is. You'd like to study anatomy-perhaps his anatomy, more thoroughly.

And what he also doesn't expect is his eagerness to respond. The next lesson can't come soon enough.

[ma1dmer]

Call of Duty - Vladimir Makarov NSFW

the first time I went on a date with a slavic man my mother turned to me and told me "I didn't immigrate, for you to be going out with Ivan from the village" anyways, here is ivan from the village

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex): surprisingly he talks, he'll go on and on about the small things in his day to day, his shitty day, the things he's seen since he last saw you, his plans for the future ,especially if you speak his language, in the darkness of your room pressed against each other naked like that, he almost opens up to you

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s): he loves legs, he is a man who can appreciate a good high heel to elongate them, loves fucking you in the tights and heels combo, very particular about them too, he sees you walking around in a skirt with a slit up the thigh and heels and he's pulling you to him, asking if this is his present

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically): in the heat of the moment he's so into the idea of cumming on you, messing up that pretty face of yours or leaving his mark on you in a way, but the second that post nut clarity hits he is absolutely disgusted, quickly throws something for you to clean up with while wiping his hand

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs): he is a bit of a masochist, its just one of those things he'll never admit and you better not bring them up at any point in any conversation, but it gets him so riled up when you have the balls to slap him back, he doesn't encourage your behavior outside of very specific moments in the bedroom though, it's rare for him to actually allow it, but you can immediately tell when he's in one of those moods, he'll be lost in the feeling of you wrapped around his cock and suddenly yank your hand to wrap around his throat and growl at you to go on

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?): a man with a lot of experience, mostly anonymous hook ups here and there, so it's tough to get him to get used to an actual serious commited relationship, but it's nice, he won't complain with having someone to always warm his bed or wait for him to come back home

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying): the basics, on your back holding your legs as he fucks you, he'll kiss your forehead or cheek growling filth against your sweaty skin, if you turn away from his kisses he forces you to look at him, gets very petty about that

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.): serious and very very intense

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.): all natural, not particularly hairy but he doesn't do anything to it, he always smells very very strongly of cologne as well

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect): not exactly romantic, if you keep him content and his bed warm, he spoils you outside the bedroom, that's his way of showing he cares and his commitment to you, but he keeps his distance in general, he is a greedy greedy man, he wants your full attention but won't give you his unless he is forced to do so

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon): before he thinks of jacking off he first texts you, if you don't answer his texts, he calls you, asks you if you are busy, not really caring for any answer other than "no, my love, what do you want?" ,he'll be stroking himself through his pants as he asks you to come over or tells you he's about to pop in for a bit, if you happen to be busy he'd rather take a shower and wait for when when he can next see you again

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks): power dynamics, impact play, choking etc

L = Location (favorite places to do the do): he keeps his private business behind closed doors, can't stand the idea of other men ogling you

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going): a short skirt, high heels, red lipstick, play a bit of dress up for him, he's a simple man who can still enjoy the simple pleasures of life

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs): he does not share, he gets angry with you when another man looks at you, can't even comprehend the thought of bringing someone else in the bedroom, if you even suggest it, you are out, he's gone, and he's fucking every single woman within a 100 mile radius as revenge

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.): loves receiving, he is not particularly gentle with it though, he likes things very specifically so he orders you around or straight up moves your head like his personal fleshlight, he also enjoys having a finger or two in him while you give him head, won't talk about it outside the bedroom, but always lifts his hips up or straight up moves your hand to his ass when he fucks your mouth to let you do your thing

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.): rough and fast, he'll take his time to prepare you but once he's inside he's almost single mindedly chasing his own pleasure, you have to keep up with him and take matters into your own hand, enjoys the show greatly

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.): not a big fan, if he is at work, he is at work, you don't intrude during that time and he hates nothing more than an impatient brat

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.): not really, he likes things very particularly done, its difficult to convince him to do something new, he's not unmovable but if you insist too much he gets stubborn and will keep denying you

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?): it really depends on the context, how long since he last saw you? how pent up is he? after a success or a failure? how generous is he feeling that night? is he spending the night or needs to fly out in a couple of hours? everything moves with his schedule

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?): he's quite possessive and very self absorbed, he doesn't like the idea of you using them by yourself when he's gone, but can definitely be convinced with something he can control for you

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease): he is pretty straight forward, isn't so much a tease as he has a bit of a mean streak, he enjoys the little jump you make when you think he's gonna spank you ,but instead he just gently cups your ass or thighs, will smirk and ask you if you are scared of him or something, tells you to relax and stop being so tense, even though you have legit reasons to be worried

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.): grunts and groans and a lot, a lot of dirty talk, especially if he sees it gets a rise out of you, you'd expect him to be quieter but no not really, he makes these deep guttural grunts as he fucks you and curses up a storm, especially in russian

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character): he is a pussy slapper, he eats it with precision and great enjoyment, but he's so mean about it, will coo at you in russian when you flinch at his touch

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes): average length but very thick with a slightly thinner crown, very hard to adjust to

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?): very average, it's common to send you off with a wave of his hand if he is busy, but when the need arises in him he does expect you to drop everything for him

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards): this man is a little spoon, he will never admit it or ask, but every night he turns his back to you and expects you to hug him at some point

[insomnova]

Do you have any tips for writing Obi Wan or any meta in mind with his characterizarion?

hmmm sure why not! i'll give a few tips on how i'd write obi-wan. mind you this is how i interpret the character, so ymmv.

i truly do not like it when fics have obi-wan voluntarily leaving the order. like it's so out-of-character for me in my head that the premise of the story + the writing would have to work triple-time to get me to stick around. now if he's been removed from it by an EXTERNAL SOURCE (not the order. i cannot stress this enough: the jedi kicking obi-wan out is so jarring to me i'll leave the fic in an instant) or somehow unable to return to the order for whatever reason, all is well.

not a prodigy, but a genius. obi-wan is an incredibly intelligent person with an absolutely staggering knowledge base in a wide variety of topics, but all that knowledge was earned through blood, sweat, tears, and time. he sat down with his game face on and put in the work. that's also why he makes an excellent teacher: he knows what most students will struggle with because he struggled too, and knows through experience how best to overcome them. i headcanon that it contributes to why he's such a good negotiator: he's really good at stripping down information to the essentials and communicating that information effectively and efficiently to others because of his intense study habits.

humble, but not ignorant of his skills. it's pretty impossible to fully divorce yourself from pride in your achievements, and i don't think it's healthy to not feel any pride at all, so i think obi-wan has a very clear understanding of his skillset and how best to use it. i don't think he'd be ignorant of how good he is at something, especially since the direct consequence of his aptitude led him to being a member of the jedi council. pretty hard to be blind to your strengths when you're being asked for your input on topics that directly draw from that knowledge.

averse to healthcare. listen i enjoy obi-wan whump just as much as the next obi-wan stan (the desire to put him in the cosmic salad spinner comes with the territory, i fear) but as a character who grew up in an environment that deeply cares for the well-being of all, and knowing that you cannot help others unless you yourself first have the ability to do so, i can't really see him ignoring injuries outside of combat scenarios. like on the battlefield he's got more pressing concerns than a pesky little shrapnel wound or five, but once the battle's over?? he might not be first in line to the medics but i can't see him avoiding them entirely. an army without a general is working at a sharp disadvantage and i don't think he'd risk his men by neglecting his physical health in that manner. note that i said 'physical'. make of that what you will :)

duty. obi-wan is the definition of a paladin. he takes an oath and by the force he's going to keep it. train the boy? absolutely, qui-gon. whether or not anakin chooses to respect that training is another matter, but he did definitively get knighted! refuse to kill anakin? listen he's handed vader his own ass to him twice post order 66 and each time he did it he did it nonlethally. that takes skill. that takes dedication. exile yourself to tatooine for 19 years and then decide fuck it, we ball, and die after Once Again Deciding Not To Kill Anakin Skywalker? step aside casper, there's a new friendly ghost in town. every time obi-wan commits to something the man COMMITS. you GOTTA respect that grind.

flirty but in the sense that he's going to match the energy someone brings to the table. like he's a negotiator. he knows how to read people and figure out the Vibes. if he thinks the other person will be 1) 100% receptive and 2) will respond with a delightful wit, why the hell not? obi-wan's highest stat is charisma and he's got expertise in persuasion. whether they're allies or not does not factor into this equation. he can have a little flirtation with morally dubious and potentially hostile characters. as a treat.

this has nothing to do with his character but i firmly believe that he and quinlan vos had at LEAST a fling when they were padawans. there is zero evidence to back this up aside from a few comics where they were being goofy teenagers together but i stand by this. it is an unshakeable aspect of obi-wan to me that has only gotten worse with the kenobi show.

no matter what, no matter how terrible or devastating or downright apocalyptic it gets, obi-wan kenobi will never fall to the dark side. never. it won't be easy, but that is a line he has never, and will never cross. i will not hear any "obi-wan touched the dark side during the theed generator fight" slander. if that was true tell me why the force theme was playing during his moment of triumph!!! Would John Williams Lie To Us Like That?? to our face?????

anyways i could go on forever about obi-wan because he is My Ultimate Blorbo but this post is getting super long so i'll leave it there. hope this helped even a little or at the very least was entertaining for you to read <3

[captainsophiestark]

Rock Solid

Enzo St. John x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for my personal fic writing challenge for 2024, Sophie's Year of Fic! Featuring a new fic being posted every Friday, all year long :)

Fandom: TVD/TO

Summary: Enzo's SO roped him into joining a Mystic Falls scooby gang game of truth or dare, and the rest of the Mystic Falls group is having trouble believing just how healthy their relationship is.

Word Count: 1,193

Category: Fluff, Humor

A/N: I know not all of the characters mentioned in this were present/on speaking terms at the same time in TVD, but I don't care. We're ignoring the timeline and going for vibes.

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

"Okay, truth or dare?"

I could tell Tyler was up to something across the circle of our friends, but I wasn't sure what. I hummed, thinking for a moment before deciding to play it on the safer side. I'd known Tyler for most of our lives, and if he had a grin like that on his face, I didn't want to know what dare idea might be causing it.

"Truth."

Damon booed from across the circle, but Tyler and I ignored him. To my surprise, Tyler's grin actually grew as he asked his question.

"What's the biggest secret you're keeping from Enzo?"

I frowned, but not because I was upset at the question. My boyfriend, Enzo St. John, was sitting next to me, his arm around my shoulders. I'd dragged him to this party with my old Mystic Falls friends, and he'd given me some raised eyebrows and eyerolls at the idea of playing truth or dare. But, for me, he'd been a good sport about it. Because he loved me, and he knew it would make me happy while costing him relatively little. We had each other's backs like that.

Which is why I had absolutely no idea what Tyler was trying to do. Amongst the secrets, lies, and manipulations that had become the norm for my group since vampires got involved, Enzo and I always told each other everything. We didn't keep secrets from each other, unless maybe one of us was planning a surprise party, and frankly, I thought it was the main reason we were in a happy, committed relationship without the drama the rest of our group kept going through.

"Uh..." I said, stalling for time while I racked my mind. It seemed like Tyler was fishing for a specific answer, but I had no idea what it could be. After another few moments of thinking, I shook my head and dropped my gaze back down to meet Tyler's. "Honestly, I can't think of anything. I know that's not really the point of this game, but... I don't have any secrets from Enzo."

Right on cue, our entire friend group groaned and rolled their eyes. Also on cue, Enzo leaned down to kiss my temple with a smile. I turned to smile back at him, leaning closer into him and resting one hand on his thigh.

"Okay, there's no way you guys are actually this perfect," Caroline said, sitting up a little further from her seat beside Tyler. "There has to be some moment or lie or something that you haven't told him. What about that time at the bar...?"

"The one where we saw Kol and Klaus? He knows all about that."

Caroline narrowed her eyes at me.

"He knows all about that?"

"Yeah, Caroline," I replied, leaning forward and raising an eyebrow so she would hopefully get my meaning. "All about it."

My look must've worked, because Caroline promptly went bright red as her mouth dropped open. She glared at me, her voice raising in pitch as she spoke again.

"Are you serious? You told him about that?"

"Yes! Sorry, but... yeah, I did!"

Caroline huffed and flopped back into her seat, and I didn't need to look at my boyfriend to know he was grinning. I'd gone on a weekend trip to New Orleans with Caroline a few months ago, and we'd run into Klaus and Kol at a bar. Kol had spent some time hitting on me, but I'd shut him down, and we eventually ended up spending the night bonding and commisserating over the people we'd come to the bar with, who'd snuck off into the back to make out in a closet or something. I'd told Enzo everything, from the flirting to the shift to friendliness to Caroline ducking out with Klaus.

"Well what about some of the plans we've put together?" Elena chimed in, shifting in her seat next to Damon. "Like some of the things we all came up with before you started dating, when he was still working with the enemy?"

I shook my head. "...No, I told him about all of that after we started dating. And he told me about all of his pre-dating plots, too."

"Well what about-"

"I actually have a confession," Enzo broke in. Everyone stopped dead to look at him, and I turned to face him with a raised eyebrow. He continued, keeping his attention on my friends. "I know the question wasn't directed at me, but-"

"This works too," said Tyler, waving him off with a grin. "Whatta ya got?"

Enzo cleared his throat, then turned to meet my eyes. His expression was serious, and I could tell the rest of the room thought this was going to be a massive bombshell, but I honestly couldn't get myself to buy it. I just waited, letting Enzo build up to whatever it was he wanted to say.

"...I ate the last piece of cake last week."

I gasped, hand to my heart and a scowl instantly on my face. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw all our friends rolling their eyes and groaning, but I ignored them.

"Enzo! How could you?" I delivered the line like he'd just told me he'd slept with my best friend. "This is a betrayal! A stone-cold, unforgivable betrayal!"

"Alright, we get it!" Tyler broke in, giving us the tone equivalent of an eyeroll. I ignored him.

"Unless..." I said. Ezno raised his eyebrow, and I took a deep, dramatic breath. I barely managed to hold back a grin and stay in character. "I have a confession too. I was lying before, there is something I'm keeping from you."

"Boo!" called Caroline, as Damon hurled a pillow at the two of us. I ducked behind Enzo, letting it hit him, and the two of us quickly returned to dramatic form as it bounced off.

"I... told you the coffee I brought you last night was regular, but it was decaf. I know you're a vampire, but holy shit babe, it was two in the morning and you were drinking it for the taste, not to stay awake. You were trying to drink black coffee and go to bed. I couldn't just stand by."

"...I noticed. But it was adorable and thoughtful of you, so I didn't mention it."

I gasped again. "You bastard!"

That was the absolute limit of what Enzo and I could get through without dissolving into a fit of laughter. He moved his arm around my waist and pulled me closer to him, and I laid my head on his chest as I laughed my ass off. Half of our friends were glaring at us while the other half smiled fondly, but Enzo and I couldn't have cared less.

Leave the shitty drama and backstabbing to the rest of the supernatural world. Enzo and I were rock solid, and neither of us was ever going to let anything change that.

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989 @space-helen @misshale21

TVD/TO Taglist: @elenavampire21

[minziemoon]

Life Series Rare Pairs I Wanna See More Of

Inspired by everyone else on my tl posting their dream team lineups for a life series season, I decided to do my own by thinking of the most random combinations I can imagine that would be entertaining to witness. Some of these are gonna be more detailed, some are just for vibes, and some for shits and giggles. Also I haven't watched every single pov of every single series, and I have the memory of a goldfish sometimes, so forgive me if these aren't all THAT rare. 🙏

1. Cleo + Jimmy

- This duo materialized itself in my brain after a random wild life episode from Jimmy's pov where he had a near death experience and ran to Cleo for comfort. It's occupied a lil corner of my brain ever since.

- I think Jimmy would really benefit from someone like Cleo on his side. Someone who you know you can rely on and come back to whenever you're in need of help. Unless you betray them, Cleo is such a good teammate and has a mom/older sibling feeling to her.

- I can imagine she'd spend half the season convincing Jimmy not to go poking fun at ppl and making enemies, only for her to snap once someone kills her unjustly and goes on to commit arson apon half the server. Then the roles would switch.

2. Gem + BigB

- The difference between Cleo and Jimmy's paragraphs to these two... I told yall some of them are just fueled by the potential of vibes.

- I have no clue how these two would function together. They barely even interact. But that's exactly why I want them together!!!

- I feel like they'd be really wholesome. Knowing Gem she'd bring out the best in him... but I also feel like B would once again betray or back stab her in some way. Either way I've become too curious and invested now.

3. Grian + Pearl

- The fact that the skyblings themselves are a rare pair nowadays is concerning. They don't interact NEARLY enough. The amount of wasted potential is to cry about.

- I feel like they'd be all up in other ppl's business. If Pearl were to turn red before Grian, I think he'd have the same dynamic with her like with red lifer Scar in 3rd life, supporting and encouraging her crimes from afar, really birthing another menace on the server.

- They'd have the time of their lives while red together and I'd be SEATED.

4. Mumbo + Tango

- One episode they're the most miserable wet cats on the map, the next their trap kills half the server. Their fate as a duo would be a gamble.

- Idk if their combined brain power would cancel each other out or multiple. Most likely cancel out. Because putting an uncontrolable nervous wreck with the ticking timebomb of unhingness CAN NOT turn out positive.

- Still, it would be SO entertaining and probably make for funny quotes.

5. Lizzie + Bdubs

- It felt like my brain glitched a lil when remembering these two.

- I feel like they'd be weirdly wholesome?? Like they wouldn't stress each other out. Maybe Bdubs' vocal coards could finally catch a break from yelling every episode. Also lowkey feel like he'd try his best to protect her.

- Pls Watchers, let them build some cute cotteges in the woods somewhere in peace 🙏

6. Ren + Scar

- Ik they aren't THAT rare to see together, but the fact that they've never been close to teaming before is astonishing to me.

- If Scar doesn't turn Ren's thing with Martyn into a love triangle by the end of the season, no one else ever will. The Red Winter would rise once again, but with two kings this time.

- I just wanna see theater kids have fun, okay? Sue me if you must. Martyn can join in too I would not mind in the slightest.

[youronlylie]

hello people in my phone

BOONE head cannon list, just a mix of stuff that'll probably change later ( THERE WILL BE MORE ) 1/?

• He undoubtedly was ripped/heavily worked out being in the ncr, after moving to novac and loosing his wife he undoubtedly lost a lot of muscle but...guys he still is literally like beefed.

• He cannot fucking cook for shit, he understands what shouldn't be put in your body but from there he has no clue.

• Going off of cooking, he has strict times where he eats, like routine from the ncr.

• For some reason he strikes me as a guy who really enjoys fruit whenever he can get his hands on it.

• Cannot tolerate any sort of spice.

• Smells very mettalic, sweaty, like man must.

• Has a soft spot for cats.

• 1000% is not bald, just shaves his head as he probably prefers the look.

• I feel like with a romantic partner, since he isn't one much for talking his love language would be physical touch or gift giving, I could imagine him seeing stuff he knows they'd like and saving it for later, excited to see how they'd react.

• He would definitely have a special place in his heart for fantasy movies, he doesn't seem to be able to express himself well and I feel like the creativity of something like lord of the rings would get him going.

• I seriously cannot pick so I'll include both, he is either an extreme cuddler with a romantic partner or on very rare occasions, he's just terrible at expressing emotion.

• If the courier and him are something like romantic partners he'd definitely never be able to sleep, often awake staring and listening for noises, waiting for the next cascade of legionares but it never happens and he eventually learns that.

• I don't think he'd ever get married again unless it'd be over 20 or so years in the future, it's a type of commitment that I don't think he could mentally handle whatsoever unless he is totally over Carla.

• I definitely do think boone could find love again in another person, he's scared and alone, fearful for any sort of attachment.

• 10000% has really really nice man hands, like large hands with nice fingers.

• Is definitely tall but not close to arcade tall, 6' ish at MOST, I just feel like looking at his build and concept art that he is definitely a tall man.

• Secretly really has a thing for drawing whenever he can, especially when he was nested at novac, sitting up top the dinosaur scribbling stuff on old receipts or whatever else it helps him get his emotions and thoughts out.

• irl he would be so patriotic it's not even funny, like he'd go all out for fourth of July but is the somber type so he'd cook hot dogs and whatever else then sit in the corner and watch everyone else.

• Has a thing for memorizing features, very very very intuitive and will remember almost anything you tell him.

• He is so the type of guy to enjoy snow, like yeah he'd probably be kinda pissy for a bit but if you pushed his buttons enough I feel like he'd mess around with the courier.

• He absolutely like no doubt has nightmares, like the ones where you erupt in cold sweat and your throat is sore.

• If he does sleep like ever, along with nightmares he grips the sheets, rolls around a whole lot, mumbles. In the ncr he was the total opposite, stone faced, layed straight and slept some what peacefully until later on in his ncr years.

• Yearns for someone, even platonic, to just sit beside him, no words and scratch his back and kinda just touch him lightly. I don't think he'd cry but it's something I could imagine would bring him close to tears.

• He absolutely probably finds almost everyone annoying, like, he just is done with everything and doesn't give two shits about what anyone has to say unless the courier puts some sense into him.

• Really disagrees with gambling, just doesn't like it.

• Wishes he had a nice farm house, out somewhere away from everything, where it has everything he needs and could be away from absolutely everyone. ( of course after extracting revenge on the legion )

• He wants to learn how to play guitar, either he has tried and is horrible or has just never gotten the chance, I have a feeling he'd really be into (irl) like classic rock or something smooth.

• Cannot look at people with features his wife had the same, down to personality or looks.

• Absolutely dreads deep down without realizing going back to novac when the courier disbands him.

• He would like having books read to him, he's a listener not a reader, likes hearing people's voices just not his own.

• At a point probably had a nickname for his rifle, something like Beth or something that was a joke between him and Manny.

• Manny 1000% at a point tried hinting to boone or even confessing his love for him, either the point never got across or they got over it together. ( somewhat ish at a point )

• In all reality I play him out to be a really sweet guy, which I can imagine and he can somewhat tend to be but he ultimately really doesn't care, he'll kill in order to get what he wants ( so be it revenge or whatever else ) even if he isn't necessarily fond of it.

• At a point, consumed by guilt he forgets what Carla looks like and that eats him up inside, like the teeth gritting soul crushing ache for revenge, and a year or two leads him to completely forget her complexion.

[sugdendingle]

I really hope that Ryan is planning on returning for a more permanent position on the show. Because personally as much as I've missed him and Robert I would rather him just not come back at all if it's only for like one episode. Especially if at the end of all this Aaron still ends up with John. It'll be like pouring salt in the wound and just reminding us of the person Aaron should be with.

Though I don't think Robert coming back is going to be temporary because I find it hard to believe that they would be able to talk Ryan into coming back for just for one episode. I feel like it would either be him not wanting to come back at all or he'd come back for a more regular role. Which at this point I can see him being open to because it's been a while since he was on the show. His kids are also a little older now and he's been acting regularly again. Plus Emmerdale is a great steady gig for an actor to have. Ryan also loved working on the show and more importantly loved working with Danny.

Also maybe it's just my wishful thinking but I can't help but think that they told people Ryan coming back was only going to be for a guest spot or temporary so that they can keep a true Robron reunion secret for now.

The thing is I don't see the point of the show continually reminding the audience of Robron and Robert (a far superior ship and character) if the plan is just to have Aaron with John. Not to mention this thing with John won't last anyway because of the crimes John has been committing sooner or later he's gonna end up in jail. So then what's the plan for Danny and Aaron after this? Maybe I'm putting too much faith in the show but then Iain is the current show runner and a lot of great Robron stuff happened under him before so I feel like he is at least aware of how popular they are. (Yes I know a lot of bad stuff happened for Robron under Iain's watch too but they still had a lot of screentime then so I can see him being the one to bring them back.)

I just can't help but feel like there has to be a reason that they made the only guy Aaron has considered marrying since Rob another Sugden. And it's only now that Aaron is about to marry someone else that we're going to see Rob again for the first time in years. Plus they brought up Seb not that long ago too when they didn't really have to. Unless maybe it was to remind the audience because we're going to see Rob get out of jail and go get his son eventually.

There's just so much they could do with Rob if they bring him back and not just when it comes to everything with Robron. Ross and Joe are both in the village again too and Rob has had bad blood with both of them at different times. I would love to see him and Joe going at each other again since their feud got cut short last time but what we did get was funny af.

Anyway keeping my fingers crossed that we're heading towards a third Robron wedding happening someday soon.

[glacierclear]

dumping fuckboy leon ramblings because i need to post it somewhere.

fuckboy leon would remember all the miniscule details about your life and he'd surprise you. he'd take you out on some shitty date and act like an asshole, and then hold his arm out before you eat your food and he's like "wait, dude aren't you allergic to soy or something? i think its in that."

he'd remember your favorite flower. and he'd huff and groan over you borrowing his sweatshirts but he'd never want to take them back unless its to get them smelling like him again. he'd accidentally say some stupid shitty thing about your appearance because that's all he knows from his friends and when he sees you get upset there's gears that turn in his head like. is that...not normal? why are they mad???? should i be getting mad ????

and you'd fall asleep on him and his entire left side would fall asleep and he'd be annoyed but he wouldn't be able to bring himself to wake you up.

and he'd ruin all your fucking attempts at dating. it wouldnt read as jealousy. not at first. he'd just do some shit. see you hitting on someone and he'd walk up, wrap an arm around you and be like "hey, how's your diarrhea going?" just to skeeve out the other person and you'd get so pissed and ask him why the fuck he did that and he'd just shrug "its funny."

fuckboy leon's epiphany moment would be so cute but it would make me cry.

him realizing he's in love. and he loves you. and what that means. and the inevitable fallout of him dealing with that and all the feelings.

i know he's terrified of commitment. he would not want to go for it. he'd maybe try and say "maybe i can just do FWB for a while and it'll be okay. maybe ill be okay with that".

but it makes him feel worse.

he tries every trick in the book but his book SUCKS.

so he tries to cut you off.

goes distant.

flings himself into other women to try and forget.

it makes him feel worse.

he picks fights with you. "maybe if they hate me i'll move on."

it makes him feel worse.

him finally breaking down at 3am calling you while he's out cross faded as fuck. dumps everything on you.

he regrets it in the morning. he does. he tries to backpedal. tries to say "wow i was sooo fucked up i don't even remember".

but you remember.

and you wont let him get away with it.

he needs you to chase him a little bit. he needs you to reassure him that there's something in him worth trying for, because otherwise what's the point. you're just there to make fun of him, right?

but once he's yours he's yours.

and it'll take a long time to undo all the things he was forced to teach himself. all the ways he was forced to hate himself. ohhh it'd be infuriating but at the end of it all you'll have a soft, sad man who wants to know love and he wants to love you so intimately and he'll do anything it takes to fight for you.

[gramnolabar]

NSFW/Smut Mikoto + John x GN! Reader

Just some random hcs ~ Read at your own digressions but these do contain 18+ themes n ideas ^^ Headcanons are separate unless you wanna make a mold of mikoto's dick.

Also these are GN but we wrote the reader as wearing lingerie! wear whatever you want brothers!!!!!!!!

I think if I was really committed I could clone Mikoto. I just know him that well

-> Mikoto is very adventurous! He's trying to find himself everyday so I think the same applies to his sexual... actions? Though he isn't all that freaky. Just here and there y'know.

-> Mikoto who is def a switch! (hehe) But he prefers to be on top!

-> Mikoto views sex as a very intimate act, something to be done when two people love each other so much that regular intimacy (holding hands, cuddling, kissing, etc) just isn't enough anymore. But I totally think he's had casual sex with someone he barely knew.

-> Mikoto's biggest turn on is without a doubt, lingerie. He loves admiring it, on you especially. You're already so gorgeous, and when you're wearing intricate lace in a soft blue... he just wants to look at you forever!

-> Mikoto never, ever, damages the lace in any way. He'll take it off slowly, admiring your body's every little detail. It gets tossed somewhere in the room... but he makes sure not to throw it.

-> Mikoto isn't really into any hardcore stuff... not a fan of any form of sensory deprivation (blindfolds, handcuffs, gags, etc.) He loves to feel and see everything! And he really isn't a fan of hurting you (spanking, gun play (?), knife play). Unless you really beg for it, he'd never do it.

-> Mikoto's aftercare is very simple! Just a super long bath asking if you're okay, if he hurt you anywhere. Then just drying off and cuddling in bed as you snooze~

-> Mikoto is rarely, if ever, mad. And if he's angry coming back from work, it'll immediately be replaced by anxiety. But if you really beg for him to release his anger...

I'm back again with my CORRECT headcanons that I wrote during class like a couple days ago. My notes look criminal right now

-> John is a top, no compromises.

-> John doesn't have that high of a sex drive I'd assume so when he's feeling it, he WANTS you. Savoring every last moment.

-> John is a certified biter, he is marking you up like you don't have work in the morning. No place is safe he'll go for the thighs, neck, shoulders, wherever you let him actually.

-> John will in fact tear up your tights so you better hope you have extras, though he might just tear them too.

-> John's biggest turn on is also lingerie, clap if you're surprised. He'll admire and be super careful about not ruining the beautifully crafted lace.

-> John has insane stamina, it's crazy how many rounds he can go. Which means overstimulation central, he won't stop till you tell him to.

-> John will praise you, reminding you of how beautiful you are and how well you're doing. So in turn, degradation is not on the table even if you cry and beg.

-> John will kiss and lick your hickys while holding you during aftercare. You'd both take a nice long hot bath before getting under a lot of blankets drifting off to sleep.

BONUS: Mikoto wakes up confused on why you look like you fought a rabid dog.

[utilitycaster]

Wait. So CR3 ended with Liliana, Ludanis, technically Predathos (within Imogen or something?), and all the gods all still alive (though technically in mortal form)?

I understand that sometimes it's journey before destination and the story is more important than the finale of the story but....W-what was the point??? If the BBEG Cult Leader who kicked this whole thing off to kill the gods and the gods are both still alive what was the point??

So Liliana was alive, Ludinus was alive (having used Clone or similar), and Predathos ran away because the gods assumed mortal form and there was nothing to eat on Exandria.

Really, while again I have my many critiques, the actual only part of this end state I think is a genuine mistake is Ludinus.

I think that Imogen deciding to join with the Volition and assassinate Liliana would have been a compelling character moment for Imogen; when she didn't do that I felt that Liliana dying when she chose to defy Ludinus would have been a compelling character moment for Imogen. When that also did not happen, my general feeling was "I don't really care about her fate, but it doesn't matter at this point," so her ending is one of the many "yeah, that's fine I guess" ones this campaign delivered. I don't think she's a good person, but I also think that now that she's just a regular-ass sorcerer and her cult leader tried to horribly murder her and then disappeared she has no motivation to continue committing crimes so yeah wandering around figuring out who she is now makes sense. It's still not interesting; most of my criticism in the end is "this wasn't very interesting."

The gods becoming mortal was genuinely interesting and any critique I have is how poorly it was signaled, how irrelevant it made any of the excruciatingly dull circular discussions throughout the campaign (and how hypocritical and stupid it made the characters as a result, not that that wasn't a problem from the start), and how malformed the logic of what this means mechanically for clerics was. But that is an interesting change, to me, especially since the Divine Gate is now down. Idk I think it's possible for the cycle to genuinely begin again; I mean, wizards figured out the rites of ascension before. Will one of the gods-become-mortal undo their own bindings, or will some wizard studying this phenomenon hit on the formula? The party (and fandom) discussion of Who Gets Power was rendered completely pointless but like, the actual concept is great.

Ludinus, however; honestly it makes no sense either way because not only did he do nothing to narratively earn any kind of redemptive ending [if I say "earn" know it's narratively because he is a pretend guy and the people who act like fictional characters are real and should get capital punishment are Calvinist freaks]; I don't see why he'd just hang out making tea unless he somehow thinks the gods are genuinely gone, having missed out on the happenings after his form was killed. Like, look. I do not believe that you have to kill the bad guy to have a satisfying ending, but you do need to follow through with the implications and this doesn't seem to have done so. The only possible ways this fits with his character are either that he's biding his time to do some other bullshit (possible, and if he pops up in a one-shot or miniseries to do villainy and get murdered I'll grant this), if he somehow hasn't found out and thinks the gods are dead (less likely but admittedly pretty funny, and if he lives out the remainder of his life in an isolated cottage, blissfully ignorant, thinking he got his revenge when he never did, that is a boring option but see above, this campaign usually went with the boring option for character development so what else is new), or if we somehow managed to get an ending that is more unwilling to give someone any kind of follow-through in the end than Ted Lasso, which is embarrassing, and I liked Ted Lasso for what it was.

[hkruu]

Yandere CEO x reader who wants to be your sugar baby?

“CHOOSE ME!”— hkr

\\ silly little yandere guy , manipulation(?) , guilt tripping , murder and violence heavily implied , kidnapping , two faced character , reader is gn as usual //

Obviously Yuri wouldn't give up just because you rejected him. A simple "no" will not be enough, he will never stop unless you finally say those words — it's the only goal he's working towards.

Aside from balancing his CEO status from the company, he thinks it's an easy life, thrilling even. But it doesn't come easily, he can't slip up one bit lest he'll fall down from the reputation he's built for the past 2 years.

It simply wasn't worth it.

But for you? Oh how he wishes he could be pampered by your soft hands, guide him, spoil him, sweet talk him — ah how he yearns to be beside your bed, stroking his hair gently as you talk about your stressful day. It's the perfect world he has envisioned for the both of you.

Yuri isn't about to give up just because you said "no".

Yuri would go to insane lengths just to make you look at him. No, he cannot have you looking at some other good-looking woman or man — you must only look at him. He'll whine about it to you and complain, guilt tripping you into apologizing and you having to sweet talk him so that we won't sulk over it.

You think it's hard work but for Yuri it's the opposite.

Never underestimate him, just because he acts like a total puppy around you does not mean that he won't resort to violent tendencies. Mind you Yuri is a CEO — he has learned all the ways the world works, you need to work hard for the thing you want.

"P-please let me go! I did nothing!" The person screamed angrily, struggling to get out of the chair they've been tied up to.

"Nothing? Why are they ignoring me then?" Yuri looked down at the unfortunate individual, if they hadn't interrupted his precious plan he would've been in their arms by now.

His gaze was piercing before continuing into the night, the ambience of agony has never sounded better in Yuri's ears. It was a pleasure to hear every time he got the chance to do it, whether by kidnapping, torturing, making them commit — it was wall fun.

But you still say no to his advantages.

Why can't you understand that he just wants to be taken care of? It's such a simple request, you don't have to have sex with him, you don't have to do anything you don't want to do.. Yuri doesn't understand.

Yuri is practically crying in front of you, confessing his undying love to you. "Here I am, putting effort into this whole thing while you just bask in my attention.. do you even appreciate things I do for you?" He'd say while sobbing.

Yuri needs you can't you understand? He'll beg you for it, he'll get on his knees. Yuri is desperate and once he gets everything he wants, it's sure that you'll never ever get away from him ever again.

He'll take everything in his hands, make you feel insecure, he needs you to be emotionally dependent on him — that way he'll be the only person you'll turn to when you need someone. You don't need your family, siblings, friends, co-workers, just Yuri.

Yuri assures you that he'll never leave your side just make him yours, take care of him, spoil him, make him happy. It's what he deserves, he went through so much yet you still don't appreciate him? What's wrong with you.

Are you that ungrateful? Be an angel and just say yes and accept his proposal.

Yuri built this dream brick by brick but you broke it down, he will keep rebuilding it for an eternity until you finally accept your role in his story.

Pamper him go ahead, he won't complain. Spoil him all you want, he'll be your doll who will sit still and look pretty for you to look at. Just make sure you don't lose interest, he'll make sure you'll only look at him.

"Have you considered it yet?" Yuri causally asks you, smiling brightly. It was hard to imagine this hard-working CEO to be someone different, he was someone you could trust.

"I'm still thinking about it.." You sheepishly say to Yuri, you don't know why you suddenly feel like a thousand daggers are piercing through you as if there will be consequences to your own actions.

"Please think about it hard. You'll never regret it." He smiles at you.

\\ ahh sorry if it's a bit short ;; I rushed this one because I was behind my writing schedules (I was supposed to post this way earlier). I think this is one of my worst writings yet but uhh I rlly like the story idea! //