#And that's what DAI does A LOT in retrospect

[zundely]

One thing I want to get off my chest when it comes to a lot of DAV writing criticsm is that a lot of it feels to me like it stems from how much DAI writing didn't bring closure to people.

So much of DAI's choices and events feel like a set up for Something BigTM to happen in the future. Well of Sorrows is the one (to me most disappointing) example that comes to mind of something big and potentially dangerous being set up and then game never bothering to really pay it off.

I think that led to expectations of Veilguard being more of a direct follow up to events from the previous games (I vividly remember people being disappointed when they learned that the Dreadwolf when it was still called that will have a new protag). It had expectations on it that previous Dragon Age games did not have of bringing closure to all the open ends Inqusition left, which I think would be detrimental to the game even if they didn't decide it also needed to be a soft reboot.

To be fair- making Veilguard, a game that was more of a sequel then all the other Dragon Age games before it, a soft reboot of the series was... a choice. I definitely think the way this game tries to evoke nostalgia while not carrying over much from previous games is a major detrimentto it's writing. But I do feel like we are being unfair when we blame Veilguard for not giving us a satysfying ending to a game from 10 years ago. Neither DAO nor DAII left major plot thread hanging in the air for the next installment, there were cameos but you didn't need them for plot and character arcs to have a satysfying conclusions. Heck, it is often said how DAII's ending is rushed and feels unfinished and yet it still provides a more satysfying ending then Inquisition does. And Inqusition did get it's finale DLC.

Now I don't want to say "Veilguard is great actually and Inqusition sucks"- they both have it's ups and downs but I do think it's a good example why 'mystery box' approach to writing sucks and why it almost always inevetably leads to people being disappointed. And the root of the issue with why Veilguard can feel disappointing does start with Inqusition and it being a lot more interested in alluding that things will have consequences then actually having us face those consequences.

[tubbytarchia]

Just saw this Jimmy skin for the first time from back when he could still experience joy and whimsy and uh yeah I can't blame anyone for having any parental instincts towards him (looks at myself and my moots and Doc)

[atalana]

also as a further addendum to my bill made a huge mistake underestimating stan post - i was recently listening to the commentary for sock opera

and like everyone and their mother can draw the parallels between ford/dipper and stan/mabel, it's one of the major themes of the show

bill gets the first half of the equation just fine - he thinks dipper can be manipulated in exactly the same way as ford, and while dipper will grow past that by the end of the show, in this episode, he's right. the best ways to get dipper to do what he wants, are to tempt him with all the secrets of the universe, and to remind him that he doesn't owe mabel anything, when mabel's done nothing but hold him back and cause trouble for him. it's probably exactly how he talked about stan to ford back in the day, who was still nursing those grudges and wanted to be the one to discover things no one else had

but the fun thing alex hirsch mentions in the commentary for that episode, is that bill doesn't see mabel as a parallel to stan (bc lbr he barely even recognises stan as a person). he sees mabel as a parallel to himself. yeah dipper and mabel are a good team together, but ultimately when it comes down to it, mabel is a powerful creature of chaos who would choose her own happiness over anyone who relied on her. (alex hirsch at this point jumps into bill's voice to say "how about instead of doing something lame, you do something fun, and crush whoever you want in the process!", and that bill genuinely thinks that is going to work, because it would work on him)

he doesn't expect mabel to destroy all her hard work and crush her own dreams just to help dipper. when he says "who would sacrifice everything they worked for just for their dumb sibling?", he's speaking from experience. he wouldn't. ford didn't. given the type of people bill considers worth talking to, i doubt he's ever come across that type of loyalty before

but the audience has, plenty of times, and will see it even harder by not what he seems. because while mabel does have some of the anarchy and selfishness bill sees in her, that kind of loyalty is a huge part of what she shares with stan

and like in a lot of the commentaries the writers say they weren't sure at first if bill would be the big bad, or how exactly the ending would come together, but in retrospect it never could have been anyone else, and there never could have been anyone but stan to defeat him

because so much of this show is about the relationships between family (including found family), what you would or wouldn't give up for them, but then how much better your life is when you value those relationships over temporary personal gain

so of course the main villain is someone so incapable of understanding that that he is utterly blindsided by the person who embodies it the most

[koolades-world]

Demons and Humans not understanding each other

Inspired by several other posts I read about this same thing <3 honestly even if the brothers insisted it was safe, I would consult Satan, Lucifer or Barbatos

this is mostly mammon freaking out

Humans think the deadliest things are like, adorable, like Cerberus. Mammon especially does not understand why Mc wants to run towards the very dangerous, very mad three headed dog. A few times he has had to throw Mc over his shoulder to keep them from staying behind

“MC CERBERUS BEING THE BEST BOY DOES NOT JUSTIFY HIS ACTIONS HE WANTS TO KILL US”

“But he’s so cute! He just needs a snuggle buddy”

Humans can also be very stubborn if they’re too hot or cold but refuse to admit it. It’s fine with Lucifer does it because he’s one of the most powerful and therefore resilient demons in Hell, but not so much when Mc does it. Beel and Mammon love playing in the Devildom snow, but given that it’s the Devildom, it’s definitely a lot colder than it is in the human realm. Even after ten layers, Mc is still freezing but refuses to admit it.

“Mc, are ya shivering? I thought ya would be too warm under all that”

“I’m sweating with this one jacket”

“I’ll live! Let’s go back to the snowman”

“no I don’t think you will”

On the same note, sometimes demons forget humans can’t withstand crazy temperatures. Asmo will invite Mc to a popular bathhouse, sauna or hot springs, forgetting that the temperature would literally boil Mc alive

“Hey Asmo this is the place you wanted to go, right?”

“Yes! Isn’t is cute?”

“Everything except the part where I boil alive”

“what!”

Some foods can kill humans just by being near them so imagine how the brother would feel when they learned this, it’s giving that lunatic pudding incident with Diavolo from that one card

“Mc! You’ll love this. Open wide!”

“Asmo I feel funny”

“DO NOT FEED MC THE TAKEOUT LUCIFER SAID ITS DEADLY FOR HUMANS IN LARGE AMOUNTS”

“FUCK NOT AGAIN”

In retrospect, humans probably sleep a lot compared to demons. Some demons probably don’t sleep at all, except Sloth demons. Setting aside about eight to nine hours of the day just to sit idly might not make sense to them until they learn they will shut down without it

“How are you feeling about the exam we just took? Exam week is finally over.”

“Mc? Mc, Satan is talking to you. Why are you on the floor”

“MY HUMAN IS DEAD”

“No, I think they’re just asleep idiot”

“oh. wait, THEYRE ASLEEP IN THE MIDDLE OF THE HALL lucifer is gonna kill me”

I’d say both demons and humans are social creatures, but humans will go insane without social interaction. Yeah a demon would probably be upset if they didn’t talk to someone for thousands of years but I don’t think a human could last more than ten without losing grip on reality. Humans tend to copy each other, which is probably bizarre to demons. Humans don’t even understand yawning so demons definitely won’t

Going back to the food thing, demons can probably go ages without eating, besides Gluttony demons. Humans need to eat so frequently compared to them

“So you’re tellin’ me that if Mc doesn’t eat for a whole week, their insides start to eat themselves?!”

“Yes. But, Mc ate a few hours ago.”

(Mammon was already gone when Satan turned back around)

Demons probably also play game that would definitely kill humans. My brother and I used to play crazy games when we were little (our favorite game didn’t have a name but we would put Barbies in the toy train tracks and see what would happen when different Thomas and friends character would hit her. The train tracks would glow in the dark! I did not let him put my favorite doll in the train track and he had to listen since I was the older one, she was not a barbie and had bendy feet? that’s not for now) but we never seriously got at each other throats. I cannot imagine what games demons and demon children must play. Satan was born fully grown but imagine if he was born little and the brothers had to play his favorite games with him. I feel like they would find the Barbie game I played a little weird too. Like, they would probably tell me that I should’ve done it in real life since that would be better experience or something batshit like that

“Aww, Satan, do you remember all the times we played “Five minute eye stab” with Lucifer? You were so cute. Sometimes I think Luci let you win.”

“Do not talk to me Asmodeus.”

“I’m sorry, you played what?”

“One time we gave him an actual knife by accident and since he was good, he ended up stabbing Lucifer’s eye.”

“You’ll be next if you don’t shut up and let me read”

“HE WHAT”

“Oh he’s fine now, clearly. Only took him a few hundred years to regain normal eye functions”

“Can we not talk about this anymore?”

Babe it is a miracle Mc is still alive

[woodlandwrites]

i. mind over matter

aphrodite!reader x luke castellan

pre-tlt, characters 18+, mdni, def going to be a pt.2

warnings: cursing, whole lotta impertinence!

2.7k read - unedited

You have been plagued by flocks of doves and Luke Castellan. So Aphrodite decides to meddle a little a lot in your love life. Who needs memories anyway? Unfortunately, the only person you find comfort in - is the very person you hate.

A/N: first fic in a loooong time - stick with me here. there will be more parts and maybeee some spice? anyways hope you enjoy!

You’d like to think that Aphrodite loved the game of making you miserable. In retrospect, you hated your mother. She was a hard act to follow. 

Don’t jump to conclusions - you loved your cabin. Your brothers and sisters were wonderful - not vain like most campers would say. No, that was not an issue. The problem started with one slender, curly haired, crooked smile boy - Luke Castellan. He was the golden boy of Camp Half-Blood and the bane of your existence. 

Luke was an astonishingly aggravating self-centered egotistical bigot. 

“Why do you hate him so much,” Silena asked one day out of the blue. You both sat in the stands watching Luke teach his swordsmanship class. You pondered her question for a while.

“Because. He confuses me - and aggravates me constantly. I have never met anyone so full of themselves in my entire life. He is Narcissus reborn again. It also does not help that he is a complete jerk,” you nodded as you ate another fresh strawberry. Silena pondered on your words.

“Are you sure this has nothing to do with mom and the whole..argument,” she said in a cautionary tone.

Silena was the only one who knew about you and Aphrodite’s - complicated past. To be fair - she didn’t know the entire truth. The prophecy, the impertinence, all the bullshit. However, she did know that your shoulders seemed to tense every time Aphrodite’s name was mentioned. 

“I mean every time I have talked to him at camp counselor meetings he seems like an alright guy.

Silena - forever the optimist. Sometimes when you looked at her through the corner of your eye she resembled your mother. She had this soft tone and locks of hair that seemed to always catch the wind just right. Yeah, no wonder Luke was nice to her. Selina was extremely beautiful - Beckendorf struck gold. 

“Yeah, I can see right through the façade-” you were cut off by a dove landing next to you. He started pecking at your strawberries mindlessly. Silena stifled a small giggle. 

“It is funny when it isn’t happening to you. The bastards have been following me around for days,” you said annoyed.

You tried scaring the bird away - only for more to return. After a couple minutes an estimated 20 doves flocked around you mimicking every move. 

“Go away!” you screamed - only for the feathered friends to cock their heads in curiosity. By now, the entire arena seemed to convert their attention to you. 

“Hey! I heard if they shit on your head it’ll bring good luck,” Luke echoed watching amused.

He leaned against his sword in a cocky manner. What an asshole - you hated when he did that. The other campers seemed to laugh along. 

“Up yours, Castellan,” you yelled with a face the color of cherries. 

The doves had now increased their army to a solid 50 - all looking to you for a further instruction. Doves had followed you around your entire life - a gift your mother had bestowed to you. The unfortunate part was that they were pretty much the most non obedient monsters on the entire planet. You never had truly understood why they would appear - most of the time it was a random occurrence. Of course - Luke was always there to revel in your misfortune. You still had not forgotten when the doves caused a complete riot last month at dinner - leaving quite a mess for you to clean up. The younger campers were still traumatized. 

That was the thing about doves - they were just like your mother. At first they are nice to look at, almost sweet. That is until they turn into vicious assailants from Tartarus (Silena says you overreact). They also annoy you - another common attribute with your mother. 

“For Gods sake just leave!,” you yelled again, stomping off, bidding Silena goodbye.

You did not want to continue being entertainment for the rest of the campers. The doves seemed to take the hint - maintaining their place in the stands. You were sure there were some week old snacks stuffed between the seats the rotted things could ravish on. Luke chuckled before turning his attention back to his students. 

The sun was setting and soon it would be dinner - but you still sat in bed thinking about what Silena had mentioned early about your mom. Maybe it was your nerves - but you knew a visit soon would be unavoidable. The doves only confirmed your suspicion. It was rare for gods to visit Camp Half-Blood, at least publically. The closest thing the camp had to godliness was Mr. D - what a joke. However, you knew your mother and her constant desire to meddle with your life. 

Dinner went without a hunch - except for the Stoll twins starting a food fight at the Hermes table. You loved quiet nights like these where the summer breeze feels like a warm hug. Silena nudged you - reading her expression you knew she was inquiring about the events from earlier. A shrug sufficed. You were so caught up in laughing with your siblings you failed to notice the yelling from the other side of the pavilion. 

“One of the Ares girls was flirting with Luke after you left today - Charlie and I could not help but laugh. It was so awkward,” Silena mentioned.

 There were a couple of murmured sounds and gawking from your siblings - which was the usual. If there was one thing they loved it was - well - love. However this subject rubbed you the wrong way - maybe it was just Luke’s name being mentioned.

It felt like a suffocating gut punch and it was most likely your mothers doing. If there was anything she loved more it was demigod love - the trials and tribulations - and of course the unfortunate ends. It quite literally made you sick. But why did Luke have to be roped in it and moreover - why did you care? You smiled and nodded - trying to pay attention and not let the thoughts take over. 

“Get these goddamn things off of me!,” a familiar voice yelled in annoyance.

So wrapped up in thought - you failed to care - assuming it was a practical Hephaestus joke with an Ares kid. Selina quickly nudged you pointing towards the Hermes table - for quite an interesting scene. Luke being attacked by a merciless army of doves. 

“Hey Castellan, let them shit on your head - heard it was good luck!,” the words reflected from just a few hours prior.

You couldn’t help but giggle - it was nice not being the receiver of dove aggravated assault (as Beckendorf had termed it). It was also nice not to be the joke for once - everyone laughing at someone else for a change was different. 

“Call the damn things off,” he struggled - yelling your name in the process.

“Why do you automatically assume I am the one who set them off? They just do what they want!” you retorted.

 Silena looked at you - questioning your motives. He struggled even more as the doves thrashed him around - seemling gaining confidence in their blows. They seemed - deadly - more than before. Silena muttered your name.

“You have to try,” Silena persuaded. Reluctantly you obeyed - knowing she was being more serious than she was putting on. 

“Stop!” you yelled sternly to the winged creatures.

Like usual - they did not obey. Unfortunately, they keep going - tearing Luke’s shirt in the process. He held himself quite well against dove assassins  - a fact you did not want to admit to yourself. 

“παύω!” You spoke - pleading that it would end.

It was all your mothers fault. She wanted you to be miserable. She wanted to ruin your night, humiliate you - and to hurt Luke. You weren’t sure why that last part bothered you so much.

 “Φεύγω!” you screamed once more in an earthshaking tone.

The doves dissipated automatically. Like literally - poof - into dust. Again - the entire camp had its eyes on you - what else was new?

“What is wrong with you,” Luke questioned - still astonished at the sheer power of your voice - that very voice that made doves disintegrate. You slowly looked up at his disheveled appearance - he looked worse.

Beautiful. 

You wish that voice in your head would go suck a dick!

“Shows over, enjoy your dessert,” you said bitterly to the crowd taking a bow.

Silena yelled your name but you had already darted towards the woods. You could hear the muttering of the crowd questioning the evening entertainment. You could not seem to care. 

You took a seat in the sand on the beach overlooking the shore. The moonlight seemed to make the water sparkle like diamonds. You felt almost calm here - no one to distract you from your thoughts. Why did his words strike you like a knife? He might as well plant backbiter into your back, it would hurt less. It all led to the proper question - why? Why would the doves attack him anyway? They had never done anything quite so ruthless before - nevertheless to another sole person. 

Then again - it was always about Luke - ever since you got to the infernal camp. He was probably celebrated for his brave victory in the battle of the doves - hoisted up by other campers. You suppose a feast in his honor was in order. 

“You think such unhappy thoughts,” an angelic voice sang from the sea. 

Your attention turned towards a bundle of sea foam. The foam began to sparkle and mangle to take the shape of a woman the closer it got to shore. Soon after your mother - Aphrodite stood before you - in all her glory.

“I thought seafoam was just whale jizz,” you spoke casually. You chucked at yourself that was a good one!

Of - fucking - course. Your mother was behind the entire dove fiasco - you called it. You should start placing bets at this point. 

“Most would be labeled impertinent with that attitude - especially with a God.” 

“I am impertinent.” You shrugged, pulling your knees to your chest. Maybe if you really ignored her she would disappear. 

“I will not disappear yet - we have much to discuss.” 

“Get out of my head.” 

“I heard what occurred tonight at dinner. Shame, doves are very gentle creatures.”

A dove magically appeared in her hands, letting out a soft coo. You cringed. If you saw another dove tonight - you might just roast it and eat it. 

“So that was you?” You asked venomously.

“Well thanks mom! Now the entire camp thinks I tried to kill the golden boy with a league of killer doves. They all think I am absolutely crazy.”

“I did nothing, my child.” You gawked at her - she paused to collect her thoughts.

“However, you might want to look within yourself before you spit accusations that are not true. I merely gave you a gift - how you use it is at your own expense.” She finished. 

“But I don’t control those horrid things - they just show up and do whatever. Why would I even attack Luke with a bunch of wimpy doves?”

That was your mother, having the audacity to say you caused the incident. That it was all your fault. 

“Love, perhaps?” Her eyes seemed to glitter at the thought. 

“No.” Ugh, not this again, you thought.

“Doves are a mere - personification of one’s inner love. That is why I gave you the gift - so your innermost feelings can never be bottled. That does horrid things to one’s complexion.” 

“Well thanks for the shitty gift, mother. Next time maybe a pair of socks will do the trick.” 

“Why do you insist on denying who you are? Denying what you are destined to become? Denying yourself the love of the century?”

“Why love someone if they eventually will die.” It was true. Your father had died when you were young - leaving you an orphan. Your demigod friends you made throughout the years died horrible unspeakable deaths.

“Isn’t that all the more fun?” 

“You’re enjoying this aren’t you? You just love to see me suffer?”

“You’re being rash.” She fired back.

“Rash? Where have you been?” You scoffed at your godly mother.

“Child, I do not write destiny - I only enforce it. I know you more than you would like to admit, sweet dove. And you - are in love with the child of Hermes.”

 Apollo could’ve shot you through the chest - it would have felt better. 

“Mother, you have it mixed up - I do not have any feelings for Luke. You’re just making things up because you are bored and need some excitement. Please go back to Olympus and meddle with someone else’s life,” you stated. You staggered to your feet dusting the sand off. 

Before you could walk away a bolt of pure energy hit you in your spine. You flew to your feet hitting the ground with a hard thud. In a blur your mother was standing proud above your feet - surrounded in a pink aura. 

“Luke Castellan, he will keep you safe - and you will keep him steady.” 

You might have thought to curse at her - but you couldn’t speak - let alone move. She had disappeared from vision leaving only a dove in her wake. The pain - was excruciating - like being electrocuted a million times. Your ears rang terrible tunes as you tried to level yourself - only to fall back down. The world was spinning at an unmeasurable pace. You could hear shrill screaming - or was it yours? You weren’t even sure who you were? Only images of dark curls, broad shoulders, and crooked smiles flashed through your vision. 

A quake of footsteps running towards the shore were felt as you thrashed in the sand. Voices - yelling a name - whose name? You couldn’t recall. All you knew was darkness. 

“Y/N?!” a feminine voice called. You could feel her hands shake your shoulder violently - it felt like knives.

You heard screams - this time knowing it was your shrill cry. You pushed her away with force. You backed away, crawling backwards in desperation. 

Once your vision returned you focused to see a swarm of kids all in orange shirts - staring at you in shock. The girl who touched you - you could only assume was kneeling in the sand in front of you. She seemed to be pleading.

“Stay away, please,” you pleaded with tears streaming from your eyes. You weren’t sure what had happened but you knew you had never felt pain so deeply. 

“Y/N, please you were screaming. We only want to make sure you are okay. We can go to the infirmary and figure it out,” the girl reached out only for you to retreat more. You hyperventilate on your own words. 

“What’s going on?” another voice asked with urgency from beyond the crowd.

Every child seemed to turn their attention to focus on the male figure. Pushing his way through the crowd - he became shocked at the scene before him.

However, you felt as if all the oxygen had left your body - leaving you limp. You felt as if a hand had grabbed your heart and ripped it in two. He was the one - the one you had seen in your visions. 

“Y/N?” he questioned - half concerned, half annoyed. His chocolate eyes seemed to lock ever so easily with yours. He was indeed the most beautiful man you had ever seen - like a carving of marble. Your soul ached. Without a thought - on instinct alone - you ran. He was engulfed in a desperate hug - his shoulder muffled your pitiful cries. 

“Please, you’re the only one who can help.” You could feel the eyes on the two of you - the gasps were hard to ignore. He went stiff in his posture - not sure how to react. Silence fell over the entire shore, only the crashing of waves in the background. 

“Y/N what is going on? Is this some sort of prank?” he asked in disbelief. 

He had never seen you like this - so scared. Some small part of him wanted to scoop you up, hold you tight, and tell you everything would be okay. He wanted to tell you how he would fix all your problems - just so he would never see you cry again. Although these feelings were so suppressed he restrained.

Gods you were beautiful. 

“I- I don’t know who Y/N is. I don’t know anyone. I don’t know me.” 

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

So I

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Bucky Barnes

Summary: your casual arrangement turns a bit too serious.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

There’s a knock at the door. You huff as you don’t need to look through the peep hole to know who it is. No buzzer but he always finds a way. 

You pick up your phone and open the chat, ‘told you I’m tired.’ 

The little check mark flicks down. Read. No reply comes, only another knock on the door. 

‘Long day.’ You send another message. 

Thump. Thump. Thump. 

“You really want me to knock the door down?” Bucky chuckles through the wood. 

You inhale and roll yourself off the couch. You drop the phone on the square end table as you pass and drag your feet to the door. You lean on the inside and yawn as loudly as you can. 

“It’s after curfew,” you jeer. He wiggles the handle. “Go home.” 

“You’re gonna leave me out here like a stray cat? Come on. I came all the way down here,” he pleads. 

You turn your back to the door and shrug, “told you not to. Besides, not all of us have a soft spot for alley cats.” 

“Alpine is not an ally cat. Come on, I brought beer.” 

You scoff, “thought that piss didn’t do anything for ya?” 

“No, but it makes you a lot of fun.” 

You huff and push off the door. You turn and slide back the chain. You flip the lock back and open up. You arch a brow at your uninvited guested. 

“Thank you,” you trill and grab the six pack from him. He catches the door before you can swing it shut. He tuts and steps forward, pushing his elbow into the wood until you let it go. 

“Don’t play games. You know, I can tell when you’re in need of a good fucking. You don’t send any emojis.” He snaps the door shut behind him as you retreat with your prize. 

“Or maybe I was trying to get you to stop texting so I could enjoy my new toy in peace. Ever think of that. Sometimes It's about efficiency, not passion.” 

“Passion?” He scoffs as leans a hand on the wall and lifts a foot to undo his boot. 

“Probably not the right word for this,” you free a can from the plastic rings and shove the rest in the fridge. 

“You and your goddamn toys. Let me guess, this one has blue tooth.” 

“Does yours?” You strut out of the kitchen and flick his arm in passing. 

“No but it’s got all the features you need and you know it.” He taps your ass before you can elude him. 

You crack the can of beer and take a deep gulp. The TV continues to blare the reality show retrospective you’ve been feeding your time to. You flop on the couch and sigh. You suck down the grainy brew and swallow a gulp before it can escape your throat. 

Bucky looms behind the couch and grips the back. He leans over you. “How many of those until those hideous pajamas come off?” 

“Ha? What? You don’t wanna fuck me in my Spongebob jammies? They’re vintage.” 

He snorts, “you really are good a killing the mood, aren’t you?” 

“You’re a real Squidward sometimes, you know that?” You slurp another mouthful. 

“I have no idea what that is,” he says flatly as he tickles along your shoulder. 

You hate it. You hate him. Just a touch and you’re ready to go. Minutes ago, you were ready to pass out but now you’re wide awake. And fucking horny. 

“BPM going up, body temperature rising,” he runs his vibranium knuckles along your cheek and you wince away from him. 

“I hate when you do that.” You pull away and stand, plunking down the can. You huff and peel off your tank top. “I have an interview for a promotion tomorrow so hurry up.” 

“Romantic? Do you still wanna use the new toy? You know I don’t mind filling your mouth when you get like this.” 

You stick your tongue out at him and point to the bedroom. He rolls his eyes and strides off. You pause the television and take another swig of beer. You need to sleep and he’s good at fucking you into a coma. 

As you reach the bedroom, he’s already naked. His broad shoulders are etched in scars, the left one mottled with aged burns along the border of vibranium. His muscles cord down along his rib cage and sides.

A year ago, you would never expect a man like this to be standing naked in your bedroom. A super soldier. Bucky Barnes. 

He turns to you and wiggles the little square between his two fingers. The wrapped condom reflects the overhead light with its flashy packaging. He flexes his chest as you reach to undo your bra. 

“Should I pop it on now or can I get a taste first?” He asks with a flick of his tongue. 

You march to him and swipe the condom from his grasp. You jab his chest and he staggers back to the bed, his legs pressing against the frame. He teeters as he smirks down at you. 

“I’ll give you a ride, cowboy.” 

He falls back and spreads his arms wide. The bed squeaks beneath his weight. You push down your pajama pants and climb over him. You toss the mattress to the top of the bed as you raise yourself on your knees, hovering over his head as his thick hair fans out beneath.

He turns to graze his beard against your thigh. You purr and lower yourself to smother him in your cunt. He hums and laps at you eagerly. 

Mmm. This is exactly the stress relief you need. 

[justauthoring]

the winner takes it all.

in which, leander prewett is a prick and sebastian shows him not mess with his girl.

a/n: i truly am the queen of being late to the partyyyyyyyyyyyy (ive wanted to write for sebastian since hogwarts legacy came out but just finally got around to finally writing for him :) )

warnings: leander prewett bashing because i said so :), being drugged?

pairing: sebastian sallow x f!slytherin!reader

“I don’t need to have eyes to know you’re staring, Sebastian.”

Ominis’ rather bland comment pulls Sebastian from the spiraling thoughts that had been coursing through his mind, a blink of the eye as he shifts, turning to face his long time friend with a frown. 

“I’m not staring,” Sebastian argues, voice sharper than he meant it to be. Guilt runs through him when he realizes he’s being unfairly cross with Ominis, a boy that despite all has had to deal with Sebastian’s rather cross moods as of late and in the grand scheme of things, has done so with very little complaint.

“Sorry,” Sebastian sighs after a moment of silence passes, shoulders sinking. “It’s just…”

Ominis sets his hand on Sebastian’s shoulder across the table, squeezing reassuringly. “You don’t need to explain, Sebastian. I understand,” he offers softly, voice warm with what is meant to be comfort. Sebastian, despite the hurt in his heart, does feel himself ease, even if only a little, at Ominis’ words. The boy has always been exceptionally good at understanding others and knowing what to say to help someone—something Sebastian often found he lacked in retrospect. But then again, given who Ominis was, it made complete sense for him to understand and see things other’s couldn’t (even if he lacked the actual sight to do so).

“I just worry you’ll do something rash,” Ominis adds tentatively, as if afraid of Sebastian’s reaction. 

But Sebastian isn’t offended—honestly, he’s been rather scared of his own limits as of late. Especially when he was faced with that mocking grin and gaze that seemed to scream; I beat you.

It all started two days ago when, instead of meeting Sebastian in your shared common room as you normally did, you never showed up. The act was odd but Sebastian had brushed it off as a simple lack of communication, figuring you’d headed to the Great Hall ahead of him for whatever reason since Anne had assured him you weren’t in your room. Maybe you forgot to let him, he figures; the possibilities of why you’d left early were endless and it wasn’t like Sebastian wasn’t capable of walking the halls without you so he’d shrugged it off and joined Ominis and Anne instead.

It was really when he entered the Great Hall that everything went wrong.

Despite his brush off earlier, the second he was in the hall, his eyes had strained to search for you, missing the familiar and comfortable conversation he could find in you. He missed seeing your face first thing and making you laugh with one of his silly quips or light teasing, watching you stuff your face full of food because you couldn’t possibly just choose one thing and rather had to have it all and—

And all of that seemed to feel a lot worse when he finally found you and saw you sat at not only the wrong table but with Leander Prewett of all people. If that wasn’t bad enough, you were practically sitting on his lap, his arm wrapped firmly around your waist as you cuddled into his side, giggling as the boy practically fed you.

Sebastian’s feet had moved on their own, despite Anne’s worried call after him and Ominis trying to grab him (because despite not being able to see what Sebastian had, he’d known the boy long enough to know something was terribly wrong). Neither of them had mattered in that moment as Sebastian blindly made his way over to the Gryffindor table, ignoring the curious pairs of eyes that watched him, marching straight up to you and Leander. The latter lazily glanced up at him, looking entirely too smug and pleased about himself as your eyes slowly flickered over to him, blinking, before smiling; “Sebastian!”

The way you’d called his name sounded all wrong. Although you looked pleased, a bright grin on your face, your eyes weren’t sparkling with the mischief he’d come to expect from you and rather you looked dazed.

Lovesick. The word made Sebastian want to throw up.

“Can we help you, Sallow?” Leander grinned, tilting his head in mock curiosity.

Sebastian’s lips part, but he hesitates, bewildered. His eyes flicker from Leander, to you, to the grip he has on you, to the way you’re holding him. “What… what the bloody hell is this?”

“Whatever do you mean?” Leander asks, voice sickly sweet. “Y/N and I were just enjoying breakfast together, weren’t we, love?” And to add to it all, Leander presses a kiss to your cheek and what shocks Sebastian most of all is that you don’t push him away or slap him or anything—you… you respond to the kiss.

Now, it wasn’t like you hated Leander. You knew of Sebastian’s… distaste towards the boy, and that Anne and Ominis in one way or another felt the same, though just not as much. You didn’t care for the boy either, as you’ve told Sebastian plenty, but you’d told him plenty of times not to be too mean or cruel or at least, try to get along with him.

Sebastian feels like he’s going crazy—was this why? Did you want him to at least try and get along with Leander because all along you’d had a secret crush on him or something? 

Had Sebastian misread everything?

The walks together every morning? The late nights spent together? The lingering touches? Longing looks? Flirts and teases and…—

“That’s right,” you grin at Leander, brushing at his bright, red hair and smiling. 

“But…” Sebastian swears he sounds more pathetic than he ever has… he certainly feels it. Watching you stare at Leander with that lovesick expression, smiling and touching him and… had Sebastian just never seen it? Had he been that blind by his own emotions? “You weren’t in the common room this morning,” is what he eventually manages, though it’s rather pointless.

It was obvious where you were.

“Oh,” you call out, blinking, as if you’d just remembered—oddly, that hurts the most. That you’d… forgotten about him. “Sorry Sebastian, I had such an urge to see Leander this morning and… well, I’m glad I did. Because I was finally able to tell him of my feelings,” you smile at him, cupping his cheek. “And i’ve never been so happy to hear he returned them.”

Sebastian’s lips part, his gaze shifting to Leander who’s watching him carefully.

The glare is clear. The meaning is plain.

I win.

Thankfully Anne is flanking his side before he can make more of an embarrassment of himself, grabbing Sebastian firmly by the arm and offering you a small, albeit bewildered smile and a glare at Leander before leading Sebastian away.

It had been two days since then and you hadn’t left Leander’s side once.

The only time you were alone was in the classes you didn’t share with him, and despite the fact that Sebastian had luckily shared one of those classes with you, his hopes at finding out some sort of answer had been quickly squashed when you spent the entire class in a daze. You hadn’t paid attention to the professor at all and spent your time staring off in a blissful, oblivious smile, ever so often whispering Leander’s name under your breath.

Sebastian was heartbroken. And angry. And hurt. And everything in between.

“I want to,” Sebastian admits to Ominis as he pulls himself from the memory. But, then, he sighs. “I won’t though. If… Y/N is happy, well, I guess there’s nothing I can do about that.”

Ominis frowns. “You’re not going to fight it even a little?”

Sebastian turns to him, confused; “you just said you didn’t want me doing that.”

“I just don’t want you to do anything rash,” Ominis argues, shaking his head. “It all still feels so strange to me. I mean, had Y/N given any sort of inclination about her feelings for Leander? I certainly don’t remember her saying anything and neither does Anne.”

Sebastian pauses, “well, no… I guess not. But maybe it was because we’d been clear how we felt about him.”

“Still,” Ominis expresses, leaning forward. “It’s so sudden. She went to bed fine and then woke up that morning and she’s barely spoken two words to us since. We were once her best friends, no?”

Sebastian had been so caught up in his own hurt he hadn’t even begun to think about how Ominis and Anne must be feeling. They were your best friends just as much as they were his after all and it wasn’t just Sebastian you’d steered clear of… you’d been avoiding all three of them like they were the plague. 

Sebastian sighs; “I think she’s just—”

“—She’s been poisoned!”

Both Ominis and Sebastian rear their heads back in surprise at both Anne’s words and her very sudden arrival, not to mention the loud bang that echoes as she slams the box in her hands onto the table with no care for those around. Some Slytherins nearby send her glares but she ignores them, her wide eyes strictly on both Sebastian and Ominis as she pants, out of breath.

“Anne,” Ominis calls, blinking. “What are you talking about? Who?”

“Y/N,” she all but breathes, turning to Sebastian who’s sat beside her. “Y/N’s been poisoned.”

Sebastian’s brows furrowed; “what the bloody hell are you talking about?”

“Look,” she calls, pushing the box in her hands forward. Sebastian eyes it as she takes the lid off, taking in the red and gold wrapping paper, before eyeing the wrapped piece of chocolate Anne pulls out of it. 

Sebastian stares; “it’s chocolate.”

Anne huffs, exasperated. “It’s laced,” she explains, pushing it to Sebastian’s face. “Smell it.”

Completely baffled but unable to resist with the way Anne is shoving the chocolate in his face, Sebastian does as he’s told. Leaning forward, he takes a small whiff, almost immediately frowning in confusion when he does; “it smells like… Y/N.”

For a moment, Anne pauses; “well, that fits,” she laughs, before pulling the chocolate closer to her. “It smells different to me. It smells like—” but she hastily cuts herself off, growing red in the cheeks as her eyes flicker over to Ominis.

A moment passes.

“Okay…” Ominis finally sighs, probably the most confused. “But what does this have to do with Y/N being—” He halts, eyes widening. “Amortentia!”

Anne grins; “exactly.”

“What?” Sebastian cries.

“I found these chocolates on Y/N’s bed,” Anne explains, “with a note attached, signed by Leander.”

The cogs in Sebastian’s mind slowly click together.

“He… he drugged her!” he calls out in disbelief, feeling a new wave of rage flood through him. His eyes snap back to his right, where he’d been staring before, where you are, coddled up next to Leander as he smiles sickly down at you, touching you, kissing you. “I’m gonna kill him.”

Anne is quick to grab onto him, “no.” And at the bewildered look he sends her, she frowns. “We need to get her to Blainey. She’s the only one who can heal Y/N and then the school will deal with him.”

Sebastian wants to argue but despite the anger radiating through him, he knows his sister is right.

-

Your head hurts as you blink away, the bright light above your head causing you to moan in dejection, confused.

Where were you?

Pressing a hand to your face, you try to block the light, using your other hand to push yourself up, slowly, since your whole body hurts in a dull ache everywhere. It takes you a moment to realize you’re in the hospital wing, recognizing the startling white of the room, before a set of hands are falling on you, pulling your attention to your left.

You gasp, panicked, until you see a familiar pair of warm brown eyes staring back at you in concern.

“Sebastian…” You mumble, voice coarse.

He shakes his head at you; “don’t push yourself.” He urges gently, his hand on your back as the other reaches behind you, helping prop you up with your pillows. You let him, still confused, as you glance around the room.

“How… How did I get here?” You asked, not remembering how you ended up here or why… actually, everything feels like a dull blur. The last thing you clearly remember is coming to your dorm after a long day of classes, surprised to see a box of chocolates on your bed and they’d been from… Leander!

Your eyes snap to Sebastian; “Sebastian! I think… I think I may have been poisoned by—”

“Leander Prewett,” Sebastian cuts in, face darkening as he nods at you. “Yes, well, Y/N…”

“You were given the love potion, my dear,” Blainey calls out, stepping into your view with a sheet of paper in her hands, eyes slowly flickering to meet your own with a worried frown. “Amortentia,” she nods, lips pursed. “Thanks to this young man, I was able to give you the remedy rather quickly but it looks like you were drugged for at least a couple days. Your body aches because of the antidote, so I’d like to keep you for a few hours just to make sure everything is alright but overall, there should be no lasting effects.”

Stunned, you let her words register.

Letting your hands fall numbly to your lap, you stare at them.

“Y/N?” Sebastian calls out quietly, pulling your eyes on him as he glances at you in concern. “Are you…?” his words trail, not really sure how to gauge the look on your face.

“I’m alright,” you whisper, “just… embarrassed.”

Sebastian shakes his head; “it’s not your fault—”

The door slamming open catches both of your attention, and your eyes widen when Leander comes storming into the room. The concerned look on his face is quickly replaced with rage when he sees Sebastian at your side, and Leander wastes no time; “just what are you doing—”

But Leander never gets to finish what he’s saying because in the next second Sebastian’s fist is colliding with his cheek, hard, and knocking him off his feet and straight into the ground. Nurse Blainey lets out a cry in surprise as you jump, body tensing as your eyes flicker from Leander to Sebastian, but you’re not afraid. At least not of Sebastian. Rather, his actions fill you with an odd warmth.

“I normally wouldn’t send you straight to detention for that, Mr. Sallow,” Professor Weasley’s voice rings out as she makes her way inside the room, and your eyes widen when you see Ominis and Anne trailing closely behind her. “But given the circumstances, I guess I’ll let such violence pass this once. Just don’t let it happen again, Mr. Sallow.”

Still breathing heavily, Sebastian takes a step back, his eyes easing when he turns to look at the professor. “You got it, Professor Weasley.”

“Now, Mr. Prewett,” Weasley’s voice calls out and the boy jumps as her steely eyes fall on him, scrambling to his feet as he looks around at everyone. “I believe you and I need to have a long chat.”

“B-But—” Leander sounds absolutely pathetic, his eyes falling on you as you simply glare at him, arms crossed over your chest, before falling on Sebastian who grins at him widely.

I win.

“Now, Mr. Prewett.”

Leander all but skulks out behind Weasley.

The second he’s gone, Anne rushes to your side, taking your hands in hers. “I was so worried when you started acting like a lovesick fool for Prewett of all people,” she cries, shaking her head as your cheeks burn, thinking of all the embarrassing things you must’ve been doing for the past few days. “I’m so glad none of it was real.”

Letting out a light laugh, you rub at the back of your neck; “I imagine I embarrassed myself quite a bit, huh?”

“A little,” Ominis says honestly, grimacing. “But it wasn’t your fault and the school is sure to know that when Leander is expelled for using a potion on you like that.”

His words bring comfort, even if a little.

“Y/N must be tired, guys,” Sebastian calls out after a moment. “Let’s leave her to rest.”

Ominis nods, offering you a small squeeze on the shoulder before pulling Anne with him who just grins at her brother; “I trust you’ll take good care of her for me though, won’t you, brother?”

Sebastian’s cheeks burn red and you turn away, but he doesn't argue.

Once Anne and Ominis have left, Sebastian returns to the seat he’d been in beside your bed, Blainey having left to give the both of you a bit of space. There’s a silence that swallows the both of you, and then, slowly, you let your hand fall on his.

“I’m sorry.”

Sebastian blinks, turning to you. “Why are you…”

You bite your lip, looking at your lap, cheeks flushed. “Whatever I did… I know Ominis said it already, but really, none of it was me… you know that, right?”

Sebastian flips his hand, taking yours in his and squeezing. “You have no idea how reassuring that is to hear.” 

Your eyes snap to his, lips parting.

He shakes his head. “Even when Anne discovered you’d been drugged, there was still a part of me that… I–I guess, it’s just… seeing you act that way with him, kissing and holding and-and being with him like that… It made me terribly uncomfortable.”

You shift, leaning closer to him; “just uncomfortable?”

“Jealous.”

He glances up at you, and you meet his eyes, hand still in his as your free hand reaches forward, daring yourself to brush your fingers through his curls. Sebastian lets you, eyes watching you, before suddenly he’s leaning forward and then his lips are on yours, soft and warm albeit nervous, pulling away too soon as your lips part and you stare back at him.

“Incredibly jealous.”

You smile softly, “I didn’t mean any of it.” You whisper, emphasizing the words. “I didn't mean any of it with him because I wanted it to be with you, Sebastian.”

He grins, his face easing for the first time since you’d woken up and the sight of it is enough to fill you with warmth.

Then, Sebastian’s lip part and he’s grinning a little too widely; “that’s a relief because it was almost embarrassing for me to see you fawning over—”

You cut him off with a sharp slap to his shoulder, one he gasps in response to, holding the offended spot but the grin never fades from his lips as he smirks over at you.

“You’re never gonna let me live that down, are you?”And of course, his eyes sparkle with glee; “nope.”

[starlight-bread-blog]

Why Stolas is a Terrible Person/Character

Oh this will be long. In this post I will cover why Stolas is a character that fundamentally fails at everything it tries to accomplish. I probably have to say that you can love Stolas. That's just why I hate him.

Trigger warnings for: Racism, casteism, power dynamics, sexual assault, sa apologism, abuse, and neglectful parenting. A lot, I know, but that's Stolas.

His Actions in S1

Despite the title, there will be two examples from season 2.

Racism/Casteist

Stolas is from the upper caste, a royal. He seem to often fetishize imps, or the fact that he's sleeping with someone who's less than him. I even saw fans pointing this out. He has empathized Blitzø being an imp in a sexual context.

(Notice the use of words: "little", "plaything", to me this is blatant racism and fetishism).

He also showed a certain lack of empathy for his imp butler.

Stolas isn't particularly violent, he doesn't choke people left and right. He's just angry, at Stella, so he decides to.. choke the imp.

Stolas has been dehumanizimg imps. Fetishizing an imp for being an imp, calling him an "impish little plaything", and he has been willing to choke an imp just because he was angry at something unrelated. He's racist and casteist.

Treatment of Blitzø

"Treatment" is putting it lightly. In the first episode, Stolas does something inexcusable that will taint their dynamic for all of season 1. First, he sees Blitzø in a vulnerable position, where he cannot think or negotiate. Thus, stripping him of what little choice he has on what he's about to offer.

What Stolas is saying is, "Fuck me or I'll shut down your business". This deal he makes is just a threat with extra steps. Which is a real life abuse tactic called Quid Pro Quo:

"Quid pro quo harassment occurs when someone in a position of authority over another directly or indirectly demands sexual favors in exchange for some benefit, or to avoid some detriment in the workplace".

One element I haven't brought up yet, is the political power imbalance. Stolas is royalty, one with a lot of power, influence, credibility, etc. Blitzø has non of that. Other characters have commented on that the fact that Blitzø even has a business is a miracle.

There are so many layers of imbalance and how Blitzø has no choice or agency. A royal is """offering""" the powerless a Quid Pro Quo while he's in a life threatening situation.

And their dynamic looks exactly like you'd imagine. Stolas consistently sexualizes him against his consent. (As it's been established, Stolas's racism feeds into this). And refuses to do the surface level courtesy, not even calling him his real name (x).

Stolas treats Blitzø as a lesser being, violates his boundries, forces himself on him, and strips him of all autonomy.

Faliure as a Father

Stolas's role as a father is directly tackled in Loo Loo Land and Seeing Stars. At the beginning, both episodes show Stolas being a good father to Octavia, but does this still hold true in the currect day? Well, no.

In Loo Loo Land, Stolas wants to take Octavia to a theme park. Octavia is 17, and Stolas ignores her when she says she doesn't want to go. (In retrospect, Stolas could be oblivious because he's projecting his experience meeting Blitzø onto Via).

But that's just the start. Stolas then invites Blitzø to the trip and harasses with him all throughout. Essentially, Stolas is forcing his daughter to watch as he harasses "the homewrecker", all the while he's supposed to be with her, on a trip she didn't even want to go to.

After a whole day of this, as expected, Octavia runs away. Stolas chases her. (And of course, he's still thinking of Blitzø on his way to find Via). There's an apology scene that looks deep, but when you dissect it, it's rather empty.

Stolas never actually provided an explanation as to why he just did what he did, nor of the "drama" with Stella. There is nothing here. Octavia only makes up with him because he said he isn't gonna leave her. Which is bare minimum.

After he realizes that his affair hurts his daughter to the point where she feared he's gonna leave her, what does he do? What practical actions does he take to improve? Divorce Stella? Cut off his deal with Blitzø? Explaine the situation?

Nothing. And now we see he's willing to stand up on a stage and let people know.

In Seeing Stars, Stolas bashes Via's mother to her. Which, does she know about their situation? Does she not? She isn't shown to hate or.. anything Stella. Is he hiding the situation (which I'll cover), while also trashing her mother? That's impulsive and negligent.

But that's nothing. She later runs away, Stolas is stressed as he should be, but the second they arravie on earth he's all calm and everything's normal.

When his daughter is missing. When he is shown to be stressed, it's for the sake of plot. But he's willing to just chill, watching Blitzø's show.

Stolas is, dare I say it, neglectful. He might care about his daughter, but he's proven that she's not enough of a priority to focus on her when it matters.

Cheating

Yes, I know what ended up being revealed, I'll cover that. In season 1, the relationship is presented to not be perfect before Stolas cheated.

But there were instances that showed that what Stolas did changed their relationship for the worse. (Some additional rebuttals).

It could have been a loveless marrige, they could have fallen out of love, they could have been arranged. But their relationship was manageable. Love or no love, it's a committed relationship. and Stella didn't deserve to get cheated on.

Who was Stolas?

Stolas's behavior is common among royals. Stella has no problem throwing said butler at Stolas (S1 E2), and the Goetias are shown to be casteist. They're untouchable privileged assholes.

Stolas was born that wealth, never having to suffer the consequences of his actions. Always putting himself first, hurting others. He doesn't mean to, he wants for everyone to be happy, he does care.

However, when it actually matters, he acts on his worst tendecises with no self control. He never had to learn self control. That is, until Ozzie's.

Before Ozzie, Blitzø and Stolas are at obligation. Stolas's actions had tainted them. There was one redeemable moment: He saved Blitzø's life. Stolas did something for him. But this one act of goodness doesn't magically fix everything.

Stolas's family life have been escalating. Stella hated Stolas for cheating and his daughter just had to take it. In Loo Loo Land, he learns the full weight of the damage he caused. And in the next episode we see him, he proceeds to take no steps to improve the situation. In the end of that same episode, we learn that Stella hired an assasin after him. Because he did nothing.

The season 1 finale, Ozzie's, is aware of all of this and absolutely delivers.

The episode starts with seeing Stolas alone, in his big house, miserable. It appears that Stella finally left the house. (Also he later says "Octavia is with her mother this weekend"). He's eating a bowl of cereal, pitying himself, wallowing in his despair. You feel bad for him, he looks so torn down.

And then Blitzø calls. The one he loves, asks him on a serious date. It's hope, it's honest, and it's exactly what he wanted. It's almost as if the universe handed him is fairytale scenario.

Almost. Reality smacks him right in the face on that date. Asmodeus calls him out on losing everything he had. He had a family, a happy daughter, but gave it all up for an affair.

Blitzø calls him out on treating him like a pet, not earning any of that emotional connection he wants or even communicating it, just violating him, they have nothing.

The show held him accountable and called him out. While it's not perfect, Stolas is a morally grey character. Now, a character arc was set up where he learns to treat people better. Stolas is exactly the character I want to see from a show like Helluva Boss. He's a horrible person, but nuanced, who does care.

Season 2

Yeah... all of that is thrown out the window. Because apparently, Stolas is just imperfect. He simply made a lot of mistakes. He misread a lot of situations, really it's all just an accident. He's an oblivious victim. So, let's get into the woobification of Stolas.

Surrounded by Evil

In The Circus we're given Stolas's ✨️backstory✨️. And we find out he had such a terrible life.

Stella is, and always was, an abusive evil bitch. From the day she was born. Pure evil.

So you see, Stolas did nothing wrong. Let me be clear, you are not obligated to stay loyal to your abuser. We can erase "cheater" off the list. But that's the only reason why it's done. So we can erase that off the list, and that we could feel oh-so-sad for him.

Because Stella isn't written to be an abuser. She's a cartoonishly evil. We see a picture of her as a kid where she's the same person. Spongebob villians have more depth than her, you know, the abuser in the adult show.

Helluva Boss reversed an established dynamic where Stella is the victim and Stolas is at fault, except without any of the depth or nuance.

But that's not all. Stolas's dad (Paimon) is also neglectful. By "neglectful" I mean, of course, a Saturday-morning cartoon villain.

He doesn't remember his name. This is such bullshit. I can buy Stolas having a horrible father. It's also not bad to show Stolas's trauma. What is bad is that the subject matter is handled with less seriousness as the fish fight in Spring Broken. And Helluva Boss did write Crimson as a serious abuser, while the episode still had comedy, but not Paimon.

The reason why all of this is happening, is so we could feel bad for Stolas. They do zero of the work to earn a good story about abuse, but still go "Do you see how sad he is? Look at how they're treating this poor baby!!"

"Recontextualization"

In said ✨️backstory✨️, we also learn that Stolas and Blitzø are childhood friends. But also not really, they just hung out for one day. Where did this come from? How does this enrich the characters? I would tell you, but I don't know. However, what I'm sure of, is that it's done to make Stolas look less problematic.

DO YOU SEE HOW CUT THIS IS? He isn't just horny for that imp, he is special, it's absoultly pure! Don't worry, totally safe.

Later in the flashback, we see how Blitzø and Stolas reconnected after over 20 years. Apparently... Blitzø was the one who sexually manipulated Stolas, selling him that he wants him.

All Stolas did was just buying into Blitzø's narrative he was imposed on. It's a role he leaned into, because he thought Blitzø liked it. I.. WHAT???

If this horseshit is true, why did he make this weird r*pe deal with Blitzø? If Blitzø was the one who acted like he's interested at first, and he was sexually exploiting him, why did he lash out at Stolas in Ozzie's? Did it just hold no weight for Stolas? It went from "Don't pretend to have something when you've been harassing me this whole time" to "You misunderstood".

The Stolitz backstory makes no sense, it's cheap, and fixes nothing. No matter what the story is trying to sell, in season 1 Stolas knew what's happening enough to try to force it. And maybe Stolas wanted Blitzø because of a connection, but he still harassed, dehumanized and violated him.

Note: Stolas realizing "he imagined the relationship" is completely ignored one episode later in Seeing Stars. This is a huge deal, didn't he learn? Just further evidence that he's willing to violate the guy. (x)

Before this backstory, we had a story of a selfish man hurting the person he loves while explointing the broken system and the power that he has over him for his own selfish desires that he's forcing on him. Now, we have the same thing, but with fanfic tropes – and the story refuses to confront that.

Casteism is Brushed Off

Helluva Boss pretends that Stolas isn't racist, because he didn't want Blitzø for being an imp, but for being his fanfic trope childhood friend. Which fails to address the disgusting fetishism of Blitzø for being an imp, and he also continued to dehumanize his imp butler in Seeing Stars. He's still racist.

Imperfect Father

In The Circus, Stolas devivers this line: "The only reason I have endured your constant insults and cruelty, was for that girl to have a normal life".

Sounds impressive, he stayed all these years just for his daughter. But that's the thing – it sounds impressive. Every time their relationship is the focus, Stolas is being the scum of the earth. What I see here, is a person. A person who despite being willing to stay passive, acts on his his selfish wants, forgetting to look around him. Mind you, this fact is also being revealed one episode after Ozzie's.

But no, one episode later, in Seeing Stars – that was covered as a prime example of everything I just descriped – Loona says this:

Yeah. He's just a good father "trying" his "best" and makes some... "mistakes". The Circus did present Stolas as this, but Seeing Stars really solidified how his parenting will be handled moving forward. And I think it's comlete and utter dogshit.

Damsel in Distress

The title is a bit misleading. This section is mainly about Stolas's power being toned down. Both magical and in presentation.

In season 1, he was energetic and enthusiastic, while being able to set his foot down and intimidate when needed. He's still all of those things, but in some instances his characterization made my raise an eyebrow.

In Seeing Stars, he's being weirdly gentle with people kidnapping Blitzø and are later beatting him.

In Oops, he's excited to start negotiating with literal kidnappers. I have no idea why he's so nice.

(He did harass Blitzø again in Seeing Stars and bashed Striker, all of which isn't soft, but it's also the two moments where he should have shut up).

Further more, both of these conflict rely on Stolas not using his powers for some reason or another. Why didn't he just do whatever he did in Truth Seekers to track Fizz/Via?

About Via, I'm gonna have to call bullshit on the "My powers are limited on earth" nonsense because, for starters, kid Stolas is shown to remember the contents of his books and now he's been studying them for years. And two,

There is no excuse for Stolas to not use his powers and whenever the show says otherwise it's bullshitting its way out of it.

Even in Western Energy, before Stolas gets captured he was just aimlessly going in and out of his demon form. Why didn't he turn him into stone like he did in Loo Loo Land?

Stolas has been presented as weaker than he is. He's made to look more vulnerable, less "above it all". He was untouchable, and when he wasn't, it had a harder impact and made sense. Now, I almost forgot he's a powerful demon.

And his characterization is at the core of this issue. At times he's just so kind and gentle with people who should get smacked in their heads.

What about Ozzie's

The big clash, the one that called Stolas out on everything, the one that set him on a genuine path to grow, what about it? How is it addressed while the show tries to pretend he's a good person?

No, not the message Stolas is looking at, the ones in the background he just scrolled through.

I'm not breaking this down. I refuse. The only reason I put it here is to show how fast it goes. I'm not touching that.

Who is Stolas

Stolas is a moral scapegoat – "a character that is bad, but the book/movie/show portrays them as good". It's characterized by the story twisting itself to make one character look good.

Stolas didn't start out as one, but became one over one season premire and it just kept escalating from there.

Helluva Boss takes place in Hell. A horrible place filled with horrible people, the root of all evil. Stolas fits right in there. He was already problematic, awful, and fed into Helll's broken system. Why trying to cover up his faults? It's Hell, and it was great. But now, we're supposed to pretend he's just flawed.

With the show actively ignoring everything he did, what's left for him? What does he have to learn? How will he grow as a person? How will he improve? What's his character arc? It's nothing. Because everything that happens to him isn't his fault, and at times could just be solved with one conversation.

[occamstfs]

To The Ground Floor

Heyo- Saw this next picture and just had to use it so here’s a businessman to dumb sub twunk TF! 

If anyone wants to suggest a prompt for my 1K follower post here’s the link- https://forms.gle/NE66kaH4KJxkhgPk9

Probably be wrapping it up/posting a poll soon! -Occam

I don’t know what my company was thinking when they scheduled our conference in Tenerife. It would be one thing if it was a retreat or team vacation, but it is nearly impossible to get any real work done with all these tourists stomping around and getting in my way. I was set to make it early to our morning meeting, as I always do, before this twat forced his way in before I could get to the close door button. He surely noticed since he glared at me before returning to focus on the only thing that seems to matter to him, his vanity.

In retrospect I should have kept my mouth shut, but I couldn’t help but scoff as he started to take a picture of his reflection in the door. It was immature, but when dealing with this crowd of influencers or whatever these childish twits has put me off my usually stoic demeanor. He immediately responded with aggression, “You laughin’ mate? You lot all think you’re so much better than us eh?” He scowls once more at me and to his credit, I do think myself superior to him. Not afraid to say it either.

I open my mouth to shoot some clever insult at him but before I can the delinquent fully spits at me! Where does he get off! The elevator chimes as it stops at the sixth floor. I grab my handkerchief to wipe the spit off my dress shoes as I hear him run off, shouting “you’ll get yours ya git!” I look up to see the small of his back showing beneath his trailing coat and mesh top. I can’t help but stare as he runs, asshole he may be but, god, he is hot isn’t he?

I cough as I can’t believe I thought that! He’s absolute filth! Parading himself around dressed like that on a work day, my word! I don’t notice that there is no longer a handkerchief in my hand as I reach to wipe the spit off my shoes with my now empty hand. As I finally wrest my eyes from his pert body I notice that the villain pushed every button in the elevator. So help me god if I’m late to my meeting I will find him and- well, there’s not much I can do. I’m not exactly the peak specimen, unlike, uh him I suppose.

The doors click closed and begin to take me to the fifth floor. I consider hopping off to take the stairs but I’m sure he’ll be there waiting for me. I go to check my rolex when I notice I’m not wearing it? I would never go to a meeting without it though? My mind grows foggy as I thoughtlessly wipe the spit still on my hand on my suit. God it’s a little warm in this elevator isn’t it. I sniff the air and find that it still smells of that jerk. His cologne must’ve been something intense.

I continue to whiff the air before realizing that it is clearly not perfume but his natural body odor, blushing as I grow slightly jealous at his scent. I find my mind drifting as I think what a man he must be to smell so, mm. The only word I can think is, virile? Ugh, I need to get to work, this is going to set me back. The doors clink open to the fifth floor as the heat only continues to grow. Why am I wearing such a thick suit jacket anyway? It is so fucking hot on this island. I absolutely hate it here. I’ll just take it off for the rest of the elevator ride. Yeah, that couldn’t hurt right? My eyes glaze over as I think of his coat trailing off his head as he ran down the hallway and I bite my lip.

God that hot fucker. My jacket falls to the floor and before I can catch it it’s as if it was never there. I grunt as I think once more of my upcoming meeting. Surely they won’t judge right? My mind shuffles as I don’t even try to understand what has happened to my jacket. The fogginess in my head swiftly finds a form though as I see his smug smirk in my mind. Fuck I- I need to fuck him, or be fucked or? I grunt once more, my voice noticeably more dull. I try to fan my shirt open as the heat grows worse and I find myself growing hornier by the second. The elevator is already on the way to the fourth floor without my notice. I give up fanning my shirt and instead just open the buttons when I am suddenly met with something I cannot reconcile. When the fuck did I get, such, fuckable pecs? I press a finger into my own chest and start to drool as I see the depth of my muscle. I see my brown nipples grow and try to wipe the pooling drool from my mouth as I think how much my body looks like that uh, that twit? No that uh, that hot fucker?  I feel like I’m losing my mind. Or, losing myself? Uh..

The doors open and close on floor four as I struggle to think of absolutely anything but that, uh, stud. My own chest jutting out forces me to think of his own hearty pecs. The powerful curves of his body stretching his fishnet top, ugh. I see the biceps now on my own arms and struggle to not flex them thinking of that staring at himself in the elevator’s reflective wall and posing. I stare at the abs pushing out of my torso and think of his cinched waist peeking out from those sagging pants. God why didn’t I just try to fuck him then oohh.. Or no, Why didn’t I give myself to him..I moan as I loosen my belt, trying to allow my growing erection some air, instead giving my cock and ass more space to expand.

God his fuckable ass was impossible to miss even through those jeans. I bite my lip once more trying to stop myself from moaning as the doors open to the third floor. No one is there to see or hear me as my pants drop to the floor and disappear as if they were never there. As if I would wear pleated pants ever I think blushing. My cock begins to grow to fill my boxers. Or no hee hee- Surely I’m not wearing boxers right haha, giggling as I look down and see the clear imprint of my erection in my tight spandex. Mikey would never let me wear something so unattractive as boxers~

I feel an itch in my crotch as I think of Mikey once more, not hesitating to wonder how I could possibly know his name. Nor why he brings me such intense, feelings. It’s just, I’m so lucky to have him! Ah- I might lose control if I keep thinking about him, I need to keep it together for my uh, meeting? I shove my hand into my crotch to deal with whatever that itch is when I find it’s not my still growing cock, but a jungle of pubes that have begun to grow down there. I feel my fingers drag through them, now covered in sweat as the pubes begin to push themselves above my waistline. 

I giggle to myself as I see the thick black hair inch its way to create a perfect treasure trail up my stomach. I’ve gotta keep it looking good for Mikey after all! I play with the lengthening hair in my crotch, giggling to myself, as the elevator makes its landing on the second floor. I raise my sweaty hand to smell it as some prude stares in disbelief in the elevator lobby. I smile coily at him as he narrows his eyes in shock. He almost looks a little familiar but I’d certainly not waste any of my time on him haha!

He decides not to get on for some reason, not that I care as I look at my sharpening reflection. I play with my chest feeling the ebb and flow of my strength as I start to smell my own scent fill the elevator. I notice my feet are now bare on the dirty elevator’s floor. Ah, I hope Mikey won’t be upset if my feet are gross, smiling to myself as I think of him chewing me out. I feel a similar forest begin to grow in my pits as the elevator stops unceremoniously on the first floor before making its way to the ground floor.

I rub my hands all over on my now almost completely unclothed body as I feel my spandex shrink and tighten into a yellow speedo. My hands glide smoothly around the muscular curves, only ever getting caught on my tangled pubes as I giggle to myself. Wasn’t there something I had to do when I got to the ground floor? I raise my arm to bask in my scent as the elevator finally delivers me to my destination, and who could be standing there but Mikey!

“Mikey!” I shout at him! He looks so happy to see me, before responding, “well you’re looking great aren’t ya love.” He pushes and prods me as if he’s inspecting me as I proudly stand there giving him the doe eyes he demands. He smirks as he pulls me out of the elevator and plants his lips on mine. I can barely help but come right there as I feel my cock stretch at my speedo. I moan but keep it together, feeling his pursed lips grow into a smirk before he pulls away and laughs. 

I tilt my head at him before he speaks once more, “you remember what you’re supposed to be doing right now right, pet?” My face grows warm with blush, surely betraying my cluelessness as I struggle to remember. I had a meeting or? No, Haha As if! I, I could never work a stupid office job~ I try to look as coy as possible, inviting him to jog my memory. His eyes grow dark, not from aggression, but a hunger welling within him as he answers, “I need ya to get those posh wankers and bring them to me eh, doll? Need to them to submit yeh?”

My smile grows wide as my mind fills with excitement for this task. I’m gonna be so good and Mikey will be so proud of me! None of those boring businessmen will be able to resist me hehe! I begin to make my way out to the beach looking for any salarymen looking especially susceptible to my charms. I strut around, my body on display to everyone, monkeysuit suckers and other horny tourists alike. As if any of them have something more important going on hee hee! Soon they’ll all realize there is nothing more important than pleasuring Mikey!

[sp0o0kylights]

You know what I want to see, I want to see more of Steve, Eddie, and Robin being 1980s small town kids from Indiana, by which I mean;

Robin is The Source of Gay Knowledge purely because her parents host Hippie Christmas and she managed to sneak away to find a neat bookstore in Indiana once. 

Her knowledge is not in depth. It's patchy, woven together through rumors, stories she heard or things she picked up from her parents' old pictures. She's got a handful of zines, one book, and some movies she managed to order for Family Video behind Keith's back.

She acts like she's Queen of the Queers because in Hawkins she pretty much is.

(Max and El ask her what a lavender marriage is once, something they overheard snooping around. 

Robin confidentially answers that it's code for when one woman dresses up as a man, fooling officials into wedding two woman.

She does not live this down two years later when they find out what it actually means.) 

Eddie doesn't spend every weekend in Indianapolis. 

Gas is expensive, his busiest days of his "job" is Friday and Saturday, and he has no fucking clue what the hanky code is. 

He's wearing that bandana because Metallica front singer James Hetfield has one on all their tour posters. 

Eddie does make it down to a gay bar though, by accident. Rick needed some back up for a shady deal. Promised Eddie a boatload of free drugs to sell if he agreed to just stand there and look mean. 

He was warned the bar they were meeting in was 'weird' and to not 'freak out' --which Eddie thought was hilarious given his nickname and general appearance, but whatever.

He doesn't understand when they get there, because it's just a bunch of hot men with hanky's in their back pockets everywhere.

Then he sees two women kissing and it clicks. 

He can't out himself in front of Rick, but one of the bartenders playfully dresses him down for his own hanky, letting him know all about the code and teasing him through his embarrassment. 

He's got an offer to come back and learn what color and which pocket his hanky should actually be in, a prospect Eddie was salivating at until Chrissy Cunningham up and died on his ceiling.

(He still wore the hanky, because the feeling of that bartender tugging it out and stuffing it back in might be the closest thing he's ever had to sex and he absolutely wants a repeat. 

He's young and horny, sue him.) 

Steve Harrington may not be academically smart but he's not dumb. 

He figured out a while back that the basketball team as a unit probably crossed the queer line more than once--or at least it did before Hargrove came in. 

( Brad Handly for example, went around slamming kids into lockers and screaming slurs like a fucking movie villain one Monday because the varsity team got dead drunk at Laura's party on Sunday and hey, look, there weren't that many girls there, okay?

They all had fucking hands and mouths. Everybody but Tommy was single and hot to trot. Nothing gay about it.

Its not even like they were kissing or treating each other like chicks. It was just Brad's first time and they got to tease him later for overthinking it. 

Dude graduated soon enough after and given Steve was on the team as a sophomore, he hadn't thought about the guy and why he might be freaking out so bad in years.) 

Robin's entire panic attack at Starcourt, and a few more after had Steve replaying that whole incident. Reframed it a bit, and, yeah.

In retrospect that had been extremely gay, actually. 

It sat with him a lot easier than he'd thought it would. Partially because of Robin, but mostly because that's just who he was.

Stranger things had happened to Steve and this one didn't want to kill, maim or otherwise eat him, so it got filed under 'interesting facts he should never tell his parents if he wanted to keep his trust fund' and then he went about his day. 

(Or he tried too, anyways.

It caught up to him when Eddie and Robin somehow figured out the other was queer and dragged him along to some bar Eddie had a standing invitation at, with demands for Steve to do what he did best.

Babysit.

Their magical trip was utterly destroyed when Brad Handly happened to be the very same bartender who had given Eddie the invite.

 Considering Brad's immediate bark of laughter followed by a hug and introducing himself as "Steve's gay awakening", Steve ended up having to speedrun through Eddie and Robin both having a crisis for him.

It didn't help that Steve had politely, and laughingly, corrected Brad with a casual; 

"Pretty sure that was Tommy man, but if it helps I think that tongue of yours gave Matt Burdon a crisis."

--which ended up with him answering a lot more gay sex questions with Brad than he cared too. 

At least he, through Brad, was able to help Robin connect to some local lesbians and--after a second crisis from Eddie regarding how Steve managed to have more sex than "the resident town freak and guy who actually knew he was gay, Steve!"-- even helped Eddie out by catching the metalheads tongue with his mouth later that evening.

The last one landed him a boyfriend, trust fund be damned.) 

[smoft-demons]

hey hey! I really like your writing :) I have a request for the brothers:

gn!mc who has trouble sleeping alone bc of nightmares. they can very rarely sleep but are great at hiding it, because they don’t want to bother anybody. they never notice because mc always sleeps fine during sleepovers??? until eventually the lack of sleep gets to them too much and it becomes too noticeable. how do they respond when mc (reluctantly) reveals the truth?

thank you and have a lovely day ❤️

Good prompt! I like this one :)

(This one took a good few hours! Hope you like it!)

MC has nightmares when they sleep alone

_______

Lucifer:

‘…something’s amiss with our human.’ Lucifer thinks.

He’s been observing them lately. Since he cracked down on his brothers sneaking into their room at night—in order to give the poor human a break, so they may rest well and have time to study for the upcoming wave of tests—they’ve been… sluggish. More forgetful. Their assignments are coming back notably worse. He was irritated at first, but when he brought them into his office to confront them about it, he couldn’t ignore how… off they seemed.

Lucifer sets his irritation with their slipping standards aside, in favour of concern. He is above petty reactions, he decides. No, he is reasonable enough to see that there must be a cause for this.

“MC. I did not call you here to berate you. I am not angry with you. Something is obviously wrong. Please, I cannot help you until you tell me what it is.”

You’re not sure if it’s the jarringly unmasked concern in his eyes, or the rising feeling of guilt for stressing him out more than usual that finally cracks your resolve.

Whatever it is, you confide in him. You tell him that you’ve not been sleeping well. He pries the reason out of you, by pointing out his observations about the timing.

Begrudgingly, you admit to having nightmares when you try to sleep alone.

Outwardly, he remains businesslike and practical as always. In his mind, he’s facepalming. In retrospect, the signs are all there! How did he not notice??

He feels just a bit sorry, too. In his attempt to help you, he directly made everything worse. What a great job he’s done…

Then he snaps out of it and steels himself. There’s no use dwelling on that! He can fix this. Very, very easily!

“I see. Then, sleep in my room tonight. I will ensure no nightmares bother you. Once you’ve recovered enough to learn again, I will help you bring your grades back up to your usual standard. Is this satisfactory?”

He refuses to hear any guilt from you about imposing, or taking up his time, or being a burden.

“I am choosing to carry you, MC. There’s no burden.”

From that point on, you’re always welcome in his bed. On the rare occasion that he isn’t home and none of his brothers can sleep over with you, he lends you his coat to sleep under. The familiar scent of him that clings to it is better than nothing.

_______

Mammon:

…Okay, at this point, he HAS to pry. Mammon is one of the first to notice that you’ve not exactly been well lately. You’re being unusually scatterbrained, clumsy, and spacey. You don’t have any energy. It’s obvious to him that there’s a sleep issue! He’s more observant than he looks, ya know!

Now that he thinks of it, these traits are not THAT out of character for you. They’re not usually this bad though!

…shit, does that mean you’re usually sleep deprived? That’s not good. Well! You’re HIS human, and he loves you lots and takes your well being very seriously, as much as he hates to say it out loud. So, he commits himself to figuring this out!

Evening comes. Mammon follows you into the hall leading towards your room. You bash your hip against a wall corner and almost fall to the floor as you dizzily stumble, trying to catch yourself. Mammon grabs you to steady you. Yeah, at this point he has to pry.

“Be careful, human! Seriously, you’d break all your lil toothpick bones without the great Mammon around to protect ya! What’s up with that, huh?”

You trust him of course, but… you’re embarrassed. You don’t want to tell him.

He clicks his tongue impatiently. You don’t say anything. He grabs you by the shoulders and steers you into his room. He pushes you down to sit on his bed.

“C’mon, MC. Talk to me. Your first man is here to help!”

“…”

“…please?”

Now, that… almost does it. You feel bad for being stubborn. You know he’s worried, and chaotic as he can be, he’s proven himself as a very good guardian demon time and time again. You take a deep breath, gathering your resolve.

You take just a bit too long. Mammon groans.

“I’m very annoying, yknow. I’ll get it outta ya somehow!”

Mammon pokes your cheeks, gently shakes you, tugs lightly at your hair, as he demands that you talk to him.

“Tell me, tell me tell me tell me tell me, c’mooooon humaaan, tell me!”

‘Oh, fucking fine!’ You think. You confide in him.

He’s mildly tempted to be like, ‘was that really so hard,’ but he won’t. He’s far more concerned than annoyed with you. He feels bad about all the super late nights out he’s been having lately. He wants to always be there for you! Him having missed something like this has him mentally kicking his own ass.

Mammon puts all that aside for now, though. He roots around in a drawer to get two pairs of his old, worn and comfy sweatpants, plus an old tshirt, faded and worn soft from use. He throws the shirt and one of the sweatpants at you

“Go brush your teeth and change, then come right back. We’re having an early night.”

When you return, he locks his door, then puts you back in his bed. He’s changed into the other pair of sweatpants. Mammon wraps himself around you as much as he can, as if to bodily shield you from the nightmares, then pulls his blanket over both of you.

“Sleep, human. No nightmares’ll DARE mess with you now. Not while I’m here. I’ll protect ya.”

Having him so close to you feels like home. Nothing else has ever felt so safe. You sleep deeply, for hours longer than you have in a while.

(Mammon is never letting you sleep alone again)

_______

Levi:

As much as Levi doesn’t want to bother you, he’s getting worried. You’re performing WAY worse at your video games than usual! You’re missing so many inputs! He knows your usual skill level, this game should be a relaxing walk in the park for you! He’s too worried to even make fun of you!

“Ok, that’s it! I can’t take it anymore! What happened to you, normie?? Are you sick?? Do you… not want to play with me? What’s happening??”

He’s worked himself into a panic. You know he’s sensitive enough right now to take it personally if you don’t confide in him. So fine! You’ll talk!

You’ll talk… auuugh, you can’t get the words out! You’re too self conscious about it. Fuck it. You take your DDD out of your pocket and send him a text.

>not been sleeping well. Nightmares. So tired, can’t pretend anymore! >:( Nothing personal, promise!

Levi reads the text. He chews the inside of his cheek for a long moment, thinking. Then he snaps to attention, looking at you with intense determination.

“We can’t have that! I need my player two in optimal condition! There’s no other way for us to win at any games!”

Levi resorts to his old faithful: relaxing slice of life anime! He makes a big pile of pillows and blankets on the floor, arranging them into an MC-and-Levi sized nest. It’s late enough into the evening that it’s reasonable enough to try to put you to sleep.

If just the anime and the blankets and the being in his room isn’t enough to knock you out, he’ll shyly inch over to you to hold your hand. Blushing and looking away from you because he’s shy, but he’ll do it.

If you ask him—or just look sad and cute enough—he’ll even curl up behind you in the blanket-nest and hold you. Levi won’t have ANYTHING hurting his Henry, not if he can do anything about it!

He doesn’t mind holding you all night like this. The fact that you’re asleep helps, he’s not shy when you’re not perceiving him. The anime he’s still watching is helping too. It’s a good distraction.

_______

Satan:

As soon as he started to get the feeling something was wrong with you, he began watching you intently. He’s sharp, so he would have caught this very early on.

He can’t help but have a little fun with this investigation at first, thinking of it as detective work.

Soon though, he gets concerned. You’re irritable, you’re not retaining information or remembering small things as well, you’re clumsier and less generally aware… all dangerous things to be in this realm.

He doesn’t need you to tell him what’s wrong. He puts it together himself. He knows you sleep just fine with him, he knows you seem well rested after sleepovers with any of his brothers too. Clearly it’s not general insomnia. He also knows that the usual frequent sleepovers haven’t been happening for a while now.

When he confronts you, he doesn’t start with asking questions. He lays out all the evidence he’s collected and states his guesses as to the cause.

He tells you he has concluded it’s most likely to be any of these causes: loneliness, separation anxiety, touch deprivation, nightmares, stress-induced insomnia. He asks you to tell him which it is, if it’s more than one, if it’s something else?

He’s so clinical about it, you pretty much forget to be self conscious. All you have to do is confirm that it’s nightmares and they only happen when you sleep alone.

“Thank you for trusting me,” he says, regardless of how little you’ve actually told him. “You’re more than welcome to sleep over with me any time. You don’t even have to ask. Just tell me that you’re sleeping over.”

That evening, he leads you into his room. He lies on his back, book in hand, and beckons you to lie on top of him.

He guides your head to rest in the crook of his neck. He balances his book against your shoulders, holding it with one hand. The other wraps around your waist, his thumb rubbing your side soothingly, and he begins to read aloud to you.

His voice and his warmth soothe you to sleep. Not a single nightmare dares touch you.

Asmo:

The first thing Asmo notices is the darkened circles under your eyes.

“Oh, my darling! Your skin!” He gasps, genuinely horrified. “Come, we can do better than that. Let your Asmo take care of you~”

As he often does, Asmo brings you to his room for a spa day. Evening. Night. It’s late.

He smooths moisturizer into your skin, using all the appropriate human-safe products for revitalizing you when you’re tired. He gets a helpful mask on you, then one for him too. As you wait for it to dry, he asks you what’s up.

“Can’t sleep, lovely? You know, if you’re restless I can always tire you out~”

You roll your eyes and elbow him lightly. You expected nothing less from Asmo. Knowing him as well as you do, it’s more endearing than bothersome. You know he’s showing you that he cares.

“Offer’s always open, darling!” He giggles. “But, is there anything else I could do for you? Need to get something off your chest? Or just some good company, hmm?”

Asmo’s really sweet. It’s easy to open up to him—or, as easy as opening up gets. He massages your hand in silence as you gather your resolve to confide in him.

He listens sympathetically. Nodding and humming encouragingly at all the right points as you speak. Squeezing your hand when you need support. Just… being the emotionally intelligent sweetheart that Asmo always is with you.

“You’re welcome to sleep here, love. Nothing you don’t want will happen, of course. Now, let me wash that mask off you, then we can snuggle if you like.”

He washes off the mask, touching you very tenderly as he does. He takes his time gently washing the product off your face, stroking your cheek with his thumb affectionately. He gives you a little forehead kiss when your face is clean as his thanks for trusting him.

He lets you lead on how much contact you want. He really just wants to help. He’s happiest if you choose to cuddle with him, but he’s totally chill with just holding your hand, or even just lying next to you. He’s awesome like that.

No matter what you choose, the familiar perfume of Asmo’s room and the reassuring rhythm of his breathing lulls you to sleep. It feels safe.

You sleep really well. Asmo really is the best.

Beel:

Beel understands nightmares. He gets them too. He spots the signs easily, familiar as they are to him.

All he has to do is spot the haunted look in your eyes when he sees you before breakfast. Very distracted he usually is at that time, yes, but he loves you. He pays attention to you. He notices it pretty quick.

He can’t help but wonder why you haven’t approached him about it. Hasn’t he demonstrated to you that nightmares in particular are a thing he’s safe for you to confide in about? He’s not going to take it personally, but he IS going to worry.

He keeps an ear trained on your room whenever he goes into the kitchen at night. Carefully listening for any signs of distress.

After a few nights of this, he gives into his impulse and goes to check on you after his midnight snack. He brings you something he knows you like.

He’s not surprised to find you awake.

“Hey.” He says through a mouthful of his own food. “Want a snack?” He comes in to put it in your hands as soon as you acknowledge him.

The two of you eat together, sitting quietly on your bed side by side. Beel’s careful not to drop any crumbs.

You remain quiet even after all traces of snacks are eliminated.

“Nightmares?” Beel asks gently, looking at you with those irresistible soft worried puppy eyes he does. You can’t lie to him. You’re not a monster!

You nod. He hums sympathetically, looking genuinely saddened on your behalf. He gets it.

“Want a hug?” He offers

You press yourself into his side. He wraps one very big arm around you, and you melt into him like warm mozzarella. His solid presence is reassuring. You feel so safe with him. You’re already starting to drift as he rubs your shoulder with one large thumb.

“Would it help if I stay?” Beel murmurs to you.

You nod again.

So Beel picks you up, settling himself in your bed with you and arranging you comfortably in his arms.

He starts softly stroking your hair. Trying to help you relax more.

“Thanks for letting me help you.” Beel says earnestly. It’s obvious that he really means it. He’s grateful you’re trusting him with this. He’s very happy that you’re accepting his comfort, because he wants nothing more than to help you and protect you.

He’s good at that. Being comforting. Helpful and protective—that’s Beel.

You drift off peacefully, with nothing on your mind except the sleep-blurred sentiment of feeling grateful for him, too.

Belphie:

Without question, Belphie is the first one to notice that you’re having nightmares. Sleep is his main thing!

You only get to have one bad night before he steps in. He drags you up to the attic to nap with you right after school. No nightmares happen, of course, because you’re not sleeping alone. Belphie congratulates himself on a job well done!

…wait. Again?? He finds himself aware that you’re having another nightmare that night, hours later when you’re trying to sleep by yourself. Fuck sake.

He goes to your room. You snap awake at the disturbance. Without a word, he pours himself into your bed, draping across you like a clingy cat and going right back to sleep.

Bit rude. But this is helpful. You go back to sleep too, and have no nightmares. Good job, Belphie.

Then the next night, it happens again!! Mildly vexed at the persistent issue, he does the same thing as last night.

The next evening, he doesn’t let you go to bed alone to begin with. He goes with you, staying just aware enough that he can snipe your nightmares before they get a chance to terrorize you—but… none happen? Huh. Wild. Okay.

The next night, he finally asks you what the deal is. You hesitate to tell him. Belphie has no qualms about annoying the information out of you, if his initial blunt concern isn’t enough to get you to talk. If you don’t crack, he’ll try tickling you until you talk to him. If you STILL don’t crack, he’ll sic Beel and his concerned puppy eyes on you. No one can resist Beel’s concerned puppy eyes. Especially not when it’s BOTH twins looking at you like that!

Resistance is futile. You reluctantly tell him that you have nightmares only when you sleep alone.

He mentally slaps himself. Obviously!

He was prepared to use any of his avatar of sloth abilities necessary to cure you of your nightmares—and he still is—but he’s happy (and secretly endeared) to learn that the cure is nothing more than his presence. Less work for him! Less work, AND a good excuse to steal you away for naps all the time! Two of his favourite things!

Belphie is never letting you sleep alone again. No, you’ll either be together in your room, together in his and Beel’s room, or together in the attic.

He’ll make an exception for sleepovers with his other brothers too if you miss them. You’re so lucky he loves you.

[bishopsbeloved]

crystal clear

kate bishop x fem reader

there’s something about kate bishop that you can’t get enough of. you need to be close to her, always, but you’ll take whatever you can get — even if that means you’re just her fuckbuddy.

fwb to lovers, fluff and angst (happy ending), mentions of sex, god i love kate bishop, 3.3k words

read this fic on ao3!

Kate Bishop doesn’t swing by your borough very often.

When she does, it’s for either superheroing or sex. Her being in the area for the former will inevitably lead to her calling you for the latter.

You met through a mutual friend in college. You got on really well as friends at first, but you were undeniably attracted to her (who wouldn’t be?), and at a drunken New Year’s party she proved that attraction mutual when you were her New Year’s kiss. You ended up doing a lot more than kissing that night, and when you woke up in her bed the next morning she ever-so-casually suggested that the two of you “do this again sometime”.

“It’ll be good for both of us,” she shrugged. “You’re stressed with school, I’m stressed with… this,” she nodded over at her suit and bow, haphazardly discarded in the corner of her room.

You knew it wasn’t a good idea. You knew somewhere deep within you that you wouldn’t be satisfied with just sex. Kate Bishop is the kind of person that it’s difficult to get enough of, and you wanted all of her. But you’d take whatever you could get.

The two of you laid out ground rules, of course. Neither of you would sleep with anyone else (Kate didn’t have the time to find anyone else, and you didn’t have the interest). You wouldn’t tell any of your other friends (“America will never let me hear the end of it,” Kate said, nose wrinkling), and, most importantly, rule number one, you wouldn’t let it ruin the friendship.

“It’s just sex,” Kate insisted. “We can’t— I don’t do relationships.”

It’s not like it was news to you. Kate Bishop doesn’t do relationships, ever. Everyone knows it. You bit your lip and nodded, stomach already sinking a little. In retrospect, that should’ve been your first warning sign.

You hadn’t meant to break rule number one, though. Honest. If anything, it’s Kate’s fault, for being so… Kate. And it’s didn’t happen all at once, either. In an effort to maintain your pre-existing friendship, you both continued your routine of coffees every Wednesday morning, and walks with Pizza Dog in Central Park. Everything was as it always was on the surface, but within you could feel a shift begin, no matter how badly you wanted things to stay the same. Every time you caught yourself staring at her too long or laughing too hard at something dumb she said or your heart doing that stupid fluttering thing, you did everything in your power to put a stop to it. But you were helpless. Kate Bishop is a beacon, a lighthouse, and you’re drawn in to her against your will, no matter what you’re doing — whether it’s movie night or a coffee not-date or those late-night talks after sex or, yes, the sex itself. The sex is great. Just like everything else with her.

Fuck.

It happens gradually, so gradually, but everything comes to a crescendo when you roll over one morning and she’s already awake, staring at you with such depth and warmth in her big blue eyes. You blink back at her for a moment and know with frightening clarity that you’re in love with her. It’s crystal clear. You can taste your love for her on your lips when she kisses you good morning, and it terrifies you.

You don’t know what to do. You can’t tell her, that’ll ruin everything. It’s the number one condition of this arrangement — don’t jeopardise the friendship. This will do more than just jeopardise it. She’ll never want to talk to you again. And now that you’ve gotten used to Kate Bishop’s presence in your life, you never want to let it go. She makes your days brighter, she’s a joy to be around no matter what you’re doing, and you want to be around her in whatever capacity is achievable. Even if that capacity is friends who fuck sometimes.

So even though it’s a bad, awful idea, even though you’re already breaking the most important rule of the agreement, you carry on with it. You respond to every you up? text and then try to ignore the way your chest hurts the next morning when she walks out the door. Sometimes she’s gone before you even wake up. You think you prefer that, in some ways. At least you don’t have to watch her go.

Kate’s visits to your part of the city are sporadic, and mainly motivated by you, to be honest. There’ll be times when she doesn’t call in on you for a week, and then the next she’ll be at your place for three nights in a row. (She always makes an effort to maintain your Wednesday morning meets, though — a gesture you’d be touched by if you knew no better.)

This week has been one of those in which you haven’t seen her at all. Your life is a little less bright when she’s not around, although you do your best to distract yourself with college things and coursework, and your attempts are generally semi-successful. You’re just getting ready to turn in for the night when your phone chirps out the little notification tone reserved exclusively for Kate, and her name flashes on your lockscreen.

kate bishop <3: you awake? i’m abt five mins away

Your heart is in your throat, but you of course tell her yes.

kate bishop <3: ok omw

you: do i need to have the bandaids ready?

Your teasing, of course, refers to all of the times she’s shown up on your doorstep a little worse for wear. You’re sure you’re a qualified nurse by this point.

kate bishop <3: no

kate bishop <3: …yes

you: see you soon

You place your phone down, grinning stupidly to yourself.

(You are very, very stupid.)

In barely any time at all she is sat on your kitchen counter with you stood between her legs, gently dabbing at the most recent gash on her forehead.

“It’s just a flesh wound,” you reassure her exasperatedly.

“There was a lot of blood,” she pouts. You laugh softly.

“That’s what flesh wounds do. Even small ones. You should know that by now,” you tease, carefully extracting a Band-Aid from the packaging.

She sighs. “No, I think I’m seriously injured, and I need a pretty girl to kiss it better.”

If literally anybody else had said that you would not be smiling dopily back at them with a stomach full of butterflies. But it’s Kate Bishop, so you place the Band-Aid over her forehead cut before dropping a kiss on top of it. “Better?”

“Maybe if we kissed in… some other places.” The latter half is said against your skin as she wraps her arms around your waist to draw you in closer. You can’t help but melt into her arms as she begins to trail kisses down your neck, and the lower she gets the more open-mouthed they become. She grins wickedly when you start to make those little noises at the back of your throat that she loves to draw out of you.

“So sensitive,” she murmurs, her hands beginning to slide lower. Her eyes meet yours and they’re dark and stormy in the way that sets your stomach alight.

“Katie,” you pant, and she pauses to look up at you. “Maybe we shouldn’t— if you’re so seriously injured,” you try breathlessly, and she laughs. (The sound sends a little shiver up your spine. You adore her laugh.)

“You know I’ll eat pussy no matter what’s wrong with me,” she retorts, and you feel your face heat up. Yes, you do know that. You know it from experience. There was a time she had a broken nose, and — well — the activities she roped you into didn’t help that broken nose.

So you let yourself succumb to her touch, as you do every other night she wants you, and try your best to quash the bad, bad feeling that’s been threatening to surface the last few months.

Part of it is guilt, you think. You’re pretty much lying to her — or lying by omission, anyway — when you continue to pretend you’re not breaking the most important rule. You kind of feel like you’re violating her. She didn’t sign up for her dumb fuckbuddy hopelessly pining after her.

But also, you’re beginning to feel that maybe you deserve happiness. Maybe you deserve better than being the dumb fuckbuddy who hopelessly pines. You want to love, and be loved. You can’t stomach meaningless sex anymore, and you can’t stomach being meaningless to Kate.

Maybe if this ends now, you and Kate can still salvage your friendship.

You know ending things won’t be easy. That’s why you’ve been putting it off for this long. But you have to stop giving yourself false hope. It’s getting pathetic.

Even as you’re coming on her tongue you tell yourself resolutely this is the last time you’ll sleep with Kate Bishop.

When the act in question is over, she lays her head on your bare chest, humming softly. Your love for her hits you all at once; it sets you alight and sickens you all over again. You can’t do this anymore. This ends now.

“Kate,” you say quietly. “I’ve been thinking.”

The way that you say it makes her shoulders tense, she can tell something’s not right. She moves to sit up so she can see your face and take your hand between hers. You gently retract your hand, you don’t meet her eyes, and the cleft between her brows only deepens. “What? What is it?”

“I think,” you say shakily, “I think this… should end now.” You swallow, still not really looking at her.

“Why?” She says it quietly, and you can’t glean much else from her one-word response.

“I don’t really wanna be someone’s fuckbuddy anymore. I want to be someone’s girlfriend,” you admit.

Kate is silent for a few moments. “You know that I— I don’t —”

“Do relationships? Yeah,” you exhale. You tilt back your head, looking at the ceiling, anywhere but her. “So that’s why I’m saying we should— maybe we stop.”

“Okay,” she says eventually, and despite yourself you feel your shoulders sag a little as she confirms your beliefs. She doesn’t reciprocate your feelings. This is what it’s always been — just sex.

You feel her eyes on you and you’re careful to keep your gaze averted. You’re certain that if you look at her you’ll cry. Because you’re not looking at her, though, you miss the way she opens her mouth to say something else before thinking better and closing it again. You don’t see the way her bottom lip trembles as she turns away from you and begins to gather her various belongings, scattered across your room. You grab your phone from the nightstand and scroll through it mindlessly while Kate fixes her messy sex hair in the mirror. You only look up when she moves to open the door.

“I’ll… I’ll text you when I’m in the neighbourhood,” she says half-heartedly.

You press your lips together and nod. “See you around, Katie.”

“Bye, Y/N/N,” she murmurs, and closes the door behind her. You finally allow the tears to spill from your eyes.

You didn’t expect her to actually follow through. There’s radio silence between the two of you for a good while. You chicken out of breaking it to ask if Wednesday mornings are still on, and she certainly doesn’t initiate conversation, so you don’t see or hear from Kate Bishop for almost a fortnight (which is probably for the best, you’ll admit, since she’s left you in a right state). When she finally does text you, you almost fall out of your bed reading it, and have to double check that you’re not seeing things.

Sure enough, though:

kate bishop <3 (now):

can i come over?

You hastily type out a reply.

sure, when?

kate bishop <3: now lol?

kate bishop <3: i’m already omw

This makes you shoot out of bed. You’ve taken the definitely-not-breakup hard, and pretty much haven’t left your bed in the two weeks since you last saw Kate, much less your apartment. You’ve kinda just spent your time crying, eating ice cream and ignoring America’s threatening texts that come through when you miss another game night. You’re just not ready to face Kate in a social setting. One on one, though, is probably manageable. At least if it goes downhill no one else will see you cry. You’ll need to clean yourself up, though.

You spend the few extra minutes you know you’ll have, because Kate says hi to every dog she sees on the sidewalk, shovelling clothes from the floor into your closet in a vain attempt to make your place look a little more presentable, and questioning why you said yes to her coming over at all. When you hear a knock on the door, the silly little pattern only she does (“how else will you know it’s me?” she always says), you feel sick to your stomach.

You answer the door, and the two of you blink at each other for a few moments. Sure, it’s only been two weeks, but it also feels like there’s been a lifetime of change between you. The Band-Aid you put on her forehead when you last saw her is gone, and the cut beneath it is almost healed. A few others have replaced it on various different parts of her face, though. Her hair is loose, her cheeks are a little flushed from the journey to you and god, she’s so pretty.

“Hi,” you squeak out, and before you can do anything else she’s rushed forward and her arms are wrapping around you, tightly. It takes you a minute to process but then you return the hug, just as hard, breathing her in like it’s the last time you’ll ever see her.

“Hi,” you say again, but it’s much quieter this time, a whisper in her ear. She hums a greeting back into yours.

“I really missed you,” she murmurs quietly, and your breath hitches. You weren’t expecting any of this. She holds you close to her for a moment longer before finally letting you go. You don’t really know what to do with yourself, so you just step aside and let her into your apartment, closing the door behind her.

She wanders into the middle of your room, intently taking in everything like it’s her first visit. It’s not — far from it — and not much has changed since she was last here. There’s a moment of silence, and you can see the cogs turning in her brain. She’s building herself up to something. You don’t know what exactly, you don’t know what’s about to happen, but she’s got that faraway look in her eye.

“Kate,” you say tentatively, “what—”

She spins around to look at you, like you saying her name has grounded her, and she earnestly reaches for your hands. You give them to her uncertainly.

“Y/N,” she says, and her voice is thick with emotion in a way you’ve never heard it before. “I—”

She studies you intensely for a long, long moment before pulling you flush against her and pressing her lips to yours.

You can’t help it. Your eyes flutter shut at the familiar sensation, at the way she tastes, and your hands slide through her hair. The way she feels against you makes your head spin, and you’re gasping into her mouth and she’s whining, backing up towards the couch, and then suddenly she’s sat on it and you’re on her lap and Kate’s tongue is beginning to slide against yours, and it’s so good. You groan, your brain beginning to catch up with your body, and it takes every shred of willpower you possess to gently push her back.

“Katie,” you say weakly. She leans up desperately to reconnect the kiss, and when you shift from her lap to the empty seat on the couch next to her she makes a quiet noise of protest, her hands reaching out for you. “Kate. I told you I don’t want to do this anymore.”

Her face falls. She looks like a kicked puppy, and your heart clenches, but then she presses her lips together and looks up at you with determination.

“Y/N,” she says, reaching again for your hand. She’s not deterred when you don’t let her take it. She takes a deep breath, and you know as she opens her mouth you’re in for one of her trademark Kate Bishop rambles. “I am a fucking idiot. Think of the stupidest person you‘ve ever met and times it by twelve and that’s me. I literally—” She buries her face in her hands for a moment before continuing. “I shouldn’t… I shouldn’t have let you end things. That was the stupidest thing I’ve ever done. Which is seriously saying something, you literally watched me shoot down a priceless historical bell last year. You are— you’re— it wasn’t just sex to me, Y/N,” she says desperately, and this time when she reaches for your hand you let her. “I don’t think it ever was. I don’t know. I said I don’t do relationships, because it’s true usually I don’t, and that’s what you agreed to when we started this so I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, and also I didn’t know how to tell you that I’m maybe a tiny bit obsessed with you, like I’m always thinking about you, how do you say that to someone? That’s not a normal thing to say, and then I didn’t want to freak you out and then you wanted to end things so I thought maybe that would be easier for you, I thought maybe you didn’t want me like that so I just let it happen which why did I do that, but then it was too late because I’m an idiot so I was trying to let it go, but I can’t sleep, Y/N, all I can think about is you, and I’m sorry I didn’t know what to do, but I do. I do want a relationship with you, I want it so bad I want everything with you, and if you don’t then you can forget this ever happened because I don’t want to make anything weird and America will kill me if I ruin her perfect Wii Sports game night team, but I just— I really had to tell you. I want a relationship with you, I want to be your girlfriend. I want— yeah. Yeah,” she says breathlessly, her eyes bright, and when she finishes her spiel her shoulders drop in the way they always do, like a physical weight has been lifted from her body. You stare up at her adoringly, and take her face between both of your hands.

“Kate Bishop,” you say sincerely, “you are such an idiot.”

“Wh—” she manages, before your lips meet with hers again.

This kiss is different. For the first time, the two of you are on the same page. Kate Bishop is yours, she wants you, and the thought makes you want to sing. On her lips now you taste something beautiful blossoming between you. You kiss her until you’re breathless, until the air that’s in your lungs is hers, and then you rest your head in the crook of her neck while she holds you as close to her as she can, clutching you like she can’t believe this is real, her chest heaving and hands shaky.

“I— I really do want to be your girlfriend,” she whispers again, and this time it’s so gentle and vulnerable. Your heart bursts at the way she’s so earnestly giving herself to you, no matter how much she swore she wouldn’t.

“Okay,” you tell her, and when your eyes meet hers are full of hope. “Okay.”

[six-eyed-samurai]

SUMMARY: You find a love letter for you but the wrong guy; Hitoshi regrets only signing with his initials. A/N: The author wrote this sleep deprived, dehydrated, in the dark and completely running on an adrenaline rush so please excuse the sloppy work... WARNINGS: Minor IzuOcha, probably OOC Shinsou

“Stop denying it, Ochaco-chan! We can all see Midoriya lo-o-o-o-oves you!”

You giggled, using the books you were clutching as a shield from Ochaco’s attempt at slapping a hand over your mouth. She gave up and hid her red face instead. “We’re just friends!”

“But I saw you so jealous that day, are you sure about that?” You hum slyly, bumping her shoulder. The both of you stop in front of your locker, a quick stop before heading back to class. The hallways were buzzing with chatter about the recent UA sports festival, but you were more interested in what you had seen that day.

“Huh? When?!”

You haphazardly shoved your books into your locker then tapped a finger against your chin, playing dumb and pretending to think. “I dunno, maybe when Hatsume from the support course and Midoriya were talking? I’m sure he thinks her ‘babies’ are cute!”

“Wait, really?” Ochaco groaned, momentarily forgetting her denying before her eyes widened. “I mean, not that I care! Her babies - I mean her inventions are pretty creative!”

“But I’m sure Midoriya thinks you’re cuter~” You teased, using your hip to close your locker door, gleefully watching your friend blush and stutter. “But if you both ever get together, I’m your wingman, alright? He doesn’t look like he could hold your hand without having a panic attack, but if he does anything wrong no one will ever find his-”

“Eh, enough!” Ochaco just about yelled, this time successfully slapping a hand over your mouth. “It’s not like that! It’s - oh, you dropped something. Let me pick it up for you!”

“Huh? A paper - oh, wait, no, it’s an envelope?” Your name was written in neat handwriting at the back, leaving no doubt to you and Ochaco that this was for you, but at the same time you don’t remember ever seeing such a thing in your life.

“A letter? Who could it be from?” Ochaco leaned over your shoulder to read as you slipped a slightly crumpled note out.

I think you’re one of the prettiest girls at UA - the prettiest, really, with an amazing personality and talent to match. I’ve liked you since the first day, but watching you at the sports festival really sealed the deal. You’re practically on my mind all the time and just seeing you is enough to make my day - I could stare you forever and never get bored with what I see. Every time we pass by I really want talk to you, but I’m not really sure how to confess, so I hope this note will do.

-H.S.

“A LOVE LETTER? Oh my gosh, it’s so cute and romantic! You’re so lucky!” Ochaco began to shake your shoulders eagerly. “Who could it be from? Our class or 1B?”

“I have no idea, what do you think?” Your finger brushed over the oddly sweet words, your heart thumping a little faster. Judging by the heat in your cheeks you must be blushing too. “H.S….I wonder who could that be?”

“Not a lot of people have those initials,” Ochaco pointed out. “There isn’t a lot of people with names starting with H either.”

“I guess that narrows it down to…” You scrunched up your forehead, deep in thought. “I know there’s Hiryu from 1B, but then it should be H.R. instead of S. No one else in 1B.”

“Huh, then it must be from our class!” Ochaco exclaimed. You both turned to look at each other at once, the same idea ringing in your heads . “There’s only one H there too!”

“Hanta Sero?!”

***

In retrospect perhaps that note was terribly written and - he winced - cringey.

Serve Hitoshi right for writing it at 2 a.m. in the morning, sleep deprived, dehydrated, in the dark and completely running on nothing but an adrenaline rush. The same rush he’d get every time he’d spot you in the hallways that would create just a little smile on his deadpan expression.

Hitoshi wouldn’t be surprised if you completely laughed off the note, but he couldn’t help but hope for some other kind of reaction - the kind where you’d get excited and figure out it was him; Hitoshi knew you wouldn’t just fall in love like that but at least he’d get a shot at friendship. When he’d been writing the note and being delusional he’d imagine you’d liked him all this time as well.

But being realistic he knew the best he could hope for was simply a brief interest in the letter’s writer before a polite rejection.

Maybe Hitoshi shouldn’t have signed it like that.

Actually, a bunch of maybe-I-shouldn’t-haves were running through his head so loudly Hitoshi would’ve thought somebody was brainwashing him as he spied on you and Ochaco from a little way off. It was wrong and very creepy, Hitoshi was painfully aware, but the urgent need to just know what your reaction was to his stupid confession was.

Who even confesses through a love letter these days? It was just lame and he didn’t even write it properly. God, he really should have grown a pair, manned up and spoken to you directly-

Something in him melted, probably his heart, into a mushy puddle of lovesickness as Hitoshi watched you giggle quietly reading it, a pink tinge rising. You were always so cute. Even if you rejected the writer just seeing that look would’ve been worth it.

Then you cracked his confidence in half and just about gave him a heart attack.

“Hanta Sero?!”

No, it’s me, Hitoshi nearly shouted. I’m the one who wrote the letter, I’m the one who wants you to know that, I’m the one who looks at you like you hung the moon and stars up in the sky, the one who’s the biggest fan of you and the one who’s your biggest supporter during the sports festival.

And I’m the one falling onto the ground because my legs are jelly and I can’t believe you don’t know me after all and you’re going to go like someone else and I just caused that, Hitoshi wanted to add. Oh god they had the wrong H.S. and his own anxiety wouldn’t let him tell them otherwise.

Hitoshi really shouldn’t have signed it like that.

***

You walked out of the cafe, happy that your date with Sero had gone well but still disappointed.

Not in him, obviously. He had been pretty flattered when someone like you had asked somebody like him out to lunch, as Sero had put it, and in turn you were to that he would think like that. Your time together had passed with nonstop banter and laughter and you could happily call him a friend now, but the both of you had kind of agreed that while you had chemistry it wasn’t the romantic kind. There wasn’t that click.

Also he had been pretty confused when you had alluded to the note, dropping hints that eventually led you to realize he had zero idea of what you were talking about, so embarrassing as it was (hey, the writer meant it for only your eyes, right?…alright, so what if you didn’t want to share this private little sweetness?) you pulled out the letter and handed it to him.

“It’s pretty romantic but I didn’t write that. H.S. sounds familiar though - I mean, not because it’s my initials! I think I remember someone with those initials.”

“You’re not, like, offended I only asked you out because of the note, are you?” You had asked worriedly. That sounded horribly shallow and you were internally panicking everyone would get the wrong idea.

Thankfully Sero laughed it off. “Hey, I’d do the same! I hope you’re not too upset it’s just old me?”

“Of course not!”

So it ended on good terms, even with probably no plans for continuation. Sero’s last words still echoed in your head however, making you walk with your head up in the clouds of deep thought and speculation. “I’ll ask around if anyone knows a H.S. - I think they’re either from the support course or general studies.” You were pretty sure you don’t know anyone from those classes though…

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” Embarrassment had you blustering apologies to the poor indigo-haired guy you had just walked into and knocked his coffee cup out of his hand, spilling it all over the sidewalk “I’m sorry, I didn’t see where I was going!”

“It’s fine, calm down,” he said reassuringly, although his drink was anything but. You breathed a sigh of relief that at least it hadn’t made a huge mess on his clothes. “It was an accident anyway.”

“No, but I spilled your coffee-” The same sign on the fallen cup and the one above the shop’s window caught your eye and you brightened. “Hey, how about I buy you another one instead? As an apology. I might as well buy one myself if it’s good.”

His eyebrows rose. “Sounds alright to me.”

“Great!” You followed him back into the coffee store and made a beeline to the counter, placing your order and waited for him to choose his. Much to your surprise he gave your name to the barista when asked - had you met him before or something?

The corner of his mouth turned up slightly when he spotted your confused face as you paid. “You’re from UA’s heroes course, right? I go there too, in the general studies course.”

“Wait, you do? What a coincidence!” Your eyes widened as you beamed. “But hey, it’s not fair that you know my name and I don’t know yours!”

“Shinsou,” he offered.

You repeated it. “Suits you.”

“Yours too.” Shinsou took a sip of his drink as he and you walked out of the store. “So, tell me, what’s got you so distracted that you had to make me drop my first coffee?”

“I already made up for that!” You protested to his teasing tone, but then you awkwardly laughed wondering how to explain your thoughts. “Just got back from a date.”

“Oh?” You didn’t see Shinsou’s eye twitch at the mention of that, but he kept his tone casual. “Did it go south or something?”

“No, it’s just - uh, he just wasn’t who I thought it was.” You winced. That didn’t sound right and didn’t even make sense. “I mean I got a confession by note a while ago and I thought it was from him, but it turns out it wasn’t, so I really have no idea now. And maybe I am a little bummed it didn’t go like I thought it would. ”

Shinsou hummed in reply. “That must suck. So you really want to know who wrote the note?”

“Yeah, he was pretty sweet about it.” The shade of pink on your cheeks were threatening to deepen, so you willed yourself to stop thinking about it. Yet something about Shinsou’s friendliness just made you trust him, like him already.

It didn’t help he was also pretty good looking. “I dunno, I’ve just never met a guy who thought so high of me and it was really flattering and nice and all.”

“I see…tell you what.” Shinsou wasn’t really smiling but something in his eye sparkled with excitement. “If you’re up to it, I think this coffee would go well with some cake - and I know a good place.”

You stopped short, blinking while your brain processed his words. You began to giggle; Shinsou was pretty to look at and had an easygoing manner you liked, but you wanted to return his teasing prod from earlier. “Are you asking me out? And why should I say yes? I did just spill your coffee on our first meeting.”

“Well.” Shinsou was a little way ahead of you but stopped and glanced back with a half-smile. “My name’s Hitoshi Shinsou.”

“Oh my god.”

So of course you went on the date with him and he was just as sweet as the dessert.

[ponett]

Do you have any youtube recs for video game analysis/critique in the vein of gmtk?

I do! Well, maybe not 100% in the same vein as the very focused design analysis that GMTK does, but I follow a lot of YouTubers who do thoughtful video game analysis from various angles.

Masahiro Sakurai on Creating Games - An obligatory rec if you haven't already watched Sakurai's videos.

Errant Signal - A longtime pillar of video game video essays, Chris Franklin focuses on interpreting video games as art and critiquing how design decisions contribute to (or detract from) a game's themes and artistic goals.

Matthew Matosis - Less active these days, but he's another legend of longform, in-depth video game analysis on YouTube.

New Frame Plus - A channel about studying and appreciating video game animation from professional animator (and former host of Extra Credits) Dan Floyd. I love all of his videos, but in particular I love his series about the evolution of Final Fantasy's animation.

Video Game Animation Study - And if that's not enough video essays about game animation for you, here's another channel! I enjoyed his recent video about the animations in the Sonic Advance series, which have always been favorites of mine.

Jeremy Parish (Video Works) - I absolutely love Jeremy's chronological retrospectives on classic game console libraries that put them in their historical perspective, explaining how games of the '80s built on the design ideas of previous works and set the stage for future successors. His main focus is his ongoing retrospective on every game in the North American NES library, but he also talks about Sega and Atari releases from the same era, as well as some extremely obscure old Japanese consoles I'd never even heard of.

hotcyder - A fan of weird and quirky games, with a particular interest in exploring the burgeoning "Wario-like" scene.

8-Bit Music Theory - I will admit that half of what this guy says goes over my head as a musical plebeian, but it's still really cool to see formal music theory analysis of video game music.

Scruffy - And for something perhaps a little more digestible for a general audience, there's Scruffy's similarly good videos about video game music theory.

And that should be enough for now!

[bantersnatch]

obligatory bianca post. this episode we've gotten some tasty tasty new scraps:

bianca is now a producer on vip, effectively reversing the workplace power dynamic between her and the host that we saw in season 1 -- now, bianca is calling the shots.

bianca is the one who drives herself and the host to work and back. this makes such perfect sense to my brain that i'm struggling to find commentary to add beyond the facts of the matter. (this does mean that the host leaves set sometimes, though. which is nice to know!) (i like to think about how awkward these car rides must be)

i also want to make some meta notes, because after bianca's first appearance i made some bad assumptions about how filming her cutaways worked.

i had assumed that they maybe had talia on set for a day of filming and cut to her in the moment. in retrospect this made zero sense and i don't know what i was thinking; it's a lot more likely that they filmed these cutaways after the fact the way they do with every other cutaway in the show. like... obviously. this is actually great because if it's true, it means it's possible we'll be seeing more such cutaways.

one bianca appearance is a treat. a second is Setup. it'll be interesting to see if this is something they continue to build up every episode until we hit... some sort of breaking point? something that forces bianca into the interview (on a planned day when talia is on set)? i'm not sure yet. i'm very excited, though.

[suzukiblu]

Day thirty of fic NaNoWriMo, obligatory sugar daddy Tim/sugar baby Kon AU. And yes I DID win NaNoWriMo, thank you for asking. ❤ This is the last day of NaNo, obviously, so I'm gonna take a little bit of a break from this fic due to being just sliiiiightly burned out from writing 1k+ a day in it for the past month and all, but I intend to start editing it and posting chapters of it on AO3 in the next week or two, so it'll be both easily bookmark/subscribe-able and updating on there soon!

They go through all the boxes, Tim suffers a bit for it, and Kon laughs and makes him suffer more, the bastard. It’s fun, though, even if now Tim would really prefer to never stick his hand in another box ever again in his life. 

The last box Kon directs him to is full of layers of distinctly cashmere-esque fabrics, and Kon smiles a little and ducks his head again. Tim is disgruntled, but charmed. 

They wander through the exhibits, and Tim feels pretty good about his activity-picking when he realizes Kon’s stopping to look at all of them and actually seems interested in all of them. They have to circle back a couple of times so Kon isn’t doing anything too super-powered in front of other guests, but they do hit all of them. Some of them are more interesting than others, in Tim’s opinion, but Kon still tries them all. Tim wouldn’t complain even if he were bored out of his mind, though, given how invested Kon gets in sorting and mixing the tables full of colored glass beads and making waves and whirlpools in the water fixtures and manipulating the kaleidoscopes and chimes and everything else. 

Kon spends the least amount of time with the auditory and olfactory stations, though he’s happy to try all the little hors d'oeuvres that Tim assumes are supposed to be covering “taste” for the exhibit. Visual he seems generally curious about, but definitely tactile wins. Like–far and away, does tactile win. They spend twice as much time at the tactile stations Kon is least interested in as they do any two of the others. Tim doesn’t mention it in case it’s not on purpose. He still doesn’t want to make Kon feel self-conscious or anything. 

Anyway, the tactile parts of the exhibit were the whole reason he picked this as a date activity, so what, is he going to be bothered by having made the correct deduction or assumption or whatever? Not freaking likely. Actually if anything he’s going to need to privately gloat to himself about this later. Bask in it a bit. 

Also take some notes for future dates and things to buy Kon and whatever else. 

More cashmere, to start. A lot more. 

Tim sneaks a few more pictures of Kon as they walk from station to station. Kon laughs at him every time he catches him and takes one of him too, which is incredibly flustering. Tim cons him into a few selfies in self-defense, which turns out to be a terrible idea because it still involves him ending up in pictures and, worse, involves him ending up in pictures with Kon, who takes the excuse to press in close and kiss his cheek and just be all kinds of appallingly adorable, the asshole. 

Kon uses the first picture he took as Tim’s contact picture and makes one of their shared selfies his phone background. Tim is mildly mortified but also desperately wants to earn lockscreen status, which is a terrible idea because what if Kon ever takes his phone out around the team or Red Tornado or, god forbid, Bruce? 

Tim should definitely make sure Kon doesn’t put him on his lockscreen. 

. . . but like, if he did . . . 

There’s a clay station. Kon stays at that one the longest, making weird little abstract shapes and surprisingly accurate miniature versions of the sculptures tucked away in the corners of the gallery with TTK. Tim hadn’t even noticed him looking at any of the sculptures, but in retrospect he never actually needed to “look” at them, did he? And on that note, Tim guesses the accuracy shouldn’t be any kind of surprising either–Kon must have a really good sense of spatial awareness, if nothing else, and of how things “should” be shaped. 

By the time they get through the last station of the exhibit, they’ve been at the museum almost twice as long as Tim’s most optimistic estimates had allowed for and he’s had to sneak off to the “bathroom” for five minutes to push their reservation back an hour. Tim has absolutely zero intention of rushing Kon, especially if he’s having a good time, so it just makes more sense to reschedule than to put him on a schedule. 

Though he did have to actually make sure to go into the bathroom to do it, since Kon might’ve noticed him not heading that direction. Tim doubts Kon’s paying attention to what anyone’s doing in the bathroom, for obvious reasons, but he still probably would’ve noticed the date he was briefly concerned might be a supervillain just ducking around a corner to make a phone call ten yards away, no matter how Bat-stealthy said date was about it. Like, that seems like a stupid thing to expect him not to notice. 

They stop by the gift shop on their way out–well, Tim detours Kon to it with subtle herding, anyway–and Tim manages to convince Kon to pick out a couple of things. He ends up with a couple of sort of fidget toy-type puzzles and a little three-pack of little tubs of a clay-like play sand in bright colors, which Tim thinks is probably meant to function as some kind of stim toy and was probably something specifically sourced to go with the event, and Tim “accidentally” throws in a couple of fancy candy bars from the front register. Again: Kon needs calories that weren’t directly sourced from cafeteria food from a definitely-not-OSHA-compliant cloning lab. 

Maybe Tim can send Kon a fruit basket or ten while he’s still stuck at Cadmus. Those probably come in tropical themes. 

Alternately, maybe he can just kidnap Kon outright and trap him in a nice new cul-de-sac until he gets used to it. He could get him actual groceries, then. Lots of them. Fruit and vegetables and entire spreads of “things that weren’t made in an OSHA-noncompliant cafeteria”. That’d be nice. 

Also he could send that Hawaiian food truck by on the daily, if they were up for it. 

They share the candy bars on the walk to the restaurant–meaning, Tim takes two perfunctory bites of each and tricks Kon into eating the rest with basically zero effort–and it’s . . . nice, honestly, just walking around together. Just being together. Not that this is new knowledge, after the mall, but it’s still novel enough that Tim can’t help indulging in and enjoying the experience. They don’t usually get much time alone together, much less time that isn’t spent either fighting supervillains or dealing with emergencies. So–it’s nice, yeah. 

Tim likes it, he means. 

They make their adjusted reservation, and Kon peers around the restaurant awkwardly as they’re led to their table. Tim resolves to do whatever it takes to get him to relax, up to and including embarrassing himself in some way or another. He’s probably going to do that anyway, given how most of these meet-ups have been going. 

“Does it qualify for ‘nice’ enough so far?” he asks once they’re seated, and Kon blushes, then flashes him a grin. 

“It’s okay, I guess,” he says, then bites his lip with a brief flicker of insecurity as he glances down at the menu–specifically the prices on the menu. “Um . . . are you sure you wanna spend this much on me, though . . . ?”

“I want to spend my entire trust fund on you,” Tim says matter-of-factly, and Kon lets out a weird little laugh and ducks his head again. It works a little better this time, since he has the menu to hide behind right now. 

“I already like you, man,” he says, which is still inexplicable but not something Tim is actually gonna argue with. “You don’t have to keep buying me stuff.” 

“I like buying you stuff,” Tim says. “I’m gonna keep doing it as long as you’ll let me.” And after that, he’ll figure out a way to sneak doing it. 

“Just because you like it?” Kon says, glancing at him over the top of the menu. 

“Because I like you,” Tim says. “I mean, no offense to the hostess, but I wouldn’t enjoy buying her dinner this much.” 

Kon bites his lip, then ducks his head again. His face is red. Tim feels the urge to kiss him again. He probably should’ve found time to do that on the walk over or something. Or as soon as he first saw him. Or just at any point so far tonight, because the urge is getting seriously distracting now. 

“So when you said you wanted to go somewhere after this too . . .” Kon trails off, flushing darker. 

“There’s a late show at the planetarium about the sun’s role in our solar system and the life cycle of stars,” Tim says. It might be too loose an association, but . . . “I thought you might be interested in checking it out.” 

Kon stares at him for a moment, then turns absolutely crimson and hides behind his menu entirely. 

“Okay,” he manages, his voice a little cracked. Tim’s pretty sure he could’ve said he’d rented them a hotel room and gotten a less embarrassed reaction. So . . . that’s a thing. 

Okay. 

“I really do want to spend the money on you,” he says. “Apartment and all.” 

“An apartment,” Kon says, glancing over the top of his menu at him again. “And bills and groceries and an . . . allowance.” 

“Yes,” Tim says. No point in beating around the bush, he figures. It’s all things he’s already told Kon anyway. 

“And not just because I saved your life,” Kon says. 

“Not just because you saved my life,” Tim agrees. “I just want to give you those things. Or anything you want, really. Which–well, what would you want?” 

“Um,” Kon says, just barely lowering his menu as his eyes skate away. “Well . . . could we like . . . keep hanging out outside the theoretical apartment and stuff? If we did . . . that?" 

Tim feels something absolutely giddy and absolutely painful in his chest, hearing that question. Just–what does Kon think, that he just wants to toss a lease at him and never see him again? Or just only come over to . . . actually, wait, maybe Kon does think–ugh. Ugh. Fuck, that is not what he’s trying to make Kon worry about here. 

“Yes,” Tim says firmly. “As much as you want.” 

“Mm,” Kon says, biting his lip again. His face is still red. Tim wants to give him every single thing the world hasn’t given him, which he knows for a fact is a truly fucked-up and probably borderline-insurmountable amount of things. 

But he still wants to give it all to him anyway, and then think up a few more things besides.