#Don't get me started on the details on the clothes holy shit

[shmowder]

She was a fairy 🧚‍♀️ (who could only fly in hot air balloons)

[aquickstart]

i need to talk to you guys about the colors of the Cattons (Felix specifically) and Oliver. the clothes they are wearing are telling the story of Oliver taking over and leaving his mark throughout the whole movie, with Oliver's failures and successes and a final triumph. holy shit. get in. this is long and ends in ancient greek culture trivia. let;s talk please.

disclaimer: am starting from Oliver's arrival at Saltburn. before that the outfits are also very intentional, but it's a lot more complicated and it has been discussed before. the world distorts once we are at Saltburn and the story gets truly gothic there, and every detail—including color!—is enhanced in meaning. also, special thanks to @kivlaro for doing this with me, the thoughts on this specifically and the Saltburn craze on the whole. pics and detailed analysis under the cut!

let's start from the beginning. here is Oliver at the door. simple, blue shirt.

the shirt is sort of its own character. logically it makes sense as Oliver's suitcase is small and he spends the whole summer there, of course he'll rewear stuff a bunch. but it is blue.

in contrast to Felix, in yellow. yellow is one of Felix's colors (he is the sun, which i've talked about here btw, so this makes sense).

same to Pamela, in blue. first time we see her, she is next to Elspeth, wearing the color that is Oliver's, taking the place that he takes right away, in this very scene. the only other time she is physically present on screen is at dinner, in black and white, and black and white are a blank slate. she is stripped of color and gone very fast.

a bit of crucial data for later: Oliver, in blue, and Felix in pink. pink is very important on Felix. this is their first morning together. they are separate and opposite, solid, contained.

where it starts to get good is the morning after the vampire strike.

Venetia is a Felix extension, just as everyone in the house is to Oliver. i will eventually rant about Saltburn as a whole entity and Cattons as aspects of one self, and Oliver as psychosis, but not here. so, yes, Venetia is a pink riot, a euphoria of self-containment because Oliver gave her a piece of something she felt she lacked to feel whole (validation, attention, care), not a piece of blue, of himself. Oliver is expectedly solid blue. Felix is incredibly interesting and something i didn't pay much attention to at first: predominantly blue, incredibly upset at Oliver for ditching him, with a tile of bright red (on the left! close to heart! over-reaching here but like still!), which still tracks. i mean, really, if i had so much foreign color bleed into me and then abandoned, i'd be pissed, too. nice little touch is sir James' beloved hydrangeas, behind Felix, also pink, very pink, always pink; i don't think i've seen them blue in the movie, although the sort exists.

Farleigh. sweet baby Farleigh i love you. I'm not dead-set on my interpretation of this specifically but i think multiple things are happening with Oliver and Farleigh here. like Rent, which is their song, blue is their color of outsiders and the triers to fit in. Farleigh points out the favoritism and preference of Oliver to him and his mother here, so it may also be appropriation of color to draw attention to Farleigh as almost (but never quite) Oliver. it may also be as simple as that Farleigh, as much as he denies and resists, still retains Oliver's influence, which bleeds into him very slowly.

a nice little moment of Felix wearing blue swim shorts with just tiny specks of a pink pattern. Oliver's shorts also have a bit of pink, but less than Felix's. Oliver is pretty good at remaining unaffected and uninfluenced overall.

and we're getting to where it all clicked and started for me. the Quick family house, the failed reconciliation, and the immediate aftermath. oh it's so good.

on the drive there, Oliver is blue, Felix has a pink polo shirt with a solid blue pullover over it. this is the most blue Felix has ever been (this is the most blue he will ever be!), this is trust. however shaky and toxic it is, Felix loves Oliver and accepts him into his world. as a side note, Oliver's parents are also very blue, mom more so than dad. nice!

and then it crashes. immediately after, it's the evening of the same day, but Felix is not wearing the blue pullover anymore. this is very, very important. this is rejection. it's the end for Oliver in Felix's world and with his trust. Felix, again, in solid pink, Oliver in solid blue. Felix successfully rips him out with the roots and everything. ouch.

daddy. sorry. is that highlighter? sweat? fuck. let me- daddy. SORRY

no i actually have a point about this.

the clothes are replaced by the lights, but we roll with it. Oliver basks in the blue-green light, while Felix is on the other side, in pink and purple and red. sure, blue shines through, and Oliver also walks through the slashes of pink, but it is mostly pretty separate, Oliver watching Felix's pink in his own blue from a distance.

the morning after palette is deep. the wine color that is so prominent in these scenes is fascinating to me. if i were to over-reach again i'd say it's the Oliver in Felix's attributes and in his place that requires the robe to be so dark, not usual definite pink, because deep blue has leaked into the color itself, mixed with it, made itself integral to the shade. but it's also just a nice color, and it is pink in its core. the flowers (with sir James in the background) i think are also this specific shade for the same reason. you look at what remains of Felix everywhere here, and it is his color.

and finally oh the lunch scene. the last supper. the judgement day. the who's afraid of virginia woolf madness.

i think we've established what's up with Oliver, but i also think it's important that he is his own color at lunch but in Felix's pink/wine right before and after. lunch is where he attacks, whereas before and after is where he grieves and enjoys. Farleigh is almost completely blue save for a strip of the same deep pink, and he is soon cast out, and Venetia is striped, blue and pink/salmon, affected deeply by Oliver yet still clinging on to the Catton pink with grief, probably, but also love for Felix.

and after all this, Oliver leaves himself.

no, like, actually, literally himself. sure, he'd got a taste of the Cattons and the pink, but he is a monolith, a solid blue when he leaves Saltburn. he has not been affected by the house, he has taken what he wanted but stayed true and whole. what a power move, honestly.

but it's an even bigger deal that 16 years later, Elspeth runs into Oliver wearing all white and a blue scarf. oh, she's not let this go, alright; it was a long time ago, "but not to me," she says. What Oliver has been up to in that time is a great question, without a doubt he's been keeping tabs on the remaining family as much as he could; but Elspeth has never moved on, either. She has held on to Oliver's blue and the pink is not important at all now. Oliver, of course, is invariably, unwaveringly blue. welcome back to his show.

and welcome back to his triumph.

the only color (except for, again, white and black) we see him wear in the flashback about Saltburn inheritance is the all-too familiar deep pink. wine. bright pink mixed with deep blue.

now i will take a liberty and step back, over-reach, over-interpret and go insane. here's a fun bit on ancient greek culture trivia for you.

this is an interesting and complicated historiographical and linguistic debate that i will not even attempt to relay here, but the essence of it is this: for us, the sea is conventionally deep blue. historically, one of the most prominent civilizations considered "deep wine" to be the descriptor for it (not necessarily the color but the property. highly rec to look this up it's so fascinating). what it gives me here is that Oliver has changed color, but not his self. he has integrated, mixed, but persisted, completely winning over, triumphing. long live the king!

in conclusion, i would just like to propose "colors" by halsey as the next cattonquick anthem. thank you for your attention, please let me know your thoughts. yours, yes, you. cheers. god. peace out

[octuscle]

Hey there! I'm having a debate with my roommate and wondering if you can help settle it. He says that if you gave someone the body of a jock, without any mental changes, they'll eventually start acting like a jock anyway. I don't think that's true. Just because you have muscles and look like a jock doesn't mean you'll start acting like one, right? We were thinking of trying to set up an experiment for our honor's thesis and wanted your input, thanks!

Are you really sure you want to go through with it? We are happy to do it. I'll create a preset for you that only changes your body. But really. 1.90 m tall. 140 kg of pure muscle mass. But everything else stays the same. To be honest, you don't look like you're ready for it. But it's up to you. I can only recommend that you are in a safe and, above all, unobserved place when you activate the preset.

You take a deep breath. You stand naked in the middle of your room. Next to you, you have laid out a pair of tracksuit bottoms, a tank top, a jockstrap, a pair of socks and a pair of sneakers. You can only hope that the clothes will fit your new self. 3. 2. 1. enter!

Wow! Holy shit! Now that was quick and without a transition. You look down at the floor from a slightly greater height. And when you look down, all you see are pecs. Fucking huge pecs. You need a mirror. Phew! Very slowly! The new body works a little differently than the old one… Your center of gravity is much higher up. You stand in front of the mirror. This no longer has anything to do with you. It's more Greek demigod than human. Your cock is getting hard. A huge cock that fits this huge body. You never wank. Especially not in the middle of your room. But now you have to. Not for long. And a huge load lands on the mirror and the floor. Yes, I've changed a few details apart from the height and muscle mass. You've already noticed one thing. You'll notice the others too.

You're convinced that the new body won't change anything. So you act as you always have. First of all, you clean up the mess. You are manically clean and tidy. Then you put on your clothes. The shoes are a bit tight, but otherwise everything fits pretty well. So off you go to the library. After all, your honors thesis isn't going to write itself.

Iris and Rita at the information desk didn't recognize you when you greeted them. They looked at you as if you were an alien when you wished them a good morning. You sat down at your regular place in the library. You like routines. You started working on your thesis outline when Vincent came over. Vincent always sits three tables behind you. Nice guy, similarly obsessive as you. He clears his throat and says that you can't sit here, the seat is taken. Actually, you should have said something along the lines of "Vincent, don't you recognize me, it's me!". But somehow you can't help it. You have to try it out. You cross your muscular arms behind your head, look deep into his eyes and just ask who cares. Vincent retreats like a beaten dog. Three minutes later, you have a WhatsApp message: "There's some stupid musclehead sitting in your seat!" You reply that it's okay, you're not on campus for a few days for empirical studies anyway.

But you're not as productive as usual. Your new body is keeping you busier than you thought. It feels so good to tense your muscles. Your hard cock is constantly leaking precum and is always half stiff. Shit, after an hour you have to jerk off. Fuck, you make quite a mess in the toilet. You try to clean everything up with toilet paper. When you come out of the stall, a student is standing at the urinal, looking at you and wanking. Get out of here quickly, you think to yourself.

The incident is definitely worth recording. After all, you've never experienced this before. But it was hot. As you type out your thoughts, your stomach begins to growl. So loud that Vicent hisses "Pssst". It's actually too early for lunch. But the canteen is about to open. So you're one of the first in the queue. You can hardly wait. And you heap heaps of food onto your tray. You're so hungry.

The weather is good, you sit down at a table in the sun and, ignoring all the table manners, you wolf down your food. Suddenly you hear a voice shouting "Hey, guys, there are empty seats here with the big boy!" You look up. A couple of idiots from the football team are standing at your table. "Dude, okay if we join you?" asks one of the guys, who seems to be some kind of leader. "Sure thing," you say with your mouth full, spitting a bit of your chicken across the table. "Cool," he replies, giving you a fist bump, which you return somewhat hesitantly and also a little awkwardly. And before you know it, you're sitting in a cloud of sweat, testosterone and stupid comments.

You start talking to the boys more for scientific reasons. They ask if you're Fresman because they've never seen you before. You say that you're actually studying somewhere else, but you're here to work on your Honor's thesis. The leader spits his Coke across the table. "Fuck, dude! You already have a degree? In what? Lifting iron?" Everyone laughs. Very loudly. You too. It's actually really funny with the boys…

The boys go to the gym after lunch. I wonder if you're coming too. You don't even think about it. You just say that you haven't got anything to change into. Everyone laughs and asks if anyone is interested. So you go along. It's a field study, you think to yourself. You're observing everything very closely. You don't want to attract negative attention. The processes seem very simple. You copy what you see the boys doing. You even enjoy it. You work up a sweat. You forget the time. The others are gone at some point. You're still here. You look in the mirror. Your long, sweaty hair falls across your forehead. Your friends all have much shorter hair. It's also more practical when working out. You look at your watch. Shit!!!!! You have to get your stuff from the library before it closes. Trevor, sitting at the information desk, doesn't recognize you either. It's already very empty when you pack up your things. Vincent is still there, mumbling something about how antisocial it is to occupy a space you're not using. You don't know why you're doing this now. But you go to him very slowly. You press his face into your armpit. And say that you had more important things to do. Shit, Vincent is seriously licking the sweat out of your armpit hair now? Pathetic little fucker, your new friends would say now. You're far too surprised. By you. By him. Slightly disturbed, you go home. You throw yourself on your bed and think about your first day as a jock. You fall asleep.

You are actually a person who is always well prepared. But you are amazed at how little you have prepared for this experiment. You have a combination to wear. It's still sweaty after yesterday's workout. But you don't have anything else. So this morning you're not going to the library, but to the paint shop. Shopping. A pair of sweatshorts, a few tank tops, socks and jockstraps, sneakers. A bit of compression gear for training. You pass a barbershop. There are a couple of guys inside who are obviously no strangers to the gym either. Fuck it, you think. Down with the long hair!

You haven't been in the library this late in a long time. Vincent has blocked your seat for you. With a few protein bars. Cute! He winks at you when you come in. You raise your arm and smell your armpit. Shit, you haven't showered! Fuck… Well, maybe the little prick will like that even more…

By lunchtime with the boys, you at least want to have logged yesterday and this morning. And you're looking for some literature on the connection between mind and body. Most of it is ancient. Nothing has been published on the subject for a long time. And if there is, it's more about the effect of the state of mind on the body. Less often on the effect of the body on the state of mind. That's obvious, because normally a genius like you doesn't acquire a body overnight…

The lunch break with the boys was cool. The guys are just very chilled, you like that. No highbrow topics. Just sport, fucking and partying. Unfortunately, a lot of football too. You have no idea about that. After lunch, the boys want to throw some balls on the lawn. You have to go to a colloquium later. And Luke said that you should finally replace those nerdy glasses with contact lenses. The visit to the optician was a good excuse not to embarrass yourself at football.

A whole day without going to the gym sucks! That's why you got up early today. You didn't do your thesis assignments yesterday, nor did you get your muscles burning. That has to change. Shit, you're still struggling with your contact lenses. But it looks a thousand times better. You're screaming alpha with every trained muscle fiber. And that's great! You almost feel at home in the gym. And nobody questions your position. In the library, Vincent provides you with everything you need. He fetches books for you and takes them away again. He has also already offered to help you with your work. What a loser! You don't need to order anything in the canteen after just two days. Your extra large portion of extra protein-rich food is prepared especially for you. Twice. You come once when the canteen opens. And once just before it closes. Your body is a machine. And this machine needs fuel. Lots of fuel.

You sit in the library and document the developments of the last few days. It really is only a few days. Reading through the last few lines almost makes you nauseous. Has your body replaced your mind so quickly? You need to get a grip on yourself. You did your Master's with distinction. You're working on your honor's thesis. You have a chance of getting a professorship at your old college. And you suddenly prefer to spend more time in the gym or with the airheads on the football team? You make a plan. Two hours of gym in the morning, two hours break with the bros at lunchtime, two hours of gym in the evening. And in between, focus on your thesis and your studies. It shouldn't be that difficult. You're an intelligent and disciplined man. So let's get going!

You have made every effort. And you actually come to the conclusion in your thesis that the body of a jock does not automatically lead to the mind of a stupid, arrogant and superficial jock. You have fun with both. Training in the gym and hanging out with the bros. And working scientifically and researching the human psyche. But in a lecture you realize that it's not you who changes, it's your environment that changes you. Since you got this body three weeks ago, no one has spoken to you about your studies. Vincent, who you thought was intellectual through and through, just wants you to let him lick your armpits in the evening. Your bros didn't even ask you what you were studying. And then the day comes when you attend your doctoral supervisor's lecture. Since your transformation, you've only spoken or written on the phone. You sit in the front row. You appreciate your doctoral supervisor for his liberal political views, his rhetorical skills and his incredible knowledge. At the end of his lecture, he looks at you. And asks if the young man, who unfortunately was unable to dress appropriately, understood a word of what he had just said. He assumes you were mistaken in the lecture hall. But if you invest your energy in your biceps and not your brain, that's to be expected.

First you think about whether you are saying anything particularly intelligent. To express your indignation at his insolence. To justify yourself. But then you think about what has been really fun in the last few weeks. And who you really had fun with. And you answer "Nah, professor dude! Dat wuz alot of words n stff u sed. I dnt thnk I need all dat for my degree as a personal trainer. wdut, bro?" You make your pecs dance. The lecture hall laughs. You stand up. Fuck the honor's thesis!

You started studying sports economics again. You also work as a trainer in a fitness studio. And you have a pretty successful YouTube fitness channel. You recently received a call from your old doctoral supervisor. He read through the draft of your honor's thesis again. It was all very promising. Why did you drop out? You say that you obviously have to choose between brains and brawn at some point. And you're grateful to him for helping you decide. And with that you hang up.

[petew21-blog]

Can you do an old man criminal young soldier body swap, please?

Ben, the freshly enrolled cadet, had to wake up early that day. Why? Because some old dipshit had to escape prison few days ago and was rumored to be in the area nearby. The military was there to help the police in order to capture this escapee.

The split into groups. Ben's group got the forest. They got near an old cabin that has been abandonem many years ago

They searched the area and entered the building. Besides discovering some voodoo rituals they also found proof of someone squatting here not that long ago. There was a warm lighter on the doorstep of the backdoor entrance.

Ben's P.O.V.

"He can't be far. Must have heard us closing in." one of my firends screamed out.

The group got out of the building. I stayed behind to take photos and look for more evidence for the police. What I didn't expect was that he run out of the secret room beneath the floor and jump me.

He was strong for an old man. But he had an advantage, because I honestly had no idea that he was there. I have to get him or I'll get in trouble.

A fight followed. He managed to get me on the ground and choke me. Then he pulled away a bit, because he resched for the voodoo totem in the middle of the ritual. He snapped the totem in half. Bunch of mess, dust and something smelly fell directly into mine and his face.

The last thing I remember was him laughing hysterically. Then, darkness.

I woke up to the sound of my group approaching. They must have heard the screaming and the old man's laughter. I opened my eyes and then pain followed. My face was pressed on the ground. My hands behind my back, handcuffed.

"Now you'll go back where you belong fucker." I heard a VERY familiar voice.

I turned my head and saw my own body talking to someone. At that moment, I don't know what came over me. I got hysterical. Maybe if I explained who I am and gave them some details, then they might have trusted me. But I only screamed and cried and scream again.

The police arrived and the last thing I saw was my body looking at me with a mischievous grin, grabbing my body's crotch and winking at me.

This can't be happening

Abraham's P.O.V.

I am finally free. The escape was only a small part of the plan. The bigger one was to get all the ingredients to do the ritual and swap with someone. Poor fucker, he's gonna get a proper beating in jail. Well that's not my problem now. My only goal is to go unnoticed and start my new young life.

Ah, man. I can't wait much longer. They have to leave now or else I might explode all this cum right here in these clothes.

It took them 30 more minutes before they left me alone. I didn't have any chores as a reward for capturing him. Heh, right you fuckers. I won't be staying much longer.

I collapsed on the chair. Pretending to be someone else is surprisingly more stressful than I rememeber.

Anyway. Time to explore this new body! Wait! This guy seems strong. Let me just try something

Holy shit. What a stamina. It doesn't even hurt to lift myself. And those abs. Yeah. I'll be enjoying this. I laid down on the bed.

These are so hot man. I have NEVER in my life had these before. He must be in great shape overall.

I took off my shirt and decided I want to have some fun

Let's show these fucker's who's really storno. I got into the gym to show off my new body. Some of the guys tried not to look at me, but others just kept staring.

I went to the showers to enjoy myself in the mirror. Someone left their shaving cream and I could already feel the need to shave.

"Man, I look great!"

I took off the rest of the clothes and hopped into the shower. Being this fit is truly awesome. The tightness and horniness that I feel from beeing this strong is undiscrabable. I started jerking my new cock. Which was nicely curved, not that big, but wide enough to please some of the women I'm about to fuck. Or men, who knows.

I masturbated with no shame at all. Someone even came during my session and rather left instead of watching me enjoy myself. I finished all over the floor and just left it there.

Before the end of the day I was released from my duties for many inappropriate behavioirs. How should I know that those guys don't like to experiment with each other. I don't know what their issue was.

Anyway, I got on the nearest bus to get into town. Found the nearest shop and got me some fine cigarettes.

"I have missed this so fucking much" I said before coughing rapidly. "Not used to it, huh boy? Well don't worry, that's about to change" I took a puff of my cigarette heading of to the nearest bar.

A new life begins!

[divineerdrick]

Homestuck: Beyond Canon Upd8 for August 11, 2024

So I've heard we have an upd8 today! And we've got a news post too! Right off the bat, we'll have another chapter "a little later in the month." Guess I'll have to keep my ear to the ground. Not sure there's an extension out there that can determine when the team upd8s a Ren'py game attached to their website.

I haven't been able to support the Patreon for a bit, so I'm unaware of the music previews James mentions. His little spiel makes me worried he might go Grimdark at some point . . .

We've still got another collab in the works, but we don't have the details yet. And yeah, I've been experiencing heat where I live that definitely slowed me down a peg.

On to the upd8!

Holy crap! Year 4!

Even with the realizations she made before, apparently this is still really slow going.

Nanna!

Oh wow! She's literally growing up! Wherever she is, she's physically aging in what is probably real time. Here's a shot from the last blog for comparison.

Her hair and horns are both longer, she's taller in frame, her neck is longer, and her eyes and mouth sit smaller on her face. Somehow though, she's still fitting into her outfit. Wonder if they're letting her alchemize new clothes?

Oh man! We've apparently missed some reconciliation with Eridan, John, and Kanaya! I feel especially robbed about missing out on the Kanaya portion. But we all know who the "HER" is. Though it would be a hilarious fake out if it was Nepeta or Feferi!

Hah! We apparently have both Nannasprites here!

Vriska does not say no to cookies!

We get another callback to Vriska's previous adventures as she remembers talking to John about their relationships with their ancestors. But she apparently doesn't understand how humans can have family ties. At least she seems more curious about it now.

Of course Nanna would have to describe having a child as having "novelty". It's nice to see a little bit more background on this version of Jane.

Vriska just cannot get past the idea why anyone would put up with a baby given the unavoidable accidents.

Nannasprite has apparently seen everything Jane has accomplished and is, at the very least, curious how things might have turned out if she hadn't settled down.

Wow. That had to really suck. Nana never felt loved or even wanted before she settled down. That might have been why finding someone who did love her and want to start a family with her caused her to change all her plans.

This is another attitude that Vriska previously would never have considered. She was always certain she had to be best, had to surpass every expectation, and very much felt she had a destiny to fulfill. The idea that someone would just "give up" on all that and do their own thing is more alien to her than humanity itself.

Wow! Vriska was actually mindful she might have lost her cool and genuinely apologized! She is learning!

And some genuine affection here too.

Wait! That's broken Paradox Space! Is Vriska facing Game Over Terezi?

And these are Vriska's typing quirks! Wait! Does she have to come to terms with Game Over Vriska? AKA (Vriska)? Does she have to reconcile with herself?

Wait! Mindfang? Does she have to come to terms with her relationship with Mindfang? If that's the case, no wonder she's not getting anywhere. Everything else has probably been about figuring out what the other person wants. But Vriska's problem was she was always trying to live up to Mindfang, an extremely poor example and role model. In this case, she almost certainly need to stop caring about what Mindfang might want.

Oh! It's not Mindfang! It's Vriska's idea of her, all wrapped up in her relationship with her lusus. It's basically both of Vriska's parental figures rolled into one.

She definitely needs to not give a shit about what this entity wants! While there is value in understanding who her lusus was and who Mindfang was, there is no value in engaging with them. This is all about Vriska learning how trying to live up to their needs and expectations, instead of living up to her own desires, caused her so much pain and heartache.

Heh! "Momfang."

Wow! They really are wrapped into one!

Also I can't decide if this reminds me more of the Venom symbiote or Conceptual Hair.

It is important that Vriska recognizes that these two entities were formative to her. But I really feel like that's all there is here. Understanding who they were and the impact they had on her life. The next revelation is that this doesn't need to define her.

Momfang's words echo a lot of Vriska's own thoughts and words on death and murder. Whether she, or indeed we, like it or not, Vriska does need to forgiver herself for her past. But not by accepting the violent environment as justification. She needs to understand that while she has extenuating circumstances for what she did, Vriska still did those things. She has to come to terms with that and forgive herself for it.

Vriska has learned from Vrissy! Suffering is not what makes you strong. Just as the muscles of a body builder tend to be weaker, more limited, and even useless compared to those of an athlete, suffering often comes with just as much that weakens you. Strength always has to come from within. Someone's strength who gets there through finding something or someone to be strong for is just as valid as someone who gets there through pursuit of an ambition is just as valid as someone who gets there through hardship is just as valid as, well, any path that gets you there. It's a bitter pill if you're the one who's suffered. But it is the truth.

Even on Alternia, none of this was ever fine. Even by their standards, her childhood was full of abuse and violence.

Man! The team is determined to make Momfang's twisting form as creepy as they can for mostly still images!

I don't know if Beforan Lusus could be like this, or if this quirk was part of Scratch's work. But we clearly see that some Lusus just weren't good guardians, despite coevolution. "But so are some parents!" I hear you cry! That's still different. While it's possible in the vast variety of humanity to be raised by a true monster, most abusive parents are still human. There are paths victims of abuse can take to find comfort or even peace and understanding because of this.

Vriska's "mom" is literally a spider, an animalistic predator. "HUNGRY. KILL. FUCK. EAT. FEED." On earth, even when spiders demonstrate sentience and intelligence, it is from an entirely different evolutionary path. We could not relate to the mind of a spider. And neither can Vriska.

There are many reasons why a parent may become abusive.

Vriska's was abusive because that helped it find prey.

Yep. This is not about what Momfang wants. It's about what Vriska wants. "And wasn't considering it now, to 8e clear." Again. Spider!

Huh! But that doesn't stop Vriska's image of Mindfang from being curious.

Vriska knows part of what's wrong. But as most of us know all too well, knowing what a problem is only the first step in fixing it. All you can do is try to catch yourself when "you're doing it again," while also trying to not make that become something you're constantly on guard about.

"Oh my god. Tavros was right!!!!!!!!!"

As was Nannasprite! You're supposed to learn form each of these "sessions" and use that to help with the next.

Now I'm sure that "h8r" is talking about Terezi.

We've often believed that what we read of Mindfang's journal was tame. Homesmut Mindfang is apparently canon.

No Momfang! No! You do not get to use Mayor callbacks!

"What will you do?"

Vriska knows what she wants. How does she prove it? Killing or being eaten seems like it's just more of the same. This could just be as simple as walking away.

Only way to win is not to play. It was always a false binary. There was always another option, it was just a case of seeing it.

Happy Vriska is best Vriska!

Yep! Just walk away!

Yeah, no! No hug for you!

Can't decide if I like "Gestalt of Rivia" or "Hierarchy of Arachneeds" more!

Let's not stop there though! I feel like we know enough now about how this works to start making some predictions.

So the Cueball suggests Scratch. He also played a great role in Vriska's life and actions. How Vriska needs to grow past him is trickier. Scratch was only ever using her, and I'm pretty sure Vriska knows this. Now she's dealt with Momfang, though, I don't think she'd get hung up on him. He is considerably cannier than Momfang, but this still feels like a misdirect. It could potentially lead to Rose. She's the other Hero of Light after all, and she and Vriska have both Scratch and the Cueball in common. I'm willing to bet Vriska didn't take enough advantage of Rose's presence on the meteor. This might create a scenario where she just has to learn from her fellow Hero.

Then we have a feather. This is probably the hardest to draw any conclusions from. The only character in Homestuck connected to feathers is Dave. Another potential hero to learn from. It's just hard to imagine not having to reconcile with Terezi, and I'm pretty sure she's not the 8ball. But I also can't think of how the feather connects her to . . .

Scales! It's a bit of a reach, but scales and feathers do have a connection. Also, why would Vriska have a feather? Maybe it's a quill that she used in her FLARPing days? Either way, I'm gonna say the feather is Terezi. Mostly because it's what I want.

The 8ball will be (Vriska). Vriska needs to come to terms with her Game Over self. She needs to realize that it not only was she wrong to look down on her, but that (Vriska) was always right to just look for happiness. (Vriska) was always valid and deserves to lose those parenthesis. Even if they are really convenient.

[projectbluearcadia]

Happy Birthday, Lucifer! '24

NSFW Lucifer x F!MC Spice Rating - 4/4 HOLY F*CK THAT'S HOT

[ Scenario: It's Lucifer's birthday, and you've decided to give him some special stress relief as his present. ]

---

Winner, winner, girlie dinner: As of 6/5 13:15, the vote was for Lucifer to dominate the shit out of you and use you as his stress ball with 28.7% of the votes. 6% higher (roughly 17 people) than the vote to spoil him.  That being said, Lucifer may still be spoiled in a week or so because it was such a close contest for a while... --- To those who fear my masochistic tastes, I kept it relatively vanilla. Mostly. With that said, CW: Spanking (open hand); Orgasm denial; Overstimulation; Creampie; Ripping clothing(?) ---

Also, this was supposed to be gender-neutral. But I ended up making it centered towards female genitalia again because I am a whore for details. To male-identifying individuals who either do not want their muffin used for sex or only possess the fabled cucumber,

I am very sorry. > ~ <

---

Wordcount: 3972 (Don't worry; it's mostly sex.)

smutty notes (consult if you haven’t read my smut before.)

“Lucifer?” you say softly as you knock on his door frame. He’s too busy mumbling under his breath, his hair disheveled and the muscles in his left cheek twitching with annoyance. His room is a disaster area, his belongings scattered on the floor as he tromps his way across his bedroom, shoving things around in his wardrobe. “Luci? Honey, hello? What’s the matter?”

“Oh…” Lucifer finally glances at you, his face softening a little. “MC. Hi. Hello. What do you want? Don’t look at the mess.” Difficult, but okay. 

“Are you looking for something?” 

“No,” he says, a little too sharply before he stubbornly looks away. Did the poor baby lose his necklace again? Honestly… I thought I already told him not to worry about it. 

“Then why are you so worked up when Diavolo and I made sure you could take today off? You know we’re not letting you forget your birthday exists again.” You fold your arms, and Lucifer stares at his fireplace before he kneels and starts raking the ashes restlessly. 

“I’m not worked up,” he grumbles. 

“Lucifer, you’re not going to gain anything by lying to me. Come on; what’s the matter?” You crouch next to him, stopping his hand from raking, and he looks at you. “Remember, I can help you, but I can only help you out if you tell me what you’re looking for.” 

Lucifer is silent for a long, awkward several moments. Then:

“My necklace. I don’t know how, because I made sure that I always drape it on the skeleton’s hand, but I’ve looked everywhere.” Lucifer’s eyes shine. “As if it wasn’t bad enough that Diavolo has been frosty with me, my brothers have been trying to hog you all to themselves, and now I’m losing my sanity. I swear I put it on the skeleton. I always put it there, and now it’s gone.” 

You let out a low groan. Yeah. Being secretive was a mistake; this idiot would have been too absorbed in work anyway to realize we were talking about his birthday.

“Lucifer, you’re not going crazy. We can look for it later. I just want you to enjoy your birthday today, okay? That’s your only job today. Enjoy your birthday. I even have a nice surprise for you tonight. Now, how about we go downstairs and get some breakfast in you? I cut some Princess Poison Apples.” 

“...fine,” he mumbles, though it seems as if he’s still hovering in a sea of annoyance and worry as he stands and follows you into the dining room to find what you made for him, even as you dart to the corner, where you put one of his favorite cursed records into a gramophone and start it playing.

It fills up the silence left by his brothers currently taking care of his work at R.A.D. A part of you feels bad for having him share breakfast with you alone, but as the morning goes on, some of his stress seems to dissolve. You smile to yourself, arrogantly believing that he’d start to wind down by evening. 

Unfortunately, that evening, you find out that the reason Lucifer couldn’t find his necklace that morning was because Mammon nicked it. Not because he was going to pawn it; instead, he had it enchanted by a sorceress so that it would let out an alarming cry—so that was why Belphie was recording you screaming! Bitch!—when Lucifer overworked himself. It really is a thoughtful gift, which is the only reason you’re able to stop Lucifer from hanging Mammon from the ceiling. 

Lucifer calms down at your behest, but it becomes quite clear to you that he majorly bottled up his stress throughout the past few days. A part of you feels guilty, since you’ve been so busy trying to help throw this party for Lucifer that he must have felt left out. Even if he seemed like he enjoyed most of the day… 

You find yourself changing your plan for the night; you were originally going to shower him with praise and pleasure the shit out of him, but you think he needs to let off some steam. He’ll probably like it if you told him to mark you up after he spent several days feeling jealous and maybe even irritated with you.

“Use me like your stress ball.” 

“...what?” Lucifer asks, confused as he closes the door behind you, locking it, the door briefly glowing blue before returning to normal. “MC, I could never do that to you…” His words trail off as he watches you slide your shirt off, then your pants, his eyes lingering on every inch of your lingerie-clad body. “Is that part of my present tonight?” 

You saunter up to Lucifer, laying your fingers on the back of his neck, rubbing his cheek as you reply, “Part of it, yes.”

“You were wearing that… all day?” It seems as if he’s just as annoyed as he is excited by that fact as you nod your head. “Just how do you think something like that is acceptable…? You couldn’t have told me earlier? I’ve wanted to touch you all day, but I didn’t because you put so much thought and effort into celebrating with me.” 

“Oh, honey…” You kiss his cheek, only for him to snatch up your lips like a hungry wolf. He kisses you, his tongue smashing up against yours, quickly overpowering you and claiming your mouth like it’s his first time doing so. You moan as you break for air, softly panting. “Dominate the shit out of me; let out all of that stress.” 

“Are you sure you want to give me a blank check like that?” Lucifer asks softly, almost dangerously, and you get yourself close to his ear to whisper:

“It’s your birthday present, Lucifer. Do things to me that you wouldn’t normally dare ask for. I’ll tell you if I don’t want it.” 

Those words snap whatever tether is keeping him in check. 

In the next instant, he has you pinned against the wall, both your wrists in one hand and clamped high above your head. His other hand is busy feeling your body up and down as he smashes his lips back over yours, a startled grunt leaving your mouth as he does so. His fingers drag just under your skimpy underwear, teasing you sweetly with the offer of getting closer to your sensitive spots.

When he breaks from you again, your chest heaves for breath, saliva dropping from your mouth as he moves away. Dammit, not that look… have mercy, you find yourself thinking as Lucifer fucks you with his eyes, his mind undoubtedly racing with all the possibilities of all the different ways he can wreck you.

“Do you… have any idea how much it gets under my skin when I ask you for the smallest amount of time, and you refuse me?” 

“Well, I—”

“No.” he growls, pressing his index finger firmly over your swollen lips. “I already know what you’re going to say. You’re going to say it was for my surprise, but I hated it. I don’t like being ignored. I don’t like not getting what I want. You’re all mine, so why did I have to watch you go off and do things with my brothers? Things I want to do with you?” 

“We can do those—” you try to say, but Lucifer puts his gloved finger in your mouth. Then another, stroking your tongue, and the taste of leather fills your mouth. 

“We can, and we will,” he whispered darkly. “But that doesn’t mean you’re getting off the hook. I think you deserve a punishment. A punishment that will ensure you won’t do that to me again.” 

An eager moan slips out of your mouth, and Lucifer starts to gently thrust his fingers back and forth, as if giving you a taste of what he’s going to do to you later. His knee finds its way between your legs, grinding into your core. You close your eyes, grinding back, and he stops. 

“Do you think you’re allowed to cum?” Lucifer chuckles, nipping your ear, making you almost bite his fingers in surprise. “Guess again. I’m the only one who can give you permission, and you don’t have it. Now suck my fingers before I stuff your mouth full with something much less pleasant.” Like what? Like rope? Like a gag? You don’t mean your cock, do you? Lucifer, I will suck all of them, and I will fucking relish it when it puts that happy look on your face. 

“Hn..gmh…” you groan onto his fingers as you wrap your tongue around them, hollowing out your cheeks. Lucifer hums with approval, dragging his lips down your neck with open-mouthed kisses. His teeth scrape you as he starts to suck on the skin. Muffled noises, some startled and others needy, leave your throat as he attacks your sensitive spots. This was the right choice, you think as he leans away, his tongue darting out briefly over his lower lip.

He takes his saliva-coated fingers out of your mouth before he pulls closer to you, those fingers dragging up your exposed belly and leaving a wet streak across the skin. You shiver as his lips ghost over yours, not giving you the kiss you desire. 

“Lucifer,” you whisper desperately, and his lips pass over yours to place a kiss on your cheek instead. 

“That’s better,” he softly purrs, his palm smoothing back downwards, so temptingly that you shake, trying to get him to get him to touch lower, but he denies you. “But it’s not enough.” Lucifer finally releases your wrists from his hand, and you hear his own wrist crack as he rotates the joint slowly.

He takes his tie off, unbuttoning his waistcoat before he grabs you by the waist, and the next thing you know, he has you up in the air. Then he has you slung over his shoulder, one hand tightly squeezing one ass-cheek as he carries you away from the wall. 

Startled, you yelp and struggle a little as all the blood goes rushing to your head, only for Lucifer’s hand to playfully slap your buttocks.  

“Kick me again,” he softly growls, “and I won’t show mercy.” 

Mentally, you make a note to kick him again later as he walks over to his bed and roughly flops you onto it, his bedsprings making a quiet but petty complaint in response. You expect him to crawl on top of you, or at the very least sit on the bed, but he remains standing, raking his hand through his hair as a loose strand gets in his eyes. 

“Fondle yourself,” he demands, his fingers tapping impatiently on his tricep as he folds his arms. “No, MC. Don’t take it off. That’s my privilege.” His domineering figure towers over your exposed, pathetic one, and you find yourself biting your lip in anticipation as you trace your fingers over your breasts, toying shyly with your nipples over your underwear. You mewl and gasp with need, aching for his fingers instead as you drag one hand down your stomach, down into your panties. 

“Lucifer, please,” you whisper desperately as you rub and stroke yourself with a fervor that grows by the second. Watch me more. “I want you… I want you to fuck me.” 

You tilt your head back, getting so into Lucifer watching you while lewd gasps and cries pour out of your lips that you’re already starting to lose it. You can feel your insides begging you, and how can you possibly deny yourself?

Lucifer, however, is perfectly fine denying you as he snaps up the hand under your underwear, stopping you from coming undone. Bastard! Bastard! You think, feeling whiny and defeated as he scolds you. 

“I thought I told you…” he rumbles against your ear, “that you need my permission to cum.” You wriggle under him, shivering and aching for any kind of stimulation, only for Lucifer to press his weight down on you. You wheeze, patting his shoulder, and he gives you an apologetic look as he picks himself back up, kissing your forehead. “Sometimes I forget that you’re weaker than me.” He smirks at you imperiously, and you’re about to fire something back before he kisses you again. “Now… you tried to disobey me.” You feel your insides jolt as Lucifer smirks. 

“Ah!” you cry out as he flips you onto your stomach, his hands lingering on your thighs before his body leaves you cold and wanting. 

“On your hands and knees,” he orders so calmly that it sends a chill down your spine. Or maybe that was just his finger, tracing down over your vertebrae, dropping off at the tailbone. Is it going to be doggy-style today? Is he going to do what I think he’s going to do?

Just as you manage to work yourself onto your hands and knees, he spreads your thighs further apart until you’re almost unbalanced. He takes a tight hold of the crotch of your underwear. He pulls, pressure building against the front as it digs into your clit, and you almost howl. 

…RIP!

Lucifer chortles, and you can hear him covering his mouth as you gasp and mewl at the sudden loss of the fabric as it makes a barely audible wet sound against the floor. You can feel how excited his heart is even through his gloves. The gloves which disappear in a matter of seconds as hot, damp skin meets your thigh. 

“What a naughty girl,” he murmurs, and his nails graze up your thigh. Up. Up. Up. 

“Mmm…mmm…” Slurp. Your mouth falls open, startled as Lucifer’s fingers easily slip inside you. One, two, three, in quick succession. Rubbing against your soaking wet walls as your legs tremble, desperately trying to keep yourself from slumping into a frog-like position. “Hgn… Luci—AGH!” His fingers curl, hard, right before he takes them back out again and brings them in front of your face. Dripping wet, just like you. Is he going to make me lick them???

“Were you looking forward to your punishment that much?” 

“Y-Yes…” you gasp out, and Lucifer drags his hand—and your fluids—down your lips, down your neck to give your breast a tender squeeze. And, a moment after that hand leaves, a loud, fleshy slap hits your ears, taking your breath away. “Ugh!” 

“Say you’re sorry,” he growls impatiently, his breathing getting irregular as you hear him snap his buttons open. (Evidently, someone’s finally getting sweaty in all that clothing.) His hand comes down on your ass again, harder than before, and you gasp with the impact. 

“I-I’m sor—” SLAP! “—RY!” Your head drops as your arms quiver. You hear a zipper, and almost instinctively buck your hips, needy. Lucifer’s response is another hard swat in the same spot, making tears bubble up in your eyes. 

“Louder,” he rasps through his teeth. He’s going fucking feral. Let me see his face. Please let me see it!  

“I’m sorry!” you wail, and you almost scream at the next slap. 

“Good girl,” his voice shudders, and just as your strength leaves your limbs with his praise, he has you on your back again, his beautiful chest in full view as he guides his swollen cock inside you, rosy and leaking a milky white. His expression beautifully crumples as he digs his fingers into your thighs, squeezing his eyes shut with his veins sharply standing out in his neck. Restraining himself, you realize, from just slamming into you. 

Of course, that thought goes out the window as you hook your legs around his waist and shove him closer. His crimson eyes dance with his lust before he thrusts into you harder, his pace picking up until you can’t follow it anymore. 

“Ugh! Oh! Ah! More!” you chant like a bird, and Lucifer rewards you by groaning right in your fucking ear. Like the sound of his cock getting slurped at by your sopping wet entrance wasn’t dirty enough, he just had to add that into the mix. 

“You’re the perfect… ghh… fit. I’m almost getting stuck from you clenching so hard. Do you need my cock inside you that badly that you won’t let me back out?” he whispers dirtily, teasingly pulling out by an inch before hitting your favorite spot harder. 

“AGH!” you gasp out, gripping Lucifer’s upper back, and he bites your collar with a moan. 

“Just… like that.” His lips trail down to the top of your breast, his hips working at you furiously, his bed now actively whining at the force of his thrusts. 

“Lucifer!” you cry out, your orgasm winding up further and further as he grinds onto your poor clit while he fucks you.  

“Say my name again,” he scrapes out, leaving another hickey on your chest. 

“Lucifer!” you wail. “Please! I’m going to—”

“Cum, now.” he growls, and that’s all it takes to set you off, scratching his back hard as Lucifer clenches his teeth, his expression focused on his task of finding his own release. It doesn’t take him long as you babble nonsense with stars in your vision, falling apart on Lucifer’s cock. 

Sense just barely returns to you when you notice Lucifer pulled himself out and came on your stomach, some of his hot semen soaking into what was left of your lingerie. A flicker of disappointment hits you, and apparently it shows, because Lucifer asks you, panting, what’s bothering you. 

“...you didn’t have to pull out,” you mumble, feeling your face warm as Lucifer’s eyes widen, and shortly afterwards, dance with new fire. His softening member revives itself, twitching with a new excitement.

“Is that so?” he grinds out, a hint of playfulness flitting into his voice. “You want me to cum inside you?” He leans closer, his grin almost manic. “Be careful what you wish for.” 

“Why? I’m not tired yet.” 

“No,” he says, “I mean that I might breed you.” 

Fuck! 

“Try it,” you dare, and Lucifer chuckles, rubbing your cheek with his thumb.  

“That’s cute, honey, but you don’t have that kind of stamina.” 

A stunted retort leaves your mouth as Lucifer thrusts himself back inside your noisy pussy, his breath feathering like torn fabric. It’s as you shake your stiff fingers, which have been curled into his back muscles for a hot minute, that you realize one of your fingertips is wet. 

“...Lucifer, you’re bleeding.” 

“Am I now? Are you trying to chicken out on me? On my birthday?” 

“No, but—” 

Slap! The sound of Lucifer’s balls hitting your skin as he offers you a deep thrust that sends your brain spinning. 

“Since when,” 

“AH! Oh!” 

“has that ever stopped me? I can’t even feel it, so you’d better make sure you tear into my back nice and hard for round two. Understand?” As you stupidly nod your head, you’re left wondering if he had been holding out on you the first time, because he’s even more energetic like the first time was just a warm-up. 

“AGH! AHN!” you screech, and drool starts to spill out of your mouth. He’s brutally nursing your clitoris with his thumb as his length pounds into you, as if it wasn’t enough that he was already doing a great job of giving you the friction you wanted. He shifts your hips up, hitting your g-spot harder as he plows into you. His brows scrunch together with his pleasure, his pace faltering as you squeeze him harder. 

“Ugh… Fucking hell, MC,” he groans, dipping his head. 

“What?” you ask, though your voice sounds wildly distorted like someone was playing with the frequency knobs on a mixing console. 

“I need… to do this right after you orgasm a lot more often… so you don’t fall asleep on me.” 

“I don’t always…!” you protest before your voice breaks as a jolt of pleasure ripples through your lower body. Lucifer lets out a fragmented chuckle, his flushed skin seeming to ripple before your eyes from his wild pulse. 

“What was that? I couldn’t… hear you,” he mocks, hammering you harder than ever as your mind slips further and further from your grasp. “Come… on, say it louder for me… your cunt is too noisy.”

You stopped listening, because the moment he said ‘Come’, your brain fogged over, expecting that to be an order. This time, your orgasm was more laborious to work up, but it destroyed all sense of self as it washed over you in wave after wave of pure, unadulterated ecstasy. 

And Lucifer is working you through it, now openly moaning as he furiously pleasures you, stroking and circling your sensitive little bud like it's his purpose in life. 

“You know, that wasn’t permission,” he purrs, biting the shell of your ear as you just barely manage to touch base with earth again. And now you’re screaming even louder because he’s overstimulating you, beaming like a lunatic. Sadist! Bully! you cry inside your head, but it’s too good for him to stop. You’re making all kinds of pretty faces for him, after all, and you’re enjoying yourself plenty, now aren’t you? How many orgasms are you going to show him tonight, hm?

It takes you a long moment to realize he came, and holy shit your insides are full of his semen. The thought almost sends you into a wild fit of arousal by itself without the warmth of his release reminding you of the fact. 

Lucifer simpers down at you, sweat dripping down his nude body as he flips his messy hair back out of his face, his chest lightly heaving with the exertion of his actions. 

“Happy?” he asks, his crimson eyes flickering with mischief as you pant, and you almost say ‘yes’ before you remember the whole point was to give him a present. 

“It’s your birthday, silly,” you croak, and he laughs a little to himself. 

“Yes, I am very happy, MC,” he replies, kissing you slowly and sweetly. “But it’s not my birthday if you didn’t like it.” 

“Of course I liked it, but was that even enough for you???” 

“It was enough. Ignore it,” he soothes. “It’ll go down again.” 

“Lucifer…” you groan. 

“You’re exhausted, darling; rest. You can wake me up with your mouth if you really feel that strongly about it.” Lucifer flops down next to you, squishing your tired body in his arms as contentment radiates off him. Well… if nothing else, I think he’s significantly less stressed right now, so goal accomplished? 

“You’re so sweaty,” you chuckle as your face rubs against his chest, and he laughs delightfully back.

“I’ll clean you up, and then I’ll get a shower,” he promises, kissing your cheekbone before relinquishing his hold on you. It isn’t what you meant, but he’s already pulling his trousers back on and making his way—shirtless—to the main bath across the hall.

He can be such a big dumb-dumb sometimes, you think with a little smile before he comes back, a faintly steaming rag in hand. He delicately—finally—takes off your lingerie before he wipes you down, saving the splattering of his seed for last. He finishes, about to leave to take his shower, only for you to grab hold of his arm like an overly affectionate cat. 

“Cuddle,” you demand. 

“I thought I was sweaty?” 

“And I didn’t say that was a bad thing. Get back here.” Lucifer smirks.

“As you wish,” he replies as he re-joins you on the bed, getting himself comfortable. “How about a bath together tomorrow morning? I promise I’ll behave.” 

“Sounds fine to me,” you reply, kissing him, full-well knowing you wouldn’t behave yourself. “I love you, Lucifer. Happy birthday.” 

“I love you too,” he whispers as your conscious mind fades, and you slowly lose the battle to sleep, nestled in each other’s arms. 

[the-kr8tor]

Threaded Through

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Word count: 6.7k

Tags: Use of Y/N sparsely, No specific physical description of the reader (except for her clothing), Hobie is mentioned taller than R, CW food mention, Drinking, CW spiders, TW arachnophobia, Suggestive content, Fluff.

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Thread the Needle Masterlist

CHAPTER 9 >>> CHAPTER 10

"Hobie!" You whisper yell, "what are you doing?" Eyes scanning the dark, ears perking up at the chains rattling.

"Relax, no one's here" Hobie slips through the metal gate where the chains of the lock stretched enough to give him room to wiggle himself inside. "C'mon then" he extends his hand to you, flexing his fingers impatiently. The dirty sign on the gate reads 'no trespassing' adding to your worry.

You tap your foot, biting your lip, looking behind the abandoned theme park. "Nuh uh, nope" shaking your head, you're sure something ran past behind a decrepit tent. "I'm not dying inside the old carnival! Let's just go back to the party"

"That party sucks, they're playing spin the bottle, bloody original of 'em" he scoffs, rolling his eyes. "Besides we've got the good booze" sure enough, Hobie brings out a bottle of vodka tucked inside his zipped leather jacket. The liquid swishes inside as he shakes it for good measure.

"Where'd you even get that?" You laugh, surprised, eyes twinkling in the moonlight.

"Brent's dad's liquor cabinet" he says, a smug smile on his lips. "Come the fuck on, I'm freezing my balls off" Hobie lifts up the chains as far as it would allow so you could duck under it.

"We have exams on Monday!"

"Easy enough, it's all just stock knowledge" he points at his temple.

"For you it is. I'm not like you, I actually need to revise."

"And you will, Come on" Hobie sees you sticking to your stance, sighing. "If i help you revise tomorrow will you come inside?"

"Fine, I'll blame you if we get murdered by a killer clown" You duck under while Hobie's hand shields your head from the rusty metal.

"I can take him–" Hobie stops mid sentence as you stand to your full height, face mere inches away from him. So close he can see every detail of your face, how the light bounces off your eyes, clouds of air puffing out of your lips. His breath hitches in his throat.

"You and those skinny arms? Don't think so, Hobs" you try to play it off, lips pursing closed, trying to even out your breathing. "Where to go next?" You chuckle nervously, stepping away from him, taking in his sudden silence as him being uncomfortable.

"I've been eyeing that ferris wheel" Hobie shakes his head, clearing his thoughts. He walks side by side with you, keeping you close. In case there is a killer clown on the loose.

Eyes on the rickety ride. "God, no! That thing hasn't been working since the eighties, you wanna kill us?" You didn't notice that Hobie's not next to you anymore, whirling, you look for him. "Hobie? Hobie! What the fuck?" Hugging your bubble jacket closer to you in comfort. "It's not funny, Hobart!" Yelling out, you have a sudden urge to run away, but you don't, not intending to leave him.

You jump when lights suddenly turn on, blinking at you. Colorful bulbs do their best to stay on after not being used for years. You gasp out, laughing breathlessly. The place doesn't seem so scary now. You half expect the speakers to come back to life, but it doesn't, the only noise is from the whirring of the old generator and crickets singing in the dark.

Hobie lingers on the side, bottle in hand, completely enthralled with you bathed in light. A love sick smile stuck on his face.

"Hobie! Holy shit" noticing him, you call out to your best friend, waving your arms in delight.

He saunters to you, absolutely smug, you scoff playfully at his ego. "Let's hear it" Hobie brings his hand to the shell of his ear, acting like he can't hear you.

"What do you want me to say? Good job?"

"How 'bout 'You're the man, Hobie!' Or just start showering me with praises"

"I'll shower you with that vodka if you don't stop"

"Rude of you to assume I wouldn't actually like that"

You shove him lightly, "Good job flicking a switch, Hobart"

"Oi, I had to figure out which switch to open"

Rolling your eyes, you grab his arm, putting a stop to your bickering, if you don't you two would've gone all night. Leading him further inside, Hobie slyly moves his arm so he could hold your hand instead, you pretend to not notice, finding the lights to be the most interesting thing in the world, your hand cups his warm ones, squeezing it lightly.

Friends do this too, right?

Hand in hand, you stop at a booth that looks like it was for some kind of carnival game. Cartoon clowns lined up on the far back, mouths open. There's still some stuffed toys hanging on the side of the booth albeit too dirty or broken to take with you.

"Oh man, I wanted one" You pout, leaning on the divider to check for better looking toys. Hobie copies your movement, rummaging behind the counter.

Something hits your head with a squeak, you glare at Hobie acting nonchalant, feigning innocence as he examines a soft ball. You bet that it squeaks when squeezed.

"Oh 'kay" you bite your lip, blindingly reaching out towards the first thing you touch, unfortunately for Hobie it was a crusty plushy, aiming for his head, it hits him square on the chest, leaving grime and cobwebs all over his jacket.

You laugh loudly as he wipes wildly at his clothes, yelping when his hand touches something wet.

"Disgusting!" Hobie has an idea, he extends his arms towards you for a hug, taking small strides. "Come here, lovey" with a mischievous glint in his eyes and a lopsided smile, he closes the distance.

"No, don't even think about it!" Walking backwards with a smile, your back hits a pole. "Ack!" You screech when he embraces you, warmth and his familiar scent wafts your senses. A giggle escapes you, making Hobie hug you tighter.

"Now we both smell" you try to wiggle out of his hold, Hobie shakes you from side to side, you go dizzy in his arms, going limp, feigning hurt. "Oi," he shakes you lightly, chuckling at your antics. "She's dead, I can finally sacrifice her to the clowns" he moves you towards the cartoon clowns.

You drag your feet, he carries your full weight. "A little help here?" Hobie asks, you open one eye only to tightly close it again. "I'm tryin' to appease the gods here y'know" he says in between laughs, flicking your forehead.

"Really clown gods? Could've chosen better ones" you smile giddily up at him, he beams back at you, cradling the back of your head.

He scoffs, "or a much more willing sacrifice" Hobie straightens you out, fixing the collar of your jacket. You let out a small thank you, hot where his fingers grazed your skin.

"I saw somethin' better than the ferris wheel" he mumbles out.

"Yeah? Let's go then" taking his hand in yours you loop your pinky finger with his. Hobie leads you with a wobbly smile.

—

Hobie helps you up on the large Gondola, an out of commission viking ride that's supposed to swing up and down, now it's inoperable, looking glum amidst the twinkling lights. A wooden mermaid is carved on its bow, marred by time and exposed to the elements. It must've been a sight back then.

Using your foot as leverage, Hobie lifts you up by your hand, "I've got you" he heaves, your foot loses balance on the edge, threatening to fall off. "Shit!" Gasping out, you reach for his neck as he panics to grab a hold of you.

"I have you—Holy fuck!" Hobie secures you by your waist, your eyes tightly closed, head right on the crook of his neck. "You okay?" He places you back on solid ground, the ride creaks in the wind.

"Yeah," you exhale a shaky breath. Pulling away. "I'm gonna need that vodka" sitting down on the boat, you gesture towards the bottle on the floor. It wasn't even a far fall if he didn't catch you, but the thought of you getting hurt sounded alarms in his head.

Hobie snickers, he opens the bottle before he hands it to you, fingers touching yours for a split second. It's more than enough to warm his skin, not needing the alcohol to heat him up anymore. You take a sip whilst Hobie lounges to the seat in front of you, arm stretched on the back of it, long legs propped up next to your lap.

The moon casts him in a dark shadow, his newly pierced ears glinting in the moonlight, he looks ethereal this way, divine and out of reach. The lights whir, having a hard time lighting the old place.

You do the same to him with a smirk, legs right next to his jeans, taking a swig while your eyes stay to him. The warm liquid slides to your throat, warming you immediately.

You have no idea the effect you have on him. Hobie clenches his fists, breathing staggered, eyes flickering to your lips. It's not your intention though, you just wanted to show off that you can take your alcohol.

Hobie taps your thigh with his boot, clearing his throat before talking, "you're gonna drink all of it" He takes the bottle from your hand as you cough loudly. "That's what you get for hoarding all the vodka" chastising you, he leans to pat your back with a lot of effort on his part, almost folding himself in half.

"Fuck, that's– whew" your face all scrunched up, regretting your choices. Coughing again, your throat burns.

"You good, Gromit?" He asks with a laugh.

"Did you bring water with you?" Tears prick your eyes, sniffling.

"No, didn't think to" Hobie says apologetically, he winces when you let out another cough.

"You could've grabbed a bottle? I feel like my throat has razor blades in it" clearing your throat, you knead at your neck.

"Your fault, love. I didn't dare you" He takes a sip, taking your slight cough as a cautionary tale.

"Why'd you take us to this death trap anyway? Wait, did you plan this?" You look at him with a raised brow, realization hitting you.

"Nah, I told you the party was boring me to death" he lies, but you know him too well, noticing his tells. The slight bob of his adam's apple, eyes flicking to the side of your face for a split second, fingers itching at the back of his hand. You don't mention it or even tease him about it, intending to enjoy your time together.

"Yeah, going to jail for underage drinking and trespassing sounds better" you laugh, Hobie brings his feet to your lap, soles grazing your jacket. To his surprise, you don't protest. Legs parallel to each other, you play with the aglet of his boots.

"No one goes here except for teenagers wanting a place to snog" he regrets his words immediately, his ears feel like it's about to burst into flames.

You look at him with a growing smirk, with the alcohol coursing through you, it gives you liquid courage when you say the next words. "You planning on snogging me here, Hobs?"

Hobie almost spit takes at your question, he answers with the same bravado, shyness nonexistent as he feels his skin warm up from the alcohol. "If I'm gonna snog you, we would be in a better place than this rust bucket"

Instantly sobering up, you blink in surprise, chuckling nervously. Biting more than you can chew, your eyes try to avoid his lips.

Sitting in an awkward silence, Hobie takes another swig, you hug your torso from the biting cold. The tension is thick, his legs sit heavy on your lap. He notices these kinds of silences have increased these last few years, Hobie hopes it's not because you're pulling away from him or worse, him pushing you away with his growing affections.

You finally try to cut the tension, "Can we–" Hobie thought of the same, unintentionally cutting you off.

"I'm–shit. Sorry, go on" He really wants to hear what your next words will be, it could either cross the line between your friendship into something more. Hobie anticipates, hanging to every syllable you would utter.

"Can we go home? This place kinda gives me the creeps" He did not expect that, "the lights help but now some of them are flickering and it's like something's gonna come out" biting your lip, you look at Hobie directly.

The only reason you want to go is to get rid of the awkwardness, blaming the dark yet romantic atmosphere. You want to stay, you really do, but if the air stays like this between you, you'd rather go home. Save yourself the embarrassment of pining for your best friend. Guess Hobie isn't the only one lying tonight.

"Yeah, sure" He sits up, dejected, legs retreating back to him.

"Sorry, what was it you're gonna say?" Leaning your elbows on top of your thighs, you take the bottle from Hobie, getting his attention.

He sighs, you see a rare sight. He looks somewhat afraid. Why would Hobie be afraid though? It's just you.

You try to encourage him with a joke, "you feeling okay? You look constipated, is it the vodka?" He chuckles, you stand up, mirroring his small smile.

But that's the thing, it's you, a few years ago his little crush turned into puppy love, and that love turned into full blown yearning, longing for you to see him as something else other than your 'best mate' at first he thought it was just a phase, muddled with his teenage hormones, latching to the closest person he feels attracted to. Then it persisted, he realized that his deep affection for you was something else entirely other than some hormone induced crush.

It was safe to say Hobie hated puberty.

He bites the bullet, if he's gonna tell anyone it would be you. "I'm leaving school"

"Oh" dropping down from the gondola, you hide your frown. He's leaving, he's leaving you. Hands shaking at the thought, you mindlessly walk away, following the brightest thing in the carnival. "Why are you leaving?" Trying to hide the shakiness of your voice, you wring your hands together, taking another sip of the warm liquid.

Is it you? Did you cross the border too much? Is he sick of you? The cold doesn't help with your thoughts.

"I don't like school, you know that" Hobie watches your retreating form, he knew you wouldn't take it well but it still hurts when you turned your back on him. "Y/n" he calls out as you step on the carousel.

Turning around, his explanation calmed you down a smidge. You try to fix your expression. The bright lights of the carousel envelopes you, a halo forming around your body. You give him your hundred dollar smile.

"Okay, just don't forget me when you're famous" laughing dryly, Hobie joins you in the light, taking your shaking hands.

Knowing you for a long time, he reads you like an open book, looping his pinky with yours, Hobie looks at you straight on.

"I'm staying in the city, just not at school. 'm not leaving" you, he wanted to add but he's not brave enough to say the word.

Inhaling, you focus on the horses instead of his hold on you. "You should've led with that," you say with a tight lipped smile, extending your encouragement to him, you swallow your sadness. "I'm proud of you, if anyone's gonna make it out there it would be you" finally looking at him, gold bounces off his iris, honeyed flecks dancing in his eyes. "You can go on tour if you want to, you don't have to stay in the city" with me, the words echo in your mind.

Telling the absolute truth, your face is serious, hiding the ache. You will always be supportive of him even if it means leaving you in the process.

"Well we have to build our reputation first before goin' on tour," Hobie sways your intertwined hands. "Besides, my number one fan is here, who's gonna cheer us on?" He gives you his best smile, the same one that haunts your dreams.

Legs wobble from under you, leaning towards him, Hobie's eyes widen at your movement.

You embrace him, head laying on his broad shoulder. Mind reeling, you can't help but feel you're holding him back from doing greater things.

A sharp whistle pulls you away.

—

Hobie opens his eyes, back aching from the lumpy settee, his right arm practically numb. He's not usually a morning person, but with you sleeping comfortably in his arms, he wants to wake up earlier just to see this rare sight. Hobie smiles at how relaxed your face is, brows unfurrowed, mouth slightly parted and your skin glistening in the early morning sun. Your back to the couch, squeezed in between him and the settee, Hobie's arm wrapped around your torso, protecting you from the springs protruding from the cushions. Your Hands tucked to his side, fingers curled unconsciously on his shirt.

He doesn't care that his long legs dangle off the armrest, couch too small for his tall stature, or how there's a crick in his neck. Despite it all, Hobie hasn't slept this well in a long time. He's glad last night wasn't all a dream. Gently caressing your cheek with his pinky just to make sure you're actually real in his embrace.

You shift in your sleep, licking your dry lips, inhaling a gulp of air. It's like you're attuned with his senses, already knowing he's wide awake. You fake sleep, acting like you're deep in slumberland. Feeling his chest rise up and down, you can't help but curl your lips into a small smile when he covers his leg over yours, securing you in his hold.

Hobie knows you're awake though, his enhanced senses telling him the shift in your heartbeat and breathing. He's in a good mood so he intends to tease you this morning. Testing to see what your reaction will be in this new found position he has you in.

He tries to leave the couch, carefully taking his arm from under you, leg up, untangling from yours. You immediately protest, grasping his torso with your eyes closed. Pulling him back down to your side. Chuckling at your reaction, butt hitting the cushions with a thud, he slides back down to your side, going back to the same position. Your cheek pressed to his chest as Hobie kneads at the soft skin of your waist.

Still in your outfit, his fingers fiddle with a sunflower stitched to your cami. You lean further into him, arm over his torso, feeling his warmth through his shirt.

You're the first one to speak, sleep still lingering in your voice. "You talked in your sleep"

"And you drooled all over me but no one's keeping track" Hobie's morning voice sounds deeper, goosebumps appear on your skin when you feel the vibration from his chest.

"Hmm" you hum, content in his arms, savoring the precious moment. "I don't drool" cracking one eye open, you fight the sleep off. You rile him up just to hear the deep rumble of his voice.

"There's a wet patch on my sleeve that begs to differ" he says, nuzzling your hair. "What did I say?"

"Hm, you woke me up for a bit when you said clowns and my name. Sounds like you were having a really good dream about me" you take a peek at him through half lidded eyes. Hobie gently rubs the sleep off the corners, you practically vibrate at his touch.

"Well, you are a clown" he quips, you gasp dramatically, grabbing the hem of his shirt, balling it in your fist.

"What did you say? You punk?" Trying to sound as menacing as possible even though you're half asleep, you smile through the threat.

"I said you're gorgeous" his eyes flick to your lips for a second before Hobie gives you his best smile. You feel like a gem in his gaze, letting out a small 'thought so'. "For a clown" he says against your lips, chasing the soft plush of it.

"You–!" Pushing him off the sofa, he laughs all the way down, his butt landing on the floor, back on the foot of the sofa. His hands glued to your waist, almost bringing you down with him. You lay upside down with Hobie's hand on you, his face upturned, inches away from yours.

Pecking the tip of his nose, you don't care for morning breath, with Hobie, nothing embarasses you anymore. He feels the same, leaning up to change the course of your kiss to his waiting lips.

Giggling, you cup his jaw, neck straining to reach him in the upside down kiss. Hobie feels like he's dreaming again.

Before the kiss could go any further, you pull away, already missing his lips. "Can I go shower?"

"Sorry, I should've brushed first" he winces.

"It's not that, we literally made out last night with shawarma breath. I don't give a shit, Hobs" you chuckle, leaving a chaste kiss on his lips for good measure. He grins at your words, "I just really need to get out of these clothes and wash my face"

"Right, You just want to wear my clothes" Hobie flicks your forehead, "perv"

"You're the perv, dreaming about me with clowns and shit" laughing, you sit upright, nudging him with your socked foot.

"Yeah, it was bloody steamy" he riles you up again, it doesn't work this time though.

"Tell me later" walking to the bathroom, you spare him a sly glance over your shoulder.

When did you get so immune to his teasing? Hobie feels he needs to up his game.

—

Hobie scrapes off the egg sticking to the pan, now in his home clothes, a plain band shirt with the sleeves cut off and sweatpants hanging low on his hips. Hissing when hot oil flies towards his hand.

He feels you before he hears you, shutting the bedroom door behind you, the broken answering machine takes your attention from Hobie's toned arms.

Wiping your arms with the towel, you glare at the machine. "What are you planning with this thing?" Gesturing vaguely.

"What thing?" Taking the mugs out of the cabinet, he spares a look behind him. Maybe he shouldn't have. You look right at home, his jumper hugs your torso comfortably, pajama pants that he hasn't worn in a long time fits just right on your waist.

Hobie wants to kiss you as soon as possible. His senses are still a bit wonky, jumping slightly when the bread digs out of the toaster.

"Your machine" moving closer to him, feet padding on the wooden floors, you take the plate full of eggs, scrambled for you, sunny side up for him. "Thanks, Hobs"

"Ah, you forgot somethin'" you hum curiously, letting him turn you back around by your shoulder. Thinking that he might hand you the mugs of tea, instead he kisses your cheek, you squeak out, carefully balancing the plate in your wobbly hand. "There, what's up with the machine?" He goes back to making tea as if he didn't steal a kiss right under your nose. You don't seem to mind though.

"I think you should just throw it out"

"I can still fix it" He pours milk into your cup.

"Hobie, I know you can but that thing is bloody cursed" tone serious, you place the eggs on the kitchen island.

He guffaws at your comment, he can't believe your minds are so in sync with each other, Hobie sometimes feels like you're connected to him.

He still asks you even though he knows your answer, a ploy to keep hearing your voice. "Why do you think it's cursed?"

"Well, you bought it off an estate sale, it's probably haunted by the old owner. Second, it shocked you while you were installing the damn thing." Hands on your hips, you lean on the counter. Hobie snickers at your comments. "And lastly it has committed a crime against us"

Hobie laughs loudly, shaking the boat slightly as he doubles over in laughter. "What's the crime that my machine committed?" Mirroring your stance, he drapes the dish cloth over his shoulder.

You bite the inside of your cheek with how attractive he looks right now. "Sabotage" mumbling it out.

"Sabotage?" Hobie closes the distance, hands lovingly holding your shoulders. You click your tongue, moving his hand from your shoulder up to your jaw before you place your hands back to your hips again.

He tilts his head, thumb circling over to your cheek. "Cursed or not, the thing's expensive. I can still fix it"

"My parents have a spare one, I can nick it for you" biting your lip, you say the next words softly like you're still unsure. "Take it as a housewarming present from me, before I move in?"

Hobie's giddy smile melts your trepidation, leaning in, he stops a few centimeters from your lips. Closing your eyes in anticipation. Your brows furrowed when you don't feel his lips on yours. Cracking your eyes open, you see Hobie smirking mischievously. Huffing, you stick out your tongue in annoyance. Pushing him away with your palm on his face.

He chuckles, pinching your nose for a brief second before going back to making your tea. His houseboat has never felt more like home before, Hobie thinks you're the missing piece in making it so.

—

Hobie and you share a plate, standing hip to hip near the kitchen island, forks fighting for the last bit of egg. Soft music plays in the background from his old record player, the slow song a rare one in his large collection of vinyls.

"Since when?" He stops attacking you with his fork, moving the egg closer to your side of the plate, surrendering.

"Hmm? Since when what?" You ask, cutting the egg in half, giving the bigger cut to him.

He hums appreciatively, bringing the egg to his mouth. Suddenly feeling anxious at what he's gonna say.

Drinking your tea, you wait for him to continue.

"Since when did you start fancying me?" You almost choke, eyes widening at his question. Hobie never fails to surprise you.

You swallow your breakfast, "well," buying time, sipping your drink. "I don't know the day exactly. I think everything just clicked for me" answering, you avoid his gaze.

Hobie moves your chin so he could look you in the eyes. He didn't confess to you and make things awkward between you. Breaking the tension, he moves closer, leaning against the counter. Hand comfortably pressed on the small of your back. You bring him closer by his waist, hand staying there.

"So you just woke up one day and went 'I fancy my best mate?'" Fully joking, he raises a pierced brow.

You chortle, "No, I remember it being gradual. Like slowly getting past your ego," he rolls his eyes, you chuckle at his reaction. "your teasing and all the spikes." Giggling, he clutches his nonexistent pearls. "I dunno exactly when" shrugging your shoulders, you tell the truth. "But a rough approximate, probably between year eight or nine"

"You fuckin' telling me I could've been holding you like this since year nine?"

You guffaw loudly, "maybe not like this! We would've been too young!"

"A couple of years later then" Hobie matches your laugh, hugging you closer.

After a minute of comfortable silence, you continue to eat while still clinging to each other, Hobie pipes up. "Do you have someplace to be today?" He hopes for a 'no'

"Yeah, I have to go back to campus to submit my papers for graduation" biting a piece of your toast, noticing his lack of reply. "Or I can do that tomorrow." You see him perk up in your peripheral, "deadline isn't till next week anyway" slyly side eyeing him, a cheeky smile on your giddy face.

"Good" He acts disinterested. Hiding his smile behind his mug, but you know better.

You wait for a few seconds, smirk slowly spreading on your lips. "You've got something planned for us?"

Hobie chuckles, "Nah, just wanna stay home" he wipes the crumbs off your chin. "With you"

"Oohh I feel so special" leaning into his touch, you blink at him prettily.

"Gorgeous" he softly says, staring deep into your eyes.

"Yeah? Even with crumbs all over me?"

Without warning, He lifts you up by your thighs effortlessly. Laughter fills the modest boat, you cling to his neck, leaning down to kiss him. He tastes sweet because of the tea, you savor him, legs tightening around his waist. Humming into the kiss. His hands squeeze your upper thighs, still at a respectable distance.

Thanks to his new found senses, Hobie leads you back to the couch, a feat in itself without bumping into furniture while his eyes are closed. His back lands on the lumpy cushions, earning him a groan as he feels the friction between you. Kissing you deeper, fingers massaging the back of your neck.

You arch your back, Hobie lets out a deep sound from the back of his throat. Needing air, you pull away with a breathless smile.

"Fuck" His chest heaves up and down, half lidded eyes stare up at you.

Chuckling, satisfied at his reaction, you lean back down to pepper his jaw with kisses. Hobie laughs (which sounded more like a giggle to you) with every smack of your lips on his skin.

"You sound" kiss "so manly" kiss "right now"

"That so?" Surroundings blur as he flips you over quickly but carefully, a large hand cradling the back of your head so that you don't hit the armrest. Your back landing on the cushion, legs still wrapped around his waist. His arms cageing you, grinning down at your flustered face. His necklace swings over your face, you restrain yourself from grabbing it to pull him further down to you.

You gulp down on air, like butter on a hot pan, you melt under him. Hobie sees your bare fingers, having an idea. With love seeping out of his pores, he slips his favourite ring off his finger. You give him a curious stare, feeling loopy with all the affections.

"Hand" he instructs you with a goofy smile, fingers flexing towards you. Shaking your head, you play hard to get. He rolls his eyes, smiling staying put. "Please"

Giggling, you give him your left hand, your heart threatening to pump out of your chest as he slips the metal ring to your pointing finger. You bite your lip when the ring twirls around your finger, ring too big for it. He huffs, sparing you a playful glance. You shrug, biting your lip to tamp down your giddy laughter.

Hobie takes the ring out for a second before putting it on your middle finger, it fits perfectly around you. The metal arms of the spider curl around your finger, hugging it. The red gleam of its eyes makes it look alive.

You bring the hand closer to your face, fanning your face like a southern bell about to faint from the summer heat.

Hobie's face feels like it's about to set on fire, pulse drumming loudly against his skin. He laughs at your antics. Admiring his ring on you.

"I made you so soft for me" your eyes tender, saying it in a sing-song cadence, hand reaching up to cup his cheek. You feel how warm he is, his ring grants him reprieve, cooling down a tiny area of his skin.

"Not soft right now though" Hobie leans down with a grin. You know exactly what he meant.

Gasping out, "Hobie! You–" Hobie cuts you off by blowing raspberries on the soft plush of your neck.

—

Hobie drops you off in front of your dorm building, you're practically wearing his wardrobe, save for your own shoes. Leather jacket over his jumper, too long jeans that he folded on each leg so you don't trip over the denim. His ring shines in the late morning sun right on your middle finger, still giddy at the thought of you wearing it. Your heavy bag full of clothes slung over your shoulder.

Hobie sits on his bike, motor still running, his hands sit comfortably on your waist. You're slotted in between his legs, fingers fixing the stray threads on his leather vest that you've lovingly given to him.

You've (reluctantly) come back to the dorms to submit your graduation requirements, having the entire day to yourself (to your dismay) but it's a necessary evil so you could spend the entire day with him tomorrow.

"You sure you don't want me to pick you up tomorrow?" He loops his thumb over your (his) belt loop.

"Nope, I can meet you there. I need to drop by aunt Janet's for my last order and you've got that protest. I can go with you if I finish early though"

"Right, call me if you need a ride" Hobie doesn't want to pressure you or worse, make you feel stifled.

"Mm-hmm, it's just a roll of fabric. I've managed before" you act brave in front of him. Truth be told, you want him next to you the entire day tomorrow, but you don't want him to think you're being too clingy. You're gonna move in with him anyway.

"Then I'll help you move in" as if reading your mind, Hobie pipes up excitedly.

"Then you can help me move in" chuckling, you agree with him. "First proper date tomorrow, huh?"

Hobie snorts, "Don't think that's the first one ever. We've been on hundreds"

"Yeah, but this one would be the first proper one. You asked me this time" looking at him through your eyelashes you can't help but peck his cheek. "You've got a plan for us then?"

"Maybe" Hobie guides your face with his hand, moving you to his lips instead. "Hell, I'll even get you flowers if you want. Since it's the first proper one" he says against your kiss bitten lips.

"Looking forward to it then" kissing him goodbye, you embrace him tightly. "Oh!" Pulling away suddenly, he pouts his lips. "I almost forgot, here" you take something out of your bag, placing it in his hand.

He looks at the red and blue spider trapped inside the glass casing, "it's dead right?"

"Yeah, you squished it. I've been meaning to give it to you since you gave me one" showing your ringed finger, twirling the metal spider around.

"How romantic, a dead spider" He says deadpanned, side eyeing you.

"Fine, give it here. Peter will love it" reaching over to take it from Hobie, he moves it away from you.

"Nah, it's mine. You gave it to me first" clicking his tongue, eyes crinkling in the corners, Hobie pockets it with a ghost of a smile.

You shake your head with a loopy grin, pecking his lips one last time before leaving. "Drive carefully" eyes soft, leaving one last kiss for good measure.

"Yeah, see you tomorrow, love" He chases your lips, hesitantly pulling away.

—

You bump into your RA in the hallway, she looks at you from head to toe, clearly not in your own clothes.

"Fun night?" She asks with a knowing smirk.

"Very fun" you indulge her because of your good mood. She does a double take, not expecting you to actually answer her like that.

—

You sigh for the umpteenth time, closing the door to the admin's office. Still in Hobie's clothes, coming down from the high of being with him, you crave him more. Having some sort of withdrawal symptoms, feeling jittery and excited to see him again. Of course you wouldn't tell him that or he'll endlessly tease you about it.

Smiling like a mad woman, you walk past your old classroom.

"L/n!" Mrs. Williams calls out to you. Surprised she knows your last name or even remembers you. You peek around the corner, seeing her sitting down on her desk littered with stacks of papers and Manila envelopes.

"Good afternoon, professor" smiling politely, she gestures for you to come inside.

Truth be told, you were saving her for last on submitting your requirements, even though she was strict and (undeniably) terrifying, Mrs. Williams was an inspiration to you. Always prim and proper, her talent in designing is top tier. You learned a lot from her.

You stop right next to her desk, glancing at the various portfolios on her desk. Spotting yours in the forefront, you flick your eyes back to the brunette, hiding your sudden nervousness. Maybe you should've changed into something more fashionable before going back to campus. Hiding your hands inside Hobie's sleeves, you anxiously pick at your nail polish or what's left of it.

"Knock knock" someone suddenly knocks on the (already) open doors with enthusiasm. Turning around, you recognize the man as Mr. Riley from the fashion show, he holds two lattes in his hand.

He stands up straight the moment he spots you, "oh great timing"

"I assume you've met each other?" The woman genuinely smiles at Mr. Riley.

"Yes," answering, you don't miss their lingering looks towards one another as Mr. Riley gives her the latte.

"I was about to tell her about your proposition" Williams says through her paper cup.

Snapping out of it, Mr. Riley gives you his best smile. "Well, I've faxed my boss your portfolio and she absolutely loves it!" You beam at his words. "We would really love it for you to be part of the team after you graduate"

"That's amazing! I–I don't know what to say" you roam your eyes towards your professor for approval, she looks at you with a nod and small smile. "Thank you!" You laugh in bewilderment.

"Is that a yes?" Riley brings his hand for you to shake. "Of course we'll give you ample time to sort your papers for the move. Two months seems like the right timeline."

You were about to shake his hand to accept his offer but you stop halfway when he says the word 'move'. "I have to move? Where exactly?" Voice shaking, you drop your hand back to your side.

"L.A. in America" He says as if that's the closest place to move to. "You know, where our headquarters are?"

Mrs. Williams notices your knitted brows and slow blinks. "Ian, may I talk to my student for a minute" she looks up at him through her long lashes.

"Yeah– of course, I forgot your scones anyway. Be right back!" He walks away, shutting the door behind him.

Heart stuck in your throat, you look at your professor for guidance.

"Listen, out of the entire graduating class, only three were approved. One of them is you."

You release a shaky breath, lips tightening to a flat line, trying to stop your heaving. Your excitement turns into something indistinguishable, something that feels unwarranted, a stabbing sensation all over your skin.

Williams takes your portfolio in hand, flipping through it. "You see this?" She shows you a sketch of Hobie's outfit, his eyes seem to pierce through you. "This is the outfit, the only reason it didn't make it to the top three is because there wasn't enough of you in it."

You try to wrap your mind around her statement, ears focused on her words.

"I understand your…" she tries to find the right words. "...worry. But you must understand, not a lot of people get this opportunity. Don't let it pass you by"

You recognize those words, heart clenching at the different meaning behind it.

"Riley will only be here till next week, you have that time to decide. Please take my words into consideration, I want all my students to thrive."

You nod, murmuring a small 'thank you'. Walking away from the room, you slip away to an empty broom closet. Mind racing, it all stops to him, his smiling face appears in your mind's eye, voice echoing amidst the rushing and chaos of your thoughts.

Silent tears slide down your cheeks. You don't even know why you're crying. Already knowing what to do, wiping your eyes, tears sticking on your lashes, you already know, Right?

A/N: Thank you for reading! I can't believe we're almost at the end 😭 let me know your thoughts ❤️

[solaiced]

CASE 11: SUKUNA RYOMEN'S PREY.

!content!: chasing, haunting adeline refs?, outdoor sex and pred/prey play.

wc: 900

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

You don't think you've had to run so much in one go, at least not since high school. But you had a damn good reason. This gigantic man with pink hair, face tats and bulging muscles started chasing you out of nowhere, and usually, you’d be flattered, except this man looked fucking dangerous.

How you survived up until now? No idea. Adrenaline, whatever, kept you on your toes, keeping the pain and discomfort away.

You hear the man chuckle darkly near your ear, and you lost footing, surprised. So now, you were held up by his hand gripping your shirt.

"Now, now, dove, you seriously thought you could out run me?" He cackles. “Funny. Well, since you lost, time to give me my beloved prize." His red eyes rake over your barely covered body, tank top because your pesky roommates (who you now wished were home, earlier) had gone out, and its matching Hello Kitty booty shorts.

You were littered with bruises, cuts and blood. Usually, you were a pretty talkative person, but fear had rendered you completely speechless. What did he mean by that?

Oh. You’d just realize what he meant. Men were disgusting.

Fuck. If his dick was proportional to his body, it would reach your lungs.

…

Holy shit. You shouldn't have looked down. You can see it poking through his pants. You should start praying now, because if he doesn't show mercy, Hell, even Satan will. You look up at him, now facing this monster, chest-to-chest, with fearful eyes.

He grins, eyes crinkling at corners and you almost swoon. He was way too charming for your own good. You'd fuck him, out of free will, being honestly honest. (Was that a correct sentence? You didn't care, he was too hot to even think.)

"Speechless? Don't be, baby, I'll make you speak in no time. So, take off your clothes, or I'll rip them off myself, and you'll have to beg me to fuck you and let you cum.”

You exhale loudly, dead panning.

“Seriously Ryo?" He drops his

smile, wondering why you broke character. What had he done wrong?

“What?” Sukuna pouts, moving both arms to wrap around your waist.

"That line's so cheesy, find something better!" You complain, letting him catch you when you fall back into his arms.

"Don't care. Take off your damn clothes." He tugs at your pink shorts, not trying to be subtle when he slaps your ass, digging

fingers in your ass cheeks as he spreads them experimentally.

He looks devastating in the dark. His red eyes are almost shining in the dark. His nose, jaw and throat, are dimly lit by the light from your porch, highlighting every harsh detail of his face. You really got lucky. You have to thank God, soon. You hear your name and look up.

"Take it off." Sukuna repeats for the third time. You heed his words, because you didn't want to beg to cum, again. He was really cruel, when he wanted to. Once your clothes are off, your nipples perked up in the cold air, he lifts you up with ease, undoing his sweat pants as he presses your back to the tree, the bark scrapping you.

"Wait, Ryomen, wait!" Your head bangs against the tree when you throw it back with a scream as Sukuna plunges into you, your slick lubing him up.

"Ugh... I got too excited. You're too tight to move." He grumbles, as if it was your fault. You wince, tightnening more as your body tries to get the big intrusion out of you.

"Fuck, little prey, relax a bit, I know you're into it, but I don't wanna hurt you…Too much. " He grins as he mutters the last part. Your head folls forward, tongue out whilst your mouth dropped open.

Sukuna puts a hand under your chin, lifting your face to see your dazed eyes.

"My perfect dove. You want me to move, mhm, yes you do. " He makes you ned, hips rocking to stimulate you. Over and over, just to drive you absolutely crazy. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, whining loudly like a dog, or rather, a bitch in heat.

You were going cum too soon, fuck.

"Fuck, Fuck, you feel too good. Are you gonna cum, or what?" Sukuna growls, trying to keep his voice in check.

You stutter, hands grabbing everywhere they could for support, ending up in his hair and on his bicep. He keeps scratching you with his nails, his hands also frantically moving everywhere to either stabilize you, or feel your soft body in between his fingers.

"'M gonna–hgnh, cuh-hum!" You whine, muttering his name rapidly.

In, out, in, out, again and again, fuck it was so hard to focus on your impending orgasm when his hand settles on your clit, pinching and flicking and stroking and-!

"Ryo-hh!" You wail as you release, bringing Sukuna along. His pull-out game sucked, he thought as he slams inside of you, knocking his tip against your g-spot while ropes of cum accumulated in you and spilled out of your pretty cunt.

Sukuna's forehead was on yours as the both of you catched your breaths.

"Hey," He starts, mouth open, close to yours, "Can you still walk? I think I'm into this." He chuckles dryly while you narrow your eyes and frown.

“Okay, okay, let’s go home.”

[yes0another0outsiders0blog]

Could you maybe do Darry Curtis x fem! Reader sfw alphabet please? I love your writing btw! :)

Thank you so much, I'm glad you enjoy!! Out of personal preference, I am keeping my SFW Alphabets pretty gender neutral, but you can totally read them as more fem. Sorry, love.

Also, this man is one of my favorite characters in this damn book. I want nothing but the best for him. For some reason putting hcs into words was killing me this time, I'm so sorry if it's noticeable!!!

SFW Alphabet : Darry Curtis

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

Not huge on PDA aside from holding hands and a kiss on the cheek. Pretty private about personal (especially romantic) relationships, people will know you two are together, it will be obvious in how you interact, but there isn't much open affection.

Around close friends, the gang, and his brothers, he's a bit (but not much) more affectionate. He'll call you a few pet-names (hun/honey, sweetheart, beautiful), might wrap an arm around you when you're sitting together, little things.

All alone, he'll pull you onto his lap or wrap his hands around your waist while you're doing the dishes, resting his head on you and giving you a quick kiss.

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

You know Darry from yalls school days. You two were good, but never quite friends. You interacted with each other, but more in passing or in group settings.

After graduation, you two just didn't really interact at all. You two weren't close or anything, there was never a reason to keep in touch. Later, you cross paths again and catch up a bit.

Being close friends with Darry is just a lot of little things. Having a scheduled day a week where you come over for coffee, going grocery shopping together, hanging out with his brothers a ton, etc. Also, hearing him vent. You're hearing about every single time Ponyboy is an idiot, in great detail. And he also trusts you as someone he can talk out his more serious problems with, because dude is going through TOO MUCH for his age (I'm 22 and my only obligations are myself and 2 cats, I could not IMAGINE being both younger and in charge of anything more serious than the shit I'm dealing with right now, give this man some support and a break, holy hell). He doesn't expect or want you to help with anything at all, he just wants to have an outlet to verbalize whatever is going on. You're there to listen.

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

Isn't one to cuddle often. That would require him to stay relaxed for an extended period of time and that's rare. Besides being a fairly busy person as *literally the only person in the gang with actual obligations and an ounce of responsibility* and essentially having to be there to put up with all of their bullshit, he is the type of person that needs to do something with his time or he doesn't feel productive. Even when he's going to bed, he is asleep so fast that cuddling isn't really an option, you can cuddle into him but he's already dead asleep so you aren't getting anything back.

If no one is expected to come around (which is rare because the door is always unlocked, his brothers are usually around, you're working with the assumption that someone's going to barge in whenever) he might have you sit on his lap while he reads the paper or something.

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

Pretty good at cleaning. Things aren't perfect and sometimes life is just hectic so things don't get done, but nothing generally gets absolutely disgusting when he's around. Doesn't mind cleaning, actually quite enjoys it. There may be piles of dirty clothes sometimes or laundry might not get folded or put up right away, and "weekly" chores might be a bit late, but it all gets done.

Good at cooking the basics. Darry is good enough in the kitchen to tweak a recipe on the fly and make it a bit better than it otherwise would be, but he isn't able to make entire meals based on what sounds like it would work out well. Isn't inventing any new dishes or anything.

If he met the right person he'd be willing to reconsider, but Darry mostly sees himself having a pretty traditional life in the future, not really by choice but more because its the 60s and thats whats expected. He's the provider, he works long hours. He would expect you to do the housework and cooking and such. Isn't 100% conservatively split about it, would still absolutely help out some and make dinner on his days off. Again, if you were like "yeah, that's not going to work out, we're going to be tag-teaming on this domestic stuff, I'm going to have my own money" then he'd be totally okay with that. It isn't preferred because there's more of a chance that you'll both be too tired from work and things won't get done, but if it's important to you then it's a compromise he's willing to make.

(I also like making him a househusband. I think if you made BANK and convinced him that you were okay with being the breadwinner, he can be convinced to stay at home and do the domestic work while also doing freelance. He wouldn't have the pressure to make money, so he'd be able to prioritize the home, but he'd also want to not be unemployed so he'd do odd-jobs fixing things for shorter hours than a normal job would have. Less realistic, perhaps, but man's been through it so he deserves to just be taken care of instead of having to take care of others.)

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

The most logical/mature about a relationship ending, but it can come off as a bit cold when you're hurt by it. Darry will sit you down and basically discuss whatever problem there is. He'll say "we either fix this or break up" and mean it. He'll definitely put in the work to solve whatever's going on, but if he feels that he's doing most of the work then it's over. Is disappointed by a breakup, is absolutely sad about it in private and a bit more irritable for a while, but life goes on. Sometimes relationships end, and he frankly doesn't have time to mope about it when that isn't fixing anything.

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

Would incorporate you into his life pretty quickly (having you stay over and doing dinner/chores/life stuff together). Introduces you to his brothers fast. That's pretty decent commitment because, like I touched on above, Darry can deal with a break up well but it's harder to separate when there are three people that are kind of attached to you rather than just one.

The entire gang really gets along with you, so they're all constantly asking when you and Darry are getting married. Hard to tell if that has any influence on when he proposes, but it's probably about a year or two in. Quick, but not irresponsibly so. Yall stay engaged for a long while, he wants you to be able to have a nice wedding (small and simple, but still nice) so he waits until both of his brothers are actually out of the house and he can *attempt* to save up the tiniest bit for it.

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

Pretty gentle, but in a stereotypically man way specifically emotionally, if that makes sense? Like, genuinely an amazing boyfriend, treats you so good. But emotions aren't a strong point for him, he likes things that have reason and sound logic behind them. Likes to rationalize things. He'll give advice that you didn't ask for it and you just wanted him to listen, or will tell you that you're problems really aren't urgent/major. Will be very confused when you get upset by that. If you aren't the emotional type, then it's all good!! If you are, then he'll really try to learn when to just not try to "help" when you need him to be more gentle.

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

Likes hugs. Darry usually wraps his arms around you from behind when you're doing something. Any time he's in a good or sillier mood, you're getting picked up. Loves doing that thing where he, like, lifts you up and spins you around. If he's in a bad mood, he'll get a tiny bit clingy with you and tends to end up in long, silent embraces with you. They really give him comfort.

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

A few months, maybe 4? He doesn't want to take things too fast or really anything, so it takes a bit. The gang (especially his brothers, ESPECIALLY Soda) tease the hell out of you two for being so in love way before then, and he usually tells them to shut the hell up. But one day when you're making dinner he comes up behind you and wraps his arms around your waist like always, and he just says it. Shocked the hell out of both of you, he had a long day and just kind of blurted it out without even really meaning to, but obviously you love him too (how couldn't you?) so it was alright.

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

Trusts you fully. Does not get jealous hardly ever. If someone was clearly into you and flirting with you, he wouldn't care at all because he's confident you wouldn't be into it. Even if he caught the vibe that you were cheating or you were getting REALLY friendly with someone else, he wouldn't get jealous so much as frustrated that you would cheat instead of just breaking up with him. Very quick to want to talk out any issues, so misunderstandings are usually put to rest there. On the very rare occasion that he does feel jealous, he doesn't even mention it.

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

Usually a kiss on your forehead or the top of your head, quick and sweet are most common but slow, lingering kisses on the mouth aren't rare either.

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

Good with kids. Definitely the most responsible with kids, more strict than most. While not the "most fun" for kids out of the gang, Darry is way better than a lot of the gang gives him credit for. If he was in a position where he knew he was going to have to watch some younger kids for a day, he'd make plans to keep them entertained. Take them to the park and for some kind of small treat, would be rather active in playing with them if they wanted him to.

He doesn't want kids for a WHILE, after both of his brothers are out of the house he would prefer to have a few years at least. But kids are an eventually thing for Darry. Just one, maybe two.

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

You two wake up fairly early so that he can get ready for work (he doesn't even work THAT early, he's just one of those people that likes to not feel rushed in the morning), you start some coffee and maybe get started on breakfast. Breakfast is eaten, and Darry goes to read the paper while you get ready.

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

On an average night when yall don't have any other plans, usually dinner and hanging out with his brothers a bit. Pony goes to bed kind of early if he doesn't have anything better to do because he's a little bitch he has school the next day, and Soda usually finds something to do with his late evening/night. After they're gone, you climb into Darry's lap as he's sitting on his chair and yall just talk for a while until he's literally drifting off mid conversation so you two go to bed.

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

Doesn't get emotionally vulnerable early on, but also doesn't know the difference between basic information and deeper stuff. You'll say "tell me a bit about yourself" on the first date and he'll instantly start kind of trauma-dumping. You expect some hobbies or something and he'll start getting into how he had to give up on college to take care of his brothers after his parents died and your just sitting there like "damn... I really thought you would just tell me your favorite color or smth..."

Kind of doesn't know what to say, so will just give you various bits of his entire life story whenever something makes him think of some story to tell.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Easily frustrated or annoyed. Harder to properly anger, more likely to happen because it's been building up over several different things and he hits a breaking point.

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

Would remember most things, but also has the tendency to temporarily forget them. They just slip his mind, the second you mention it he gets hit with an "OH YEAH, I DID KNOW THAT" but he might forget things. Too much stuff, not enough brain space. It's a stress thing, a symptom of anxiety. He tries to remember everything. Big on intentionally doing things to help, he writes dates in a calender and if anything is important he'll make a note and kind of repeat information to himself.

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

When you guys made your relationship official. You two had been friends for a little while before even dating, then dated a bit before you had to ask if you two were actually together or not. Darry was already pretty in love with you, tbh, he just wanted to take things slow because if you two were really together then there would be more expectations that he was afraid he couldn't meet. He felt that he couldn't give you the attention that you deserved in an actual relationship. You basically had to say "listen, my love, I *KNOW* that you're going through some shit, and I know your brothers are your top priority, and I know that you can't give me all of your time. I am signing up for this, I care about you and I want to be with you." And, holy fuck, he needed that so damn bad.

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

Will absolutely protect you if you need it, but hopes you don't need it. Like, if someone is treating you badly when you are literally just minding your own business then he's by your side INSTANTLY. If something happens when he's not there, he is one call away. He'll call someone to check on you usually, but in an emergency he will drop what he's doing for you instantly.

If you were being unsafe, being super unaware of your surroundings or picking a fight or something, he'll obviously still be there for you but will be mad about it. Will tell you to be more careful because that was easily avoidable.

Darry would prefer to just tell anyone messing with you to politely fuck off. Very "is this person bothering you, darlin?" and usually it works because he's a big guy, people aren't usually going to double down on being nasty/creepy/rude to you when he comes over. If need be, he will absolutely kick some guy's ass for you. The second some dude so much as touches you (whether pervy or violent), that dude is getting several broken bones.

If you found yourself in those situations often, he'd probably get you to carry a small knife or a makeshift pepper spray for self defense (pepper spray was invented in the 60s, but wasn't sold to the public until the 80s, but I feel like he would have you carry something similar because it's non-lethal and can be used at a longer range) because he can't really be around you all the time.

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

Always gives the relationship everything he's got, but what he's got varies wildly. There are going to be periods of time when he is able to put small bits of money aside for gifts and anniversaries, makes sure that he schedules out one date a week just so you two are guaranteed to see each other alone, does what he can around the house so you don't have to do it all, etc. There are also times when he doesn't get to see you or take you on dates, forgets anniversaries and has to make it up to you, etc. It isn't out of lack of effort at all, he feels terrible about it when things get like that, but it happens.

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

It takes a lot to convince him to accept help. I think a lot of the guys have this problem, it's a problem that a lot of men have in general and in the 60s the gender expectations went even harder, but Darry can be especially bad about it.

Not only will he not let you help him with things, but he will also get too overwhelmed by having to put energy into a relationship too and will probably want a break (especially in the beginning) if he gets too stressed about other things. After you fight him on it, he'll realize that you actually signed up for this and are totally down to stay with him even when he's busy or exhausted or just doesn't have any time/energy/money to spare for you. He'll still feel hella bad about it, wants you to have someone that can give you the attention that he feels you deserve, but he's not putting your relationship on hold over it anymore.

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

Knows he looks good as hell, all of the Curtis brothers are super conventionally attractive and they know it. Darry also takes a lot of pride in his body. He isn't vain or overly caught up in his looks, but he isn't oblivious to them either.

He knows he's fine, he cleans up really well when he wants to, he does not care if he looks rough or unfashionable sometimes.

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

No. He's whole outside of a relationship, a partner is extra. Very much of the mindset that a healthy relationship is when two whole people create something bigger than themselves.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Loves to know things, very into learning. Always looking into classes (though he doesn't have the money or time to take them, he just likes seeing what's there), huge on the importance of keeping up with the news and current events, reads a lot of nonfiction and watched documentaries. Likes facts, especially history and sciences like biology and earth science. Has a lot of skills that he's picked up and is always looking to pick up more. If you need anything done or you need to know anything that could be considered useless trivia, check with Darry first because there's a good chance he'll have an answer.

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

Lack of damn common sense, not being able to take a rational and honest answer. He REALLY tries to be understanding about it with the people that he cares about. It's a major issue between him and Ponyboy especially, but it could be a problem with any more emotional person. He doesn't get it at all, so it's SO frustrating when he has to stand by and watch someone make a stupid decision because they just refuse to by logical about it. Even worse when it turns into an argument, because he's usually objectively right but it's so hard to win against someone so intensely emotionally charged even when his points are completely sound and valid.

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

Sleeps in chairs 80% of the time. Doesn't mean to, he sits too long and he's out, though. Between that and work, he has no right to wonder why when his body is fucked up. No way it isn't catching up to him as he gets older.

[liloinkoink]

*runs into inbox clothes burning and disheveled* LAMPLIGHT QUESTIONS??? YOU WANT LAMPLIGHT QUESTIONS??? (i think you made that post like four days ago so i'm late but aaaaaaaa)

what do you think is like, The Turning Point in Martyn and Ren's companionship? Or if there's more than one already written, what's your favorite?

Is there a scene that you've really been excited to write for lamplight/one that you've written but haven't shown The Public yet?

In his original party, were there like, designated roles for everyone to play? Like healer/brawler/short-range/scholar etc? If so, what role do you think Martyn specialized in? And everyone else? Is there anything you would say lamplight Martyn is good at--- like a skill or something? Also, how long had the group been together before that incident at Dogwarts?

From what I can remember, Ren and Scar are the only Gods we've seen so far--- do you have an idea of any other familiar faces that are also Gods?

Do you have any other world-building details you wanna talk about? Any Martyn or Ren thoughts that you've been wanting to talk about?

Sorry if this is too many questions, you don't have to answer all of them! Give as vague answers as you please--- honestly, anything you say about the lamplight world i Will Chew Up Like Dog Toy, so put whatever you want!

Regardless, thank you for your writing and all your efforts! I hope you have a nice day ^_^

okay this is a massive ask with so many questions in it, so im gonna repeat/bold each question and deal w em one by one

i will put this under a cut bc it is So Long. below this cut is SO MUCH lamplight worldbuilding, like, So Much, so i hope you enjoy that

what do you think is like, The Turning Point in Martyn and Ren's companionship? Or if there's more than one already written, what's your favorite?

turning point... i guess it depends how you define a turning point? any point of development in their relationship? there's been a few--heliography, with Martyn deciding to swear a real oath to Ren (if still one he can back out of); sleeping hound, w Martyn realizing Ren wouldnt ever burn him; worship the ashes, love wins. there's another big one for Martyn planned that i havent written yet, and one, maybe two or three for Ren.

my favorite, tho, hmm... i think sleeping hound.

Is there a scene that you've really been excited to write for lamplight/one that you've written but haven't shown The Public yet?

i planned the scene for how Ren gets his body back literally day one of the damn fic and i still havent written it a year later i want to SO BAD YOU DONT UNDERSTAND

literally this one fuckign scene is part of the reason i STARTED WRITING THE DAMN FIC. crying

for the latter half, i posted this!

In his original party, were there like, designated roles for everyone to play? Like healer/brawler/short-range/scholar etc? If so, what role do you think Martyn specialized in? And everyone else?

i get so many questions abt martyns og party you think after a year i would have answers to them but my answer is unfortunately always that i am a treebark writer making a treebark au and it isnt relevant to ren and martyn doing ren and martyn things so i didnt really bother

that said! i dont think they necessarily had roles? they all strike me as pretty mid-level adventurers. theyre not chosen ones on holy quests. none of them are going to have songs sung about them for decades to come. they can hold their own, but they arent saving the world. theyre like,,, fantasy backpacking. doing some minor jobs sometimes. all of em are skilled enough w their weapons/magic but none of em are like, The Fighter or The Mage.

all of them are swordsmen tho bc i think swords are cool. i think Jimmy is better at it than you think he is, but not as good as he says. he will occasionally surprise you by doing something really cool and then when he turns around to brag about it he eats shit. jimmys magic really only affects the area immediately around himself

i asked local to weigh in on bigb bc thats who im least confident on and he suggested bigb using a fighting style that heavily relies on a shield? like sword in one hand shield in the other. i think thats very sick. also, bigbs magic only affects his own body

i can see Grian having some kinda little explosives he uses to fight, tho he clearly doesnt have them anymore (and doesnt need em--bro has talons these days). he used to be immune to magic, but bc of the watchers, he now has a magical core and can be cast on, which is new to him

their group didnt have a leader, either, and all decisions were just made as a group. if asked, both Martyn and Jimmy would say they were the leader (tho neither would boast this anymore, due to believing that would imply having lead Grian to his death). Grian used to handle their money (and hes annoyed about having lost it)

Is there anything you would say lamplight Martyn is good at--- like a skill or something?

he's a musician! it's come up a few times, but he's skilled in a few instruments and has a nice singing voice. hes played a lute on page, i believe, but i think he could also use a harmonica. dont worry abt whether or not those have been invented yet i dont care i just think he deserves one. probs knows a fair amount of songs thatre good in taverns and some dances that accompany them. if he ever got tired of adventuring, he could probs make a fair amount playing at bars (he'd probs do it to fundraise for himself if he didnt have to worry abt ren's lantern)

he's also a pretty decent cook. at least, Ren really likes his cooking, when he has a body again, tho Ren hasnt eaten anything in 20 years

he's generally pretty strong/fit w good stamina to walk all day long. when Ren has a body again, Martyn will be strong enough to lift him, even tho Ren is not much shorter/smaller than him. Ren finds this incredibly impressive. Ren finds everything Martyn does incredibly impressive

of course, there's also being a deadzone, making him completely immune to magic (within reason--if someone casts fireball at him hes still going to burn). charms and curses dont work on him at all, which is very helpful as an adventurer

Also, how long had the group been together before that incident at Dogwarts?

jimmy, grian, and martyn were childhood friends, all lived in the same town/neighborhood (Evo) and grew up together. bigb moved to their hometown/neighborhood when Dogwarts fell, he was about 10? theyve been friends ever since. so theyve known each other about 20 years minimum

(note on ages: i dont know how old any of these people actually are so in lamplight theyre all like early 30s. pretty sure grian and jimmy are like late 20s? and bigb and martyn are somewhere in their 30s? so i set em all as early 30s)

barely related, it does make me laugh Dogwarts has Watchers and Evo doesnt

From what I can remember, Ren and Scar are the only Gods we've seen so far--- do you have an idea of any other familiar faces that are also Gods?

the answer to this is uh. kind of long and a little bit hysterical. so ill first direct you to this paragraph from moonlight ch2

i did actually have uh... a few things in mind for this? but not uh. not reasonable ones

so. quite a few of them. ill be honest. to fill the paragraph and make it long and expansive i recounted the pantheon from a zolu fic abt the entire strawhat pirate crew as gods which i wrote w my friend Sam when i was like 16. i do not think the strawhat pantheon is canon to lamplight but recalling the domains i used for the strawhats was how i made a lot of the list, so, uh, take that as you will

for other characters... the god of nothing is Scar. the god of death is Kristin. the god of blood is... not Technoblade, actually? tho ive thought abt him in Lamplight. i like to think he may actually also be a paladin, he travels around w Phil. gods of places references Ren but also is a shoutout specifically to my friend Zeph who loves place gods, so i just wanted the world to have lots of them

the god of survival is actually Martyn! in leaflight, the roleswap, Martyn has long since abandoned his post as a god, but he was born the god of survival

.....oh and uh. well. the god of decay is... me! my mcrp character on another server is the god of decay. the secret truth about this specific paragraph is i wrote the entire thing so i could make a cameo in lamplight

Do you have any other world-building details you wanna talk about?

magic system... have i told you guys about magical cores? i had some of this already in mind but typing it out i made up a lot more. it is also approaching 1am so if this doesnt make any sense that's why

every person in lamplight has a magical core. it's sort of like a,,, spiritual organ? a little core of magic in them which takes magic from the air and makes it usable for an individual. cores vary in size/reserve, which is how much magic a person can do at max / how much magic their core can store. they also vary in type/strength of magic, which i guess is what a person's core processes ambient magic as

people can usually only use one kind of magic, which corresponds to what their core is. i think the type of magic is mostly determined by what/who it works on. it might work on just you and the space around you, it might work on just objects, it might work on animals, it might work on other people. magic which works on just yourself is most common and weakest, and the majority of people have that

deadzones dont have a magical core At All. theres nothing in there. straight up missing an organ. most deadzones are born this way, but i can see it be possible to become one if you Really, REALLY exhaust your core, tho that's probs rare

casting a spell depends entirely on belief. if you believe it should work, and are confident in your spell, it should do what you want, esp if it's in your power. you can... probs push your limits a bit if youre super confident, and doing this enough with enough confidence is basically the closest thing to training one's magic a person can get?

related, i can see bc of this kids having magic thats just a little stronger than adults bc of this, which is cute. kids probs also have smaller cores w smaller reserves, tho im not sure how much a core grows as a person ages

inanimate objects dont have magical cores or innate magic. i said earlier i think the lamplight world has a lot of ambient magic just floating about (which is how cores refill back to baseline once you use magic), but it doesnt stick to things unless you make it. to cast on an object, you have to use magic from your own core to adhere it to the thing youre casting on (which is why spells casted on objects dont USUALLY last that long--as said in moonlight, most only last a short while, and ren's enchants only lasted for months is just bc he was insanely powerful). you basically give items a little piece of your core with an instruction of how to use it

(jimmy's magic i think affects himself and ambient magic around him, while bigb draws entirely on his own core and can only affect himself)

i dont know if animals have magical cores ive never thought about it until this exact second. probably, but not ones most creatures know how to use? magic is belief based, they might use magic a little bit on accident? i dont know. some monsters absolutely have magical cores they know how to use

this is probs how zombies work. i think it's either a curse cast by one very powerful god/magic user a long time ago, or that people need to be properly buried or else weird things happen to their lingering magical core. or smth. i havent entirely decided

to cast on a person, you need to get your magic to stick to, cover up, or drown out Their magical core, depending on the spell. spells cast on other people dont last very long bc magical cores dont tend to like things intruding on them. this is why deadzones cant be cast on--no core, nothing for other magic to stick to

it's a little bit like a sliding scale? "weakest" magic is yourself, it's easiest to cast on yourself bc your will is your own and should generally line up w your magic, so long as you believe in what you're doing. then ambient magic, bc it's just chillin, you just need a little extra strength to grab it. then objects, tho you have to share a little will to cast on objects. then animals, they usually have smaller magical cores than ppl, friendly animals are a bit easier to bend to your will, tho some animals are harder to cast on then others, esp hostile animals or monsters. then other people. people have their own will and their own cores that are most difficult to bend/influence. so magic that works on other ppl is the "strongest"

being able to cast on a later step on the scale, like animals or ppl, doesnt mean you can do all the steps before it, tho. Scar i think can ONLY cast on living things, his magic sorta specializes in sticking to other ppls' cores. i would imagine all magic users can cast on themselves at least a little tho

to cast on a deadzone, you have to first give them a magical core, which is incredibly difficult, unstable, and dangerous. it requires a lot of power and a lot of people, which is why it did such weird things to Grian

divine magical cores are on another level entirely compared to mortals, and tho ren's was impressive as a human, it got infinitely more powerful when he became a god. he's basically a well of magic all on his own, w no limit on the size/reserve of his core

ren is overflowing w magic, but it works only on inanimate objects (things that dont have wills of their own to fight his) and himself (obviously he doesnt have to fight his own will). if Martyn werent a deadzone, he could probablt have cast on late-series Martyn, as martyn's will as ren's paladin would probs line up w ren's own

none of these rules are super hard and set in stone. lamplight magic is vibe based first and foremost

uhhh. i dont know if this all made sense? if it doesnt feel free to ask follow up questions

oh, and before anyone asks:

jimmy has a slightly more powerful core than bigb bc he can cast on ambient magic and bigb cant. bigb's core is probs bigger than jimmy's tho, so he can use more magic / use magic for longer than jimmy can

Any Martyn or Ren thoughts that you've been wanting to talk about?

heres a fun fact: gods are supposed to give their paladins blessings. Ren is no exception to this, but bc Martyn has no magical core, he cant receive them. if he did, ren's blessings would be all about protection. it'd basically be like casting armor enchants like protection and unbreaking directly on martyn's body? he'd less likely to be directly injured and sturdier in general. he would also be completely resistant to any fire, not just ren.

(the thing i said earlier is sort of why blessings work for Ren despite the fact hes technically mortal, but for other gods blessings are automatic so long as the paladin's oath stands)

Ren is aware of the fact he should be able to bless Martyn and cant and is sort of upset about it, but he blessed his armor, so he thinks thatll have to be enough

[ivansergeyevichturgenev]

one thing about my mother is she persistently said throughout my entire childhood that she wanted us to have a very open relationship where i could tell her anything. Now what she really meant by this was that she wanted me to talk to her about sex. and even as a kid, i felt uncomfortable when she would say this bc i was like okay. like i really like when we have girls days and you're my mom and can be really fun, but i don't feel comfortable telling you anything going on inside my head. i didn't tell her i got my first period for over a year. she found out bc my stained clothes. and then i told my doctor later that i actually got my first period months before i told my mom which really hurt her feelings. but she never did anything to make me feel comfortable telling her literally anything private. and then when i was in middle school, she started saying she was going to start randomly drug and pregnancy testing us bc she didn't trust us. girl what? and then of course i was an incredibly well behaved young woman. and then also around this time my mother would go on these rants about how disgusting she found gay sex. my parents had briefly gotten back together. it was insane. they were detailed rants. if i was in 8th/9th grade, then remember my brother was younger. and it got to a point my father was like this is insane angel. you don't have to sleep with another woman why do you do this so much holy shit. and it's like this is not the behavior of someone who wants to keep communication open with their child. and then you know the years go by and i'm fixed with the religious therapy and i date the first boy who talks to me and i do get birth control and she is just crushed i do not tell her about the first time we sleep together. she was in tears over this. and also hid the bill from when i visited the obgyn which i found that said final notice this is getting sent to collections in MY NAME all over $50. bc her pride was more important than my credit!!!! it's really not surprising this blew up so fast when the pandemic started

[paracosmicparadox]

So I finished FFXV ages ago, but I've been thinking about it lately bc you know, I elaborated the chocobros' story far further than it was meant to go and got way more attached to them than I should have. So here're some things that the game did really well and some of the things it didn't. (you don't have to agree w anything here; I'm not trying to corrupt y'all w my opinions; I just feel like talking)

Let's start with the bad to get it out of the way:

CINDY. I swear to everything holy her character had the potential to be So Cool if she hadn't been so overtly over-sexualized. Like, I'm a woman-liker too and I get it, lady mechanics are hot af, but you know what else is attractive? Safety in the workplace. Cindy's outfit was not something any mechanic would be caught dead wearing. Yeah, it was designed to be sexy, but do you know how many burns she would've accumulated from the hot oil and metal she works with? There's a reason mechanics typically wear clothing zipped up when they're actually working on something. If anything, Cindy's character design just made me uncomfortable. Her character itself? Great. No qualms there. Her design? Please acquire more than two square feet of fabric I'm begging you. I just feel like Cindy deserved to be so much more than fan service.

Luna's brief time on-screen. Yet another potentially incredible and deep female protagonist who got short change from this game. People joke a lot that Luna wasn't at all an important character because the game never really treated her like one. She was MEANT to be important, clearly, but it felt like she existed just for her tearjerking death scene? Like there was SO MUCH overlooked potential to bring her into the storyline as more than Tragic Love Interest In White, and yet?? Idk it frustrated me.

The emotional aspect of the game felt rushed. There were a lot of emotional scenes covered throughout the plotline ranging from King Regis's death to the deal with Prompto at Zegnautus Keep. I feel like the game TRIED to cover them realistically and show the characters' grief, but it didn't quite get there. It was just sort of an "Oh, how sad. I'm so upset and angry. Hm, what's that? My friends believe in me without truly understanding and I can kill someone to ease my pain? Oh okay I'm better now." I get that realistic healing cycles are kinda hard to portray within a set timeframe, but having some lingering effects of the blatant trauma inflicted would've been nice. You don't recover from shit like that in a week's time.

Character personalities tended to be one-sided. Noctis was edgy, Prompto was happy-go-lucky, Gladio was tough-guy, and Ignis was... nevermind, Iggy was great--- HE had some on-screen depth. Personally, I've developed these characters myself far more than what the game gave us, but I wish we'd gotten more canon depth beyond their surface-level traits. I love them with my whole heart and they deserve genuine complexity.

Now the things I actually really enjoyed:

The graphics were on-point. The amount of detail put into character design and into monsters was insane. You could zoom in and see individual textures on skin and hair and feathers, bringing a level of realism to the game that I personally enjoyed.

All of the Latin and Norse mythological references!! As a Latin nerd, I found little gems everywhere in this game. Esp in the names--- (Noctis Lucis Caelum = Of-the-night Sky-of-light (the genitives in there make the literal translation kinda a mouthful ik) Gladiolus Amicitia = Sword-flower Friendship (the gladiolus is an actual flower that gets its name from the Latin word gladius, meaning sword, for its sword-like shape) Ignis Scientia = Fire Knowledge; Prompto Argentum = Ready Silver (the word prompto is actually in the dative (possibly ablative), making the literal translation nonsense, but if they'd made his name Promptus, it would've sounded awkward, so I can see why they picked the dative/ablative form of the adjective for stylistic reasons and I put the rough translation instead)) WOW THAT WAS A LOT OF PARENTHETICAL INFO WHOOPS

Ardyn's character. I'm not saying this bc I'm one of the fans who fawn over him---Ardyn is DEFINITELY NOT MY PREFERRED FLAVOR OF MAN, but character-wise, he made an excellent antagonist. He was witty, slick, and classy in an I'm-gonna-outstep-you-like-it's-hopscotch sorta way. He was a poetic villain done well, which made him an antagonist you could both sympathize for and absolutely detest given the situation. He was both the master manipulator and the pawn one space away from the edge of the board. He can sway a crowd, but you know deep in your gut just by the cunning greed in his eyes that You Cannot Trust The Man. He was definitely Not a good person (tragic backstory isn't an excuse), but he was a good villain.

I loved the bond between the chocobros?? This is probably bc I'm a sucker for the found family trope, but their interactions were so amazing to me?? Like, not even the cutscene stuff. Just their little sidebar conversations during fights or while you're walking around or driving the Regalia. They're Roadtrip Buddies™ and I think that's excellent.

THE FOOD. By god, the food in this game looked absolutely scrumptious and I would like to partake. The Daggerquill Soup? Give it to me I'll pay you. The Creamy Crustacean Omelet? Stop it right now I'll eat that so fast it'll be a criminal offense. Like I know I touched on the graphics earlier, but broski I was not kidding. I guess I know why the game took so long to make it to the market bc the detail that went into these recipes is absolutely mouthwatering.

[mindotaur]

I find it interesting that syscovery is very rarely linear. Here’s a long post about discovering, rediscovering and accepting our system, filled with mushy feelings at the end because I am quite the sentimental one.

content warning for self-destructive behavior, though we don't go into too much detail about what that was

We’ve mentioned in our writing and in some previous posts how we’ve always been overtly plural, we just didn’t know that was a thing. I remember being seven and interacting with Lim, playing with her when we were alone. I would always talk to myself out loud, sometimes we had verbal disagreements that made our family look at us funny – and that’s how our brother gave us the nickname Sméagol.

There are many memories that we can only explain now that we know about our plurality, now that we have the language to describe what was happening to us. We had flashbacks we thought were hauntings, alters known by name to our friends and partner at the time (who we notably described as ‘the other me’), impulsive and self-destructive behaviors we didn’t always understand because we were missing part of the puzzle, terrible memory gaps that we tried to explain away as being a byproduct of alcoholism (never mind the fact that we started drinking to cope with the memory gaps, not the other way around), and more… less than stellar things. The true sauce on the disordered burger, if you will.

Giselle, one of our previous hosts, found a forum online that talked about DID in the 2000s and she was like “holy shit, that’s me/us!” and tried to get support for our system as a teenager.  The trouble is that we lived in a small town with truly shitty mental health professionals who only traumatized us further, and Lim (our primary protector at the time) knew we weren’t ready to deal with the DID. She essentially forced Giselle into dormancy and we completely forgot that DID even existed.

Did that stop the voices, the discussions, the flashbacks, the blackouts? Did it stop our mother from talking about how we “seemed like a completely different person from moment A to moment B”? Absolutely not. We just lost the means to explain it to ourselves and others, and so we were certain we were psychotic. We began to describe the sensation of dissociation as “I think I’m hallucinating”, because the voices would get more intense and our vision would get blurry. Suppressing the system made the cacophony louder, increased headaches and sensitivities, increased self-destructive behavior to the maximum.

We moved states, went to university, had a terribly traumatic relationship as adults and spiraled out of control. We were in another relationship when our partner told us we needed therapy because things were absolutely unmanageable, and they were right. We started seeing our therapist and regularly visiting the psychiatrist, taking medications as prescribed and searching for a name for what was wrong with us.

The first thing we were diagnosed with was schizoaffective bipolar disorder, explaining the apparent psychosis and the episodes of mania and depression that we had since adolescence. Except the antipsychotics didn’t do anything about the voices, they didn’t stop the dissociation, they just acted as mood regulators. Schizoaffective was crossed off after a while.

It took us two years of weekly therapy, at times bi-weekly, and several medication adjustments until we gained any form of stability. We moved out of our family’s home and found our first “real” job, and that’s when the memory gaps got worse. We had our own money, our own time, and access to the entire big city we were now living in. Unbeknownst to us, Giselle was back from her dormancy and ready to make up for the years she had lost, so we were partying every week, I had fresh tattoos I had no memory of getting or even planning for, clothes I didn’t remember buying, money absolutely could not stay in my account.

Giselle was also what you may call a sexual protector, so we would black out during very specific instances, such as visits to the gynecologist. One time I remember I was in the elevator of the obgyn’s clinic, I dissociated, and suddenly I was in a completely different part of town with a bag of goodies she had bought from a street vendor.

I can’t tell you what it was like from her point of view, but for me it was absolutely disorienting. We started seeing a different psychiatrist and we got diagnosed with DID, but a lot of the support we got came from the online community of systems willing to explain things in layman’s terms. Our psychologist is trauma-educated but she had never worked with a system before, so we learned together, and she’s an absolute gem.

It wasn’t easy at first. I used to fight every switch, to be terrified of losing control, particularly to Giselle because she was so wild and irresponsible. I didn’t understand then that she was wild because she was locked away and repressed for so long, I didn’t know I was making it worse. Sometimes when we switched it would last upwards of 40 minutes, and I would know we were switching because of the terrible headache and anxiety that would come with it.

Time isn’t something easy for us to track, so I can’t tell you how long it was until I accepted Giselle and she accepted that her actions had consequences. We established a truce, then a friendship. The headaches went away and we could switch intentionally. It was around that time that other system members started showing themselves, and we began to actively work on improving our communication and memory-sharing.

For the first year of this, our now-wife would attend therapy with us and help fill in the gaps where I couldn’t remember things. Eventually, we were able to return to solo therapy sessions and our psychologist started working with one of us at a time, depending on who would front that day. We missed a lot of sessions because we forgot about them, but our therapist is an angel and she never gave up on us.

I remember one of my earlier thoughts about recovery being “I don’t want to be alone”. I was scared of Giselle and whoever else I may not know about, yes, but I had Lim – and I didn’t want to lose Lim, she’d always been with me. When we learned about functional multiplicity, we all agreed it was the way to go.

I don’t know how many hours we put into journaling, planning, talking with our partners and friends, endless therapy sessions, exploring different hobbies, making and testing playlists that would help each of us front, finding out what our positive and negative triggers were, exploring the inner world… it’s been years of hard work to get to the fluid communication we have now.

Giselle eventually fused with Roland. I grew to love them both, and I love who they became together. August is an absolute sweetheart. I can look back now and see everywhere the others helped us survive, every hurdle we overcame together, and it fills me with the deepest love and appreciation for them. We’re a rather large system and I love almost every one of us. There’s one still stuck in abusive trauma cycles, but he’s been getting quieter and we hope to get him to come around.

Overall, we’ve achieved functional multiplicity. We can work, we have a healthy marriage, we have friends, we own a house… we still have some issues (example: our social anxiety got worse during the pandemic), but we’re working through them together and helping each other every step of the way. Lim learned to let go and not be overprotective now that we’re no longer in an actively traumatic situation, we’ve learned to be more flexible with our roles, even if some of us still find them very useful, and we’re almost always cofronting. Switches are easier, we have less episodes of one of us getting frontstuck, almost no flashbacks or dissociative seizures unless we’re in specific high-stress situations… I don’t know, it’s good.

I love my system. I love finding out who we can become together. I love our friends who accept us for who we are, I love being open about us with more and more people. I wish we’d suffered less; I wish the road had been easier, but I would not trade them for anything in the world.

I don’t know if I had a point with this. I was just remembering our journey so far and I needed to get the feelings on paper. I don’t know if this will be particularly helpful to anyone, and we are notably bad at giving advice, so just accept this as a testimony to our lived experience. I am so proud of my system and myself for our growth and recovery I need to shout it from the rooftops.

What I can say is this: if you’re a disordered system and you’re just starting to figure things out, be patient with yourselves. Put in the work to get to where you want to be. It’s so incredibly worth it.

[jungkookjeon0007]

Nights in Vegas | CH. 21 (JJK FF)

☆ summary: When Olivia flies to Las Vegas for her first ever BTS concert w/ her best friend, she was expecting to make lots of unforgettable memories... What she wasn't expecting was to end up with the lead singer, Jeon Jungkook, knocking on her hotel room door only to find her in nothing but a towel. What will happen when the golden maknae wants to see her again? Will it lead to heartbreak, or a promising future for them both?

☆ pairing(s): jungkook x olivia.

☆ ratings: (18+) for detailed sex scenes + harsh language.

☆ genre: smut, angst, fluff.

☆ word count: 2.57k.

☆☆☆☆☆☆

He walked me over to the bed and laid me down gently. "Do you want me to get you wet first or go straight into it this time? I don't want to hurt you."

I smiled softly at his kindness, "No need to prep me baby, I am more than ready for you."

His eyes turned hungry and in a second, he was attacking my lips again. "I'm going to fuck you so good baby."

He was kissing and sucking on my neck as I let a moan slip out.

"I'm ready for you Kookie, please."

He smirked, "With pleasure beautiful."

He stood up from the bed, taking his shirt off and as he went to reach for his belt, I interrupted him, "WAIT!"

He looked at me in confusion, but that was soon replaced with a smirk when I continued, "Can I undress you the rest of the way."

"Of course. I'm all yours."

I bit my lip as I undid his belt and while looking up at him, looped my fingers under the hem of his boxers. I slowly slid his pants down, salivating as I was face to face with his huge erection. I palmed him through his boxers for a minute, then when I had him writhing under my touch, I pulled them down releasing his perfect dick. It sprung out, hard and on full display for me. The head red, leaking with pre cum and I couldn't help myself as I leaned forward and licked it off the tip. This caught him off guard and his breath got caught in his throat as he took a deep breath. I swirled my tongue around the tip of his member taking my time until I took him by surprise, taking his full length into mouth all at once.

"Holy fucking shit baby-" He moaned out and began breathing heavily. "You're so good at sucking my dick. Mmmmm."

I smirked, popping him out of my mouth.

I ran my tongue slowly up his shaft and once I got to the tip, I swirled my tongue around it again before pleasuring him with my mouth and hand in perfect sync. He reached down, grabbing a handful of my hair as he started thrusting into my mouth. My own saliva was dripping down my chin at this point, but I was not fucking stopping. 

We continued like this until his thrusts began to get sloppier and I could tell he was getting close, "Oh fuck baby, I'm so so close-"

He threw his head back and tightly shut his eyes as sweat was beading up on his forehead.

He moaned out again, "Oh, shit just like that. Please don't stop."

Never in a million years would I have stopped. Even though my throat was getting sore, I kept going until this man got his release.

A few moments later, he stilled his hips as I felt his hot cum shooting down the back of my throat. I swallowed every last drop as he snapped his hips, riding his high out completely before pulling his member out of my mouth.

He was out of breath, but pulled me up to him, and was caressing my skin. "That was so damn amazing baby. I swear to god. But, now it's your turn."

Before I could comprehend what he said, his hands found my button up shirt, tearing it open as the sound of buttons hitting the floor echoed throughout the room

I whimpered at the action as he kissed my neck. "Oops, sorry. I guess you'll have to wear one of mine now. What a shame."

I moaned when I felt him smirk on my skin, "Now, let's get these clothes off of you."

He stripped me down intoxicatingly slow then grabbed my boob, circling his tongue around my hardened nipple."I love your titties Liv, oh my god."

My head was thrown back as moans spilled out.

I wanted him so badly that I was beginning to ache between my legs. I rubbed them together and he must have known why because he looked at me, releasing my nipple. "Don't worry baby girl, I'll take care of that."

He quickly stripped my panties off, slipping his tattooed fingers into my dripping wet folds, and expertly rubbing my swollen clit. "Fucking shit you're so wet. I want to taste you so badly."

Holy hell. Since when did soft Jungkook become so dominant and vocal during sex.

I whimpered, laying my head on his shoulder as he continued rubbing me.I was a moaning mess and started begging him, "Kookie please. I'm begging you to fuck me, I need you."

He smiled. "Okay baby, all you had to do was ask."

He slipped his fingers out of my wetness, bringing them up to his mouth, and while maintaining eye contact, licked them clean. "Mmmm, you taste like strawberries and whip cream. So delicious."

I grabbed his face and kissed him harshly. Without a single word, he grabbed my hips,  turning me around so my back was pressed on his front. "Let's try a new position, hmm?"

I nodded as he whispered in my ear, "Get on all fours for me like a good girl."

I did as he wanted, crawling onto the bed on all fours. My ass was in the air and I looked back to see him ogling at me. "You know what? Fuck it."

In a second he was on the bed behind me and his hot mouth found my wet core.

"Holy shit." I moaned out.

I couldn't stop myself from being so loud as he was eating me out so fucking good that the noises alone from the contact was enough to send me into a frenzy.

My legs were shaking and I put my face in the sheets to hide my moans."Don't hide them baby. Let everyone know how good I make you feel."

With that said, he sat up and aligned himself with my entrance rubbing my swollen pussy with his member. "Remember, don't hide those beautiful moans from me, okay."

He slammed into me, "Oh fuck, you're so damn tight Liv. Mmmmm."

He was moving a little bit at a time and rubbing my ass gently to soothe me. A few thrusts later, he began to thrust harder and before long all you could hear echoing throughout the room was the slapping of skin and uncontrollable moans from the both of us.

"I'm so close." He moaned out.

"Ahh, fuck me too. Keep going, don't stop!"

He started fucking me even harder and before I knew it, the knot in my stomach finally snapped. I moaned so loud there was no doubt that everyone on this entire floor heard me. A few seconds after me, he was also coming undone, "Oh fuck baby, I'm-" And he started shooting his cum deep inside of me before finishing his sentence.

He rode out his high then pulled out as we both collapsed onto the bed.

. . .

[Jungkook's POV]

We laid on the bed until our breathing returned to normal, and stared at each other as she laid on my chest.

"What are you thinking about?" She asked softly.

"I spoke with Bang PD earlier about our relationship and how I wanted to continue being with you even when I go back to Korea. I told him about all the amazing times we've had together here, and how much I have fallen in love with you."

She sat up and looked me in the eyes."What'd he say?"

"He told me that he was glad I got to experience these things, that he would think about it, and call me back in an hour or so."

She smirked at me. "Ahhh, so that's why you had an hour or so before you had to do anything, huh?"

I smirked as my cheeks turned red. "Shut up." I playfully shoved her, planting a soft kiss on her cheek as she giggled.

"But to answer your question, yes. That's what I'm waiting on."

"Are you nervous about what he'll say?" I stared at the ceiling, thinking.

I'm actually not that scared, but part of me feels that he will put some type of stipulation on the relationship and have several rules that we must follow.

Just then, her phone ringing brought me out of my thoughts.

Olivia's side of the conversation:

"Hello?" "Yeah, I'm with him now." "Okay yeah sure! Let me just tell him and then I will meet you down there in 30." "Okay! I'll see you then! Love you too."

End of conversation.

"Who was that?" I asked curiously.

She put her phone on the table as she answered, "Lacie, she's wanting to go shopping and get some souvenirs for her family. I promised I would go with hero."

"Yeah absolutely! Go and have fun. I am just going to be relaxing here for a bit before the concert. I will have a car pick you up at 7 and bring you to the stadium, okay?"

She leaned in, planting a sweet kiss on my lips, "Sounds perfect, Kookie."

We started giggling until the air got serious the moment I received a text message. I leaned over on the night stand to check who it was, and was shocked to see Bang PD's name with a text message:

Bang PD: I will be calling you in about 10 minutes. I've made a decision and would like to talk to you.. Alone.

We both looked from my phone screen to each other. Alone... that made it much more serious.

"Hey. Jungkook, look at me."

I looked up at her with sad eyes thinking the worst but she grabbed my face and kissed my nose, "Baby, you don't even know what he's going to say. Before you start freaking out.. hear him out. You never know, his answer could surprise you."

I grabbed her wrist and held it as she continued to hold my face, "What did I do to deserve someone like you?"

I almost said it so softly that it was a whisper, but she heard me anyways. "You followed your heart and allowed yourself to do what you wanted for a change and I'm so proud of you."

"I love you." I stated as I smiled at her.

"I love you too baby."

. . .

Time skip

[Author's POV]

Olivia had just left to go with Lacie for the day, and Jungkook was straightening up his room. All of a sudden his phone started ringing with an incoming FaceTime call from Bang PD. Jungkook took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as he answered the call, "Hello."

"Hello JK, how are you feeling?"

"Honestly I'm a bit nervous sir, but I will be okay."

"Right. Well, I am going to get straight to it if you'd prefer me to do that so we can get this out of the way."

He gulped harshly, "Umm, o-okay. I'm ready."

He was pouring sweat. Hot. Anxious. He even felt a little bit sick to his stomach. He didn't know what Bang was going to say, but what he did know is that whatever he says will determine everything for him and Olivia.

Bang cleared his throat, "Okay, so I definitely did a lot of thinking and weighed all options about how this could work for the both of you and I think personally that the only way this could work, is if she would agree to come to Korea with you so I can see what I think of the pair of you. She can stay at your apartment with you, as I think it's best and want to see how serious she is for you and how well you two do together. I know it's a lot, but that is what my stipulations are because too much lays on the line for you to pack up and leave her here while you're all the way in Korea. If something would happen to leak out and we weren't prepared to handle it... it could be a nightmare not only for you and the members, but for her as well and I definitely don't want that for anyone."

Silence.

Bang sighed, "I'm sorry that I had to come to this decision, but I truly think it's for the best. She needs to see if she can handle this life and see if she can be apart of your world before you guys try to be too serious. It can be a lot for some people and you at least need to let her make that choice for herself."

Silence.

Bang sighed heavily, knowing that this was a lot for Jungkook to process. They sat there in silence for a second until he spoke again. "Do you have any questions or anything? I don't want to be the bad guy here Jungkook, but you boys have worked so hard to build where you are in your professional careers. It's my job to protect you and be sure that you are taken care of."

Jungkook closed his eyes and let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding in, "I-I guess I have no choice right? This is what I will have to do to be with her."

"I'm so sorry. I am just thinking about you boys. The possible outcomes of this going south if she doesn't come with you is very high. We can keep you both private in Korea so much easier and you'll be with her all the time at your apartment I'm sure."

"I appreciate you looking out for us Bang, truly. I just need to figure out how I am going to explain all of this to her. Hopefully she understands, I just hate to take her away from everything she knows including her family. Korea is a very intimidating place at first and I don't want to push her away."

"I understand completely. I really do, I spoke with a few of the trusted staff and they all think it's a good idea as well. You've worked too hard to let it all fall apart JK."

He nodded. "I understand sir. Thank you for at least trying for us and I will talk to her tonight to see what she thinks. Could I call you back to let you know something tomorrow?"

"Of course. Take all of the time that you need and if we are finished here, I unfortunately have a meeting that I need to attend. I will talk to you soon and remember to not be so hard on yourself about this or think the negatives."

"Thank you. I will talk to you soon."

They hung up the phone and Jungkook threw his phone on the bed beside him, grabbing his hair. He was feeling so stressed out and didn't know how to process all that Bang had just said. Of course he knows to be grateful that he even considered something as crazy as this, but never did he think he would have to ask her to move to Korea and change her entire life for him. So much to think about, so much to talk to her about and he was beyond exhausted.

He laid back on the bed, looking up at the ceiling. "How am I supposed to do this? I don't want her to leave me."

A tear rolled down his cheek at the thought and before he knew it, he was crying.

Tonight is going to be a very rough night.

[fizziefactory]

How did you think up each of your concept for your Robo Fizz OCs? Like go in-depth about the choices you made, why you chose their names and such. I want details.

Questions about the fizzies || Accpeting

Oh that's a juicy one… and lengthy too, let's see where we can start. This got so fucking long holy shit pick your fav section idk I'm so rambly-

The very first muse I made was Factory Fizzy, or FF-8842. I can say right away that their factory name, which is the only name they go by, doesn't actually mean anything! I just think it's cute, I really love the number 8. In hindsight, 42 I can make the argument being a subconscious nod to “A hitchhiker's guide to the galaxy”, a book series I loved when I was a teen. 42 is the meaning of life, and FF-8842 is struggling to find the meaning of their life.

But most of all, Four-Two, or Fou-Too, just sounds cute.

They were originally made for a comic that I wanted to draw for the song The Fine Print by The Stupendium, sometimes I just get brainworms when I fixate, and I end up drawing lengthy comics to songs I like. I needed a fizzy to work in the Fizzy Factory for the song, so I made a fizzy with a simple design, clothes with no dyes, “horns” without fabric on them, basically a fizzy that didn't need to catch anyone's eye, nor drain resources and money. This is also why while they're quite strong, they're only 4’1”.

Now I play a lot on the idea of a fizzy that was created with a strong sense of self, of sentience, as soon as they were created. Usually it takes my fizzies a few years to reach sentience, if they ever do… but FF-8842 is a “defect” always at the verge of being scrapped for being too much of a free-thinker. This definitely evolved from the original comic, where they clearly do not possess the same distant look in their eyes as the other fizzies.

The second fizzy I made was The Manager. His name was originally just Office Fizzy, which I later weaved into his backstory instead. I actually asked my friends how I should refer to him, and they liked the simplicity of The Manager, and I think while it might be a little bit of a mouthful, it's oozes just what kind of person he is.

He is the Manager. He makes sure this clock is turned up and ticking.

For the comic, he was originally more of a guide for new fizzies, and of course the one doing the singing/talking in the comic, and if you want a good idea of what his inspiration was, look no further than the song itself. It's all there. Eventually Manager evolved into something different. He became, well, less someone handling the papers in an office, and more of an actual… manager, of the factory.

The idea to make it all Entirely fizzy-made tickled me, and so I tweaked his story a little bit, having him climb from an “Office Fizzy”, to being where he is now, so successful he even managed to alter his own design, which no fizzy of his model has done before… he even owns his own fizzies. Has businesses outside the factory (not to Mammon's knowledge but yknow-) making big cash and giving into greed because of the influence from Mammon, by simply being made in his image, and giving into it. A success story for the ages. He is a control-freak at this point though, to make sure he doesn't lose it all.

I also gave him an Australian accent because he's spending way too much time around Mammon. That's just a fun fact ♡ Also all the green and gold in his clothes also point to how closely he works with Mammon.

Mortis had his name change many times. He went from simply Undertaker, and I considered Morty Briefly… but decided against it real quick. I went with Mort for a while… but I just loved the way Mortis sounded. I know it's wormed into my brain because of Faith (don't ask me about the plot of that game I don't Know) but Mortis just felt Right. Mortis is the Latin noun for Death.

Mortis also came from The Fine Print. There's a section of the song that goes like this;

“If you'd rather drop dead, that's fine

But you know that dropping down dead bears a fine

So you do your job and I'll do mine

I gotta meet a six-foot deep bottom line”

And I don't know, it just fired off my creative juices like… what if there was an undertaker fizzy? That'd be so cool… and so out there xhdbbd. I have always had a complicated relationship with death, so I enjoy writing morticians because of their various different ways to approach the subject. Mortis started off approaching it quite casually… It's hell after all, but the more I wrote him?

I got to put myself in his head and how he was thinking, his life-philosophy, how me having placed him in Wrath affected his outlook, and now he's become almost philosophical, now he's holding sermons in Satan's name and I believe he puts his own beliefs into them… and despite having such a sad job, and how he has to face such misery and grief every day… It's somehow helped him become the most at peace fizzy I've got. Because he understands life and death better than any other fizzy, while also getting to be on his own and expressing and exploring himself best a fizzy can.

He is heavily inspired by the Undertaker in The Backwater Gospel, who is quiet and non-threatening, but his mere presence is enough to send you into a panic.

Why is he here?

Who’s going to die?

He's also heavily inspired by the YouTube channel Little Bubby Child since he's from Wrath and all. I will meme on him til the day I die.

Mizzy got her name from Maid Fizzy, you smoosh the names together you get Mizzy. For a while I also had Dolly as a suggestion, but it didn't really stick with my followers. So it's kinda become a nickname certain fizzies who knew her before the memory-wipe call her, like Thizzy and The Manager.

Mizzy was always meant to be a companion bot, I wanted a fizzy that actually did what the commercial advertised the fizzies to do. I made her a maid because I wanted to play around with her owner being a weeb, and I simply wanted to dress her up in cute little outfits that I knew a guy with his own companion bot would want to see. In time the idea of her once having belonged to Burnie Burnz, Fizzarolli's stalker, wormed itself into my brain… and the misery tripled from there.

I think it was because I wrote out a scene with a friend where I played him briefly before he got eaten by a sandworm (shoutout Beetlejuice the OG), and I recalled his line regarding the fizzies not getting him off right. I wondered what kind of shit a disgusting guy like him would even do to a fizzy if he planned on murdering Fizzarolli, so I, unfortunately, made Mizzy his fizzybot. The only solution was the memory wipe… and that's why she's so head empty most of the time. Her programming is protecting her from remnants at all times.

I really wanted to show how messed up the companion bot situation is with Mizzy, which is why she's been used sparingly. I love a good healing story though, so I've tried to bring her in more where she gets to regain her power and independence and tweaked her current owner to be a little less awful to give her a break… but still awful nonetheless. She's always ripe for fizzy-adoption.

Ginger has changed so much from the original concept. At first she was named Fuzzy, for a fussy fizzy. Then later when I switched up his design, opting for the red design in the commercial I thought looked neat as hell, I decided to go with Ginger instead. It just sounded right, all things considered.

Ginger started out as Fuzzy, who was heavily inspired by Sun from FNAF to be perfectly honest. I have 3 Sun OCs very near and dear to my heart, and I love writing anxious nervous wrecks… so that's what I did for a while. Eventually I leaned into him snapping more and more, running out of patience like Brandon Roger's Mom character, and as I wrote them in IC group chats, I realised more and more that Fuzzy was actually rarely if ever anxious… they were mostly stressed and Irritated.

And I was never happy with the original design… it was cute but didn't spark joy, it felt hasty. I spotted the design in the commercial I liked the most, and I remade everything.

Now Ginger is Something Else Entirely.

She's tired, he's pissed, he's at his wits end, and they're Dangerous if you look at them wrong. They became a Mama Bear, while also something of a Big Sister character… grumpy and with a resting bitch face… but a heart of gold below the surface.

I wanted to explore the fizzy for the kids and teens, the meaningless chores that fizzies have to perform for demons like carrying bags and making dinner and other kinds of butler-stuff, and just how straining tiring and meaningless it all felt, all while Also being a companion for the adults.. Despite Mizzy, Ginger has turned into the fizzy that's the absolute most disappointed with their lot in life, and hates Fizzarolli just about as much as Pinwheel. This is also why they are siblings in the human AU, they've got much in common.

Thizzy is simple. Therapist+Fizzy=Thizzy. Briefly he was called Shrinky, but I left it instead as a nickname he got from Doc, which he absolutely despises, because I could Not take it seriously.

Thizzy was taken from the commercial, I interpreted his neutral face as one of absolute indifference, and I figured this is Hell and this is Mammon so… originally he was meant to not give a rat’s ass about anybody, especially not his patients. However while writing my muse page for this blog, I had him write out short “profiles” for the other fizzies… and I thought Hey… what if he checked up on the fizzies too?

Now he's part of a larger process that The Manager runs where he checks up on the fizzies on the regular to make sure they're doing fine physically but also mentally (at least well enough to perform their tasks), and in time I found that Thizzy actually did care…

He cared too much, which is why he tried to not care at all. Because the alternative was to let it all get to you… Despite not wanting to get involved, it's in his programming to do so, and he's got a good heart, albeit only metaphorically.

Now he's just so tired... and working in the Sloth Ring doesn't help this.

His relationship with Doc is the result of when he was still in his early years and just performed his tasks as he was programmed to do… and now he's stuck in this unhealthy toxic relationship where he has to make sure Doc is happy all the damn time. Luckily for him, he mostly is. At least as a robot-

Finally, Doc! Doc is easy enough, he's Doc because he's a doctor! I did consider Doccy but it reminded me of. Another word, so I backtracked bxhrhe. I worried it'd be too generic but… it just fits. He's Doc. Nothing else fits like Doc does ♡

I just stared at the screen when Doctor Fizzy came on. Those colours. That Forced Grin, those soft little cheeks… that blank fucking stare. This was an unhinged doctor-character and I needed him in my life. My cringe, emo, deviantart-browsing, gore-loving, Higurashi-watching, Hatoful Boyfriend-playing, problematic teenage-self... they needed this.

He hasn't actually changed much at all. He was always inspired by those crazy doctors you see in anime, games and horror movies. Their silly giggles and the over the top surgeries and bone saws and all that stuff.. he's my horror and gore-character, for when I want to write a bit of this and that, which I do find a lot of fun.

I don't know what really made him as flamboyant as he is… I think just the nature of him being a crazy doctor character while also being a sex bot… and when I discovered the Bubblegum Coquette aesthetic- and in time I developed his relationship with Thizzy. His clinginess opened up the idea of how he's probably not got a lot of connections because of how “intense” he is, and while he's not quite as sentient as the rest… he's getting there, every time he reflects on how lonely he is.

His only way to connect with others was by keeping body parts of whomever he operated on, that was All he was ever able to get his hands on fair and square(?).. and he started getting unhealthily attached to those parts. Now he actively seeks them out because it's the only form of love and attachment he understands so far, and if he gets attached to people to a strong degree, there's a chance it turns into love/obsession, which will push him further into sentience, and so on now we have a yandere too.

Cringe.

But at least I'm free.

He's the perfect example of when a robot is Not taught how humans and emotions actually work, and now he's already registered what he knows as truths and facts.

Imma not cover Imposter too much cus really I just got inspired by that That's not my neighbour-song before I even knew there was a game, and I wanted to make a strong fizzy for quite some time, that could work as Manager's bodyguard to make him pose more of a threat than he did on his own. I loved the black and white aesthetic because of absolute neutrality, and my fiance mentioned that it looked like a pierrot and I was like Hell yeah accidental pierrot let's go-

They obviously has a bit of Ennard from FNAF in them, or the Mimic or whatever that new enemy is called... I think it's a pretty natural robot-plot device at this point. It is a fun bot to play in group chats where I can pretend to be my other muses and wait and see how long it takes my fellow muns to realise there's a question mark at the end of the tupper bot's username. It communicates through motions and clicks, sign language, when it isn't disguised, and is very mischievous and a troublemaker.. I dunno, the inspiration is "gremlin".

[sol-consort]

mfw new sol-consort post

do you have any kai leng thoughts to share with us?

also, i don’t know if you have read them or not but, mass effect has novels (and comics)- where kai leng originated from - if you’re after more kai leng of course 🙏

mfw when writing and stories to tell and characters and readers and fun

fun

I do have MANY Kai leng thoughts I'm dying to share. I'm that meme of spiderman stopping the moving train with his body.

I haven't read any Mass Effect novels and comics before, I checked the wiki summary of the stories and they seem kinda interesting ngl.

If they add a lot of world building—the writing style of "All Tomorrows" and "Man after Man" for example—then I'd be fully down to reading them.

Either way, I found a copy of ME complete comics, the one with Aria on the cover. So let's read some of it!

It starts off with a badass picture of Thane oh my god we are off to a great start. LOOK AT HIM. What a man.

Holy moly turians are much more thicker than I remember, hips don't lie indeed.

Is two eyes a derogatory term batarians use for other alien species? That's an interesting detail.

Oh! look at their sharp lower teeth! They have an underbite.

Most humans have a slight overbite where our top teeth cover our lower ones.

You can only move your lower jaw, so when taking a bite, the food gets wedged diagonally like this shape / in-between your teeth for a second.

And that's useful since your mouth is more spacious at the top than the bottom, your teeth ensure the bite you take will smoothly slide to the empty top half of your mouth atop your tongue.

But batarians having their teeth rows switches means any bite they take will cause the food to slide underneath their tongue.

Is it intentional? Beneficial in some way? How do their tongues look like?

Batarians' bottom teeth are significantly sharper, indicating a meat-based diet? Maybe fish, insects, or other soft creatures because those canines would shatter otherwise.

They don't have incisors, and even lions have them.

So it's not about meat vs. plant based diet. It's about soft vs hard food. Their teeth imply that batarians can't eat hard food or carrots, for example.

Because you know who else have extremely sharp and lack incisors? fish, sharks, most aquatic omnivores.

What's interesting is that bats (the earth kind) are heterodont, aka their teeth are composed of a mix of different types. Some of them have incisors, others have fangs, most bats eat mushy soft things.

While batarians seem to have only one type of teeth that extends to the whole row of their mouth... well, we can't see their top row of teeth, so we can't really tell.

Anyway Liara just beat their ass in the comic, biotics really are op wow.

She's at omega now and holy shit look at those clothes

These are so fucking ugly.

You know what it looks like? Those 2015 DIY phone covers you made with a baloon, where you blow one halfway, quickly press the phone to it, and let it deflate so the rubber sticks to the phone back.

The titty window I can understand, the belly window not so much. Since when? Why not just wear a low cut crop top at this point? Why draw the line at covering your back?

why don't men get some belly windows?

Also I'm very interested in whatever those three have going on

Seeing a human and a salarian is common. A human and a krogan? You wouldn't bat an eye either.

But a human with both a krogan AND a salarian??!

Are they a poly throuple? Friends? Coworkers? Is the human mediating between the salarian and krogan? Why are they both standing up while the human rests?

It's almost like a face off between the salarian and the krogan, their body language is stiff and hostile while the human's is relaxed. They have the couch as a barrier between the two of them.

And damn salarian those are some strange knees buddy.

Hold a moment, what's that to the left side—what is that salarian wearing?

No serious. WHAT IS HE WEARING.

Ew.

Burn it. Take it off and BURN IT NOW.

What. How. Why. When? Why?? WHY?

Half circles? Belt? Brooch? Whoever sold them that jacket please step up to be thrown out of the airlock.

Racist bitch.

APOLOGIES!!! APOLOGIES RIGHT FUCKING NOW! YOU MADE THE ELCOR SAD :(((

And that's rich talking about trees coming from a drell, judging by the state of your planet, wouldn't assume you're familiar with any to begin with.

Something Something glass houses, now apologise to the elcor!

Skip ahead they're looking for Shep, Miranda shows up, things ensure and oh Liara punches him hell yeah.

OH SO NOW YOU'RE SUDDENLY AN ANGEL WHO FIGHTS FOR EQUALITY.

Get bent.

Oh.

Wait I just reached the end

He scarified himself for Shepard to return to Liara :(

He's the same drell we save in the Shadowbroker DLC, Feron, yeah.

I'm starting the second comic and it's taking place during the first contact war? that's actually interesting wait

I still haven't reached the one with Kai Leng, I hope it gives more information about his backstory. Either way thanks for recommending them!