#YOU GET IT. YOU GET BASIL’S MIND ENTIRELY.

[clegfly]

points at this SO HARD. THIS. THIS IS CANON

Eight hours of work over four days later!!! say hello to Marzenie

A cold, quiet wasteland of inescapable familiarity, not a place to hide, but a place that is actively hunting you

You are not safe here. It’s just as bad here as it is out there

[cough cough … so in case this is your first time seeing me posting about Marzenie, the general idea is that it’s an omori au that shows things from Basil’s perspective- giving him his own inner world and a deeper look into what he’s actually going through, given omori is from Sunny’s perspective we don’t really get the most in depth idea of how things are in Basils own mind other then the vague idea that it’s really bad— Marzenie is an AU that hopes to elaborate on Basils character and inner struggle in ways that Omori does not. And yes that means sending him on a fantasy adventure in his own mind but like- when I say fantasy I mean In the same way as a game like Fear and Hunger is “fantasy”]

[hedgehog-moss]

I finally planted my garden last week! We had a couple of days of sun which gave me hope, but it's once again raining every day. Thoughts and prayers for my tomato plants, but I couldn't keep everyone in the greenhouse forever, I had to make room for other plants.

(In the fourth picture above you can see what's inside the hügelkultur mound—it's a pile of branches + llama manure + compost + potting soil. One thing I find great about it is how well it retains moisture! Well it's not a problem this year so far but during heat waves I water these plants a lot less than non-mound plants.)

In the greenhouse my seedlings have been struggling due to lack of sun. Impossible to get courgette plants so I had to buy a few from the young couple in town who recently started a plant nursery—they didn't have many either, and I had to share with the mayor who also came looking for courgette plants because slugs devoured all of his.

He must have seen on my face that I thought my plants didn't stand a chance if slugs don't even respect municipal authority, because he kindly advised me to place crowns of bedstraw (see above) around my plants to protect them. I didn't dare to ask "If it works so well why do you have no courgette plants left?" I just said thank you, and then spent an entire evening last week weaving this sticky weed into crowns and whatsapping photos of my art to the mayor, who always replied "More! More! It needs to be thicker! Like a doughnut!"

Meanwhile 1 leek in the greenhouse suddenly grew a lot thicker while the other 3 remained skinny and fearful-looking and I'm not sure why. They share a pot, so maybe it's like vanishing twin syndrome. My bell pepper seeds had the same asynchronous development issue—one pot is just now starting to have timid seedlings while the other (right next to it) already contains a grown-up plant with baby peppers:

By far my happiest greenhouse plants are the potatoes and lettuce. They shot up so fast! I've been eating a lot of lettuce lately but I can't keep up with how quickly they grow in this cold, rainy spring. And I haven't had any slug raids in the greenhouse so that's great.

My greenhouse squash, onions and pickles are still tiny and not worth a photo (harsh, but this post already has too many photos). My strawberries in the aquaponic towers are beautiful despite the lack of sun and I've been getting mini-harvests of 2-3 strawberries a day for two weeks! They're done now, but I started more seeds so maybe I can get a second round at the end of the month.

Three more things:

1. Morille helped a lot as I was planting the garden. She kept an eye on my gardening tools so no one would steal them, and sometimes used them as cheek-scratchers. At one point I put one of my beautiful bedstraw crowns around her neck so she looked like Philip III of Spain in that painting where he wears a big ruff, but tragically she ran away in outrage before I could take a picture, and when she returned she'd got rid of her collar.

2. At the cow parade the other day there was a lady at the market who sold jars of homemade pesto sauce made from all kinds of different plants, and it opened up my mind to entirely new pesto horizons!! I always make the traditional kind with basil, but I have plants that grow much faster than basil, like my rocket, so I tried making pesto with 1/3 basil 2/3 rocket (plus garlic, olive oil, parmesan, cashews) and it was so good! I have to explore all of her recipes now, like plantain or nettle or sage pesto...

3. There's a monster in the greenhouse. It appeared practically overnight and is quickly claiming more and more territory. Unlike last year it's not a parsley monster—it's my lemon balm. One day it was growing in its vertical tower, luxuriant but tidy, like a normal plant, and the next it had quintupled in volume and was threatening to swallow the nearest planter. Look at the tiny tomato plants, they look terrified of it!

I urgently need to fight back against this giant mélisse (as we call lemon balm) but I've been really busy and I keep putting it off, and then remembering anxiously at 11pm that I still have this creature to take care of, which is ironic seeing as lemon balm is supposed to relieve stress and anxiety. This is the exact opposite of why I planted you. Anyway if you never hear from me again after this post it's because I finally engaged in battle against this year's vegetal menace, and lost.

[lovelettersforthedamned]

Too Close For Comfort: The Night Before

--genre + trope: collegeAU!, SMUT, fluff, nsfw (not safe for work)

--pairing: tasm!peter parker x afab!reader

--word count: 2.6k

--warnings: P in V, nsfw, fluff/smut, cunnilingus, fingering, peter is a munch, peter's ambidextrous, unprotected sex (don't do this), and SO MUCH LOVE.

--gif credits: @peachyspaceslvt

Monday, October 18

The smell of garlic with hints of basil lingers throughout the halls of your shared apartment, along with the sounds of the city echoing in the kitchen. Wearing Peter’s shirt and a pair of pajama shorts, you nod your head to the beat as light jazz fills the air with a sort of warmth, it feels like home. Yet something was missing, a certain presence. 

As if putting it into existence, the familiar creak of the wooden door makes you stand up a bit straighter, your head turning towards the hallway. “There he is, the man of the hour,” you joke. An unknown force seems to pull you to him, forgetting the meal entirely.

A familiar smirk etches its way onto the man’s face, “Were you thinking about me, sweetheart?” 

That’s a stupid question, “Maybe I was, Maybe I wasn’t,” You tease, shrugging your shoulders theatrically. “Guess you’ll never know,” You walk back over to the food on the stove. 

Knowing he was going to follow you, you refuse to give him the satisfaction of your attention. The recognizable feeling of his arms wrapping around you sends a warm feeling through your body, his head falling into the crook of your neck. His warm breath fanning the sensitive skin on your neck sends a welcoming shiver down your spine. While swaying back and forth to the music you previously put on, you bask in this moment together. A grin makes its way to your face. 

“What do you think you're doing?” A pocket of peace that comes rarely to both of you, makes everything worth it. Every late night, every missed text, and every moment of worry makes this single moment worth it. 

He feels you slightly move in his arms, and loosens his hold just enough for you to turn around and face him. You come face to face with a cheeky smirk written on his face. He’s blissed out, too consumed by the mere presence of you to think about anything else. You envelop every single thought in his mind at this very moment. There is no mid-term he needs to study for, there are no bills to take care of, and there is no Spider-Man. Just (Y/N) (Y/L/N) and Peter Parker. 

Too overwhelmed with his thoughts, his eyes flick between your eyes and your slightly pursed lips. “Are you going to kiss me, Parker?” He creeps closer to you, your back hitting the counter behind you. 

“And what if I did, (Y/L/N)?” He asked teasingly. 

A breathy laugh makes its way from your lips, “Then do it.” 

The boy pulled you in and then he kissed you. You felt as if your heart exploded a thousand times over in your chest. He held you close and drew you in as if he’s been yearning for you for years, but it's just been a few hours. You feel one of his arms unravel from around your waist, you hear the flame of the stove flick off. 

He brings that same hand up to cradle your face in his palm. He cranes your neck upward deepening the kiss, his hand moves to the nape of your neck, tangling in your hair. His weight pushes you deeper into the counter, making you gasp at the feeling of it digging into your skin. There is no more space between Peter’s body and the surface behind you, only making it harder for you to kiss back.  

He breaks away from the kiss, noticing your discomfort, but you try to brush it off and kiss him again. He removes his hand from your now raveled hair, placing both hands on your thighs as he lifts you up onto the counter. His eyes dance across your face in his lust-filled trance. He brings both hands up to your face and quickly brings his lips back to yours before you can get another thought out. 

A moment passes when all you can do is pull back and look at each other, wondering where this energy came from. Before either of you can say anything Peter hoists you over his shoulder and starts walking to your shared bedroom. All you can do is laugh at how eager he is to take you to bed. While he is about to reach the door, a playful look arises to your face. You reach both hands down and give a hefty squeeze to his cheeks, giggling loudly while doing it. 

Out of surprise, he looks down at you, still walking, “Whoa there,” he laughs. 

Another chuckle leaves your lips, “I’m sorry! I had to, I was right there-”. He cuts you off with a quick motion to place you on your bed. 

“You want to be funny so bad,” He teases, dragging himself from the foot of the bed to meet you face to face. 

“You don’t think I’m funny-” You begin to say before he plants his lips firmly back onto yours. He sets both elbows beside your head to hold himself up as he manages to set his body in between your legs. Even if you wanted to, you couldn’t move from beneath him. You manage to take a deep breath in, only for him to steal it back from you again as he kisses the sensitive spot on your neck. He knows exactly what he’s doing, A soft hum leaves your mouth followed by a low whimper. Peter’s heightened senses pick up on all of your noises and movements, and you know this too. His right-hand moves from beside your head to move under your shirt, his shirt actually, and slowly glides to your left breast. 

He circles a finger around your nipple as you whimper again, a little louder this time. He begins to place sloppy kisses along your jawline and then down your neck, only adding to your arousal. He decides to ditch the shirt altogether, quickly pulling it off of you. Taking a second to admire you under him, he smiles to himself, completely in love with you and the idea that he is able to be in your life. “What’s wrong?” a pang of worry clouds through her mind. 

He smiles, “Nothing. You’re beautiful.” 

He takes off his shirt following his remark. You can’t help your wandering eyes as they trace every inch of his torso. You notice that familiar outline in his jeans, not too obvious, but definitely there. He reaches down slightly to pick up your hand, and without another second passing by he brings your knuckles to your lips and gives it the most delicate kiss. Tilting his head down, he cascades his way down your arm, pouring every ounce of love he has for you in each kiss until he meets your shoulder. Still holding your hand, he pulls you up to meet each other in a lustful gaze. 

Your legs slide out from under his and you both are kneeling in front of each other. Your hand leaves his and you place it on the button of his jeans, never breaking each other's gaze. You attach your lips to the base of his throat while your hand works to unbutton his pants. He groans in your ear as his forehead falls onto your shoulder. Carefully and slowly you tease the waistband of his briefs, not yet dipping under the material. His breath coming out unevenly as you tease him. 

You take your other hand and place it along his jaw forcing his gaze to meet yours before you fervently attach your lips to his. Your other hand still teasing the sensitive area of skin. He groans into your mouth as you dip your hand further down. You remove his lips from yours and quickly reattach them to the skin below his ear. His hands grabbed at her hips, not matching her handwork and teasing the waistband of her shorts. She began to suck on the skin of his collarbone, causing him to curse under his breath. 

“Fuck, I love you,” He mumbles into your ear. He’s no longer able to take the teasing and sits up on his knees allowing you full access to pulling his jeans and briefs down his legs. 

Carefully he places his hands on both sides of your head, on the pillow, before pushing you onto your back. With a sudden haste, Peter lowers his hands to the edge of your shorts, hooking his fingers under your underwear as well. You pick up on his actions and lift your butt off of the bed to give him easier access. The moment your clothes are off your body, they are quickly and mindlessly discard them on the floor somewhere in the room. 

You bend your knees to allow him to slide his arms under your legs while opening them as he makes his way up to your center. He makes himself comfortable and pulls you by your thighs, allowing him to be closer to your core, causing you to gasp in surprise. There is no hesitation for him to put his mouth where you need him most. He’s been waiting all night for this exact moment. Hours could have gone by, and Peter wouldn’t have noticed. All he needed was you, in your rawest form, writhing in pleasure. He focuses his attention on the collection of nerves first, then works his way down to lap at your juices that coat his tongue so perfectly. There was not a moment where he didn’t savor this moment, not a moan unheard, and not a reaction ignored. 

When he feels you’re ready, he slips his middle finger in. His digit is soaked by the time his knuckles reach your entrance. Pumping in and out, he searches for the gummy area that you love so much. He feels you tense as his finger curls inside of you, “Is that my spot?” he mutters, as you begin to whine in anticipation, “Oh yeah, that’s my spot.” Once he’s found it, there’s no end until he pulls out an orgasm from you. You know that, and he definitely knows that. 

He latches his mouth back on you, and along with his finger, it doesn’t take much longer for you to reach that high that you craved. Your back arches and you reach for anything you could hold onto. He notices this as you clench his middle finger. He pries his other hand off your thigh to hold yours. Your brain is empty, and all you can think about is Peter. You squeeze his hand so tight that he has to pause his mouth and finger to look up at you, wanting to witness what he thinks is the most beautiful part of you. He slips his finger out and raises his head to lay on your thigh, still holding your hand. He begins to rub his thumb on the back of your hand. 

“You alright, sweetheart?” He speaks softly, as if not to pull you out of this lustful trance. His eyes never leave your panting figure. 

Breathlessly you reply with a sly grin, “Never better.”. You begin to sit up, taking a second before Peter follows your lead and sits up as well. Mindlessly reaching down to his cock to reciprocate his actions, he catches your wrist before you can do anything else. 

You quickly meet his gaze in confusion, “Sweetheart, you don’t need to do that. I’m alright, but there is something you can do to help.” You look down to see him fully erect. 

Oh. Oh. Her eyes widen in shock, still dazed from the events prior. 

He gently lays her down back on the bed, eyes no longer overflowing with lust. His gaze carries something more. He leans down and kisses her cheek with a grin, “I love you,” He whispers to her. 

“I know, Parker. I love you too.” 

Lining himself up to you, he cradles your face as he enters you slowly. As many times as you guys have done this in the past, he will always start slow, to partly savor in the moment but to also give you time to feel as comfortable as possible. You both gasp as the familiar feeling of being full regains your senses. He won’t move till you say so, but he wouldn’t want to move anyway. The first thrust almost overwhelms him, he feels good, almost too good. 

Once you give him the nod to start moving, he starts to rock back and forth, still cradling your face. He looks down at you to see your nose scrunch and then fall. Your eyebrows are raised in pleasure and your mouth slightly agape. He takes a mental note of this sight and stores it in the back of his mind. You look back up at him to see him already staring at you. There’s nothing but pure adoration between you too, and it makes your heart skip a beat. You love this man so much, there’s no other way of phrasing it. 

He bottoms out, and that’s when your body forces you to make a sound so heavenly, Peter could have come right then and there. He hit that spot again, and with his senses, he knows that too. The relentless stimulation takes you right to the edge and keeps you there for quite a while. 

There’s a moment where he thrusts into you, and that’s when you know he was close. Your previous orgasm was a stepping point to this moment. You don’t know how you’ve been able to hold off this long, and looking up at Peter, whose eyes are closed and the softest moans coming out of his mouth didn’t help. 

A spur of confidence enters your system, “You're going to cum, aren't you?” He’s so close you can feel it.

“Fuck- yes,” He groans, his head falling into the crook of your neck. You wrap your legs tightly around him, only pulling him in deeper. You feel him twitch inside you as he cums, his heavy breathing becoming apparent, only then sending you completely over. The clenching of your walls suddenly becomes too much for him, as he is overstimulated, sending a wave of whimpers out of his mouth. 

As he pulls out, the mixture of both of your climaxes begin to smear across your thighs. Although overstimulated, Peter takes no hesitation to run to the bathroom to grab a towel as you’re too blissed out to notice. With no second thought, he cleans you up, so you can be comfortable. You’re riding on a wave of adrenaline, your head is up in the clouds and the only thing that pulls you back down is the hand softly coming up to your cheek. 

“Good morning, sweetheart,” He teases. Your head turns to look at the clock placed on your bedside table. 

‘2:34 AM’, it reads. 

You just roll your eyes as Peter discards the towel and climbs back into bed with you pulling the covers up in the process. He pulls her close, wrapping his arms protectively around her, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. 

“I know I’ve said it a lot tonight but I love you (Y/N),” Peter whispers, combing his hand through your tangled hair delicately. 

You smile at him, your eyes filled with nothing but love, “I love you just the same.” 

Peter continues running his hand softly through your hair, making sure to untangle the knots that were formed earlier. You can’t help but sigh with pleasure at the intimate act. Despite everything you had just done, this felt better. Just laying here with him, skin to skin. Vulnerable. 

--author's note: WOAH HELLO! steamy asf, but very soft as well. if there are any grammatical errors, please forgive me. i wrote this in one sitting and I'm posting it at 1:15 AM. don't forget to like, comment, and reblog:)

[motimatcha]

"nostromo"

PART 3. Incident.

parts: one | two | three | four | five

dbd Xenomorph (alien) x fem!reader. attention: swearing and swearing; strained relationship; chase.

In the end, only you managed to survive. running for survivors xenomorph managed to find time to stop you from repairing the generators, which is why by the end of the test you were unable to repair the last one and climbed out through the hatch. It would be more accurate to say that the xenomorph himself led you to the exit, chasing you throughout the ship until you escaped. You could say it was a noble act on his part to allow his future mate to leave largely unhurt, and you might agree with that if you didn't know the creature's selfish motive.

If everything continues like this, then soon the survivors will rally against you in tests with the xenomorph in order to present you to him and the Entity first of all.

You shudder when such a thought, the course of events, comes to your head, but you understand that the chances of such an outcome are rapidly growing, while the stranger diligently presents you with gifts in the form of other people's deaths. Perhaps the event with Ripley breaks you, or at least breaks you, which is why in each subsequent match you become colder and colder towards the deaths of others. Death is a concept not applicable to the world of the entity; each departure from the location created by the Creature only means an inevitable meeting with their tormentor, and after that the noise of the fire, the conversations of other people.

Kicking a pebble as you walked away from the fire into the forest to look for offerings, you heard a fragment of a conversation:

“I swear, if I have another test with this...” the man, whose name is David, says with undisguised irritation. His face contorts in disgust, he doesn’t even want to say your name, he was so disgusted, but his gaze - cold and angry - scans your back. “I’d rather climb onto the hook myself.”

“David, don't say that...”

“But why? After all, it annoys you yourself to be killed, so that later this monster will bring your body to this one.”

“Even if this is so, what did she do wrong? You think she herself wants to be an eternal object of obsession. Maybe you can also say the same about Lori?”

“Go to hell, Honas.”

Tears roll up to the corners of your eyes, but you, determined not to cry at least by the fire, go into the forest with your head held high . You can't let others know about this conversation . You can't let others know how much this affects you . You can’t, you can’t, you can’t... but you want to cry even more.

Salty paths sting the skin of the cheeks; as soon as a slight breeze blows, it becomes even worse. The accumulated moisture obscures your eyes, and now you no longer understand what kind of herbs you are collecting: are they daisies? Maybe basil? Or in general you came across calendula. It’s better not to wipe tears from your face with dirty hands, but you didn’t care anymore. Pulling your hand on the sweater, squeezing the ends with your fingers, you try to get rid of the moisture, but you only start crying harder.

The body is beating in hysterics, a silent cry escapes the lips. Why you? Why did the monster like you so much that he decided to destroy your life just to make him his mate? Or have you somehow disappointed the Entity? Maybe they were angry or not desperate enough in this endless cycle.

In an impenetrable fog and behind a veil of tears, being out of your mind, you imagine a blurry figure of a xenomorph. The humanoid creature stands in the distance and does not move. It observes how low you have fallen and despaired, are you ready to accept your fate as it is and as it is destined for you?

“Well, why, why exactly me?..” you ask the image of a stranger, but the creature is silent in response to your question, which only irritates you more. Anger rises from your entire being, pours out in the face of a heart-rending cry of anger at the creature that destroyed your life. “Go to hell...”

“Everything is fine?“

Ripley's voice puts you in a daze. You look away from the mirage, turn away to examine the figure of a woman emerging from the forest, and as soon as you turn back, nothing remains of the image of the xenomorph. The thickening fog dissipates and you realize that all this time you have been talking to a stone, the outlines of which are painfully similar to your personal stalker.

You shake your head. You didn’t want Ellen to witness your tears and hysteria, but from her soft look and tone, it became clear that she understood everything. That’s why she was silent, allowing you to release your simmering emotions, to throw out the disappointment and indignation that had accumulated over all the trials with the xenomorph.

The woman comes closer and puts her arm around your shoulders . She hugs the way a mother hugs her beloved child, who has faced adversity and is ready to shelter her from any problems. But Louise is not omnipotent, even if she wants to be so; it cannot shelter you from the oppression of the Entity and the xenomorph possessed by you, but it is able to give you warmth and peace, so that at least for a couple of minutes you do not think about the inevitable.

Ripley's arms are warm and calm.

“Cry as much as you need,” the woman says the words that you have long wanted to hear. At least from someone, even from damn David . Your grip on her back only gets stronger, and the fabric of her clothes wrinkles in your fingers. “I believe that you can cope with all adversities. But don’t keep negativity inside you that you can’t live with.“

“I can…” you sigh into her neck. The former officer smells of a fire, a wet forest and, not surprisingly, the Nostromo, the smell of which is difficult to describe; if you did take a chance, the first thing that comes to mind is the viscous saliva of the xenomorph and its acidic blood. “Thank you for this...” you say, after a minute of silence in someone else’s arms. “Ellen, is there anything else in the behavior of the xenomorph that I should know about?”

“After the stage of courtship on the part of the male, it follows...”

Mount Ormond greets you with the illusion of a bright sun in the sky, snowdrifts and a cold wind from which you cannot hide. And, of course, it was a xenomorph . And of course, you were his obsession.

“Damn, we ended up all together,” David spat on the wooden floor of the shack. “I won’t sit down with you to repair the generator...”

Honas, who spoke, was clearly not in the best mood. Especially after what his friend said.

“Don’t interfere. I can handle the generators myself, without you.”

With these words, David left you, leaving you alone with Vasquez and Michaela. Ridd looked somewhat surprised, as evidenced by her slightly open mouth and confused look as she followed King's back before he disappeared into the distance.

“Idiot...” Honas sighed before turning to you and the witch. “Shall we repair this generator?”

“If you don’t mind, I would like to bless the totem. At the same time, I’ll see if there are any damned totems here, who knows what.”

“Okay, I don’t mind ,” you quickly agree with other people’s words and approach the generator to begin repairs. The man who remains with you sits down next to you and there is silence for a long time, broken by the sounds of equipment being repaired. When silence becomes unbearable, and curiosity eats up from within, you decide to ask a man a question: “Why did you decide to stay with me?”

“It’s safer that way, isn’t it?”

“Oh, so that’s why,” you think, not comfortingly, “Sorry, but not this time.”

“A?..”

“He is here. Leave.”

You bounce away from the almost started generator, as if from a piece of hot iron, as soon as the head of the xenomorph begins to appear from the strong point. Being a former CIA employee, albeit working in the codebreaking department, Honas had a high reaction speed and endurance, which allowed him to dodge the tail of an alien, directed either in his direction, or in yours, running slightly ahead of the man.

Through one of the Entity's offerings, you have been given the power to see the auras of other survivors. Despite the fact that the yellow figures were poorly visible against the background of the light Ormond , you managed to adjust your path so as not to run out onto David repairing the generator and the red-haired witch blessing the totem . You run into the house, once a mountain resort hotel, and climb to the second floor, watching as the xenomorph, who has lost sight of you , turns his head around and noisily inhales the air, trying to track you by smell. Considering how many times he literally drooled on you, marking you with his scent, it was not surprising that the killer found you quite quickly.

Standing on all fours and preparing its tail, the xenomorph climbed to the second floor after you, while you, without wasting time, ran to the end of the corridor, where there were boards in front of the open (broken) window. You had to slow down so that the stranger could close the distance, and when he stretched his tail forward with monstrous force and speed, you ducked down, thereby dodging the attack, and then knocked together boards were thrown down on the killer’s head.

You heard the evil hiss of the perfect weapon when you were already downstairs, jumping from the second floor window . If this were not the world of essence, but the long-forgotten reality of your native world, a fall from such a height would mean a break in your legs. Without wasting time while the killer was busy destroying the obstacles in his path, you ran to the dilapidated walls with skis and poles to them . The xenomorph could not lose sight of you, and he would not want to switch to another survivor; if one of your comrades suddenly ran into the path of the alien, then at most he would get a paw on the body - no more.

Running away from the creature turned out to be more than exciting . In the struggle for your life, where a wrong turn meant meeting sharp claws, teeth or a tail, fears about what others thought about you receded.

Adrenaline took its place.

It was as if you were playing catch-up not only with the xenomorph and the Entity, but also with death itself, breathing down your neck . What's around the next corner? Where is it better to run, hide, wait? The new role opened up new opportunities and sensations . There was no longer a feeling of that all-consuming helplessness, there was only the instinct of survival, a cold mind and a sober mind, analyzing where to run next or where the killer would attack. And even if other survivors had questions about how you managed to run around while repairing five generators, no one dared to ask questions or express suspicions or indignations, while all four survivors could leave the killer’s territory unharmed.

Nobody. Except David.

Perhaps he was simply jealous or you had hurt his fragile pride, but despite your usefulness and vitality, King continued to cast sidelong glances in your direction . He still refused to work as a team with you, keeping his distance from others and seeming to be waiting for something.

“Tell me honestly, did you lie under this bastard, that he is not specifically hunting you in all seriousness?” when the man’s patience came to an end, he, with a slight squint in his dark eyes, finally voiced the question that had been daring him for a long time. “Or have you been a hidden talent all this time, waiting for the right moment?”

Ellen Ripley was a caring mother, affectionate and kind to you, but absolutely ruthless towards people who did not respect others or value teamwork. Perhaps it was the influence that the new survivor had on you, or perhaps the chase had strengthened your character, leaving behind your former vulnerability and timidity.

Murderers don't like snotty girls who are ready to cry from scratches on their knees. What attracts them much more, one might say excites them, is the pursuit of a victim who has not yet been broken, ready to fight back both physically and verbally.

“Are you jealous?”

“Envy that you turn out to be a whore for murderers, and also for monsters?” David asked with feigned amazement, opening his eyes wide, allowing you to see all the rage, anger, and disappointment that had accumulated over all the trials. Perhaps he, like you, did not have enough time to express his emotions. “I’m just curious who will end up in the same bed with you next. Maybe GostFace? I remember you were so happy to see him.”

You understood that the man was talking complete nonsense . Driven by his emotions, self-disappointment and former helplessness, he watched with envy your rapid growth not only as an individual, but also as a significant member of the team . David, who initially had skills useful to the team, was always treated with inflated expectations, and when he failed to cope, when most or all of the team found themselves in the clutches of the entity, the man took it personally.

You couldn’t blame him for the fact that King sees in you a reflection of himself from the past, but you also had no desire to tolerate his character, groundless rude accusations and insults.

“You know, David,” your voice is deceptively quiet so as not to attract the attention of the xenomorph prowling around the territory allotted to him, but, nevertheless, you clearly highlighted the threat with your intonation. “I used to admire you, no matter what the result of the test...”

“...I don't need your admiration...”

“But now I clearly see that you are nothing more than a boy who is offended by everyone, and first of all by himself ”, here it is. You clearly outlined the reason for this conflict, the struggle not of you against King, but of him against himself. “So before you say anything towards other people, deal with your problems first.”

“Fuck you.”

Careless hand movement. David, without calculating his own strength, pushed you painfully in the chest . Having lost your balance and falling backwards, you began to fall, and in another second, the back of your head could have become closely acquainted with the window frame, leaving you unconscious until the end of the test, if ... if not for the xenomorph located in the window opening .

The absolute predator looked around the shack, hidden under its black shell. One of his paws, large and heavy, lay on your shoulder and held you in place, saving you from a blow . Over the course of countless chases and close contacts, you managed to get used to both the size of the monster and its frightening presence, which is why your heart no longer beat like an antelope in the headlights of a car, but a subconscious fear sometimes tickled your mind . What else you were able to learn during your endless meetings were the shades and echoes of the xenomorph’s emotions , expressed in poses, movements and hisses, and the way the creature from deep space tensed up, preparing for an attack, you could only draw one conclusion - it was very alien angry

For the first time, you so clearly felt his overwhelming thirst for blood, but it was not directed at you at all, but at the cause of your unfulfilled injury. Today, the xenomorph is ready to sacrifice his instincts and eliminate the threat to his future mate.

“Run- ” you manage to scream before the predator points its weapon towards the man. In a second, the alien’s tail could have made a hole in David’s head, if not for the sudden roar of the Entity’s world and its intervention: a semblance of a hand that sprouted from the floor, pierced the creature’s body, entwined it with its spider-like legs and pulled it into the fog.

The test was terminated early.

[vidavalor]

Hello!

Do you have any theory on how S3 could start ?

Hi there. 💕 Thanks for the ask. Please help yourself to anything in the kitchen. I made this watermelon pasta salad with basil, burrata & blueberries, if you're interested. 😊 Yeah, I've got some ideas for the start of S3...

Wait until I tell you that I don't think looking at The Final 15 is the only place to see how S2 ended and how S3 might start but that the spot is actually... the beginning of the S1 finale?! Specifically, the positioning in the episode of this scene here:

To see where I'm going with this, we have to look at the timeline around Armageddon in the first two seasons.

In S1, our main characters know in their storyline in the present that Armageddon is imminent and, in that main storyline, the action is based around them trying to prevent it from happening, right? As we follow them on this journey, we are given little cue cards in the present-- just as we are in the past-- to identify when the scenes we are watching are taking place in time. In doing this, it's made very, very clear that we are watching the last days and hours until Armageddon was supposed to take place. During the story in S1, we know what day we're on the whole time.

S1 takes us smoothly from Monday through Sunday of the last week of the world, with the end of the world averted on Saturday, yes?

In the mirrored S2, though?

The most noticeable absence in the entire season is the time-marking cue cards. We still are told time when it comes to the flashbacks but the cue cards in the present are gone and the present time is only shown to us in terms of characters mentioning what day it is or the audience noting when a day changes.

At first, none of this seems to matter that much because we mistakenly think the stakes are not the same. In the S2 finale, though, we learn that we've actually been watching Round Two of the last week of the world.

Worse, Armageddon is different this time around as it's The Second Coming. It doesn't need eleven years to percolate. It's happening now. Suddenly, what day of the week it is in 2.06 in a show with this much mirrored storytelling seems a lot more relevant.

If we then go back and look at S2 with the idea of a timeline for its story in the present in mind, we might notice a whole bunch of scenes that mention that The Meeting Ball takes place on Thursday night. Two scenes even mention that it takes place beginning at 6:30pm. Just with this one point on a timeline alone, we can go back and look at the rest of the week that happened before it and realize that Gabriel arrived at the bookshop on Monday morning. S2 begins on the same day of the last week of the world that S1 began with. The timeline for the events between Gabriel's arrival on Monday morning and The Meeting Ball on Thursday night hold up perfectly. The last parts of 2.06 are taking place the morning after The Meeting Ball-- around the 7am hour on Friday morning.

So, if we're now in another round of Monday through Sunday storytelling of the last week of the world like we were in S1? Then, we haven't gotten all the way through that story with S2 because 2.06 ends very early on Friday morning. We're missing the pivotal day-- Saturday-- and the fallout/resolution day of Sunday.

S2 stops the story just shy of the last day of the world.

Like its paralleling (if also very different) bandstand breakup scene, The Final 15 takes place on Friday and we've yet to get into any Saturday Morning Funtime and the whole plot about the last day of the world in S2. To me? That makes it seem likely that S3 involves the weekend of the week we were watching in S2.

But, wait, I can hear you saying... don't we need a big time jump?

Don't we need months or years to go by with Aziraphale trying to hold back Armageddon while he works as the Supreme Archangel of Heaven? Isn't Crowley going to require at least a decade of drinking before the plot can resume?

In my opinion? Not really...

If you think that Aziraphale is The Supreme Archangel, you're probably more inclined to think that a decent chunk of time is going to elapse between the seasons. I've never actually thought that's the plot which is why I'm looking at this differently.

I don't see where The Metatron would ever, in a million years, let a demon be seen as an angel again because that would collapse his regime and take all his power. If Heaven were to say they fucked up and made a mistake with Crowley and make him an angel again, every single demon would challenge their own cases with Heaven and Heaven's ability to be seen as perfect and holy and infallible amongst the angels-- let alone the demons-- would be destroyed. It would be inviting a revolution. Something like this will happen in S3 in that they're going to overthrow The Metatron but it won't be because The Metatron let it happen in S2.

However, a perfect temptation for Aziraphale from Satan's perspective is Crowley's safety in a way that Aziraphale himself feels like he cannot fully provide. Since you're asking me for a theory, you might have seen other posts I wrote about how I believe that, in The Final 15, Derek Jacobi is playing Satan who is appearing to Aziraphale as The Metatron. The reason why Satan would need to appear as The Metatron is because The Metatron is the only person that Aziraphale believes could give him the power to restore Crowley's status as an angel in Heaven, which is what Aziraphale thinks needs to happen for Crowley to be safe. It's not the right path to take with this but it's easy to see why Aziraphale would want to stop pain for Crowley and why that would be the only thing that Satan could ever use to tempt him, right?

Not to mention that The Metatron is not about to put the angel that rebelled against Armageddon: Round One in charge of Armageddon: Round Two. He doesn't want free-thinkers or change. He wants someone to do his bidding and help him maintain power. Aziraphale stands in the way of him and Satan getting their Armageddon on.

Meanwhile, the most pivotal flashback in S2-- and maybe the series as a whole so far-- is the Job minisode and what happens in it? Hell did Heaven's punishing for them. And what are we told to remember by writer-stand-in character Furfur in his only real line of dialogue in the group scenes in 2.06?

The suggestion is then pretty heavily that all of the Hell references and plots in S2's flashbacks are leading towards the end of S2 being Aziraphale's fall. He's not actually being offered a job by The Metatron. He's being tempted by Satan and the job offer that comes with an apparent guarantee of Crowley's safety is the temptation.

Alright, so, let's say that's the story then and that Aziraphale getting into the elevator with Satan sets up Aziraphale's fall. It's here that we have to go further back to the start of 1.06 and see what I mean about how that can affect the start of S3.

Just like the end of S2, 1.06 begins with a scene that we think we understand the first time we see it... but will later learn we wrong about because we didn't question our perception over who it is that we were looking at.

*pause* Sounds relevant to this idea that who we think is The Metatron is really Satan, right? 😉

It's an unusual scene for Good Omens and its existence to me suggests that we might be about to get something similar to it somewhere very early on in 3.01. The difference is that everyone basically is fooled by the opening shot of 1.06 because we haven't yet had a single clue about the body swap plot and nothing like it had happened at that point in the story yet whereas the 2.06 paralleling twist is a bit more noticeable if you're looking for it-- mainly because we now know to look in the first place, when we didn't so much in 1.06.

If you recall, 1.06 opens with a flashforward-- the show's first-- in which what we think is happening is that Crowley is being escorted in handcuffs into Hell. He's brought to Beez in the bathtub room, who explains that he's about to stand trial. The scene begins with a shot of who we believe to be Crowley coming down the hallway into the room, having just gotten off the elevator.

While a lot of scenes stripe alternating light and darkness over the characters faces, the fact that the most significant elevator moment related to Crowley and Aziraphale prior to the end of 2.06 is this scene at the start of 1.06 that also holds on who we think is Crowley but is really Aziraphale for a long time as the light/dark stripes over him... and that this scene in 1.06 is intentionally deceptive about what's happening and how that is being presented to the audience... just like, imo, the end of 2.06... all of that makes them paralleling, mirrored scenes to one another.

So, the parallel scene to the elevator in 2.06 is that time that Aziraphale went to Hell back in 1.06, further suggesting the idea that that's really what is going to end up happening as a result of the end of 2.06.

But the real kicker is how the 1.06 scene ends.

The first time you watch it, you think that you are watching Crowley the entire time because you don't yet know about the body swap plot that is coming later in the episode for which this is a flash forward. Crowley might seem slightly off if you're looking closely but you chalk it up to nervousness and it is not, on first watch, enough to really garner the audience's attention. Nothing prior to this in the story has existed where one character is appearing to be another, really, so we aren't predisposed to think about that as an option.

As the episode continues and we approach the body swap plot, we have a series of scenes that result in clues that allow some of the audience to figure it out before it's revealed in full what's happened. Even if you don't notice these things, once Crowley and Aziraphale both survive hellfire and holy water, you've begun to put together that they've swapped and, if you still haven't after it's over, there's the scene where the show just tells you that's what happened and shows them swapping back:

Because this plot existed in S1, the audience is more inclined to look for something like it in S2 and, because the show is doing a lot of mirrored storytelling, the idea that Crowley and Aziraphale fooled the antagonists by appearing to be one another in S1 makes the idea that the antagonists who were fooled-- Satan and The Metatron-- teaming up against them and winning a battle (not the war but a battle) by one of them (Satan) taking on the appearance of the other (The Metatron) is... kinda delicious, actually 😂... and one of the reasons why I think this is what is happening in S2 that leads into S3.

Back in the scene that starts 1.06, though, wherein "Crowley" arrives in Hell? We can easily be forgiven for thinking that we are looking at Crowley and that we understand what's happening, even if we haven't seen what led up to it yet. What's genius about the scene is really two things: the fact that, upon rewatch, it is so evident to us that this is really Aziraphale and not Crowley, even if he's doing a very great imitation of Crowley... which is such a magic trick, really, and a fantastic bit of acting... but also the very last line of dialogue in the scene.

"Crowley" looks at Beez, Hastur and Dagon and says:

"Guys. What appears to be the problem?"

This line is almost not even heard by the audience. We think this is Crowley on first watch so it sounds like more of his smartass humor to a point that we don't really hear it. Immediately after this, we get the VHS rewind effect that runs through the rest of the episode and takes us back to the moment that Crowley arrives in the burning Bentley at Tadfield Air Force Base. We "press play" on that and the episode starts in earnest. Within seconds, we've forgotten about this line and the question it asked us.

When you rewatch, this line and its impish delivery-- Aziraphale in there, having a ball trolling the demons who don't know who really stands in front of them-- is one of the highlights of the episode. It's asking a question, though, that we might want to ask about its parallel scene in 2.06 as well:

"What appears to be the problem?"

We think we know that Aziraphale is going to Heaven to be the Supreme Archangel and that the being in the elevator with him is The Metatron. We think we know what the problem is. As the paralleling 1.06 scene showed us, if we take what we're seeing only as it might appear on the surface, we likely have it backwards.

There's a body swap, of sorts, happening-- it's not The Metatron, it's Satan. In 1.06's start, we thought we were watching Crowley arrive in his home territory of Hell in trouble but we were really watching Aziraphale in Hell. In 2.06's end, we think we're watching Aziraphale about to go to his home territory of Heaven as the new boss but we're really about to watch the bit of this mirror that will hold: Aziraphale winding up in Hell as a result.

I think we might see a scene early in 3.01 that is like the 1.06 opening but which picks up with Aziraphale arriving in Heaven and being brought to... The Metatron. The actual, floating head Metatron and likely some of the other angels in a parallel to Hastur & Dagon in the 1.06 scene. Instead of the holy water situation, though, it's Aziraphale's fall. The audience will be confused at first as to why Aziraphale is considered a traitor and not the new Supreme Archangel, which is when the show might rewind-- literally, as it did visually in 1.06-- but this time back through stuff we've already seen: The Final 15 back through until the bookshop attack-- and drop us back somewhere around "I think I might have just started a war" after Aziraphale blew up his halo. Why there?

Because of this extremely important bit of Aziraphale dialogue in 2.06 right here:

Aziraphale tells whom he's been told is The Metatron that he doesn't think they need to have a chinwag because there isn't anything left to be said and he's made his position "quite clear." In other words?

Aziraphale told off The Metatron.

Excellent news! When the fuck did that happen? lol Clearly in a scene we haven't seen yet. It's one that is so important, though, that we will need to see it in S3.

Notice how everything was left lining up perfectly for Aziraphale to have spoken with The Metatron very soon after he blew up his halo. When Aziraphale opened up the circle, he literally asked if anyone was there. All of this is calling back to how he summoned The Metatron in S1. He then discorporated a bunch of demons with the circle. The circle was still open when Aziraphale blew up his halo. There is no way that all of that didn't get the attention of The Metatron.

So, The Metatron got on the little Heavenly Zoom feature of the circle and started losing it on Aziraphale, who had had enough. Aziraphale lost it right back on The Metatron and told him that he was done being an angel and dealing with all of this ridiculousness. He more or less told The Metatron that if he wanted to use the circle to discorporate some demons or blow up his halo if he felt like it, he was damn well going to do so because it's his mind the halo is crushing and his bookshop and he and this shop are independent from Heaven.

So, The Metatron didn't take all of that well and told Satan that Aziraphale was fair game and that's how near the start of S3 we are going to see Aziraphale be tossed to Hell by The Metatron upon his arrival in Heaven. Heaven will likely take his memories but Aziraphale won't spent the whole of S3 without them. Just until not long after he reunites with Crowley, which will likely happen faster than some people think it might.

I'm pretty sure that The Bentley was made into an unintentional fly while Aziraphale was driving it in S2 so, basically, I think Crowley and Aziraphale will fall ass-backwards into discovering that if Aziraphale gets into the car, he's probably going to get his memories back... which, I'm realizing as I'm typing this, is a pretty funny mirror of the immediate aftermath of The Final 15-paralleling bandstand breakup, isn't it? 😂

I'm basically saying that I think that S3's storyline in the present is the missing weekend of the last week of the end of the world that S2 began showing us. I could be wrong but I'm pretty sure that the time jump between the seasons is virtually non-existent.

I also wouldn't be surprised if The Ancient Times Vavoom isn't pretty early on in the story... possibly the very first scene of 3.01. Dropping that as the start of S3 would be wild after 2.06 and that is kind of why I think they just might.

One thing I noticed is that the very beginning scenes-- Eden and Before the Beginning-- are both beginning each season's story with an aspect of a first in Crowley & Aziraphale's story that also ends with a canopy element, in the sense that they're protecting each other from rain or celestial rain with a wing to end both scenes. If S3 holds that pattern and opens 3.01 with a flashback that parallels Eden and Before the Beginning, I think the thing that would fit that the most is their first kiss-- with the canopy this time being not one of them sheltering the other from a form of rain with a wing but both of them sheltering together from rain under a tree canopy.

S3 has to have a happy ending which I think means that they need to more or less eliminate the threat of Armageddon. The only way to do that is to free the angels and demons from The Metatron and Satan and give them the opportunities to start living their own lives and learning what it is to live in the first place. I think Aziraphale's fall is what sets that into motion because Crowley and Gabriel and everyone else will never accept it. It will begin a real challenge of The Metatron's power because Aziraphale is the bridge too far.

If The Metatron says that Aziraphale is a demon then The Metatron is suddenly going to have a lot of people who are just not going to believe that. A lot of people who have been having their own identities defined by The Metatron and allowing him power over how they see themselves and who now are going to realize as a result just how wrong Heaven can be about this. A lot of people who are going to start pushing back on Heaven and challenging Aziraphale's status.

What happens when Crowley and Gabriel and the angels and demons on their side go to The Metatron and demand to speak directly to God?

What happens when they realize that The Metatron can't meet that demand because God doesn't have dominion over The Universe-- Her creations do?

Aziraphale falling is ultimately what can expose The Metatron as a fraud, cause the angels and demons to realize that the demons weren't judged by God-- they were targeted and harmed by an evil angel who used the idea that he could speak on behalf of God to manipulate them.

Aziraphale falling is what can lead to a democratization of Heaven and destroy Hell because the idea of a demon is something The Metatron made up to control the angels. The demons are all just tortured angels and the angels are just like the humans-- most of them neither perfectly good or perfectly evil. Just people.

The only way to get to the South Downs Cottage ending is through Aziraphale's fall because the, well, fallout lol, of that is that it will break the system of Heaven and Hell, which is necessary for peace. So, yeah, that's why I think the jumping off point of S3 is showing the audience that Aziraphale has fallen, having the other characters learn that, and that being the beginning of the end for Satan and The Metatron.

After all, we're still waiting for the pay off of the end of the later body swap scene in S1...

[ily-tomura]

Digital Farmers

Autistic!Tomura Shigaraki, GN!Reader

You’d already played a bit of Stardew Valley when Tomura asks if you want to start a co-op farm with him. He doesn’t play it often, or at least not as often as he plays other games, but he’s pretty up there in hours.

Immediately upon the two of you starting up the world, he’s telling you about the best cash crops and the fastest way to fill out the items in the Community Center.

Tomura asks if you want to split the watering of the crops or if you’d rather he handle all the farming so that he can power level his skill farming early on. You say you don’t mind either way.

It’s relatively quiet when you’re in game, unless he has a question about what kind of seeds you want him to buy or if there’s any good quest on the bulletin board, but other than that it’s just you and him listening quietly to the music.

He talks to the fish as he’s trying to catch them. You are not entirely sure if he is aware of it or not, but you leave it be. It’s kind of cute.

The first real discussion is about what the two of you want to name your chickens. You both want to have themed names, but it’s between spice names and names from anime. Eventually you decide that every time you get a new animal, you’ll roll dice. Evens, you get to name it, odd, Tomura gets to name it. Your first two chickens are named Basil and Goku.

While Tomura does get a bit annoyed at not having late-game items, having you there playing with him is nice.

At the end of a four hour stretch of playing, you can tell he’s beginning to get tired, so you ask if you can call it a night soon. He nods and says he’ll wrap it up and call it after the day ends.

He knows you won’t be able to get on and play with him as much as he wants to, but he promises that he’ll only play in your shared world when you can both be there. He says the world belonging to both of you is what makes it special.

[humornaut]

Hey, @basil-daisy here.

I just wanted to drop by because there's something that has been eating my insides for a long time and I can't get it out of my head.

I wanna talk about the scenes in Black Space, more precisely the scenes in the Church of Something, both the Sunny route and Omori route, although the Omori route one was really the one that made me think.

Have you ever thought about how the scene where Omori finally finds and "saves" Basil in the Omori route feels strangely like... A wedding?

It's not only the bridal style way Omori catches Basil. It's the way Basil lightly complains about Omori being late, the way they stop as Omori gives Basil his flower crown back and how directly after the act is interrupted by Stranger, who objects the whole "thing". A spectacle a bunch of "guests" witness.

I was always really curious about the church symbolism. For example the way Basil is stuck at the top of the church. I've tried really hard not to think about what usually is in the same place in churches because that comparison is making me die inside, even if it weirdly makes sense (Basil died for your sins U^U).

Besides that we have Sunny's interesting relationship with religion. Mainly that he probably feels insanely guilty. He feels judged by all the religious statues, moreover the snow angels, which are also one of my favourites, don't need to have the game tell us Omori feels judged by them. You feel it just by looking at their eyes.

The fact that Basil is in a church of all places is so telling too. Besides masses churches are known for holding weddings and, well, funerals. And in case of Faraway town's church is has a graveyard right behind it, where Mari lies.

I wonder if the scene in the Omori route is supposed to feel like a wedding but also double as a funeral (considering it marks the end of Stranger and his admittance of defeat that is actually a premonition of Basil's death in real life). It's one of the few scenes between routes that changes drastically and what it represents is absolutely fascinating.

What is really interesting also is that in the Sunny route the scene feels is completely different. It no longer feels like wedding. If anything it is just Basil begging for forgiveness, which does of course ties well with religion. But he's not begging for God's forgiveness, no, he's begging for his best friend's forgiveness.

I imagine this might be another way of showing us that Basil idolises Sunny as well as telling us that Basil feels really bad (what an understatement).

I also question if the Omori route scene is there to mirror the Sweetheart marriage scene somewhat, but I think I would need to dwell a bit more on that to come reach a proper conclusion.

Anyway, I hope you're having a lovely day! 💜

Wow, this is a really good ask! I'm going to break it down into a few different parts.

The Symbolism of the Church of Something

I think you are right on the money in how things go down in the Church of Something in the Omori route. The entire scene does almost play out as a wedding! Not just as a marriage to Headspace Basil, but as a final marriage to Headspace in general. After Sunny moves, whether or not he ever finds out about the fate of the real Basil, he has wholly become Omori. Stranger's objection does represent the last vestige of Sunny's mind trying to stop him from doing this; after all, saving the real Basil is the only loose end that Sunny really feels a responsibility for in a way that he can fix. He may want to see his other friends again, but he doesn't feel guilty for not doing so, because he feels he doesn't deserve it. Basil's a different story, because he knows he did Basil wrong for the selfish reason of protecting himself from his past.

To deepen the significance of this "wedding to Headspace Basil, and with it, a marriage to the concept of Headspace itself", I also want to point out that there is an implication that the end of Black Space in the Sunny route is not an end to the loop of Headspace, which won't happen until Sunny decides to shatter the light bulb on the next night. There is Stranger dialogue in the hub area that makes clear that killing the Basil that has seen the truth in Red Space is something that usually happens, and when you go there, you can find multiple of Basil's bodies littering the area. Instead, it's the Omori route that "breaks the loop of Headspace", via Stranger choosing to attack Sunny for abandoning Basil and the others.

That's not even mentioning the things that happen after this in the Omori route.

The flower crown that Headspace Basil gives to Sunny in the last Headspace Night in the Omori route provides twice as much HEART as the next best charm in that department (with those charms being the the Pretty Bow, a charm tied to Aubrey, and the Tulip Hairstick, a charm tied to Omori). The use of the word "precious" is also used in the Sunny route, in the description for Basil's Photo Album:

All three of these charms are only accessible in the Omori route, as well. The Pretty Bow item is only receivable after defeating Abbi, and is explicitly described as "too flashy for your taste".

Finally, so long as we are talking about weddings in Headspace, there is another thing that we would be remiss not to talk about. To go along with your mention of the Snow Angels (who have another interesting connection that I will go over later), the charm that you get from completing this area is the Wedding Ring.

As I've mentioned before, there are three different charms that allow the wearer to start happy, and they generally have fairly romantic connotations. First is the daisy, which both you and I understand is likely tied to Basil, but also has a romantic connotation due to the context of being a reward for assisting a character acquire a gift for their crush.

The second is one that I would also tie to Basil.

The Heart String is such an interesting little item, and the way it is tied to Basil isn't as immediately obvious as the Daisy. First off, this item is really easy to miss. You have to grab it during the chase section within Humphrey, and you can't go back to grab it afterwards to get it. There is also another item in the same area: the Blender weapon for Hero. This item immediately sets off alarm bells in my head, because smoothies (the only snacks in the list that are made in a blender) are snacks that are pretty clearly tied to Basil. Why make these two items into two of the only completely miss-able items in the game? And it doesn't evade my notice that shortly before Humphrey, where you find these charms, you have the Branch Coral, who makes another connection to Basil using the romantic image of a string.

Finally, the wedding ring is tied to Basil in another way, and that is what's going on in the area that you find it. Obviously, there is a negative association between Headspace Basil and the cold/snow, but there's also the fact that the ascent up Snowglobe Mountain is reminiscent of the leadup to the Church of Something in general, with the stairs and the snow. And regarding the Snow Angels, aside from the religious connotations behind them, there is another neat association. Take a look:

this was pointed out by someone in a discord server that I am in, and I unfortunately do not remember who at this point. Let me know if you see this and want credit!

I would argue that this similarity was intentional, as an older version of the game had White Egret Orchids looking much different, though I can't find a beta picture of Basil's house at this exact moment. These Snow Angels serve much the same purpose as Stranger in this route: being embodiments of Sunny's guilt for abandoning Basil and refusing to take responsibility for his sins. This takes place on the final night before Sunny moves, the same night that the real Basil chooses to end his own life. These are his final thoughts following Sunny into his dreams (whether you take this as literal or figurative).

One last thought on Basil in the Omori route before moving on: the Basil Rush, and how it’s the most explicit the game ever gets about how Sunny imagines his Basil's closeness.

Like, oh my goodness. The TAG photos didn't even need to exist, but they were put in anyway! And a little detail that goes unnoticed a lot, is that the hand-holding TAG photo is one in which Omori has initiated it! I think part of the tragedy of the Omori route is that it is most player's second playthrough (if they ever play it at all) and it is when the idea of Sunny and Basil having romantic feelings for each other starts being implied way heavier than before. Congrats! You got some heavy romantic subtext between the two boys. One of them is dead in the real world because you didn't save him.

Moving on!

The Religious Connotations of Headspace Basil

You didn't want to go into it very heavily, but I will: among other things, Sunny's dreamworld has turned Headspace Basil into a Christ-like figure.

Of course, there is his position in the Church of Something, but that's not all. He constantly wears a Flower Crown (crown of thorns, anyone?). In fact, Omori has to give Basil the Flower Crown back in the very first Black Space area, the Watermelon Area, seemingly as a preface for what's going to be happening with Headspace Basil throughout that portion of the game.

Look at what he says during the hide and seek game:

There's also the fact that in the Sunny route, we are looking at a game that takes place over three days and three nights after Basil disappears from Headspace, which I'm sure I don't have to point out the significance of.

This is a connotation that Sunny is making himself. Basil did not choose to take on Sunny's sins in real life, he expected that they would always be together. It was Sunny that decided to throw the responsibility of both of their sins on Basil, by choosing to forget. Basil will literally die for Sunny's sins in the real world.

Which brings us to the Flower Crown that Basil gifts to Omori after being rescued. Whether Sunny knows it or not, Basil has decided to end his own suffering in the real world. By gifting the flower crown to Omori, Headspace Basil has symbolically indicated that the situation has been reversed. Basil is no longer suffering for Sunny's sins, but Sunny is about to start suffering for Basil's. We are told numerous times throughout the game that Headspace is on its last legs. It's running out of places to hide the truth. We see Black Space leaking through almost everywhere, and the Basil Rush ends in a direct reminder of the day of the incident.

All that is to say, Headspace is seemingly going to fail, and soon. Black Space has grown too strong. If you ask me, it's only a matter of time until news of the real Basil's death has reached Sunny in the real world, and that will be the tipping point. From there on, assuming Sunny even decides to go on after that point, he will be living with the same weight that Basil did for those four years after Sunny left him, and there won't be anyone to save him.

The Sunny Route and Sweetheart's Castle

Finally, you mentioned how the scene goes in the Sunny Route. It should be noted, right after Stranger merges with the version of Basil there is the first time in the entire game that a version of Basil in Sunny's head refers to Sunny exclusively as his best friend, and from that point on, we will see that repeated in Sunny's mind. The room that Omori and Basil fall into prior to Red Space is one that we will see during the truth sequence, but it also appears in the Omori route, in a manner that we should discuss, as it ties into what you said about Sweetheart's Castle being connected. After all, the room that Omori and Basil falls into is the same room that Sweetheart's Castle turns into once you accept the Keeper of the Castle's deal, as I noted in my post about Sweetheart's Castle previously.

Sweetheart herself represents Sunny; both in his quest for presenting a perfect version of himself and his broken understanding of love, both of others and himself. Spaceboy represents the more "Omori" part of him; someone claiming to be above his emotions, but ultimately ruled by them. He even changes his name while he is in a relationship with Sweetheart. From this interpretation, we can extrapolate that their wedding in the castle is a representation of the Omori route's ending, right down to ending up on Snowglobe Mountain.

I also want to point out what happens right after this. You don't immediately just jump on down to the Lost Library. You try to leave, but right before you exit the area, you get the cutscene showing Stranger on the stage, leading you into the hole, meaning you literally need to walk down the aisle of an area explicitly designed for a wedding to follow Stranger into the Lost Library.

Whether or not you interpret Sunny and Basil as having romantic feelings for each other, this seems very symbolic of the fact that accepting and following Stranger (who I have previously described as the individual in which Basil's love of Sunny resides, be it romantic or platonic) is how you get to the truth. It's as if Sweetheart and Spaceboy's wedding represented the ending of Black Space in the Omori route, while what happens right after represents the ending of Black Space in the Sunny route. And like most of the ways Sunny remembers aspects of his history, the library is tied to Basil. Where the real Basil would provide books for Sunny to read, Stranger leads him to an entire library filled with books depicting his memories, both good and bad.

I hope you found all this interesting! I haven't really gotten the chance to talk about these things before, since I haven't really found the motivation to talk about them in their own post before! I hope you have a wonderful day as well! Time to go back to packing for my flight tomorrow!

[gardensnakie]

Mesmerizer AU ramble

Omori loves being the center of attention, he loves being in control and sure of all outcomes.

He likes to say Stranger's current state was a result from intense persuasion along with a 'defect' in the mind's processing of information. Intense persuasion is a longer way to say hypnosis, but Omori begs to differ on the technicalities.

"They are still Basil."

"This shadow is a mistake and I made them useful. I have given them purpose, it's a creation of mine."

"It doesnt feel anything" "I am everything to them."

Omori's thoughts are hard to understand, he takes back information, flips like a coin, pretends to believe in something only to believe in it later, and contridicts himself often while the shadow endures his endless rambles.

Stranger once had to listen to Omori rattle on about how they aren't really friends, just partners maintaining an entire universe. It droned off into how they were right next to a "king pawn" then something about confetti and spotlights, then something about being the loneliest people, then something about being sick of candy. Stranger couldnt remember when Omori finally reached the point of the original conversation- probably around the time when he simply stared at him for a long time. His presence was very close.

Stranger is docile, quiet, and easily provoked by the voices in his head. His thoughts are surprisingly coherant, but he loses focus and is forgetful in the moment. Sometimes he realizes just how much has been forgotten and is put through an overwhelming sense of danger, hence the assassination attempts.

Stranger realized it wasnt the solution after tons of instances where omori seemed to find it funny everytime and wasnt actually getting harmed from the attempts.

Omori called it murder one time and Stranger never did it again (unless it was in a severe bout of forgetfulness) but it happened way less. Stranger thought Omori's 'thank you's had an air of disappointment when he kept returning the knife he claims to have misplaced, but it was probably just his imagination.

[her-satanic-wiles]

October 26th

Masturbation, Phantom x Cardinal Reader

Masterlist ⛧ The Cardinal Masterlist

Words: 2.3k

Warnings: Masturbation; mutual masturbation; caught masturbating; sub!Phantom (because I just can’t help myself, boy needs putting in his place); panty sniffing; degradation kink; squirting; finger sucking; cum eating; praise kink;

Taglist: @sodoswitchimage @enchantedbunny @bitchywitchygardener @thew0man @sodomiser @the-did-i-ask @copias-sewer-rat @gehrmansbignaturals @deetz-ghuleh @onlyhereforghost @zombiesnips-blog

This is a continuation of the previous Phantom fic because I actually think about that daily… this is my Roman Empire right now… Also, I listened to THE DEATH OF PEACE OF MIND by Bad Omens on repeat when I wrote this so… do with that information what you will…

🔞 MDNI 🔞

Your day had been absolutely wonderful. You had the best night’s sleep, which bled into the most delicious breakfast, followed by a slow work day where you were able to catch up on all of your work and even start a new book all before lunchtime. And lunch was delectable, too. The kitchen had put on an array of delicious foods at the buffet this time, with bruschetta topped with fresh tomatoes, basil, and olive oil; arancini balls (of which you devoured several); fettuccine Alfredo amongst many others. It was very rare that Satan had blessed you with the most perfect of days, but you were thankful nonetheless. And even somewhat excited to get home, put your feet up and relax.

Your Ghoul, Phantom, had a separate schedule that he had to attend to today, which was, perhaps, the only negative part of such a perfect day. But, he was still in training after all, despite how much work you put his way as his Cardinal.

You took your heels off at the door as you entered your chambers, sighing in relief at the way your feet were now able to flatten out and stretch. You poured yourself a glass of water and stood in the kitchen, contemplating your next move when you heard it.

There was a faint grunting coming from your bedroom, behind a closed door that you know you left open when you left your place that morning. You could recognise those whimpers if you were blindfolded and threatened that your life would end. Phantom was in your room, and he wasn’t behaving as he should be. Quietly, you moved to your bedroom and slowly opened the door, making absolute sure that he wouldn’t notice you were there.

You opened the door the whole way, but his eyes were so tightly shut he had no idea you were there. He lay, sprawled out on your bed, completely naked including his mask, each item of clothing thrown carelessly around your room in his desperation to get his hand on his cock. One of his hands was wrapped around his beautiful length, stroking it perfectly and just the way he liked, slick with his spit and focussing on the sensitive, pink head. His bottom lip was trapped between his teeth in a feeble effort to stay as quiet as he could so he wouldn’t alert you to his presence just in case you came home earlier than expected, but it didn’t stop his pathetic whimpers from spilling out in between the short, sharp inhales. In his other hand was a pair of your panties, the exact pair you took off the night before when he was with you, deep inside you, whimpering as he was now. Those panties were damn near attached to his nose, he refused to move the gusset the entire time he was stroking his cock.

You were wondering what he was thinking about - the first time you both had sex, perhaps? When you took him in your office, stood on his cock and made him submit to you until he bent out of shape and broke at your very whim? Or maybe he was thinking about the night before, how you let him take you from behind and pretend that he was in charge… though that didn’t last long. Poor baby had no idea how to dom though he tried. It all came to naught when he was on the verge of cumming and begging for permission to do so, whining in your ear as all doms do, of course. Though, you’d be lying if you said it didn’t turn you on to hear that immediate switch from “strong man” to “needy, subby bitch”.

His hips bucked the harder he pumped, and his moans became louder and louder. You even heard little whimpers of, “Cardinal!” as he played with himself - no doubt imagining whatever fantasy he’d concocted since the two of you played with each other regularly. You could feel arousal pooling in your cunt, wetness flooding your core with each lewd sound of his cock as he jerked it rougher and rougher until you decided to act and alert him to your presence with a clearing of the throat.

The look of fear and panic on his face almost had you drooling. He sat up immediately, launching himself off the pillows and throwing your panties across the room. His hand did what it could to cover his cock from you, but it was too late. The damage had already been done and he knew he was in for it now.

“Little slut couldn’t wait for his Cardinal to come home and take care of him, hm? Had to use my panties to get himself off.”

“Cardinal! I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry, Cardinal! Please forgive me.”

You propped yourself up on the dresser. “Okay.”

Your nonchalance and unbothered demeanour was uncharacteristic to say the least, and it unnerved Phantom more than he could possibly say. At this point, you would be finding a way to punish him, making him suffer for his disobedience. He walked into your room, stole your used panties, and was touching himself on your bed - all of which without your permission. “O-okay?”

“Okay.”

He hated this. “That’s it?”

“You wanted more?”

“Well, I expected-”

“Oh right, yes. You wanted to finish didn’t you?”

“Cardinal?”

“Go ahead. Lie back, little prince. Finish yourself off.”

“A-are you sure?”

“Of course. Tell me, what were you thinking about?”

He was now on his knees at the foot of the bed, about a metre away from you. His hand, tentatively, wrapped around his aching cock, still very much suspicious of you but desperate to touch himself. He’d be lying if he didn’t find this hot, though - the idea of him stroking himself while you watched him; his beautiful Cardinal whose eyes were fixated on the way his hand stroked over himself.

“Tell me, little prince,” you repeated, eyes trained exactly where he wanted them, “what were you thinking about?”

“Y-you, Cardinal. I was thinking about you.”

“Specifically?”

“When you tied me up… t-took what you wanted. How your pussy felt good around me.”

You lifted your legs and hooked the heels of your feet onto the edge of the dresser. You lifted your robes up and revealed your panty-clad cunt, the fabric soaked from watching your little plaything touch himself. You moved the gusset to the side, and allowed him the privilege of looking at your slicked folds. “This pussy?” You asked.

“Oh fuck.” He began stroking himself harder. “Cardinal.”

He reached forward to touch you, not that he’d be able to reach at that distance anyway, but it didn’t matter. He wanted to, and that was enough for you. You kicked your leg forward, swiping his hand away from you with your foot. “Ah, ah! Bad boys don’t get to touch.”

There it was. There was his punishment. The one thing he wanted the most right now, the thing he could see plainly right in front of him, but couldn’t have. You were playing a dangerous game - dangling the steak in front of the lion and expecting it not to bite. But then, lions weren’t the strongest in the Pride; Phantom was toothless and he knew it.

You didn’t miss how much faster his hand moved over his cock as you exposed yourself to him; the way his mind moved a million miles a minute as it comprehended just what you were doing to him. His heart rate spiked when he saw your hand move lower…

Lower…

Lower…

A gasp escaped your lips as your fingers made contact with your clit, your head tipping backwards and mouth falling open with each stroke. Your eyes closed at the feeling as the rest of your face contorted in a peaceful bliss at the relief you were finally giving yourself. Touching yourself instead of him touching you was almost just as much torturous - except your sadistic side was singing at the suffering you were bringing him. Sweet, kind, funny, intelligent, naughty Phantom, kneeling at the foot of your bed, completely naked, foaming at the mouth at the sight of your core and tormented by the fact he can’t touch it, lick it just the way you liked.

You chuckled at the sight of his pathetic, dumb little face, fixated on the movements of your hand, matching his stroking with yours. The way his mouth hung open in concentration and his pupils had blown out, removing any colour from his irises. He needed you so fucking badly, his whimpers and moans just confirmed what you already knew.

“Your hand feel good, Phantom?” You taunted.

“No. I want your cunt, Cardinal. Your cunt would be better. Please.”

“It would be better. So tight, and warm, and wet.” You dipped your fingers inside. “Oh yeah, so fuckin’ tight.”

“Fuck.”

You tapped up, hitting your g-spot with each movement and causing genuine moans to fall out of your mouth. His hips bucked at the sound of your fingers sploshing through your wetness, the same wetness he could practically taste on his tongue. All the times he’d been buried between your thighs with your pussy hanging off his tongue.

“I’m sorry, Cardinal.” He confessed, words slurring with the lack of concentration. His focus on your fingers turned his brain to mush. “I’m sorry. Please. Please let me touch you. I’ll be a good boy, I promise.”

“You always - fuck - promise to be a good boy.” You pulled your fingers out and spread your wetness around your clit, furiously rubbing at the button. “You t-tell me you’ll be a good boy then go and - shit - go and do shit like this.”

“Cardinal, please!”

“No. You - fuck I’m close! You’re gonna watch me cum on my fingers. You get to watch me pl-please myself. If you’re good I might let you - oh fuck, I’m cumming!”

You came hard, your juices spurting out of your as you did and pooling on the dresser, sploshing on the floor dramatically and dripping off the wood when the stream had finally stopped. The sheer power of your orgasm knocked the wind out of you, forcing your free hand to grip onto the dresser in an effort to ground yourself. And you watched through blurred vision as Phantom fucked into his hand desperately, tongue escaping from behind his lips as if he could catch the droplets and drink them down.

When he saw that you were coming down, he piped up again, his voice breaking the silence. “Cardinal, please. I’ve been so good for you. I wanna cum, please let me cum. Please, Cardinal.”

“Little prince wants to cum, hm?” You pushed yourself off the dresser, your fingers still covered in your cum. Those fingers you moved towards him, holding them out so his mouth could finally reach them, but pulling away just as his lips were about to wrap around them.

“C-Cardinal!”

You laughed cruelly and cupped his chin, trapping it between your index finger and thumb, forcing him to look at your face rather than the cum dripping off your digits. “Pathetic little whore, desperate for my leftovers. You want to taste me, hm? Beg for it. Make me believe you want to.”

“I want your cum in my mouth,” he said, words rushed and desperate, “I want to taste you. I want to lick up your cum, please let me. Please let me clean your fingers. I’d lick it off the fucking floor if you’d let me. Please.”

“Oh, now there’s an idea. Not today, little prince. But… you think that was good enough?”

Tears began forming in his eyes. “Cardinal, please!”

“Good boy.” You moved your fingers to his mouth. “Take your reward.”

His free hand gripped onto your wrist to stop you from moving away as he sucked your fingers into his mouth. His eyes rolled back at the taste of you, eyelids fluttering as though he had just tasted the most delicious food ever created. His tongue moved erratically around your fingers, making damn sure every available drop was gathered on it and swallowed down his waiting throat. The whimpers that came out of his throat were gaining in volume and intensity, a verbal cue to let you know he was ready to cum but waiting for your permission.

“Cum, little prince. Cum for me.”

He was always good at cumming on command, thanking you with muffled gratefulness as his lips were still around your fingers, sucking hard on the skin as his cum began pouring from his tip, gathering on the skirt of your robes. He let his teeth slip, biting down on your fingers accidentally but not hard enough to be painful. The hand that was on your wrist tightened in his pleasure, and his fingernails dug in for purchase. He was lightheaded, swaying with the force of his orgasm, so much so you had to steady him with your other hand.

“You’re okay,” you told him, genuine kindness shining through in an attempt to comfort him, “I got you, baby. You’re safe. I got you. So fucking good for me.” You leaned forward and kissed his forehead. “Good boy.”

He regained his mental ability to, well, exist and looked up at you with wide, puppy eyes. You bent down and kissed his lips, pulling him upwards for a passionate connection to help soothe the ache you created. “Always so fucking good for me, aren’t you?” You praised in between kisses. “You take what I give you so well.”

“All for you, Cardinal.”

“I’m just as much yours as you are mine, and don’t ever forget that.”

He nodded. You could feel the panic coming off him when you pulled back. “Cardinal?”

“It’s okay, my love.” You began stripping your soiled robes off and removing every item of clothing until you were just as bare as him. “Lie back and get comfortable. I’m coming.”

You climbed onto the bed once you were ready and scooped him up, pulling him to rest his head on your breasts and holding him as he needed you. He clutched onto you tightly, falling slowly into a deep sleep.

Kinktober: Previous Day ⛧ Next Day

The Cardinal:

Masterlist ⛧ The Cardinal Masterlist

Previous Part ⛧ Next Part

[montammil]

Forever Be Mine, part 6

This one is pretty relaxed compared to the last few parts lol. Here's the masterlist!

CW: Stockholm syndrome, manipulation, mentions of torture/murder, implied noncon, intimate whumper

...

"Felicity? Can I ask you something?"

"Make it quick, I'm a little busy. If you need money, I can send you some later today."

"I'm not Griff. I was wondering if you had any... relationship advice?"

"And you called me out of all people?" Felicity snorted. "I'm too much of a workaholic to even consider love. As long as you haven't been stalking them, I'm sure you'll be fine." Rowan went silent. "Goddammit, Rowan. Again?"

Rowan wouldn't dare tell her he went even farther than just that. "He hates me. What do I do?"

"I don't know the guy, I don't know what he's into. Probably people not creeping on him," she huffed. "Give him something he likes--and not something you like that you want him to like. Not a hundred roses or some expensive brand of wine he's probably never heard of. Treat him like an actual human with thoughts and emotions and not some pampered pet. Just... be normal." There was talking in the background. "I gotta go. I think you'd have more luck asking Griffin about this."

As if, Rowan bitterly thought. Griffin's idea of romance was fast food and video games. "Fine. Talk to you later."

"Don't do anything stupid." And then she hung up.

Rowan sighed and leaned back in his chair, staring at his ceiling. This entire time he had been forcing Sawyer to conform to his ideas of romance, so perhaps it was time to take some advice for once. He was desperate. Hopefully after this, Sawyer would see him for the perfect boyfriend he was, and come crawling into his arms with love and devotion.

An idea popped into his head.

Sawyer flinched when the shed door creaked open. Rowan knelt down, draping his large coat over his shivering form. He cut the rope and helped Sawyer into the warm coat.

"Let's get you inside, babydoll. You're ice-cold," Rowan murmured, holding Sawyer's hand and walking him inside the cabin.

Rowan brought him to the bathroom, and to Sawyer's shock, left him alone to his own devices. Sawyer turned on the bathtub's tap, waiting until the water was steaming. He slowly sunk into it. It was heaven compared to the freezing temperature he was kept at in the shed. He sunk lower until only his eyes were peeking over the water level.

Once he was warmed up, his mind wandered to Rowan's behavior. Despite not knowing him for long, he figured the first thing his captor would do would be to ramble and insist on giving him zero personal space.

Did he grow tired of him? Did this mean he'd let him go? Or...

Sawyer shook his head. He tried not to think too hard about it and washed himself as fast as possible. When he was done, he climbed out and dried off, finding a pair of neatly folded clothes on the counter. He put them over his aching limbs, just a normal t-shirt and sweatpants. He exited the bathroom to find Rowan waiting for him, holding a bowl of what he assumed was tomato basil soup.

"How was your bath?" Rowan asked, motioning to the couch. Sawyer obeyed and sat down beside him.

"Nice. Thanks," Sawyer whispered.

"Here. You must be hungry." He took the bowl from Rowan and held it close, letting the heat warm him up. "Eat up." He picked up the spoon and dipped it into the red liquid. The spoon was trembling in his hand.

Rowan didn't miss it, because of course he didn't. "Do you want me to feed you?"

Sawyer shook his head. "No. I got it." He didn't, but there was no way he was going to be coddled even more by his kidnapper. He ignored Rowan's burning gaze on him and he ate the soup in small bites. He couldn't understand Rowan, nor did he really want to. All he could do was keep him happy enough so he didn't end up back in that awful shed. He offered his empty bowl. "Thanks."

He smiled and took it. "You're welcome. Stay right there, I got you a present!"

If he had learnt anything about Rowan these past few weeks, it was that his gifts sucked. Sawyer never wanted to look at expensive jewelry or roses ever again. He wondered what horrible gift he was going to receive now. Probably a collar, at this point.

Rowan came back holding something small in his arms. Sawyer curiously stood up to get a better look at it, just to see a small white cat curled up in his arms. Sawyer froze. Rowan approached him with a huge smile on his face.

"What..." Sawyer could barely speak, his hand reached out to the cat, who happily rubbed his face on his palm. "What did you do?"

"I knew you liked cats, and even though I'm not the most fond of animals, love is about making sacrifices. And before you say anything, I didn't buy him from a breeder." He handed the tiny fluff ball to Sawyer. "He had previous owners who got rid of him because he's deaf, or so that's what the shelter said. He's perfectly healthy."

Sawyer looked at him then at the cat. "You're giving me a cat?"

"Yes! Don't you love him?" Sawyer nodded. "See? I'm a good partner!" Rowan smiled proudly.

If Sawyer weren't so distracted by the cat in his arms, he would've scoffed. Instead, he cradled the furball to his chest. "What's his name?"

"Whatever you want it to be, my love."

He frowned and rubbed a finger between the kitten's eyes. "Casper." He still hated Rowan's guts, and he felt anxious now that a cat was in this fucked up situation, but it was hard to be mad at him right now. He was a sucker for cute things, and this fluffy creature was purring contentedly in his hold. He almost forgot that this whole scenario was forced upon him by Rowan. Almost.

Rowan placed his hands on Sawyer's waist, but didn't push things any further. He leaned forward and kissed his cheek. "Do you like him?"

Sawyer didn't want to be too thankful, lest Rowan got ideas that he owed him something. Besides that, he still hated his guts. "Yeah. He's cute." He hugged Casper a little closer to him.

"I knew you'd love him!" Rowan beamed. "Now that I have your approval, I'll get some toys for him. I already got food and a litter box. Anything specific you want for him? I've never owned any animals, so I don't know much about taking care of one." He sheepishly smiled. "Maybe a collar and a bed for him? I'll let you pick them out, and I can pick them up from the store."

"Uh, yeah, a collar, and a bed would be great. Thank you," Sawyer mumbled, still hugging the cat tightly. "And maybe a scratching post."

He didn't like the happy expression on Rowan's face, the bastard didn't deserve to be pleased, but he couldn't help himself when a soft cat was purring in his arms. He always wanted a cat, but due to money being tight, he never wanted to bring another living creature into his shitty living situation.

And even now he didn't, because it was somehow worse... but it'd be nice for someone other than Rowan to keep him company. It was selfish, he knew, but he was so lonely here that he was willing to subject a cat to Rowan.

"What is your ideal date?" Rowan's voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

"Not with you."

"Sawyer," Rowan warned. He placed his hand on Sawyer's shoulder and gave it a squeeze.

He sighed. "I dunno. I haven't been on many dates. An aquarium sounds cute, but I know that'd be too public for you, right?" It was meant as a sarcastic jab, but Rowan took it genuine and nodded. Sawyer resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "I like ice skating, but I guess that's also not your type of scene. Whatever, doesn't matter anyway. I'm gonna go to bed."

Rowan watched the man walk off with Casper still in his arms. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed.

...

"What's this?"

"A lake to skate on! I made sure it was thick enough to walk on without breaking. And after this, we can have some hot cocoa and a nice cuddle session by the fire."

"Uh... that's... cool." Sawyer scratched the back of his neck. "I guess. But uh... why?"

"Because you wanted to go ice skating. And since a public skating rink would be trouble, I decided this would do. Again, I made sure it's safe, so don't worry your pretty little head about that." Rowan booped Sawyer's nose. "I ordered us some ice skates too, of course." He grabbed two pairs of black ice skates from the car's trunk. He led him to a log, brushing off the snow, and then gestured for Sawyer to sit.

Sawyer did so, albeit reluctantly. He watched Rowan kneel to slide his shoes off and replace them with the skates. It got harder to resist the urge to kick him when Rowan pressed a kiss to his ankle as he laced up the boots for him.

As Rowan put on his own pair, Sawyer got curious. "Have you ever ice skated before?"

"Well... no, but it can't be that hard, right? How different could it be from roller-skating?" Sawyer chuckled at his ignorance. Oh, he'd have fun watching him tumble around. "I'm excited to try it with you." He pulled Sawyer up, walking awkwardly to the frozen lake. "Just... hold onto me so you don't fall," Rowan advised, intertwining their gloved fingers.

Sawyer didn't know why he didn't pull away. "Alright," he agreed, his other hand clutching onto Rowan's arm.

Rowan stepped onto the ice, wobbling slightly. "Oh, okay, that's a bit harder than I expected." He slid his feet forwards, pulling Sawyer with him. "You're doing okay, right?"

He couldn't help but grin. "Yeah." Rowan looked ridiculous with his lanky limbs sprawled everywhere and his ungraceful movements. It was the funniest thing Sawyer had witnessed in a long while. "Having fun?"

"Oh, yeah, a blast." He slipped and nearly fell, catching himself with his hand on the ground. Sawyer covered his mouth, muffling his laughter. Rowan glared up at him. "Okay, okay, laugh it up. You have a clear advantage over me here." He pushed himself back up to stand. "Help me." Sawyer obliged, extending his hand to Rowan. "How did you even get so good at this?"

Sawyer pulled him up. "Ice skating was a huge hobby of mine when I was a kid. My parents wanted me to do hockey, the more 'manly' sport, but I liked figure skating. They eventually just gave up."

"Do you still ice skate? I don't recall ever seeing you go to any skating rinks..."

Right when Sawyer was starting to relax, he was reminded this man was insane. "I don't. I had to sell my skates when I went broke." He bit his tongue. He hated telling people personal information, let alone people like this. But there wasn't much he could do about it now. He couldn't afford to upset Rowan anymore. He didn't want to be punished again, and he definitely didn't want to be thrown in that godforsaken shed.

He didn't want to see that ever again. Crazy how that was less than a day ago, and now Rowan had the gall to act like none of that happened.

"That's a shame. I bet you looked lovely on the ice." He kissed his forehead. "Well, whenever you like, we always have this area to skate together. At least until it starts melting." Rowan chuckled and moved his legs like a newborn deer attempting to stand. He had fallen again, but he managed to catch himself in time.

A sadistic part of Sawyer sparked whenever he saw Rowan stumble around like an idiot. It felt nice seeing him being the one out of his element, considering everything else he'd put him through. He couldn't help but take enjoyment from the rare opportunity of seeing the usually overly-confident and arrogant Rowan in an uncomfortable position.

Soon enough they both grew tired (aka Rowan was done embarrassing himself) and retreated to the cabin.

Rowan sat Sawyer down and prepared a cup of hot chocolate for him, adding some marshmallows and whipped cream on top. He set it on the coffee table and grabbed a blanket from the couch to drape it over Sawyer. Casper settled on Sawyer's lap and purred loudly, seeking pets.

Sawyer took the mug and blew on it. "Thank you," he mumbled before drinking some of the warm liquid.

"No problem, sweetheart." He sat on the couch next to him and placed his hand on his thigh. Sawyer looked down at it but didn't move away. "How was it?"

"How was what?"

"Our date." Rowan squeezed his leg, thumb rubbing circles on the inside of his thigh. "You didn't say much."

"Well, I was busy laughing at you," Sawyer pointed out, continuing to drink his hot cocoa. He licked away some foam that clung to his lip. Rowan stared at him intently, almost hungrily. "But it was... fine." He paused. "I guess."

"That's it? I expected a little more from you. Especially considering everything I did for you," Rowan scolded, his tone dangerously low. His hand stopped moving and tightened on his leg. Sawyer shivered. "I bought you a fucking cat. I skated with you even though it's freezing out. I cooked your favorite meal. I held back from touching you when I desperately wanted to." He leaned closer. "And I get nothing but a 'fine'?"

"I thought this was to make up for looking me in a damn freezing shed, not to guilt me into kissing your ass," Sawyer replied bluntly.

Rowan scowled. "Don't get snippy with me."

His word choice made Sawyer snort. "Well, sorry I'm feeling 'snippy' after being stalked, kidnapped, branded, and watching you kill a man. Forgive me for not being in a stellar mood." Rowan stood up, and Casper jumped off his lap at the sudden movement. Sawyer realized he made a mistake and was quick to amend it. "I didn't mean it, please don't put me back there."

When Rowan went silent, opting to stare at him, Sawyer realized he wanted him to continue.

"I'm thankful for everything you've done for me... and I loved our date. I'm sorry I'm so nonchalant about everything, I haven't been in a healthy relationship in years. This is just new to me." Sawyer's lip wobbled, only at the thought of being placed in the freezing cold again.

Rowan folded his arms. "I understand that, but I've been so patient with you. I think I deserve something in return, don't I?"

Great, now Sawyer didn't know how to further manipulate himself out of this one. Then, an idea popped in his mind. He dramatically sighed. "I just wished you'd see me for more than sex."

That was all it took for Rowan to fall for his bait. "Sawyer," he began softly, his scowl turning into a concerned frown, "is that all you think I'm after from you?" Sawyer shrugged and averted his eyes, faking embarrassment. Rowan had already fallen for similar acts in the past, but when it came to Sawyer, all logic went out the window. "Oh, honey, that's not true. I don't just want your body, I want everything of yours. Your mind, body, and soul belongs to me, and I want to cherish it all. I don't know why you would ever think so low of me."

Sawyer lowered his head, fighting back a smirk. "Sorry. I'm sorry, it's just hard to believe that sometimes. I'm used to guys being like that."

"I'm not those types of men, my love."

"I know." Rowan was worse. "It's just... that's why I have a hard time showing I'm grateful for things. Because people have done so much for me in the past, just because they wanted a quick fuck." He took joy in seeing how guilty Rowan looked. Good. "So I'm sorry I've been so dismissive. I'll try to be more grateful."

"Oh, sweetheart." Rowan placed a hand on his cheek. "I'll prove it to you. That I'm not like those men. That I truly care about you, not just your body."

Sawyer wasn't buying any of it. But he had Rowan right where he wanted him. Rowan was eating out the palm of his hand, like an eager dog wanting attention. "How?"

"We can cuddle, and watch what ever you want." Rowan grabbed Sawyer's hands, running his thumbs over his knuckles. "I know I can be impatient sometimes when it comes to more... intimate activities, but I'll slow down. Whatever you need. Cuddling you and having your full attention is more than enough for me right now."

"Okay," Sawyer replied simply, making sure not to let his fake shyness slip. He didn't want to oversell this.

Yet the 'for now' didn't go unnoticed. Sawyer had no doubt Rowan would eventually expect more from him again. He just had to hope by then he could manage to escape without incident.

"Then it's a deal!" Rowan beamed. He practically dragged him to the bedroom, tossing Sawyer onto the mattress. "Sorry," Rowan chuckled. Sawyer had to admit, Rowan was incredibly strong, especially for a guy of his build. He easily lifted him and tossed him around like he was light as a feather. Sawyer hoped that wouldn't turn into something disturbing. "Scoot over a bit, I'm going to set up the movie."

Sawyer had to admit, being around Rowan wasn't as insufferable as it was before. Sure, he still despised him, but... when he wanted to, he could be sweet.

Well, as sweet as a manic kidnapper could be.

Rowan let Sawyer choose from the list of movies, to which he settled on a nostalgic 90's film. Rowan wasn't too interested in it, but if it made Sawyer happy, he was glad. He was too busy staring at Sawyer to actually pay attention to the screen. Sawyer was aware of this and refused to give Rowan the satisfaction of him meeting his gaze.

Rowan nuzzled his face into the crook of Sawyer's neck and wrapped an arm around his waist. He peppered kisses along his shoulder and collarbone. Sawyer remained tense under the affectionate touch, not allowing himself to enjoy it even in the slightest.

He tried not to be annoyed with Rowan constantly interrupting his viewing to shower him in attention, but he had a feeling this would happen.

"I'm surprised you're not into this movie," Sawyer muttered. "Do you not like nostalgic things?"

Rowan paused in his ministrations. "Hm? No, I do. I just didn't watch much TV as a child, so I don't know these films. I'm sure it's wonderful." He pressed a kiss to his pulse point. "I'd much rather focus on you anyway."

Sawyer suppressed a sigh of frustration. "Alright then."

Halfway through the movie, Casper hopped on the bed and flopped between Sawyer and Rowan. Sawyer cracked a smile and patted the bed to coax him closer, so he could pet him. Casper purred happily and headbutted Sawyer's hand.

Rowan was less happy. "This is our moment, can't he wait?" he whined.

He huffed and rolled his eyes. "He's a cat, Rowan. He can't see what we're doing. He just wants cuddles."

"So do I!" Rowan exclaimed indignantly.

"You're such a child." Sawyer rolled his eyes, but still scooted closer to Rowan's side, just to shut him up. He leaned against Rowan's chest, keeping a hand on Casper's head to stroke him. He could feel Rowan grinning above him and he repressed the urge to shove him away in disgust. He focused on the screen in front of them, determined to ignore the arms wrapping around him possessively.

It still felt nice to relax for the first time since he had been kidnapped. Not that he was warming up to Rowan, surely not... Sawyer just appreciated having his nerves calmed after that horrible week he endured.

Before the ending credits finished rolling, Sawyer's eyelids grew heavy and he found himself dozing off, head resting against Rowan's chest. He heard Rowan's soft chuckling and a kiss being pressed against his hairline. He grumbled, too tired to care about the intimacy, and just sunk deeper against Rowan's warmth.

...

Taglist: @morning-star-whump

[dannybobany]

THE REFLECTION makes itself known

[plus a gif to show what it would look like in an actual battle]

Alrightttt, I’d like everyone to meet The reflection! This was one of the first ideas I had for an enemy in Marzenie, a miniboss based on Hero

It’s meant to embody some of the more general insecurities Basil has, it takes the form of Hero because from Basil’s perspective Hero is like. The GOAL for the kind of person you should be in life, he’s smart, successful, attractive, he’s the embodiment of (from an outside angle) the perfect man (and obviously Basil is wrong to think Hero is perfect, but comparing himself to Hero is one of his self deprecating habits so that’s what all of this is mostly about in the end)

Given the Fear and Hunger inspirations for this AU, there’s probably a form of ‘sanity’ bar in addition to HP, this enemy would do a mixture of both but its mind attacks would be far worse while its physical attacks would do barely any damage, the gimmick of the fight is that before it uses one of its mirrors a text pop up will say something hinting at which it’s about to use, and which mirror its raising is the one you have to shatter before its able to use its attack (basically the whole ‘which limb do I cut off to avoid getting obliterated’ thing in fear and hunger but with mirrors)

PS: if this is the first Marzenie post you’ve seen, it’s a perspective switch au where Basil has an inner world like sunny does except his is terrifying and awful! More info available in tag teehee

[fermiomoriblog]

The pitfalls of every Sunny ship

Diving straight into the hot coals with the first post. But it has been on my mind lately.

The setup in Omori is naturally quite mentally (and in some cases physically) taxing on every main cast character, and a shipper can very easily be overenthusiastic about getting a "happy ending" for their preferred pair, glossing over inconvenient problems and dynamics. I think that it really is rather contrary to the game's themes that this occurs, but it is also understandable that not everybody does a full psychoanalysis of every plot point in their story. I'll list some "common" problems I've personally encountered with people making content about sunburn, suntan and sunflower. I'm more familiar with the dynamics common on ao3 than elsewhere, so if you have any other observations or things to add, please feel free to do so.

# OMORI SPOILERS BELOW #

Sunburn

The "canon" ship. The fact that the ship is explicitly mentioned in game means that the ship is viewed as the "default", and it can lead to some lazy dynamics or lack of justification. You have to remember that no matter what headspace says (and headspace says a lot of things that aren't true), the first thing Sunny and Aubrey did after four years is beat the shit out of each other. Sunny knows nothing about the Hooligans, even though we do, and Aubrey thinks Sunny abandoned her (which is a feeling unlikely to abate after the truth). There needs to be basis for the ship as well - they aren't going to just pick up where they left off (presuming they had anything to leave off in the first place) right away. Which leads us to the first common problem:

Basing the relationship entirely on the past

This is the default reaction and requires the least writing creativity, so it is not surprising that it is common. Simply porting the HS dynamic or the swing scene to the future and copy-pasting is fun and cute and all, but it ignores the fact that both Sunny and Aubrey have changed massively. There's a lot of guilt that is going around, both with Sunny for obvious reasons and Aubrey for pushing Basil in the lake, and Aubrey has a bunch of new, closer friends whom depending on your interpretation are either theatre kids or delinquents. This is not really just going to get talked away on the swing set - they involve third parties.

I would venture to argue that this is actually a very problematic pitfall, despite it being generally not a very serious transgression in real life. Omori, as a game, is about moving on from the past. If you write a fic where the characters forget about bad things in the past but hang on like hell to the good things... that's Headspace. You've just put Sunny in a new Headspace.

Getting Basil out of the way

Even among sunburn/suntan shippers, it is pretty generally accepted that Basil was somewhat attached to Sunny even before the accident. So if you don't want to do sunflower, how do you deal with that?

You can write angst, where Aubrey and Basil end up fighting over Sunny. Weirdly, I've never seen this actually happen (probably because it's too heartbreaking). You can have Basil go to therapy, and get rid of an unhealthy attachment. You can also go the seriously angsty route of Basil hating Sunny for abandonment, Sunny hating Basil for his role in the incident, or a less intense version which just puts a barrier between the two. You can also have Sunny reject Basil. Or you can argue that the attachment was platonic, which is entirely fair.

What you cannot do is have Basil be romantically interested in Sunny, but "get out of the way" for Aubrey "so that Sunny can be happy". Or, well, you can do that, but you can't frame it as anything but serious angst from Basil's POV.

Unfortunately, many, many "pure fluff" Sunburn fics do this, because "pure fluff" fics don't want to untangle the whole thing as most methods involve some degree of emotional turnmoil. This is no ordinary infautation - Basil has waited for Sunny for four years. Nursing unrequited love like that is really, really painful. It is certainly not something that someone with Basil's character and history can do with a smile on their face. If you need any further convincing, I point you to Note to Self: Don't Be Gay in Faraway Town by witheredahlia.

A version of this which I think is a lesser sin (because it is at least framed with some nuance), but a sin regardless, is Aubrey getting annoyed at Basil for "stealing" Sunny's attention from her. This gets dangerously close to the reddit comments you see about "the friend group will be better off if Basil never joined".

Suntan

Despite sunburn being the "canon" and sunflower being the natural alternative, I actually think that this is the default. After all, Kel was the one to bring Sunny out, generally saving his life, and is his first friend, etc. Kel is also a clean slate character, with nothing anyone can particularly hold against them, and as a result suntan is the "healthiest", "least questionable" ship. This commits the customary mistake of believing Kel's parents when they say "eh, it's Kel, he'll be fine".

"Kel's fine"

No, he's not. He's spent the better part of four years trying to forget the happiest times of his childhood, and has been going around doing nothing but fixing and saving other people, putting others' needs far above his own, for the entirety of pre-canon and foreseeably for a good part of post canon as well. Suntan, especially with Sunny still in a vulnerable state post-canon, can very easily be written into Kel being Sunny's unpaid, untrained therapist, and his mood/health being Kel's only/majority source of validation. Kel's self-worth independent of his friends needs addressing and development, and without a lot of development, Sunny alone is not really equipped to provide that.

In all fairness, while I would be somewhat confident in saying that the majority of canon-compliant sunburn fics run into the problems above, suntan fics do usually handle it better. That might just be because there aren't that many suntan fics though.

Sunflower

It goes without saying that sunflower has the highest potential to be unhealthy. But precisely because of that fact, people writing sunflower are usually very careful to address it. Either the fic is written as a work exploring codependency/attachment/trauma/other general unhealthiness (which you can make your own judgement on whether it's a legitimate art form or problematic), or there is at minimum an attempt at pacing, therapy and general juggling of the various mental issues the game leaves Sunny and Basil with (for a shining example, see These Days Without You by Smitty1899, my go to answer for when anyone says "but sunflower toxic!!1!").

The issues that can make sunflower unhealthy and problematic are generally pretty obvious - shared crime, codependency and attachment, commitment and abandonment issues, and the whole "getting together before their friends forgive them" thing (which can still be done well, but from the POV of especially Hero can be kind of eh, and unlikely to be conducive to a healthy relationship given that it kind of depends on their friends' pending "approval".) As a result, there aren't a lot of works that don't address them in one manner or another. However, I do think there is one major pitfall that some fics fall into in the other direction:

Having everything in the relationship be dependent on someone else's approval.

In an attempt to make sunflower as healthy as possible, some authors make it so that Sunny and Basil effectively never make decisions on their own. There's always a third party present to psychoanalyse them, tell them what's fine and what's not, etc. and every step they make in their relationship is with the express blessing, support and help of the rest of their friends. The problem is, that's not healthy either.

I feel that the value of sunflower is greatest in the context of the themes of the game of moving on and forgiveness. Making it so that Sunny and Basil hang on to their guilt forever and robbing them of any "right" to decide for themselves what makes them happy is very much contrary to that - they're on crutches for the rest of their lives, and the point of the good ending is the hope that they won't need to be. It also is just not a good thing for any third party to intervene so extensively in a relationship.

Conclusion

Omori is emotionally deep, with many, many themes to explore. Ships in Omori have unique meanings and themes, which in a canon compliant context is quite hard to simply wipe away. Rushing into a ship with insufficient pacing and development, which works in "cute" fandoms, generally leaves lots of outstanding holes in Omori.

This post doesn't necessarily mean that I think less of any particular ship mentioned - to reiterate, every ship has unique meanings and themes which is interesting to explore and form a part of the message of the game. It is however true that some pitfalls in some ships are easier to fall in, and overlooked, than others, and the obvious problems get a lot more bashing than the non-obvious ones. (Yes, sunflower bias. Sue me.)

And of course, in a plotless or AU context, cute art is cute art.

[sleeplesssmoll]

I can't sleep again, so here's what's on my mind:

Do you think ancient arcanists had completely different ideas on gender but then had to conform to humanity's rules, so a lot of those ways got lost in time?

Almost like the Numbers and their soul system.

What if your gender was defined by the arrangement of planets? Like an astrology chart.

What if it was defined by a ritual and based on elements in nature?

What if it's something you obtained through trials and how you solve them? You don't obtain a gender until a certain age.

Heck, arcanists are so biologically different that even the sexes could be defined differently too. No reproductive organs, both, half-and-half, some kind of Rebis situation (Reverse has references to Basil Valentine and his alchemy).

But here's the thing, do arcanists need reproductive organs or can they magic up a baby?? It sounds silly, but if that's the case what even is the purpose of having said organs if form follows function? It wouldn't matter what your born with and they wouldn't even have categories based on what humans percieve as sex. Maybe the idea of sexes used to be based on something else entirely, like the arcanum that gets passed or the mixing or arcane skills. These are biological things that humans wouldn't understand, the same way arcnanists don't understand humans obsession with what's going under their pants. Even their "reproductive organs" as defined by humanity could be totally different. To an ancient arcanist, were these things even related to sex?

What if they were all comfortable with their varying body types, but some magic stuff was taboo and not be done in public. It'd be an entirely different system of values! But then humans came and started calling them freaks and deviants for existing, especially the ones with different bodies than what they're comfortable with.

History is written by the side that wins and humanity won. They made the rules and arcanists were forced to live under those rules, to feel shame for being who they are, all in the name of humanity's order and comfort.

It's been so long that those golden years are forgotten, but arcanists bodies are still different. Places like the Foundation reinforce these values and over-emphasize forms of gender that don't fit the malleable Arcanists in their care.

They live in a world constructed to hate them.

[trashytoastboi]

Hi mate! :D If ya have time, Can i ask hcs for Hawkins, Law, Kid and Killer reacting to seeing s/o's face for the first time?, (male, pirate ally s/o) Since his very conscious of the big scar on his forehead reaching to his chin and why he always wear a mask

Hiya! Of course! Sorry for the long wait on this and hope you enjoy 🍞🍀

Headcanons: Hawkins, Law, Kid, Killer x Male! S/O – Reacting to seeing their S/O's face for the first time

(Male Pronouns)

Basil Hawkins

🔮 {Name} and Hawkins had hit it off so well that Hawkins fell pretty hard in a short amount of time. He truly was so charmed by {Name}, his personality and his little quirks or his witty sense of humour all became points that Hawkins really enjoyed about his partner. Some people brought up the curious question if Hawkins had even seen {Name’s} face as having it constantly covered created a very mysterious impression of him. 

🔮 The mask did have some difficulties such as eating and drinking restrictions, {Name} mostly ate by himself as the mask was not flexible enough to eat with it on. Hawkins never really minded so long as {Name} was comfortable. Hawkins being himself over held immense curiosity for anything unknown to him. Earlier on in the relationship he had the impulsivity to ask his cards for reason, even considering scrying to learn of {Name’s} appearance. Though he decided against it in respect for his partner. 

🔮 {Name} cautiously looked around the room, making sure no one was around before he took off his mask. Desperately needing a drink of water to ease his thirst in the oppressive heat wave. The mask was hot enough without the heat wave making it feel like an oven. His face was covered in sweat and he felt like he could breathe properly. {Name} reached for a towel to wipe the sweat, failing to notice when Hawkins had walked into the room and for the first time locked eyes with his partner without the mask. 

🔮 Hawkins is surprised to see {Name’s} face. By all means he really found {Name} attractive, but seeing how he panicked and tried to cover his face made Hawkins worry. “I didn’t want you to see it…” {Name} murmured sadly. The thing in mention was a rather prominent scar on his face, one that ran along the length of his face. So many people avoided {Name} and mocked his appearance that it became easier to conceal everything. He grew to hate his reflection just for the sight that was reflected back. He always assumed that others would hold an even harsher outlook. 

🔮 Hating oneself was not exactly a foreign concept to Hawkins, and while he could say from where he stood that {Name} shouldn’t have minded the comments of others he knew it was not as simple when on the receiving end. {Name} tried to awkwardly shuffle to where he left his mask and ended up tripping due to the poor visibility. Hawkins helped {Name} up and passed his mask to him. Hawkins felt a sliver of happiness finally being able to see the face of the one he so dearly loves, but his happiness is irrelevant if it caused {Name} so much distress. 

🔮 {Name} secured his mask on. Hawkins placed a kiss on the mask, an affectionate gesture the two of them developed. “I know it’s hard for you my love, but truly, you are still so beautiful in my eyes” Hawkins awkwardly said, attempting to comfort {Name}. Seeing his efforts really made {Name} happy, he felt a little more trusting and confident in slowly getting used to the idea of showing his face a little more around Hawkins. 

Trafalgar Law

🍄 Seeing someone with an out of ordinary fashion sense, was actually pretty normal amongst the various pirates. {Name} didn’t stand out even when wearing a mask that entirely concealed his face. Law is a very thoughtful person, physical appearance didn’t hold the first and foremost consideration of his partners. He wanted someone who resonated with him on an intellectual and emotional level. 

🍄 {Name} had yet to work up the courage to show Law his face. {Name} knew Law, and knew that Law most likely wouldn’t react badly when he discovered the scar on his face. {Name} flinched every time he thought about revealing his face. Picturing Law’s disgusted face or his expression when he saw his scar, {Name} pulled himself back and away from the idea of showing his face. 

🍄 Unfortunate for {Name} but a situation in which Law saw his face did arise. Law noticed his partner being out of sorts that in turn led to discovering that [Name} caught a cold and was running a very bad fever. Law had the savvy to get {Name} to bed to rest as quickly as possible. Law insisted on him removing his mask so he could have water, medication, and breathe properly without the masks’ obstruction. Law was not in any way rude about it, but was a bit forceful purely out of worry for {Name}, he did offer to leave the room or turn around if it would make {Name} feel better. 

🍄 {Name} could feel the genuine concern from Law over his health and decided to remove his mask. The entire lead up felt nerve wracking, so much so he wanted to hide or cry. It had been so long since anyone saw his face, and {Name} dreaded the idea of Law feeling repulsed by his appearance. After he removed his mask he averted his gaze, waiting for the gasp of shock and horror. {Name} felt a cool hand press against his forehead. “Your temperature is really high.” Law stated with a worried tone. 

🍄 Law smiled softly, his hand cradling {Name’s} face. He understood {Name’s} hesitance to show his face due to the large scar that ran from his forehead to his chin. A rather deep and grizzly scar that more than anything had Law concerned over how badly it must have hurt {Name.} Not only in the physical sense but in the psychological sense to completely conceal his face for years. Without thinking Law leaned in and softly kissed the scar, {Name} backed away slightly out of surprise. 

🍄 {Name} felt so reassured that all of his worry and expectation was shattered by Law’s honest and gentle affections. Law didn’t flinch or think it was disgusting, rather he showed concern and sadness for the reasons that had to do with his care for {Name}. Law comforted him with constant reassurance and telling him how handsome he looked. It created a safe space where {Name} slowly felt he could be accepted and grew comfortable enough to start removing his mask around Law.

Eustass Kid

🛠 Kid is direct and insistent that even if he didn’t care about {Name’s} face since he already liked him, he still wanted to sate his deep rooted curiosity of seeing {Name’s} face. Kid would never force {Name} to show Kid his face, but still he sometimes would tell {Name} about the kind of ideas he formed in his mind of his appearance. The lizard man was an interesting theory but {Name} did outright deny that one. To give Kid a crumb, something hopefully enough to satiate his curiosity {Name} explained how he looked, his features, some random marks or how some people have commented on his appearance. 

🛠 “So you’re a handsome bastard and you’re bragging about it?” Kid replied after his takeaway from {Name’s} explanation. “I also have a really large scar…It doesn’t look so nice…” {Name} explained running his fingers over the mask where his scar lay underneath. Kid stared at him with absolute shock, he frantically gestured to his face showing off his own scars. “So you don’t like my scars?” He asked, {Name} stumbled over his words saying it was different. 

🛠 “How so?” Kid questioned, well it came apparent in the way they regarded their scars. Kid wore them proudly, boasted the fact that he clashed head on with an emperor of the sea and survived with his life, one arm lighter and covered in the evidence tattered all over his body. Even if it hurt, it stung his pride that he lost in the first place he turned them into his point of pride. [Name} was the opposite, his scar became a point of insecurity and shame, he covered it and hid it away from others and himself. 

🛠 “So, are you going to show me or what?” Kid grinned, almost trying to challenge {Name}. Well, nothing to lose, Kid was practically covered in scars and it probably wouldn’t be anything new for him to see. {Name} slowly removed his mask, feeling awkward and a little regretful that he gave into Kid’s provocations so easily. Kid closed the distance to look at {Name’s} face from close up. Kid sighed. “It’s a crime covering up a face like that. Your scar barely affects how good looking you are.”  

🛠 “What..?” he muttered, confused over what Kid said so plainly. Kid’s hand grabbed {Name’s} face and pulled him into an unexpected and deep kiss. Kid grinned, “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while now.” {Name} could feel the heat rising to his face, trying to process the last few minutes of compliments and the sudden kiss. “Oh? You can make a face like that huh?” Kid jeered, his grin only growing wider as he loved seeing the diverse reactions {Name} had to offer. 

🛠 Kid made a point of asking and encouraging {Name} to have his mask off around him, of course he relentlessly teased and flirted with {Name} including a stolen kiss or two. Kid’s abrupt and nonchalant attitude towards {Name’s} scar actually made him feel better about it, realizing that it did not encompass everything about him. There was so much more to him that just appearance and with Kid’s constant comments about how {Name} is actually good looking. 

Killer

🍜 Killer and {Name} occasionally got a few odd looks when they went on dates, two fully masked men awkwardly trying to eat or drink with their masks on without removing them. Killer and {Name} could equally agree they had a deeper understanding of their insecurities, more so than others. They often confided in one another about the things that troubled them or what they didn’t like about themselves. These discussions usually ended in a lot of back and forth of one another trying to explain that they were more than their insecurities. 

🍜 Killer and {Name} had been discussing the possibility of encouraging each other to remove their masks. In their own space when they each had the courage to do so. People may not have understood the courage that hiding behind a mask provided, or that you may have seen a person in a more genuine manner when they could differentiate themselves away from what they disliked. 

🍜 The act of showing each other their faces held a much deeper meaning than just curiosity, it was a form of vulnerability and trust between them. “One, two, three…” In unison they spoke, counting to the moment of their reveal. {Name} and Killer removed their masks. The surge of self-doubt came up. {Name} was happy to see Killer’s face, the joy of which eased his own distress. Killer looked up to {Name’s} face, he saw a large scar and could see {Name’s} aversion to his gaze. 

🍜 Killer didn’t want to dismiss {Name’s} insecurity over his scar, but on the same hand he failed to see anything wrong with {Name}. He is still as wonderful as he always has been in Killer’s eyes, if anything more so now that he had a face to put to him. Killer’s hand reached up to touch the scar, running his fingers along its length. “I know this won’t mean much, but your scar isn’t everything. You still have some of the prettiest eyes I’ve seen, and…-” Killer was cut off by {Name’s} laughter, “I appreciate it Kil” Seeing how Killer recited this like a romance novel actually convinced him all the more of the sincerity and truth all the more. 

🍜 {Name’s} initial worries had easily been laid to rest, though he still couldn’t deny that years of his growing distaste towards his appearance would not be so easily overturned. He found comfort in Killer’s attempts to reassure him and his awkward arguments of convincing {Name} that he was still so wonderful, regardless of his scar. Killer had an almost resonating understanding of how deep insecurities could go, how deep they could burrow in your mind and entire identity. He is still determined to try to encourage and comfort his partner. 

🍜 Killer and {Name} started to spend time together without their masks, getting used to the idea of being more comfortable without them. Killer grew a little more affectionate with this deeper sense of trust and intimacy. Not to mention having easier access for the occasional kiss or two. 

[bamboobooshark]

BASIL STITT X READER

𓍢 ⌨️˖࣪ ∿ ࿔ LESS THAN THREE (1) : 807 WRDS

A/N : Yes this is inspired by the song Less Than Three by Disko Warp, no I don’t care that it doesn’t fit Basil’s canon personality! !!Warning: Obsessive behavior (nothing intense, just clingy and overthinking about you), mentions of knives, mentions of death (assumptions)!!

Basil is freaking the fuck out.

You haven’t answered him for an hour. An entire hour. You always let him know ahead of time if you have something to do at work that’ll cause you to be unable to respond to his messages. Now that you weren’t saying anything without any warning, he can’t stop himself from worrying. What if you’re hurt? What if there’s some guy talking to you? Does he have competition? Are you going to go out with that guy and not be able to message him once you’re home? Fuck, this can’t be happening.

He can’t keep himself calm. He never can. His hands start to shake. His face grows hot and begins to throb with a headache. His breath is erratic, like a feral animal’s. “No. No. No! Answer me! Please! I need you,” Basil whines at his bright computer screen. His eyes are glued to your activity status, patiently awaiting a green circle to appear near your icon. His nails painfully dig against the table in expectation and concern. After sitting there impatiently for a few minutes and not getting anything, he begins to flare up with nothing but worry for you. “I said answer! Talk to me! I need to make sure you’re okay, baby. It’s all I need. It’s the only thing I need. Just come online! Please,” he continues as tears prick his eyes.

 

You are stuck at the register today. Unfortunately for you, you’re currently dealing with one of the worst customers of your life. She slams her fist against the counter, which causes you to jump a bit, but nothing more. “I am not leaving this horrid establishment until I can speak to a manager,” she childishly demands. Your jaw is clenching arguably harder than her own. You try your hardest to speak in your customer service voice to stay calm and not lose your job. “Ma’am, I told you that all of my higher ups are in a meeting right now. Unless you’re willing to wait anywhere from 30 minutes to an hour, I suggest you come back tomorrow,” you explain for the third time in a row.

“Are you dumb? Like, seriously,” she retorts while giving you an ugly look. You swear you see the light of the afterlife once you hear a faint beeping. Your shift is over. You display a genuine smile toward the woman, showing how relieved you are to get away from her. “Oh! I’m so sorry, miss. You’ll have to speak to one of my co-workers. My shift has just ended, and I don’t work overtime,” you beam as she begins to growl gibberish out of pure rage.

Thankfully, your co-worker Bec is clocking in for the rest of the night. He is a godsend. The manager has known him so long that his actions have no backlash; he treats customers as they treat him. You know damn well he’s going to have a blast with the lady at the counter. You walk over to him and tap his arm lightly. “Hey, Bec! I just wanted to let you know there’s some girl who can’t seem to grasp the fact that our higher-ups are in a meeting right now. She’s tried everything in the book to talk to the manager or anyone who doesn’t work in our position,” you explain with a slightly anxious tone. Bec smiles softly at you and shrugs. “Kid, you know me. You know how I act. That lady is about to get everything she deserves,” he reassures you while patting your back. “Have a good night,” he adds as you start walking away. “Good luck with yours!” you chuckle as you leave the establishment.

 

“They have to be dead. That’s the only logical explanation for this. Oh, my god. They’re dead,” Basil cries. He’s been distraught for the past two hours without a message for you. He isn’t tracking you. He isn’t stalking you. He has no way to know where you are or what you’re doing, but his mind always fleets to the worst-case scenario when you leave him be. His tears make his vision blurry, but he can still see the shiny surface of the knife he had stuck in his desk. He might as well trash his flat again! This is the second major incident this month, and he can’t mentally bear it. “Fuck this! Fuck it, fuck it, fuck it,” he growls as he reaches for the knife still stuck to the table. He’s more than ready to further splinter the tabletop’s wood once more. He can feel his heart stop for a moment as he hears the sweet sound of a ping from his computer. “They aren’t dead,” he mumbles to himself. “They aren’t dead,” he repeats with a level of excitement he hasn’t felt in so, so long.

[sehtoast]

Aphrodisiac (Homelander x OC)

18+ | 5k, marathon sex, mild degradation, face fucking, aphrodisiac use, aggressive sex, ruined orgasm, orgasm denial, ceiling sex, floor sex, couch sex, bed sex, window sex, every flat surface sex basically, semi-public sex, elevator groping, multiple orgasms, overstim, dry humping, thigh humping, Homelander being Homelander, spidersona oc, porn without plot | Fic Directory

Inspired by the spider lotion debacle

There was never a day where the incessant bitching didn't grate on his nerves. Every fucking minute around Ashley seemed to consist of listening to her grind an entire department to dust over product error or oversights that even the world's least talented dipshit could notice. 

On one hand, he enjoyed watching her get worse. Seeing each and every little strand of hair fall out, piece by piece, literally pulling it out over her role as manager. On the other, it was fucking annoying. 

Until now. 

“And it's attracting horny fucking spiders!” Ashley shrieks into the receiver. “I don't care if you have to stay here all night– fix it now! If I see another wolf spider running around R&D to go fuck a bottle of lotion, you can forget giving your kids a Christmas this year.”

The words went in one ear and right out the other, but he did catch one phrase in particular that was oh so relevant to his needs and wants. 

Horny fucking spiders!

Not in the literal sense, of course. The last thing he needed was those eight legged pests vying for a piece of him, but he did have one spider in particular that he was more than happy to attract. 

One spidery man named Benjamin, that is. 

“What was that?” He asks with a lilt of amusement and true curiosity. Only one of those wasn't fake. 

“Oh, sorry, sir!” She shrimps away slightly. “Those idiots in research and development were making a new lotion for Spider-Man's upcoming cosmetic line, but, for whatever reason, it's attracting a bunch of spiders– I hope you're not arachnophobic!” She gives a nervous laugh. “Look up some time, there's cobwebs everywhere!”

He hums and purses his lips, shaking his head with a roll of his eyes. 

“Ashley,” he says lowly. “Do apex predators need to look up?”

There's that spark of fear, that helplessness that he fucking loves. She squeaks a negative noise. 

“No, sir.” 

“Then why the fuck would I care about cobwebs?” He snaps. “Or bugs for that matter?”

As he turns on his heel to go do his own research, he can't help the devious grin on his face. 

Horny spiders? What kind of cocktail of mistakes attracts such unpleasant pests– and, better yet, what are the odds that it would work on his spider?

The nerds in the lab give him some long winded explanation about chemicals. Something about compounds mimicking pheromones in sexually responsive female spiders, but his smile grew like the cat that got the cream. 

He plucked a jar of it from a staging table, giving it a deep, savoring whiff. 

It didn't smell half bad. Citrus scented, like Benjamin prefers his products. Lime and a hint of something… herbal– basil, perhaps. But, overall, very soft. Gentle even on his bloodhound nose. 

“Not bad,” he shrugs. “Mind if I keep this? I don't really give a fuck about the spiders.” 

The lab rat had little to say in the way of protest. Really, though. Who the fuck was going to tell him no? 

Homelander decides to grab a second jar on his way out. 

Back in his penthouse, he strips down in front of a mirror.  Stares for but a moment to take in the sight of himself.

The contradiction between his suit and his real body always did disappoint him, but he’s a little less harsh on himself these days.  Benjamin’s influence, he supposes.

With a sigh, he dips his fingers into a jar and pulls out a healthy glob of lotion.  He slathers it on his neck, where he knows his skin will remain exposed.  Homelander applies slightly less on his upper body, and barely bothers with his legs at all.  He does, however, apply it heavily to his core, painting his inner thighs, his cock, his sack, even his hole and cheeks with the gentle scent.  He can already sniff out the unique bond it creates with his natural smell and he hopes with every fiber of his being that his plan will work.

For good measure, he rolls his slicked body around in their bed a little.  Maybe the lingering scent will help him get lucky again when they lay down to sleep at the end of the day.

He doesn’t have to wait long at all to test his plan.  Tuesday was generally considered a boring day, full of meetings and stupid shit that none of them ever liked to bother with.  However, it couldn’t possibly stoke more excitement in Homelander at the realization he’d be standing before his little spider discussing boring old numbers.  It was the perfect opportunity to see if it works.

It didn’t take long at all for the team to trickle in.  Benjamin, with his mask on, greeted him with a hidden wink and a wave before taking his seat beside Noir.  The stragglers trickled in and he began.

“Now, you guys,” he started.  “I’m not one to lecture, but can any one of you tell me what the fuck is going on that we all collectively dropped a percent?”

The Deep raised his hand– because of course he did.

He hardly listened to anything that fish fucking moron had to say, instead focusing on the sound of something so very beautiful.  Something that was picking up in intensity bit by bit, damn near unnoticeable at first.

Thump thump.

Homelander’s almost kicking himself by the time he realizes.

Thumpthump. Thumpthump.  Thumpthump. Thumpthump.

When the deepened breaths kick in, he knows.

While A-Train and The Deep begin to bicker over whose most recent stunt was at fault for tanking their numbers, Homelander instead takes a minute to peer over at Benjamin.  He lets only the faintest smile crack his all-business expression.

Even those cute little emotive lenses were wide.

Benjamin’s heart rate had gone up quite a bit– blood pressure, too.  Underneath that red mask were a pair of cheeks flushed damn near the same color.  Dilated eyes.  

He can practically hear the bug gulp.

The web-head was more than well aware of his innate ability to clock his arousal at any given time.  God knows Homelander abuses the power on the regular, but it plays a special role today.

It makes him far more excited  to see how this goes. 

Homelander meaders innocently around the V shaped table for a time as he takes over the conversation once more, making his way to stand behind his little spider.

“Tell you what, though.” Homelander smirks.  “Bug boy here has been doing a great job with his assignments.”  He drops his hands on top of Ben’s shoulders, giving light squeezes that surely felt much more powerful to the receiver. He takes a deep breath, inhaling the sweet scent of Benjamin’s arousal.  “Does everything I say, never misses details.  Doesn’t launch fucking dolphins out of windshields.”

Across the room, The Deep averts his gaze to the ground.

“He’s a good boy.”

Benjamin begins to sweat at the mere fucking contact.  Something was different, something was very fucking different, and he wanted to jump Homelander’s bones like never before.  Whatever it was, he couldn’t name it.  At first, maybe he thought it was something about his appearance.  He did look extra handsome, but nothing seemed… different?  Same undercut, same suit, same handsome smile.

He still dominated the room just as he always did.  Still toyed with each of the members in his own cruel ways– well, playful ways with him, cruel only to the others.  

Ben simply couldn’t figure it out.

Until he said that.

The way he moved when he said it.  Homelander had leaned down to say it right next to his ear and he’d caught a whiff of something.

He had no idea what it was, no clue at all, but the intensified smell made his entire body go rigid and his cunt clench.  Ben tried to be subtle about his building arousal, but he knew that extra deep inhale didn’t go unnoticed.

Not with the way Homelander winked at him as he took his place at the head of the table once more.

Worse yet, now that Ben had caught that scent, he couldn’t stop smelling it.  It seemed to permeate the room.  It was everywhere.  Like it had embedded itself into his olfactory bulbs and it was all he could fucking smell.  Not even the complimentary Vought brand coffee with its typically overpowering odor could dominate his senses.

He squirmed through the whole meeting. Crossed his legs, clenched them tight.  Heard his heartbeat in his ears for the whole duration.  By the end, he knew he’d soaked a small patch right into his suit, and thank fuck the fabric was dark enough that it wouldn’t be visible or he’d be truly mortified.

Benjamin remained in his seat as the others left the room.  Used to be they’d give him sympathetic looks every time Homelander directed him to stay afterward, but it had become the norm over the past year.  Once they’d all left, he pulled his mask off.

“Did you hear a word I said?”  Homelander teased, pressing a button on the table to lock the conference room doors.  “Or were you too busy leaving a snail trail on your seat to notice?”

“I did, I–” Ben stopped as soon as his voice quivered.

“Really?” Homelander inquired, stalking over to stand behind him.  “On your feet.  Tell me what today was about.”  He was thrilled to the point of bursting to know it was working.  Oh the fun he was going to have with this…

Ben rose from his seat, head light and clouded with lust.  The wet fabric of his underwear grazed his hardened clit and he all but stumbled.  Before he could even speak, Homelander’s hands were upon him and that scent was fogging his senses tenfold.

“You can’t tell me, can you?”  John smirked, pressing himself against the web-head’s rear.  He discards his gloves and reaches around to swipe his fingers over Ben’s clothed cunt, chuckling darkly at how wet he was already.  The other hand trails up to lodge his thumb in the bug’s mouth and he feels Ben’s entire body react to the taste.  “Feels like you were too busy making a mess of yourself to care.  You’re fucking drenched.”

Ben’s hips rock back against him, head tipping to make room for the lips beginning to peck at his neck.  The taste of Homelander’s skin is sweeter than he normally tastes. Sweeter than anything he’s ever had in his life.

He moans around the digit.

“Pretty little thing with my finger in your mouth.” Homelander purrs in his ear, fingers rubbing at his soaked core.  “Bet you wish it was my cock instead, right?”  He presses down against Ben’s tongue.  “Answer me, pretty boy.”

The bug nods furiously, hips pushing forward to seek more pressure from the hand between his thighs.  He bites against Homelander’s knuckle, drawing forth a deep, dark laugh from the man behind him.

Within seconds, he’s forced onto his knees and Homelander’s cock is lodged firmly between his lips, pounding the back of his throat without any buildup.  He gags twice, but ultimately takes little time at all to adjust to the girth filling him, moaning with every opportunity for breaths, hand dragging Homelander’s pants down enough to toy with his balls.

The taste from before is infinitely stronger and Benjamin feels his slick pool even more through his drenched underwear. But he wants this, wants this so fucking bad he can hardly stand it.  He wants to get used, wants to be fucked in every way imaginable.  Something more powerful than his own mind demands it.

“That’s right, fuckin’ choke on it,” John grits as he rams in hard, holding himself there.  “Fucking slut, all wet for me in a meeting of all things.”  He reaches down and lovingly taps against Ben’s cheek.  “Bet you’re so horny you’d have let me fuck you in front of them!  Claim you, take you apart with an audience.”  He draws out and drags his shaft across Ben’s flushed face.  “You were made for me– made for my cock.”

Ben nods, mouth open and tongue wagging out to catch his length once more.

Homelander begins to jerk himself off, tip pressed firmly to that needly little tongue that was just begging for his load.

“That’s it,” he growls between slick strokes.  “S-Swallow every drop and show me!  Show me how good you take it– ah!”

He moans freely through his orgasm, eyes fighting to stay open so he can watch every spurt that paints his lovely little Benjamin’s mouth and face.  He watches it pool along Ben’s tongue, shoot onto his upper lip, a little on the flare of his nostril.  With a hand in his hair, he tips Benjamin’s head back.

“Swallow,” he orders, pleased as can be when his little spider does so without any objection and shows him an empty mouth.

With a pleased pat to Ben’s cheek, Homelander pulls his pants up, smirking wickedly at the desperate, whining complaint from his love bug.

“Oh, you didn’t think I was gonna fuck you after this, did you?”  He muses playfully.  “I know I said you’re a good boy, but you’re too good.  Y’see, you ranked higher than me this month and that, babe, just hurts my feelings.”

“Wh– I didn’t mean to!”  Ben says desperately, crawling toward him on his hands and knees.  “Please, Johnny!  I need–”

“Mmm, nah.” He sighs theatrically.  “I don’t think I can right now.  Besides, the board of directors are gonna be using this room soon.  They’re probably already outside the door, so you should probably get cleaned up…”

With a whine bordering on truly pathetic, Benjamin wipes his face clean of come and saliva and rises to his feet.

“What a shame… I’d have liked to, though.  You just had to be such a good boy and outdo me.  Oh well,” Homelander lilts, unlocking the door and making his way out.  “Maybe next time.”

Next time comes fairly quickly, as does he.  Roughly an hour later, Benjamin cornered him in a hallway and dragged him into some random broom closet.  Webbed the door shut, jerked him stiff– not that it was difficult to do– and begged to get fucked.

So Homelander did exactly that.  Fucked him hard and fast against the wall, pace brutal and unrelenting, catering only to himself.  He spilled a thick load and slipped out, watching with satisfaction as it leaked from Ben’s sopping core and splattered onto the ground.

His little spider begged him for more, of course.  Begged for anything– fingers, his mouth, anything at all, to no avail.  Homelander left him there, desperate and nearly unhinged, to bring himself to an unsatisfying climax.  

Even then, it wasn’t nearly enough.

Homelander went about his daily bullshit duties for a time, relaxed and in such a great mood from having gotten off twice in one morning.  His little scheme had been more than rewarding and anything that came after was simply a bonus.

He slips into the elevator, deep in thought, but is pleasantly surprised to find his little love bug in there as well.  A glimpse through the mask lets him see just how feral the look in Ben’s eyes had become.

The elevator shuts.

“Lovely weather we’re ha–”  He tries to jest, but Benjamin pounces on him in an instant, forcing him back.  Homelander grins gleefully at the way Ben clings to the wall, effectively caging him.

“We’re going to your place,” Ben all but pants.  “And you’re going to make me come as many fucking times as it takes.”

What a delicious offer.

“Am I now?”  Homelander teases.  Ben lifts his mask just enough to expose his mouth before diving in on his neck.  Teeth sink into his flesh and the sensation tingles right down to his groin.  Never enough force to puncture, but just enough to make him fucking feel it.  “What’s got you thinking you can make me?”

The elevator was rising and anyone could come in at any moment.  They’d be caught red handed, but neither seemed bothered.

Those teeth bite even harder– probably as hard as his little spider possibly can– and he chuckles darkly.  

“Oooh, a bug bite,” he muses.  “Maybe they should call you Mosquito-Man inste– oh!”  He bites off a gritty moan.  In the midst of his tease, Ben reached down, pressed his fingers back to his taint, and pushed hard.  “Oh ff–”

The elevator dings and the doors open to the floor of his penthouse.  Benjamin, smirking, drags him down the hall.  As soon as they cross the threshold, the bug throws him against a wall.

“Do you,” Ben purrs with a trembling voice, “have any fucking clue how horny I am?”  He buries his nose in Homelander’s neck and takes a deep, long sniff.  “You smell like fucking sex!  That doesn’t even make sense, but–”  He licks a thick stripe from jugular to jaw. “You fucking do.”

With a dark chuckle, Homelander rips the mask off Benjamin’s head and takes a handful of his mussed hair.  He forces Ben to back up and throws him onto the leather couch, admiring the view of his spread legs and the darkened patch of slick soaking between them.

He leans forward until he’s crawling up the length of Ben’s body like a predator stalks its prey, fangs bared and eyes dark with the thrill of the hunt.

“I can still smell my come in you.”  

The statement alone is enough to make Ben’s cunt flutter with excitement.  In a flash, his suit and underwear are torn from his body and his dripping pussy is exposed to the voracious man before him. 

Homelander’s tongue swipes between his folds before he even has time to beg for it.  Ben’s head falls back with a cry of bliss, relief and excitement swirling in his head all at once.  His thighs are pinned to his chest and John makes the loudest fucking slurping sounds with every pass.

“F-Fuck!”  He mewls, trying desperately to rut against the tongue washing over his bud– but Homelander holds him in place.  When that warm, wet muscle delves into his hole, he keens and thrashes his head back and forth.  Ben’s hands grab desperately for anything, anything at all.  “Johnny, please!  I– No!”  He cries when it all halts abruptly.

Homelander comes back up with a slick soaked chin to kiss him, slotting right between his legs.  He swallows Benjamin’s complaint with a messy kiss, licking his taste inside.  Homelander was not a giving man by any means, but he wanted his little spider to indulge in the delicacy of himself.

He rocks his hips forward, mind hazing at the grind of the cup in his suit against his cock.  He mimes the act of flat out fucking Benjamin, grinding and humping against him with an otherworldly force.  If the bug were anyone else, his pelvis probably would’ve shattered by now.

Ben tangles his hands in Homelander’s hair and tugs harshly.  His hips rise and fall to meet each thrust and every brush of John’s suit against his clit makes him see stars.  He moans freely, unabashedly with each stroke and, oh, it feels so fucking good! 

He changes direction to start prying that stupid fucking suit off of Homelander.  All but shreds the cape, peels the top layer off and that scent hits him full force again.  With his legs around Homelander’s hips, Ben rolls them onto the floor with a heavy thud.

“Oooh,” John lilts.  He puts up no fight when his boots and pants are tugged free, and especially doesn’t complain when Ben suckles the tip of his cock through his briefs before ripping them clean off.  In seemingly a flash, the tip of his cock is breaching Benjamins’ cunt and that heat transcends his body and floods his mind.

With a needy little moan, he grips Ben’s hips and impales him in one sharp thrust.  His ego swells at the noises his little spider makes at the adjustment.  Ben is so wet he practically slid right in.  It’s always good, but now?  Seeing him so desperate, seeing such an unhinged look in his little spider’s eye– god, it made it even fucking better.

Benjamin starts riding him desperately.  There is no coordination to his movements, no sense of dignity or pride to be upheld with the frenzied way he fucks against him.  His eyes roll back, his head lolls around, and he moves like his life depends on it.  When Homelander tries to sit up, he shoves him back.

Ben digs his fingers into the tufts of hair on his love’s chest and lets the setae in his digits embed.  A dizziness rises from his cunt all the way to his head and the room fucking spins.  His breaths leave in frantic, heaving gasps.  He’s close, he’s close– he’s so fucking close!

Hands come down hard against his ass and grip with a punishing force to direct his movements.  He tries to fight it, tries to keep his own pace that was going to be enough, but Homelander would always win in a game of strength. 

His whimpering complaint becomes a pathetic moan as the cock filling him begins fucking him at a pace far more brutal that what he could accomplish himself.  Homelander fucks deep, fucks hard and furiously, strikes his cervix damn near every time and it hurts so good.  Ben falls against his chest, mind drifting away until he’s being rammed against a cold surface.

He peers from under heavy eyelids and the whole fucking room is upside down.  He’s pressed to the ceiling, whining and keening as he’s fucked raw.

“Think you’re gonna overpower me!?”

He doesn’t have it in him to even shake his head.

“Think I can’t take control from you in a fucking second?”  John grits between snaps of his hips.  Ben’s helpless sounds are like a fucking melody in his ear.  He reaches down and presses against Ben’s clit and gives the slightest rub that sends him over the edge.  His melody is a symphony screamed for him, only for him.  He doesn’t stop rutting, doesn’t stop fucking into him hard and fast even as Ben’s cunt flutters and clenches over and over again. By all means he should fucking let off and make Benjamin suffer the rest of the day for shoving him back like that.

“Think I can't take whatever I want!?” 

But he doesn’t.

Homelander drops down to the floor, keeping Benjamin impaled on his throbbing cock with ease.  He walks them to the window and slips out just long enough to spin him.

“Bet those fucks in the building across the street can see you,” he snarls.  He rams his cock into Ben so hard the glass creaks in protest.  Each thrust is pointed, accentuated by his words.  “Little.  Fucking. Slut! Show the world how good you take me. Let ‘em all see what a little whore you are!”

The cold from outside seeps through the fogging glass, penetrating Ben’s skin with an icy chill that contrasts the fire burning inside him.  He wonders if anyone can really see him like this.  Oh, if they only knew that their beloved Spider-Man was getting railed by The Homelander himself.  

Homelander leans back to take two bruising handfuls of Benjamin’s hips to push and pull him back and forth on his cock.  In turn, the web-head shoves his hands against the glass to push himself back into it.

“God, it’s fucking pathetic how bad you want me,” Homelander grits through clenched teeth.  “Dripping onto the fucking floor!”  

Ben squeezes his eyes shut and shoves back with all of his might, audibly cracking the glass and sending them both stumbling backward.  John catches him by the waist but doesn’t interrupt the motion.  They collide with the statue of Atlas, sending it and all of its beauty to the floor to shatter.

Homelander slips out of Ben and lifts him with one arm to the bedroom, shoving him onto the edge of the bed and yanking him just right to ram back inside with a throaty groan.  He reaches down and grasps a handful of those unruly brown locks and makes Ben stare into the mirror on the wall.

“Watch yourself get fucked.” He commands with an exceptionally sharp snap of his hips.  “Look  how fucking helpless you are!  I can do whatever I want to you, and you fuckin’ love it!”

Ben stares through lidded eyes.  He’s drooling, he’s got tear tracks down his face and handprint shaped bruises already forming at his hips.  And Homelander?

He looks like a fucking animal.  His eyes glimmer with specks of gathering crimson.  His fangs are bared, his brow is knit, and every muscle in his body flexes with restraint.

“Look at me!”  He demands.  As soon as Ben’s eyes meet his in the reflection, he slams into him hard once, twice, and a final third time before blowing his load deep inside.  His jaw tenses hard and his eyes screw shut.  A tense, rattling moan emerges from within his chest and he presses tight against Ben’s rear.  “That’s it– oh, fuck yeah!”

In Homelander’s blissful stupor, Ben seizes the opportunity to shove back and escape his grip.  There is always, always a point when John comes in which he is totally at ease– and the flicker of red behind his eyelids gives it away all too well.  Ben splays him out onto his back, right along the edge, and bends his legs toward his chest juuust enough to–

“O-oh, fuck–” Homelander keens.

Benjamin presses forward, taking his cock to the hilt in a position miming missionary with a special twist.  A reversal of sorts.

Maybe he’d let the switch up slide for a minute.  He always did like this position.

The web-head ruts forward and fucks John’s cock into himself with practiced ease.  Homelander’s legs wrap around his waist and the strokes deepen.

He can feel slick drooling down his balls and Ben looks like a glorious, fucked-out mess above him.  The bug’s clit grazes the base of his groin with each shallow thrust and he swears he sees something nearly rabid dance in those sweet, chocolate eyes

“Good boy!”  Ben gasps. “Lettin’ me fuck you– lettin’ me take what I want!  Knew you would, knew you’d let me have fun too– mmm, fuck!”

He wants to roll his eyes, but Benjamin feels so fucking good at this angle that he doesn’t know what to even do or say.  

“S-So good, baby,” he coos.  “So fucking hot!”

He relaxes a leg and shimmies a hand between to stroke his little spider’s nub and the stutter of his hips satisfies him to no end.

“That’s– ah– that’s good…” Ben mewls.  “Oh, fuck, rub my cock, baby!”

His fingers dance through the threads of come and slick between their bodies as he brings Benjamin higher and higher.  He watches his little love bug begin to hold his breath and thrust faster, harder, more and more until–

He all but screams, hips stuttering and legs quaking while his body practically fucking convulsed from his orgasm.  Ben heaves a sharp breath and his mind all but completely shuts down when that scent somehow floods his senses tenfold.  He collapses forward, engulfed entirely in the aroma.  His limbs twitch, his lower lip quivers, and his cunt doesn’t stop pulsing.  “Wh– what– I…” he tries, but no other words come out.  His vision starts to fade and the sheets hit his back.

He feels Homelander moving inside him again and he can’t even think.  He’s lost in the haze, lost in John, lost in whatever that fucking scent was.  Whatever it was– all of it– he just knew he fucking needed more and more.  Even when his vision whites out from his next climax, he needs more.

When he’s fucked with his head hanging off the bed, blood rushing to his skull, he needs fucking more.

Even when his cunt is overflowing and come soaks the mattress, when Homelander nearly lasers his fucking head off, when the walls are charred, when he’s confident he won’t be able to stand, when he’s fucked and eaten so raw he can’t even feel between his legs, he still needs more.

“Wh– What the fuck…” John pants weakly in his ear.  He’d finally collapsed, finally gone limp. Even his legs were beginning to tremble. “It was just fucking lotion, how are you–”

“Wha..?”  

Lotion?  

“The f-fucking– you know!  The cosmetic line. Your stuff.”

Ben peered up at him halfheartedly, barely coherent but just enough 

“S'fucking, I dunno. Hold on…” Homelander slung his arm over to the nightstand and palmed around for the jar. When he found it, his fingers dipped into the opening. He forgot to close it. 

Ben's eyes shot open the second the jar came near. 

“It's… Those dipshits in the lab fucked up. It's a horny spider magnet.” He explained with a weak grin. As if unconscious of his actions, Ben began to grind weakly against his leg. “I didn't think it'd work, but fuck… It worked.”

Ben looked at him in disbelief, but the way his body reacts to the simple change in proximity tells him it’s true.  How fucking funny, too, that the jar would sport his V-bodied spider crest.  Almost like it was designed specifically to reduce him to a begging wreck.

“You m-mean you– John!”  Ben whines and buries his face into Homelander’s neck.  The scent lingers strong there, making the throbbing between his legs begin once more.

“Not my fault you’re so fucking insatiable, babe.  That’s on you.”  He snorts a laugh.  Homelander trails his hand to Benjamin’s lower back and rubs soft, soothing circles.  “And no, I don’t know how long it lasts.  I just snagged it from the labs and uhh… slathered it all over myself… And rolled it onto the covers.”

“I’m gonna kick your ass– but later,” the bug promises playfully.  He slides his slicked core against Homelander’s thigh with languid rolls of his hips.  “Just… Lemme–”  If Homelander was somehow tired, then he’d just have to help himself.  “Fuck...  Thigh for now, dick later, okay?”

With a yawn, Homelander nods in agreement.  “Deal.”

It was going to be a long night.