#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”]

[criscura]

Absolutely adore your OPM writing but I am also living for your recent takes about Dorian Gray. Easily one of the best books I’ve had to read back in school. I just love when I find other people who are also obsessed with jt!

THANKS FOR ACTIVATING MY TRAP CARD I'M GOING TO GO OFF ON WHAT I WAS TALKING ABOUT YESTERDAY

okay. okAY so like. so i finish Dorian Gray right. It still feels so cold and ruthless and bitter, and once AGAIN I'm left thinking "oh damn, Henry is probably gonna be a little devastated by this one, he spent the last twenty years hanging out with this dude who he was absolutely fucking almost daily, and THEN he's going to find out that Basil really is dead, AND his wife left him, he can't sardonic his way out of feeling for this"

and he's hot right like that's a plot-critical point, Henry is seductive. SO HERE I GO LIKE "okay tumblr let's try this again SUREly you have art of the fucked up sexy old bastard right"

AND FUCKING THEN (under the cut this is SO LONG and i'm not apologizing for it)

i go on and see????? like not only is there almost nothing of him??? people GENUINELY hate him??? but they LOVE Basil??? and I'm like no, no this CAN'T be right, maybe--like okay, Tumblr is a unique place, maybe this is one of those cases where my opinion falls more in line with the majority, so I go to google and I just. Type in "Dorian Gray Henry Wotton"

AND IT'S ALL THE SAME. ALL!!! ALL THE SAME!!!! He's awful, he's the villain, he's the worst, blablabla, and i'm like. okya. OKAY. ALRIGHT OKAY yes he was terrible but it was so painfully obvious he was in love with/obsessed with/infatuated with Dorian, S U R E L Y that's gotten him some brownie points there. Like. He sees Dorian, and then goes onto spend every single day with him if he can, morning, noon, and night, taking him out on dates and trips and giving him anything he asks, for EIGHTEEN YEARS, to the extent that when his wife divorces and leaves him he begs Dorian to stay with him.

Like even his whole issue with women, specifically romance with women, like---did???? did fucking no one???? ?DID FUCKING NO ONE READ THAT AND SEE A GAY MAN PISSED OFF THAT HE HAS TO PLAY A PART??????? HOW MUCH FUCKING CLEARER CAN YOU GET. All in all he does the EXACT SAME THING Basil does, just in his own way, so i figure there must, there MUST, there has GOT TO BE sympathy for him *somehwere*

AND!!!!! NO/!1!!!!! NOT!!!!1 NO!!!!!!!!!! EVERYWHERE!!!! i loook EVERYWHERE!!! for "Henry Wotton in love with Dorian" AND IT'S ALL LIKE!!! oh no, he just wanted power, oh no, he just wanted to see dorian fall, oh no, he NEVER felt ANYTHING for this guy he fucking DEVOTED ALL HIS WAKING HOURS TO IF HE COULD and i just. i.

so i go to my last recourse right??? i'm fucking desperate. i am DESPERATE. I go to Reddit. Surely, FUCKING SURELY--and at this point i just want to know I'm not insane, you KNOW you are in the absolute fucking trenches when you're going to reddit for opinions on literature but fuck at least if I can find a mirror in the cesspool i know that I exist right like i'm not some fucking ghost right SOMEONE will have seen what I saw--and

overwhelmingly

OVERWHELMINGLY

it's people talking about how much they hate Henry.

i. And like. SOME people are like "oh he was so interesting, he was the best part of the book," which yes, gratifying, but???? I????

As i was reading it, it was unbelievably--UNBEARABLY--again ****OVERWHELMINGLY**** obvious that a) both Basil and Henry were in love with Dorian b) they were BOTH older men taking advantage of him and dominating his time and attention so they could try to mold him into something for their own personal viewing pleasure c) Dorian was bare minimum a little bit shit from the start--as in, BEFORE WE SEE HIM he's introduced as someone who likes to hurt his friends because he enjoys it. This was so obviously a mean book about bad people and we're watching a train wreck unfold. a sexy, sexy, SEXY train wreck because wanting to fuck Dorian is a critical pull for the whole thing, but!!!!

BUT!!!!! ALSO CRITICALLY!!!!! ESSENTIALLY!!!!! HENRY WOTTON IS A SEXY ASSHOLE YOU NEED TO WANT TO FUCK

LIKE!!!!!! It's like the whole thing with stories about Satan, where he HAS to be hot so you understand why people would do what he says despite knowing it's bad for them. Henry is designed to be the dangerous, hot, older worldly dude stepping further and further into the shadows while beckoning for Dorian to follow after him, and to a certain extent you NEEED to understand that pull so you understand what Dorian is going through. AND THIS IS SO COMMON IT'S A MYTHOLOGICAL TROPE!!!

DO YOU HATE SATAN IN THE BOOK OF JOB. DO YOU HATE MEPHISTOPHELES IN MEPHISTOPHELES. Henry is performing the exact same role!!! All his lines are written sex!!!! it is fucking LEGITIMATELY some of the most sensual shit I have EVER read!! "talking to him was like playing upon an exquisite violin" ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME. aND YOU!!! You're supposed to be pulled in!!! that's SO IMPORTANT. WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU READ THE BOOK AND ENJOYED IT BUT HATED HIM AND DIDN'T WANT TO READ HIS LINES. WHAT DID YOU FUCKING READ.

But okay. Alright okay. EVEN DISREGARDING that Henry is a hot sexy bastard and that's necessary for the story and for Dorian's characterization. I would fucking GET IT if he was the ONLY person in the story that's like that. I would give it a pass if this is a story where everyone is good and sweet and everything is all daisies and niceness. FUCKING BUT.

THE ENTIRE NOVEL IS FULL OF ABSOLUTELY SHIT ASS PEOPLE FROM START TO END

Everyone uwu-ifies Basil, but that man is the same age as Henry. He saw this barely legal???? Not yet legal???? I'm not entirely sure how that works at that time with people of that status, but he saw the equivalent of a fresh-faced "i've been 18 for one day and have never left my house" angel of a boy who lost his parents young and was raised with family that fucking hated him and was like "yes well i want to look at him forever I'm going to keep him with me as much as I can and tell him how perfect and pretty he is so he does what i say and lets me paint him in whatever pose i can think of" and like

HE DOES TEH SAME THING AS HENRY???!!! IT'S TEH SAME THING???????

IT'S NOT BETTER JUST BECAUSE BASIL IS PATHETIC?

He does the same thing Henry does!!!! Henry is also a manipulative predatory asshole!! HENRY IS JUST MORE FORWARD ABOUT IT.

like WHAT??? what is it better when he does it because he's a sad wet cat of a man??? why, because he says he loves Dorian? He loves Dorian SOOOOOO MUCH he watches as he falls down a worse and worse path, refusing to believe any of the rumors he heard about him FOR TWENTY YEARS because they don't line up with how he personally sees Dorian, and only steps in to try to make a positive difference the HOUR before he was going to leave for an unknown amount of time???? he loves him THAT MUCH he just gives up every time he runs into legitimate resistance when it comes to helping Dorian out????

And!!!!! fuckin!!!! Everyone uwu-ifies Dorian too!!!!! ONCE AGAIN, LITERALLY ONE OF THE FIRST THINGS WE LEARN ABOUT HIM--no, I'm just gonna write out the paragraph:

"He likes me," he answered after a pause; "I know he likes me. Of course I flatter him dreadfully. I find a strange pleasure in saying things to him that I know I shall be sorry for having said. As a rule, he is charming to me, and we sit in the studio and talk of a thousand things. Now and then, however, he is horribly thoughtless, and seems to take a real delight in giving me pain. Then I feel, Harry, that I have given away my whole soul to someone who treats it as if it were a flower to put in his coat, a bit of decoration to charm his vanity, an ornament for a summer's day."

HALF OF THAT IS DEVOTED TO SAYING HE'S KIND OF A DICK. The *other* half is Basil saying being with him makes him happy, but, but, but, but, but. There's SO MANY conditions on that happiness. Dorian is NOT a purely good person--he's capable of good, but he's also capable of bad, and he chooses which he's going to be. He's capricious. And he's not an idiot!! He can tell Henry is bad news!! and he gets PLENTY of warning about it! But he's curious and he chooses to go back to Henry, over and over and over again.

AND THAT'S THE WHOLE FUCKING POINT!!!!!

Dorian chooses!!!! DORIAN CHOOSES!! Basil and Henry are both different forks on the same kind of hedonistic, idolatrous paths. Basil wants to put him in art; Henry wants to put him into the world. They're BOTH fucking Pygmalion and Dorian is their Galatea--it's just that the medium they both use is different. And Dorian can tell!!! He can see!! He realizes that Basil sees him like a pretty thing to keep around to inspire him! He KNOWS that Henry's ideas poisoned him!! AND YET!!

HE CONTINUES TO GO BACK TO BOTH, depending on what he wants the most at that moment!!

AND IN THE END HE BECOMES A WORSE VERSION OF BOTH OF THEM BECAUSE HE CONTINUES TO CHOOSE BAD DESPITE HAVING SEVERAL OPPORTUNITIES TO STOP.

The manipulation? Using people for his own pleasure and then throwing them away when he's bored of it? The hateful, bigoted, judgemental thoughts? Ruining lives because that's convenient for him? The deaths of MULTIPLE people, probably considerably more than we know about? Dorian does ALL OF IT, again and again and again, because he wants to.

We revisit him throughout SEVERAL points in his life, all of which it's very apparent he wants for nothing and can do whatever he pleases. At ANY OF THOSE MOMENTS, or any of the ones between, he could have chosen to do good. But the same way he chose to hurt Basil because he enjoyed it, he chooses to fuck around and cause chaos because he likes it. The ability to do bad was always, ALWAYS inside Dorian, and both Basil and Henry were fascinated by it because it served different parts of their own vanity.

Basil liked Dorian the way you like a filter on a camera, and he thought Dorian left everything that HE made looking more beautiful. It's made abundantly clear that his biggest concern was the art he was creating, and Dorian was key to it. Henry liked Dorian the way you'd like a phonograph, where you can hear everything you've said reflected back at you, but in a different way with different tones. They are BOTH narcissistic in their approach towards Dorian, WHO IN HIMSELF IS NARCISSISTIC IN HIS RELATIONSHIPS WITH OTHER PEOPLE. No one is good here!!! No one is a purely good person!!!!!!!!

And everyone else, except fuckin' Sybil Vane, is bare minimum kind of shit. We don't meet a SINGLE other character that's a glowing representation of what mankind can be, who doesn't have some sort of flaw. And like.

THERE IS A LITERAL LIST OF RULES AT THE BEGINNING THAT MAKE IT CLEAR NOTHING IN THIS BOOK IS SUPPOSED TO BE MORALLY GOOD.

It says it!!!!!! Again and again and again!!!!!! It makes it SO FUCKING CLEAR that this isn't concerned with right and wrong and you need to abandon that at the doorstep!! There are no good characters, the same way there aren't any evil characters, because that doesn't apply here.

SO FUCKING. TO COME BACK TO IT. AFTER ALL THAT. AFTER!!!! ALL!!!!! THAT!!!!!!!

TO HAVE PEOPLE SAY HENRY IS EVIL AND THE VILLAIN OF THE BOOK!!!!

DORIAN IS THE VILLAIN OF THE PICTURE OF DORIAN GRAY. DORIAN IS THE BAD GUY!!!

Basil and Henry were paths!!!! They were choices!!! They were options AND DORIAN FUCKING CHOSE!!!!!!! And you're not supposed to feel good about it!! It's not supposed to make you happy!! We're supposed to see that Dorian was doomed from the start and we're watching his downfall!!

And it just!!!!! IT IS MAKING ME INSANE. IT IS DRIVING ME CRAZY THAT I'M NOT SEEING THIS OUTSIDE OF MY OWN HEAD. Gosh even just!!! Even the way the "Henry is the antagonist" removes agency from Dorian, and everyone else, when it involves Henry?? As if they don't all willingly go to him and talk to him and want to be with him??

Not to get fucking spicy about it but it comes WAAAAYYY too close to the idea that thoughts and ideas are guilty/sinful/actions in themselves and they need to be shut up, and there's little to no responsibility on the shoulders of the people hearing them to dissect them and decide whether or not they're a) legitimate and b) something they want for themselves. It's the reason it drives me absolutely I N S A N E when people say the devil made someone do bad or it was just God's influence who made something good happen, as if there weren't real actual living fucking human beings who made choices and put in the work, good AND bad, to make those things happen. It's like throwing up your hands and going "well! everything is predetermined and there's no point in fighting."

Like. The complete villainization of Henry, and the hand-waving on what Dorian and Basil do, is just---TUM,BLR. TUMBLR!!!!! WHAT ARE YOU DOING!!!!! I CAME TO YOU FOR HELP. I CAME TO YOU FOR NUANCE. TUMBLR!!!!!!!!! HENRY IS THE FOREFATHER TO ALL YOUR SEXYMEN!!!!! HE'S GAY!!! HE'S MANIPULATIVE!!!! HE'S HOT!!!! HE'S WEIRD AND OLD AND LURKS IN CORNERS ALL THE TIME!!!!! WHAT !!! THE FUCK!!!!!!!

[honeylullaby]

“What did you fucking say?”

(Rivals) Rupert Campbell-Black x Reader

Suggestion by a sweet anon 🫶🏽 / Rupert would go the ends of the earth to protect you, as he always told you. However, you’d never seen it in action…

18+ FANFIC / Feral, protective Rupert 🩷 Reader character aged at 21 🫶🏽 Mentions of half the cast 😅

It was a tantalisingly crisp Spring afternoon — golden rays of the sun casting a glow against the tremendous cups of daffodils and the brisk breeze dancing between the blades of grass at Green Lawns. Freddie and Valerie Jones had decided to host a garden party, meaning copious amounts of horrific champagne and a hoard of people exchanging fickle pleasantries. It was also yours and Rupert Campbell-Black’s first public outing as a newly established couple, and you secretly adored the scornful looks you received from every attendee’s envious wives as you arrived, hand-in-hand. The crowd has grown silent as he led you into the flamboyant garden, mouths agape in resentful shock.

“Charming welcome, as always.” Rupert remarked towards you, shooting the hushed crowd a fraudulent smile. Soon enough, their conversation grew frightfully noisy once again, although a few piercing gazes remained on you. “Oh hello, Mr Campbell-Black, please do help yourself to champagne.” A woman with a gaudily colourful dress on — mismatched hues of green and pink slapped onto a black linen shell — spoke towards your boyfriend, ignoring your presence entirely. “Thank you, Mousie. We will.” Rupert nodded, making his way to the buffet table and pouring you both a teeming flute of champagne. He just about made it over to you to hand you the glass, before he was whisked away by Valerie to introduce to an adoring gaggle of fans.

From across the carefully preened lawn, Tony Baddingham was involved in a tedious conversation with some television executives, but his piercing eyes leered at you like a hawk eyeing its prey. “Hello, gorgeous. Feeling like an outcast yet?” A familiar voice chimed from behind you, heavy hands pawing at your shoulders. “Hello, Bas. Not yet.” You grinned at the olive-skinned man, turning around to face him. At least you had one friend here — you had spent just as much time with Basil as you had with Rupert, often feeling like a third wheel in their fantastical friendship. “Oop. No. Not today.” Your boyfriend’s boyfriend groaned, bringing your champagne flute to his mouth for a stolen gulp, and practically bolting in the opposite direction. Utterly confused by Basil’s prompt exit, it immediately became apparent as Lord Baddingham emerged afore you.

“Why, hello there. Lord Baddingham. And you are… Rupert’s latest conquest, I take it? You’re not the first poor bitch he’s dragged along to one of these things.” The Roman-nosed man spat. God, Rupert’s right, he is a total cunt, you thought to yourself. “Lovely to meet you, Lord Baddingham. Rupert has told me all about you.” You respond — saccharine smile aching your lips. “Which lie has the poor bastard told you to get you here then? He’s never felt this way about anybody before, he’ll give you the world, or your pussy’s too tight that he can’t let you out of his sight?” Tony chortled at his own repulsive witticism. “I don’t think that’s rather appropriate to say to somebody you’ve just met if you don’t mind my saying, Lord B. I’m happy with Rupert.” You reply, but you needn’t have. Tony’s predatory eyes were ogling your cleavage, dreaming of something so very, very out of his reach. He leant in towards you, hot, acidic breath washing across your skin. “When he chucks you, you know where to find me. I wouldn’t mind a go on those marvellous tits.”

“What did you fucking say?” Rupert boomed from behind him, his voice irresistibly sexy and his presence providing the most needed wave of calm. Tony paused for a moment, exhaling deeply and turning on his heels. “I was just taking a moment to introduce myself to your new lady.” He replied, lying through his teeth. “No, what did you just fucking say to her?” Rupert reiterated, teeth grinding together so hard they could’ve crumbled. “Steady on, old chap. You’ll dispose of her in a few weeks, and she’ll be wanting to hold onto the fame with a new cock.” Tony hissed, the words leaving his mouth bitter and cold. It made you shiver in disgust.

Without hesitation, Rupert’s arm swung and delivered a forceful punch to Tony’s jaw, knocking the sinewy man to the floor and coaxing a ripple of gasps from the now gathering crowd. You clapped your hands across your mouth, shocked into silence. “Rupert! Don’t lower yourself, for fucks sake.” Basil thundered, sprinting over to his friend and pulling him aside. Tony, sitting up, tended to his bruised and bleeding jaw, Monica now fretting beside him. Rage seethed through Rupert’s body, but he smirked at the pain he’d inflicted on his mortal adversary.

“I’m terribly sorry you had to see that, angel. But there was no way I was going to allow him to speak of you like that.” Rupert huffed, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you tight to his chest. “Yes, of course. Well done, Rupert. Made yourself feel like the big man now, have you?” Tony continued his barrage of abuse, pulling himself to his feet and spitting a bloody glob of phlegm onto the ground. Marching towards him and grabbing a tight fistful of Tony’s navy silk shirt, Rupert practically lifted him from the grass. “Listen, Baddingham. If I see you so much as glance in her direction again, you’ll be straight to Corinium nursing a lot more than a fucking broken jaw. Do I make myself clear?” He seethed, and rather enjoyed seeing Tony spluttering in confusion. “Yes…” He managed to choke out in that weedy, pathetic voice of his.

“Good.” Rupert muttered, loosening his grip of Tony’s shirt and watching him fall to the ground once more. Taking a firm grip of your hand, Rupert ushered you towards the pathway. “Come on, angel. Let’s go home.”

[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.

[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:)

[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...

[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!

[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.

[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.

[ohanny]

HOW WOULD ALL THE NEW YEAR’S KISSES HAPPEN IF TEAM X-HUNTER WERE TO THROW A VERY WESTERN NEW YEAR’S EVE CELEBRATION

first of all, the entire party would be north and sonic’s idea but as the de-facto host, alan would end up taking it way too seriously. i’m talking he spends a week drafting a reflective year-end speech and practicing it. jeff rolls his eyes and calls him old but actually thinks it's very sweet that alan cares so much.

he changes his mind when he sees the punch alan prepares for the party because dear gods. jeff is pretty sure he could get drunk on the smell alone because alan’s secret family recipe is 90% various local herbal spirits and 10% cola and the single decorative garnish of thai basil does nothing to make it any less of a health hazard.

jeff suspects alan’s family didn't love each other very much because you don’t force that devil juice on people you care about. alan does not think it’s that bad. sure, it's a bit strong but you can always add more cola if you want! shockingly, kim agrees. the two of them are the only ones who drink the stuff casually throughout the night. north spits his out and accuses his dear lung of trying to poison all of them. babe makes fun of north for this but actually sneakily dumps his glass into a planter. (the plant later dies. alan can't figure out why.)

then, it is near midnight and it is time for alan to give his speech, made even grander because he is quite sentimental and not totally immune to the powers of his own punch. in true x-hunter fashion, it's not exactly a solemn event with everyone jeering and laughing. it’s so noisy that alan gets a bit self-conscious a few times, but then he looks over at jeff who nods at him encouragingly. so alan is a bit cringe - who cares! he’s their cringe uncle and they love him.

but alan isn't quite sure how to wrap his speech up, so in a moment of clarity, he hands the microphone to pete who’s been skulking at the edges of the party with kenta. except, you know, alan doesn't actually have a microphone so he's just holding his fist in front of a visibly startled pete who begins with an eloquent “uh” and finishes with a “let's have a successful year.” it comes out more like a question, but everyone cheers nonetheless.

anygays, now to the juicy bit!

charlie has been a total menace, teasing babe the whole evening. he’s been especially handsy in the last hour but every time babe started to whine, he countered it with a “but we have to stay until midnight, i promised jeff!” now the time has finally come. the countdown ends and babe gives charlie a quick kiss on the cheek before grabbing his arm and dragging him away. at 00.01, they are disrobing in the hallway, stumbling towards the nearest bathroom.

meanwhile, it is true jeff has relaxed and gotten used to both giving and receiving affection. still, he feels very awkward standing in the middle of an open space, surrounded by people who are looking at him with all these expectations and he doesn't know what to do. luckily, alan does.

alan looks jeff right in the eye and says “i want to spend next year by your side. and then every year after that, if you'll have me.” jeff flushes bright pink and alan kisses him slow and sweet and, like the romantic fool he is, totally dips jeff who meeps and scrambles to grab a hold of alan’s shoulders as people catcall them. after they straighten back up, jeff smacks alan chest, cursing him out for almost dropping him. alan responds “i’d never” and he’s so disgustingly sincere, jeff has to kiss him again.

once that is done, jeff tries to look for charlie to wish his brother happy new year, only to realize he’s disappeared. jeff is disappointed, but not surprised.

and talking about “brothers”… as the clock strikes midnight, pete and kenta share a moment of prolonged eye contact. eventually, kenta goes for a manly handshake. pete goes for a hug. they end up awkwardly bro-hug patting each other before stepping back and lowkey pretending that mess just didn't happen.

and talking about messes: north and sonic. they’ve had a grand old time clowning everyone else for being so sappy but then it’s time to kiss someone and they totally chicken out. sonic keeps glancing at north and blinking a lot. north laughs and rubs the back of his head. neither one of them can get their acts together because they are both losers.

kim has had enough and, with a huge eye roll, grabs sonic’s face and plants one on his lips before doing the same with north. “see? it's not that fucking difficult” he tells them and physically pushes them together. thoroughly freaked out by kim’s manic grin and squinted eyes, north gathers all his courage and leans in to give sonic a quick peck.

except. EXCEPT. you know when you give someone a quick kiss but then you don’t lean all the way back but linger? that's them. north lingers, lips tingling and heart going double time, and oh, have sonic’s hands been clutching the front of his hoodie this entire time? they don't know which one of them leans back in for the second try but it does happen and although it’s still very middle school PG, it is the greatest thing that has ever happened.

satisfied his job is done and he's saved the universe from collapsing under the weight of his friends’ pining, kim walks towards the corner. he squints at pete. pete stares back in confusion. then kim turns to kenta and, in a very businesslike manner, says “i will kiss you now.” kenta stands there like 🧍‍♂️and, in a very businesslike manner, replies: “k.”

kim then proceeds to kiss kenta in a very un-businesslike manner and pete’s eyebrows disappear into his hairline.

eventually kim staggers back and promptly declares “i’m going to throw up now.” kenta experiences a second of absolute mortification because fuck, was kissing him that bad? but really, the herbal spirits have finally caught up. kim takes three steps before turning around and asking “well, are you coming?” kenta looks at pete helplessly and pete just shrugs because wow.

but of course kenta goes with kim. they walk to the nearest bathroom, open the door and then immediately slam it shut again. kenta is feeling a bit sick now himself. he had no idea babe was so flexible and would have happily lived the rest of his life without the visual confirmation. they collectively decide to head for the upstairs bathroom on the total opposite end of the house, just in case.

the party kind of dies down after that. a giggling alan drags jeff upstairs. north and sonic have totally forgotten they are still standing in the middle of a room and there’s nothing middle school about their wandering hands. charlie and babe are doing irreversible damage to the bathroom sink. so pete just… slinks away.

he drives to the nearest bar where he finds way's ghost finishing up a bottle of tequila because he had no access to alan’s jungle juice. which is depressed and spiritually very wet and pathetic and pete is just so very tired. so fuck it.

“i know it's not midnight anymore,” he tells way and then totally quotes alan by adding “but i want to spend the next year by your side.” he leans down to press a very delicate kiss to the corner of way’s mouth before whispering “let me take you home.” way leans back against him, closes his eyes and says, “okay” and it’s a new year’s eve miracle.

bonus:

somewhere, in another bar, dean is hustling money by playing pool. winner slams the bar door open, stalks to dean in a full baddie mode and says, “happy new year, bitch” and proceeds to kiss dean with enough tongue that they get thrown out immediately. well, okay, the staff might have excused the tongue but then dean went and grabbed a fistful of winner’s hair and winner’s knees buckled as he moaned like a porn star and a line had to be drawn somewhere.

[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

[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

[duvetfawn]

A Warm Welcome

- Masterlist

INTRODUCTION: After a long day, you come home to find Benedict Cumberbatch in the kitchen, cooking dinner with an endearing mix of focus and charm. What begins as playful banter quickly ignites into something far more intimate, as Benedict willingly surrenders himself to your control. In a sensual evening filled with vulnerability and passion, the two of you explore trust, desire, and the balance of power, leaving no boundary of connection or devotion untouched.

PAIRING: sub!Benedict Cumberbatch x fem!dom!reader

WARNINGS: SMUT, mdni, oral sex (reader receiving), dirty talk, penetrative sex.

WORD COUNT: 3k

A/N: Hello people! Thanks for all the reblogs and likes! I'm so happy my work is getting recognition. This one was a request from my best friend (thank you Bianca for assigning me this!) Please keep in mind the reader is dominant here and it might not be for everyone. Again thank you so much! Sorry about grammar mistakes if there are any.

The smell of garlic and fresh herbs greeted you the moment you stepped through the door, an immediate comfort after a long day. The familiar warmth of the flat wrapped around you like an embrace, but it was the figure in the kitchen that truly caught your attention. Benedict, clad in a loose gray sweater and dark jeans, stood by the stove, focused entirely on the task before him. His curls were slightly disheveled, and his sleeves were rolled up to reveal strong forearms dusted with flour—a telltale sign he’d been kneading something earlier.

“You’re home,” he said, glancing up with that soft smile that never failed to make your heart flutter. His voice, deep and soothing, held a note of relief, as if the day had been incomplete until you’d walked through the door.

“And you’re cooking,” you replied, shrugging off your coat. “Should I be worried?”

He chuckled, the sound low and rich, and shook his head. “I’ll have you know, I’m quite capable in the kitchen. You might even be impressed.”

You leaned against the doorway, watching him move. There was an ease in the way he handled himself, his gestures deliberate and precise yet unhurried. The sight of him like this—at home, relaxed, and completely unguarded—was one you cherished more than you could put into words.

“What are you making?” you asked, crossing the room to peek over his shoulder.

“Something simple,” he said, gesturing to a pan where butter sizzled and garlic caramelized. “Pasta with a cream sauce, a bit of basil, and, if I don’t burn it, chicken.”

You hummed in approval, standing so close now that you could feel the heat radiating off him. He turned his head slightly, and your eyes met. For a moment, neither of you said anything, the silence thick with unspoken tension. His gaze lingered on your lips before darting back up to meet your eyes, a flush creeping up his neck.

“Something on your mind?” you teased, your voice low and playful.

Benedict swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing, but he didn’t look away. “Only that you’re distracting,” he murmured, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

You reached out, running a finger along the edge of his jaw, feeling the faint stubble beneath your touch. “And what are you going to do about it?” you asked, tilting your head.

His breath hitched, but instead of answering, he turned off the stove and set the spoon down. The clatter of metal against the counter seemed louder than it was, a sharp contrast to the electric silence between you. Slowly, deliberately, he faced you, his hands coming to rest lightly on your hips.

“I could ask you the same thing,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your lips curved into a smile as you leaned in, closing the distance between you. The kiss was soft at first, a gentle brush of lips that quickly turned heated. His hands tightened on your hips, pulling you closer until there was no space left between your bodies. You could feel the rapid thrum of his heartbeat against your chest, matching your own.

“You’ve been thinking about this all day, haven’t you?” you murmured against his lips, your fingers sliding into his hair.

He nodded, his breath warm against your cheek. “Can you blame me?” he asked, his tone somewhere between exasperation and adoration. “You make it impossible to focus.”

“Good,” you said, pushing him gently but firmly until his back hit the counter. 

You pressed against him, the edge of the counter digging into his back as you deepened the kiss. His lips parted beneath yours, and you took full advantage, your tongue brushing against his, eliciting a soft, breathy sound from him. His hands gripped your hips tighter, as if trying to anchor himself to you, but you could feel the way his body softened under your touch, surrendering.

“Turn around,” you whispered, breaking the kiss just enough to speak.

He blinked at you, his expression somewhere between surprise and intrigue, but he complied, twisting to face the counter. His breath hitched as your arms slid around his waist from behind, your palms pressing against his abdomen. Slowly, you ran your hands upward, savoring the feel of his body beneath the soft fabric of his sweater.

“You’re far too tense for someone who’s been cooking dinner,” you murmured, your lips brushing the shell of his ear.

A shiver ran through him, and he let out a shaky laugh. “Well, you’re not exactly helping me relax.”

“Oh, but I plan to,” you said, your voice teasing as your fingers dipped lower, tracing the waistband of his jeans.

His head fell back slightly, exposing the long line of his neck, and you couldn’t resist the temptation. You pressed a kiss to the sensitive spot just below his ear, then another, letting your teeth graze his skin lightly. The quiet groan that escaped him sent a thrill through you, and you felt his grip tighten on the edge of the counter.

“You like that,” you said, not a question but a statement.

“Yes,” he admitted, his voice barely audible. “Too much, maybe.”

You smiled against his skin, then tugged gently on his sweater. “Off.”

He turned his head to glance at you, his eyes dark with anticipation. There was no hesitation as he pulled the sweater over his head, leaving his chest bare. You took a moment to admire him, the defined lines of his shoulders and torso, the way his chest rose and fell with each shallow breath.

“Beautiful,” you said, running your hands over his back. His skin was warm to the touch, and he let out a quiet sigh as your nails lightly scraped down his spine. “You’re so good at following instructions.”

He turned his head slightly, a smirk playing at his lips despite the flush on his cheeks. “So you want to take the lead, huh?”

Your response was immediate and firm. “You’re mine tonight. All of you. Understand?”

His eyes flickered with something that looked like both surrender and excitement. “Yes,” he said softly. Then, louder, “Yes, ma’am.”

You grinned, your dominance only spurring you further. With a gentle but firm push, you turned him back toward you and nudged him toward the center of the kitchen. His movements were fluid but obedient, and it thrilled you to see the normally commanding actor so completely at your mercy.

You guided him backward until his legs hit the dining chair that sat in the corner of the kitchen. With a light push on his shoulders, you eased him down into the seat. Benedict looked up at you, his hair tousled, his lips slightly swollen from your earlier kisses. There was something intoxicating about seeing him like this—composed yet unraveling, his sharp, angular features softened by the heat of the moment.

“Stay there,” you said firmly, your voice low and commanding.

He obeyed, his hands resting on his thighs, his gaze fixed on you as if you were the only thing in the world. You could see the tension in his body, the way his fingers twitched, like he was holding back the urge to reach for you. You stepped closer, slowly, deliberately, letting him feel the weight of your presence.

“You’ve been so good for me,” you murmured, leaning down until your faces were inches apart. Your fingers brushed along his jawline, tracing the sharp angles, then tilted his chin up slightly. “Do you want to keep being good for me, Benedict?”

His breath caught, and he nodded. “Yes,” he said, his voice hoarse. “Whatever you want.”

You smiled, your thumb running over his bottom lip. “Good,” you said.

Your hands slid to his shoulders, and with a gentle but insistent push, you guided him lower, until he was kneeling on the floor in front of you. The sight of him like this—on his knees, looking up at you with such raw desire—made your breath hitch. He rested his hands on your thighs, waiting, watching, his lips slightly parted as if he were ready to speak but unsure of what to say.

“Do you want me?” you asked, your voice softer now but no less commanding.

“Always,” he replied without hesitation, the sincerity in his tone sending a shiver down your spine.

You reached for his hand, guiding it to the waistband of your trousers. “Then show me.”

His fingers worked quickly, yet carefully, undoing the button and sliding the fabric down your legs. He hesitated for a moment, his hands lingering at the edge of your underwear, his eyes flicking up to meet yours, silently asking for permission.

“Go on,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

His hands slipped beneath the fabric, and you let out a quiet sigh as his fingers brushed your skin. He took his time, easing the fabric down and letting it pool around your ankles. You stepped out of them, and he moved closer, his hands settling on your hips.

“Smother me,” he said, his voice low and breathless. “Let me make you feel good.”

The rawness in his tone sent a surge of heat through you, and you obliged, lowering yourself onto the chair and spreading your legs just enough to give him access. His hands slid along your thighs, his touch reverent yet possessive, and then his lips followed, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses along your skin.

When his mouth finally reached you, you couldn’t hold back the gasp that escaped. He was slow at first, deliberate, his tongue moving in gentle strokes that built a steady rhythm. His hands tightened on your thighs, holding you in place as he worked, and the sounds he made—soft, muffled groans of pleasure—only heightened your own.

“Yes,” you breathed, your fingers tangling in his hair. “Just like that.”

He responded with a hum of approval, the vibrations sending a jolt through you. His tongue dipped lower, exploring, teasing, and you felt your grip on his hair tighten. You rocked your hips against him, chasing the pressure, and he moaned, the sound guttural and desperate.

“You like this, don’t you?” you said, your voice unsteady but laced with authority. “You like being on your knees for me.”

He pulled back just enough to speak, his lips glistening. “I love it,” he said, his voice rough. “I love making you feel this way.”

“Then don’t stop,” you commanded.

Your fingers tightened in Benedict’s hair as his tongue moved with unrelenting precision, each flick and stroke sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. His hands, strong yet trembling slightly with need, gripped your thighs to keep you steady as he worked, his desperation to please you palpable in every movement.

“Yes,” you murmured, your voice breathy and commanding. “Just like that. You’re so good for me, Benedict.”

At your praise, he groaned against you, the vibration pulling another moan from your lips. You could feel the heat rising in you, your body tightening with every expert movement of his tongue. The way he looked up at you—his pupils blown wide with desire, his cheeks flushed—only added to the fire coursing through you.

“You’re mine,” you said, your voice growing steadier as your dominance took over. “Do you understand?”

He nodded against you, his nose brushing your sensitive skin as he mumbled, “Yes. Yours. Always.”

Your hips rolled against his mouth, and his grip on your thighs tightened in response, his enthusiasm only growing. The sounds he made—half-growls, half-muffled whimpers—filled the room, mixing with your own gasps and sighs. You tugged at his hair, guiding him exactly where you wanted, and he obeyed without hesitation, his submission utterly complete.

“That’s it,” you whispered, your thighs beginning to shake as the tension inside you reached its peak. “Don’t stop, Benedict. Don’t you dare stop.”

He didn’t. If anything, he pushed harder, his tongue working you with even more fervor, his hands grounding you as your body tensed. When the climax hit, it was overwhelming, your head falling back, your lips parting as you cried out. Benedict didn’t let up, riding out every wave of your release until you were trembling beneath his touch.

Finally, you tugged at his hair gently, pulling him back. He looked up at you, his lips glistening, his breath coming in short, shallow bursts. The expression on his face was one of pure adoration mixed with raw hunger.

“You’re perfect,” you said, cupping his face in your hands and brushing your thumb along his cheekbone.

He leaned into your touch, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment before snapping back to yours. “Anything for you,” he said, his voice hoarse but steady. “Anything you want.”

You smirked, pulling him to his feet. His knees wobbled slightly, and you steadied him, your hands running up his chest.

With one hand, you reached for the waistband of his jeans, undoing the button and sliding the zipper down with practiced ease. His breath hitched as you pushed the denim down his hips, leaving him standing before you in nothing but his boxer briefs. You took a moment to admire him—the way his body seemed to tremble with anticipation, the way he looked at you as if you were the only thing in the world that mattered.

“Off,” you commanded, gesturing to the last remaining barrier between you.

He hesitated for a fraction of a second, his cheeks flushing a deeper shade of red, before obeying. As the fabric fell to the floor, you stepped closer, your hands sliding over his bare skin. He shivered beneath your touch, his body responding to every little movement, every brush of your fingertips.

“You’ve been so good for me tonight,” you said, guiding him toward the table. “Now, let me reward you.”

He let out a shaky breath, his eyes locked on yours as you pushed him gently onto his back. His body stretched out beneath you, vulnerable yet undeniably beautiful. You climbed onto the table, straddling him, and leaned down until your lips were a breath away from his.

“Are you ready?” you asked, your voice low and teasing.

“For you?” he said, his hands sliding up your thighs. “Always.”

You lowered yourself over him, capturing his lips in a searing kiss. His hands roamed your body, reverent and desperate, fingers pressing into your skin as though grounding himself in this moment. The table creaked softly beneath you, but neither of you paid it any mind. His breath came in short gasps as you broke the kiss, moving your lips down his jawline and to the sensitive spot just below his ear.

“Benedict,” you whispered, your voice firm but dripping with affection. “Do you trust me?”

“Completely,” he murmured, his voice barely audible, his eyes heavy-lidded with desire.

“Good,” you said, sitting up slightly to remove the last of your clothing. His gaze swept over you, his lips parting as he drank in the sight of you. His fingers twitched against your thighs, and you smirked, leaning down to press your lips to his once more.

“Hands above your head,” you commanded softly but firmly. “I want to see how obedient you can be.”

A flicker of hesitation crossed his face—not reluctance, but anticipation—and then he complied, stretching his arms above him and gripping the edge of the table. His chest rose and fell rapidly, his vulnerability making him all the more enticing.

“You look so beautiful like this,” you said, your hands gliding down his chest, fingers grazing over his taut muscles. His breath hitched as your touch lingered on his stomach before trailing lower. “Do you have any idea how much I love seeing you give in to me?”

He swallowed hard, his voice cracking slightly as he replied, “Tell me. Show me.”

You smiled, shifting your hips until you were poised over him, your body brushing against his in the most tantalizing way. His head tipped back, a soft groan escaping his lips as you rolled your hips slowly, teasing him with just enough pressure to drive him mad but not enough to give him what he craved.

“You want more, don’t you?” you teased, your voice dropping to a sultry whisper.

“Yes,” he breathed, his hands tightening on the table. “Please, I—”

“Patience,” you interrupted, leaning down to kiss his throat, your teeth grazing his skin. “I decide when and how you get what you want.”

His entire body tensed beneath you, and you felt a surge of satisfaction at the way he responded so readily to your control. You shifted again, this time taking him fully, and the sharp intake of breath that followed was music to your ears. His hands twitched against the edge of the table, and you could see the strain in his arms as he fought to keep them in place.

“Good,” you praised, moving slowly, deliberately. “You’re doing so well for me.”

His response was a choked moan, his head falling back against the wood as his body surrendered completely. You set a steady rhythm, your movements calculated to draw out every ounce of pleasure, every sound that escaped his lips. His hips bucked slightly, a silent plea for more, but you held firm, maintaining your control.

“Tell me what you need,” you said, your tone both commanding and affectionate.

“You,” he gasped, his voice raw. “Everything. All of you. Please.”

You leaned down, your lips brushing against his ear as you whispered, “Then take it.”

The night unfolded in a dance of give and take, your bodies moving together in perfect harmony. You pushed him to his limits, and he gave you everything, his submission a gift that left you both breathless and utterly sated by the time the evening drew to a close. As you lay tangled together afterward, the warmth of his body against yours, you couldn’t help but smile, knowing that moments like this were yours to cherish.

“Still think I’m distracting?” you asked, your voice light with teasing.

He laughed softly, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Always,” he said. “And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

[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.

[ask-bad-end-sunny]

Basil, have you brushed your teeth? Btw?

And if yeah, great!

On breathing exercises, calming down helps with a lot of conditions, bc most of them are worsened by anxiety. If steadying yourself doesn't help you, getting some tension in and out in a controlled manner should. Have you tried tensing your entire body, then releasing, before? That can be hard, so another thing is just. Dancing! Sounds silly, but it works. If it's hard to breathe, sing. Helps you focus less on the fact that it's hard, and distracts you.

"O-oh...uhm...yes, I have done that already..."

"And...I really appreciate all these tips, I haven't really tried many of them before except for taking deep breaths..."

"I...I'll keep them in mind for now...I feel pretty calm actually, and...tired..."

"I guess...I should try to rest before morning..."