#and the knowledge of what he was willing to do

[windandwater]

OP knows all of what I'm about to say, but researching scientology used to be my hobby and while reading this with the context I have from all that background, I have absolutely no fucking doubt that this man is still in this cult. You do not just quietly leave, almost ever, but especially when you're that high up. Based on his previous activity and his family's status, if he had actually left in 2000, even if he'd tried to do it quietly, it would have meant a blackmail & harassment campaign. That clearly didn't happen.

The cult is designed to keep you in it and to keep you active. You don't just kind of stop showing up at services the way you would in what we would think of as a regular church. You might be able to avoid their phone calls and barrage of contact at a lower level without them deciding to declare you "suppressive" and force all scientologists to disconnect from you, but at a high level? Absolutely not. And continuing to send them money is, in this situation, where the entire cult is designed to make money, is the same thing as being active.

Also, it is an extreme red flag, in my opinion, to put scientologists on the level of being "persecuted" with other actual persecuted religious groups. That is something scientologists believe about themeslves, and like to spread as propaganda within their group to make themselves feel like everyone is against them and everyone outside is evil and trying to destroy them. It's not something anyone who's gotten out would ever think.

Another red flag in the Vulture article that makes me, at this point, unsurprised by this, is his aversion to therapy. A man who had left scientology a while ago might have a hard time coming around to the idea, but be willing to be talked into it. But someone still involved? Absolutely not.

Again: at that level, you do not simply stop going. You have to leave, and leave hard, and you don't get to keep talking to your family that's still in. You don't still send them money.

This man is still in.

(This is my opinion on the situation and I don't claim any actual knowledge as to what's going on with Neil Gaiman's personal life in any way.)

(I also wish I could source link you to an article that tells you the reason I believe everything I've said but I've been learning about these people since around 2005/2006 and it's difficult when it spans a couple decades and defunct forums/podcasts/videos. I highly recommend researching this cult yourself even just to get a glimpse into how fragmented the research is; it's very hard to learn about them because of the way they operate. They're scary and shitty and their survivors are incredible human beings who deserve to be heard.)

About that Scientology connection...

One of the details that came to light this week in the latest article detailing the horrific allegations against Neil Gaiman (which I believe are true, to be clear, but not the primary focus of what I'm writing about here) is the extent of his ties to the Church of Scientology. I was most engaged with Neil's work as a teenager and in my early 20s, and I didn't recall seeing mention of the connection at the time (granted, that was more than few years ago!). I couldn't let it go after reading the Vulture article, so I started to dig a bit and found a lot of information being shared on Reddit and even further digging uncovered archived forum posts from over a decade ago by former CoS members.

There are a lot of details in this article by Mikey Crotty, who appears to be an independent comics journalist, which was published by Mike Rinder on his blog in 2023. Rinder was famously an executive in the "church" in Australia and ran SeaOrg (the elite force of CoS, essentially, and responsible for internal discipline within the broader org) before ultimately leaving the organization and speaking out as loudly as he could about the abuses he had been complicit in as a member (at great personal risk, as anyone who is familiar with the tactics used against former CoS members will know).

The piece was written as an exposé about Gaiman's then recently published novel, The Ocean at the End of the Lane, which was semi-autobiographical. Crotty discusses details about Gaiman's family, Gaiman's participation in CoS, and the coverup his father orchestrated for an apparent suicide of a student of Scientology who had immigrated to the UK and was living with the Gaimans at the time. This suicide is written into The Ocean at the End of the Lane.

Neil's father, David Gaiman, was head of worldwide communications for the Church of Scientology in the 60s, and was leading the PR spin to protect the organization from increasing legal scrutiny in the UK at the time. Around the same time, a suicide occurred while a young man, Johannes Scheepers, was living with them (the Gaiman's took in CoS students as lodgers at their home on a regular basis, apparently). The Gaiman family launched a campaign to depict him as a broken down gambler to avoid further scandal for the organization. The logic doesn't quite add up, and it's more likely that Johannes was a new adherent who had been badly taken advantage of. You can read more details in the article I linked. Crotty makes the case that not only were the Gaimans lying about the death of the student, even going so far as to claim he wasn't actually lodging with them, but that Neil then went further to spread these lies in the form of fiction decades later (we now know this book was written as a result of the prompting of Amanda Palmer, who was encouraging him to confront his childhood experiences with CoS per the article in Vulture).

The article also points out evidence of Neil's continued involvement with Scientology:

Neil Gaiman’s history with Scientology is very murky; deliberately so. His family are practically Scientology royalty in the UK, he met his first wife Mary McGrath while she was studying Scientology and lodging at Harrow House and he himself worked as a Scientology Auditor for several years in the Eighties and was a Director of a Scientologist’s property company ‘Centrepoint’ until 1999.  He now won’t discuss his own Scientology connections and states, without any details, that he’s no longer a member of the Cult that supported Apartheid up until the mid eighties, believes homosexuals are deviants and mental illness is a manifestation of personal failure in the sufferer’s current or past life; beliefs which are anathema to most of Neil’s adoring audience. His connection to Scientology and apparent departure from the cult first went public as part of a court case in 2002 where when asked “Are you still involved with the Church of Scientology?” Neil said “I don’t understand the question”, subsequently asked “Are you still a member of the Church of Scientology?” he replied “I don’t consider myself as such”. Even then his admission that he worked for the Church for 3 years is somewhat confusing: “I worked for a 3 year period after getting out of school as a ‘Counsellor’ for the Church of Scientology”; in fact he actually worked as an ‘Auditor’ in a process made famous in the award winning 2015 Documentary ‘Going Clear’ which explains how officials in the Church of Scientology keep in-depth records on everything its members say during private ‘auditing’ sessions and then use their secrets against them. Renowned Journalist and author on Scientology Tony Ortega says that Gaiman “became a Class VIII auditor, and even ran the Birmingham “org” as its ED, executive director. “. While there is no contradiction in Neil’s actual admission of working for Scientology up till the late Nineties and subsequently leaving the cult and its beliefs sometime in the early Noughties, conflicting details arise in the period since, when Neil has insisted he’s not a Scientologist. According to public records he was a shareholder in the family firm G&G Foods, which produces the vitamins used in Scientology’s highly criticized Narconon and De-Tox practices, since 2011. He transferred approximately a quarter of a million shares to Scientologist shareholders in 2013. There’s the book ‘Ocean’ also from 2013 and then there’s also his production company ‘The Blank Corporation’. ‘The Blank Corporation’ is Neil’s production company which works on all his adaptations such as ‘Sandman’, ‘Anansi Boys’, ‘Good Omens’ and the upcoming ‘Ocean at the End of the Lane’ in partnership with Netflix, Amazon, Warner Bros, the BBC and others. According to the website and any interviews, Neil founded ‘The Blank Corporation’ in 2016 with his Vice President and former P.A. Cat Mihos. According to the official Companies registration however, the company was actually set up by Neil and then wife (and still devout Scientologist) Mary McGrath in 2000. The company is still registered to a Scientologist’s P.O Box in Wisconsin, where Mary McGrath still works for the Church of Scientology. One company; two very different stories, it’s just another mystery, like what really happened to cause Johannes Scheepers to take his own life in 1968.

I want to note that based on what I've read, being a Class VIII auditor is the highest level you can go as an auditor in CoS without becoming a member of SeaOrg. Auditors are individuals who are key to the brainwashing process members of CoS undergo; they utilize the org's "technology" to identify past sins by doing intensive interrogation sessions with members. This means Neil was well trained in how to psychologically interrogate org members and held a position of relative power over them as he documented their dearest secrets for the org (primarily to blackmail them with should they ever want to leave, based on CoS records and former members' experiences).

I found forum posts where others reviewed public records that confirmed the majority of these claims, although unable to confirm the PO Box in Wisconsin. His sister, Lizzy Calcioli, is the current company director of G&G, which supplies pseudoscientific vitamin treatments to drug rehabilitation seekers that are horribly abused by Narconon (CoS does not allow actual medical intervention or medical practices in its org). According to public filings, Neil still owns shares in G&G.

There is also this interview from 2010 with the New Yorker, in which Neil claims he is no longer a member of CoS, but expresses sympathy to them:

These days, Gaiman tends to avoid questions about his faith, but says he is not a Scientologist. Like Judaism, Scientology is the religion of his family, and he feels some solidarity with them. “I will stand with groups when I feel like they’re being properly persecuted,” he told me.

It is also well known that celebrity members of CoS are encouraged/allowed to lie about their connection to it in order to support their monetary success. Because of course they're going to contribute back to the organization through that success, which it appears Neil has done.

Additionally, we know from public accounts of CoS's practices and leaked documents that once someone "goes clear" and leaves the organization, they are not allowed to continue to associate with anyone within the cult. Isolation of former victims is one of the many tools used against them. The fact that Neil maintained a marriage for decades to an active member who still works for CoS, as well as relationships with his family members who are leaders in CoS, indicates he is either still on the books as a member or is contributing to CoS in order to avoid alienation from his family. Any sympathy a desire to remain connected with his family might conjure is misguided in my opinion, because we know that he's likely profiting off of shares in a company that takes advantage of and contributes to the traumatization of vulnerable patients as a CoS affiliated business.

Had I known Neil Gaiman was so closely connected to the "church" sooner (one degree away from L. Ron Hubbard himself as a child!), I would not have supported his work in the way that I did in the past. And I think he knew that a significant portion of his audience would respond the same way, which is why he obfuscated and downplayed those connections.

His alleged ongoing involvement also changes the way I perceive his actions - Deception and manipulation is, by former member's accounts, standard procedure for leaders within Scientology. It should come as no surprise that he will continue to deny any evidence, attempt to blame his victims, and lie lie lie to avoid potential consequences. It is, after all, the example he was given and trained in as an active participant in a destructive cult that he has never publicly disavowed and that he appears to continue to support.

I think this information should be taken into account in how former (hopefully) fans react to his responses to these accusations. I wish for peace for the victims who are now speaking out, and I hope they are able to reach the resolution they deserve.

[vampiricstoryteller]

(Isn’t it) Obvious

Hello everyone 👋🏾 this is my first fanfic in a long long time but I love Richter and Annette so much I just had to write something for them. I’m hella rusty but I hope a few of you find some enjoyment with this one.

You can read it on A03 here

All mistakes are my own

Warning: smut, cursing

Annette could admit to herself that she’d thought about kissing Richter more than once. He was a lot of things but unattractive wasn’t one of them. The stupid Belmont boy was gorgeous, with his sapphire eyes and soft brown hair; of course the idea of putting her lips to his has often come to the front of her mind.

There’d been nights when she couldn’t sleep and the snores of everyone around her weren’t their usual soothing noises of companionship; they echoed in her eardrums and reminded her of how unsettled she still felt here. How lonely she was despite being a part of a vampire hunting group. It was maddening.

Until her thoughts inevitably drifted to Richter, as they usually did. Whether he was laying next to her on the cold ground in a bedroll or an entire room away, the mere knowledge that he was close by brought a small bit of peace to her clouded mind.

She would think about laughing at his dumb jokes, fetching water with him from the closest river, sparring with him because he wasn’t afraid to actually throw a punch towards her. He was exciting to her, he made the tips of her fingers and toes tingle. And the space between her thighs ache.

Annette is less willing to admit that she’s been touching herself to thoughts of Richter lately. For the last three nights in a row, her hand has slipped under the fabric of her night clothes and sought out the hidden nub that sends spikes of pleasure crawling up her spine.

It’s embarrassing.

But it’s also one of the best feelings she’s been able to give herself in a long time.

The implications of what that means, however, are always waiting for her when her chest has stopped heaving and there aren’t stars bursting in her eyes anymore. Subconsciously she agonized over the possibility that her growing fondness for Richter Belmont would expose a part of her she never let anyone see before.

It’s why she invites him to come back to Haiti with her, and it’s why she’s currently sat on a bed too small for the two of them, kissing him and doing her best to crawl into his lap.

The kisses started out innocent. At least on Richter’s end. They were a declaration of their feelings for each other. A confirmation that he actually liked her and wasn’t just all talk. But innocent wasn’t what Annette was looking for.

They survived that final fight. She was on her way home with him, he agreed to follow her anywhere. And now she wants to do everything with him.

Richter’s hands on her waist pull her from her thoughts, their lips are still moving together and his tongue seeks permission into her mouth. She grants it to him happily, a small whimper escaping her throat when he squeezes her side and shifts her onto her back.

She likes kissing Richter, a lot. But she likes the pressure of his body weight on top of her even more. Her legs come up, thighs encasing him tightly and her ankles hooking together at the small of his back.

He grunts in surprise, breaking their kiss to stare down her with wide eyes and a new blush on his cheeks.

Distantly, Edouard’s angelic voice echoes off the walls of the small cabin. She sets a reminder on her mental day to day list to do something nice for her friend in the coming days.

“Annette.”

His breath fans across her face, reminding her how close they are. She smiles up at him, twisting her fingers in his hair at the nape of his neck.

“Yes Richter?”

His lips twitch up when she says his name, a blush blossoming across his collarbone and neck; but he’s serious when he asks.

“You’re sure about this?” And then after a moment’s hesitation, “You’ve done this before, haven’t you?”

She has.

Once.

Back when she’d been enslaved. She’d done it because she’d been curious to know what all the fuss was about and why her friends would risk punishment to for it. Not to mention it was one less thing she’d have to worry about being taken from her.

At the time, it hadn’t been impressive enough for her to put effort into making it happen again. Escaping, revenge and vampire hunting took up too much of her time to worry about shared kisses and affection between bodies.

“Annette?”

She blinks back into focus, meeting Richter’s gaze which has become concerned.

“I have once,” she says with a soft nod. “When I was enslaved.”

Richter frowns and shifts most of his weight to his left hand, the right one cupping her face. His thumb strokes her cheek, the rough pad somehow soothing to her. His skin still feels too warm, but she knows if she brings it up he’ll just insist he’s fine so she leaves it for now.

“That…..wasn’t against your will was it?” Richter asks.

“No!” Annette exclaims, wanting to quell any rising qualms Richter might be having that he could, by proximity, be doing something she doesn’t like or want.

Her hands leave his hair in favor of his shoulders, the muscles are thick underneath her palms and Annette bites back a moan of appreciation.

“It wasn’t by force,” She says firmly looking up onto his blazing blue eyes. “I was lucky. It was with a boy I worked in the fields with, I wanted to get it out of the way so my first time wouldn’t be taken from me.”

Richter’s brow un-furrows a bit, he lowers down enough to kiss her again. This one soft and sweet.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs against her lips.

Annette smiles, kissing him harder and squeezing his hips with her thighs.

“Do not ruin the mood, Belmont.” She teases, satisfied when he laughs and doesn’t press farther about what things had been like for her before they’d met.

“Yes ma’am.” He grins and uses the hand holding her face to tilt her head back, exposing her neck to him.

His lips on her sensitive skin are like heaven, the sharp spike of his teeth nipping after every kiss makes Annette’s hips rock.

She runs a hand down his right arm, to join the one still holding her face. Slowly and purposefully Annette drags the large palm to her shoulder then collarbone, arching her back and sighing when he finally, finally, cups her breast through her top.

Richter squeezes, whether out of instinct or shock that he’s actually touching her Annette can’t be sure but she’s barely able to muffle the shout that tumbles from her mouth. She can feel him smirk against her neck, clearly pleased with the sounds he’s drawing from her.

Annette doesn’t care, each sharp wave of pleasure his hands are giving her is worth putting up with his growing ego.

“Richter.” She moans.

He crowds her against the bed, hand alternating between her breasts while his mouth suckles a bruise into the column of her neck and his hips ground into hers. Sweat gathers at the small of Annette’s back, her abdominal muscles burning as she holds the arch to keep as much of her body pressed against him as she can.

Her skirt is bunched at her hips, wrinkled between her and the bed from her insistent need to be moving with Richter. Despite the clothing between them, she can feel him growing harder every time they come in contact.

Richter’s nimble fingers pluck at the hem of her top questioningly, prompting Annette to nod and let her arms fall back onto the mattress above her head.

An open invitation.

His smile is practically blinding as he sits up just enough to hold his weight on his knees and place both hands on her waist. She stares at him while his thumbs stroke the smooth plains of her stomach, tilting her head curiously when suddenly a blush appears across his cheeks and chest.

“What are you thinking about?” She asks softly.

“How good I’m going to make you feel.” He rumbles, voice serious and low as he flexed his fingers, the tips digging slightly into her ribs.

Before she can think of a witty reply Richter slides his hands up, catching her top on the way and pushing it up over her head. He tugs it free of her arms, dropping the fabric to the floor; the soft thump of it hitting the ground is lost on Annette who can only focus on the sudden intensity of Richter’s gaze.

Heat burns at her cheeks and twists in her lower belly. She’s never been looked at like this before, the lustful adoration in his eyes makes her head spin.

“C-Can I touch you, Annette?”

She huffs, amused by him trying to remain respectful despite her bare breasts being on display and his hard dick straining his pants between her legs.

He’s adorable, but Annette needs more. She’s starting to crave it.

“I hope that’s the plan.” She snickers, hands finding his hair again. Scratching his scalp, she bites her lip. “Otherwise I’ve terribly misread the whole situation.”

Richter rolls his eyes, letting her pull him down into another kiss. His teeth meet her bottom lip and he nips at it playfully; two fingers finding one of her dark pebbled nipples and pinching.

Her eyes flutter shut, a breathless “yes!” racing from her mouth as she tugs on his hair.

It’s all the encouragement Richter needs.

Suddenly his hands are everywhere; kneading her beasts fully, gripping her chin to keep bring her in for sloppy kisses, squeezing her hips and petting her thighs. He bites at her neck, flicks his tongue along her collarbone, working his way down until he can suckle at her tawny brown nipples; lavishing them both with his tongue.

The sensation leaves Annette writhing and panting, she wants to wiggle away from the unrelenting pleasure but she also never wants Richter to stop what he’s doing.

He laps at the skin between her breasts, slicking it to the point it shines in the moonlight illuminating their cabin. At her hips, one of his hands pulls on the waistband of her skirt and Annette immediately lifts up to help him get the garment away from her body.

The oceanic breeze of the night air tickles her exposed flesh, cooling a bit of the humid haze she’d been drifting in. Annette blinks her eyes open, looking down to find Richter’s already staring at her; his pupils blown wide and near black with only a slim blue outer ring around his irises.

She traces his jaw line with her fingers, feeling his teeth clench together with restraint.

He looks hungry.

For nourishment she’s certain only she can provide.

Annette bites her lip hard at the thought, her legs falling open a bit to give him more room. They hold each other’s gaze while his fingers dance at her hip, dragging along the creased apex of her thigh.

He pauses, just before his searching fingers can make contact with the place she wants him most. She thinks he’s about to ask her if she’s okay or if he’s allowed to touch her but the Belmont boy surprises her once again. He simply grins at her, kisses her sternum and slips a finger between her soaking folds.

Annette chokes out a moan, her chest heaving as she sucks in a hard breath and her heels dig into the small of Richter’s back. She’s already embarrassingly wet, his long finger stroking from the bundle of nerves at the top down to her aching core over and over until she’s thrashing against him.

“R-Richter—please!”

She’s too far gone to care that she’s whining nor does she care that above her the object of her obvious distress only chuckles and presses a kiss to her clammy forehead.

“Please what?” He asks, watching her face intently. “Tell me what you want, Annette.”

This time her whine is unintelligible, a garbled mess of pleading that she can’t control. But it’s enough for him to grant her reprieve, the tip of his finger taps her opening—once—twice—and then he pushes the obscenely long digit inside of her and Annette shouts.

Her head falls back onto the mattress, her nails scratching at his sides and she tightens around him, already needing more. Richter growls, his finger stroking with the pace of her rocking hips,

“You’re sucking me right in, baby.” He whispers to her, a secret between them that is theirs only.

She whimpers, the sharpest spike of pleasure yet streaks down her spine and settles in her hips. No one has ever called her that before, there’s never been anyone she wanted to think they could have the privilege.

Though Richter is not like anyone else she’s ever met.

He pushes a second finger into her, a much tighter fit but an even better feeling. Annette grinds her hips into his hand without shame, shivering each time the heel of his palm bumps her slippery clit.

Impatience edges into Annette’s mind, her hands reaching down and pushes at the sleep pants he’d just changed into.

“Ta-Take these off,” she whimpers, one hand managing to shove the left side of his pants down his narrow hips.

Richter huffs out a laugh, slowly pulling his fingers from her and sitting up onto his knees. The movement forces her legs to fall open on either side of him, leaving her feeling exposed in a whole new way. Annette’s face burns and instinctively she tries to draw her knees together.

“Well now, that won’t do.” Richter says casually as he shoves his pants down his thighs before kicking them off onto the floor.

He hooks a hand under the crook of her left knee and tugs it out to the side, opening her back up to him.

“You’re beautiful, Annette.” He says sincerely, licking his lips as he settles back between her thighs. “Don’t ever hide from me.”

This time without his pants to keep him trapped against his own leg, his dick is hot and heavy dragging against her inner thigh. Annette slips one hand between them, her slender fingers wrapping around his shaft experimentally.

It’s Richter’s turn to shout, hips jerking when her thumb swipes at the pre cum leaking from his tip and smears it all over the head. Stroking him and twisting her hand at the same time, Annette works him until he’s painfully hard and throbbing in her hand.

She lifts her hips, hoping to guide him to the place she needs him to fill.

“Annette, baby, wait—.”

She smirks up at him, though her hand does go still.

“You have done this before right?” She teases, chuckling at the affronted look he gives her.

“I’m a Belmont, of course I have.” He grins for a moment then says a bit breathlessly. “It’s just never been with someone I cared this much about.”

One of his hands grips her side, the thumb stretching out to her belly button.

“I want this to be good for you, you deserve to feel good.” He tilts his head, eyes looking her entire body over. “You’re so small, I don’t want to hurt you.”

Annette isn’t expecting him to be that honest, especially not now when they’re moments away from their first becoming one. Another emotion spreads through her, not lust and not impatience but a new one that she’s not sure she’s ever felt before.

It’s in this moment that Annette realizes, she loves him.

She loved Richter Belmont, so much that her soul feels ablaze. She wants to scream from the bow of the ship up to the heavens that she has finally fallen in love. And it feels exactly the way her mother told her it would.

Safe.

Exciting.

Like home.

He is her home and she never wants to leave or be without him.

“Richter.” Her voice is soft and lightly. “I know you’d never hurt me, I trust you.”

She releases the grip she has on his, from what she can see, very pretty dick and plants that hand on his chest while the other cards through his soft hair.

“I want to do this with you, I want to feel good with you.” She says firmly. “Do you want to feel good with me?”

Richter nods, desperation filling the lines of his face as he kisses her cheeks, her nose, her chin and then finally slanted his lips over hers.

This kiss is different. His lips devour hers, nipping at her bottom one in a way that twists her hips and curls her toes. The passion he’s pouring into her feels different, it’s a promise, a dedication. To her. To them. To whatever they’re about to build together.

When Richter breaks for air, Annette lets her eyes flutter open and sucks in a sharp breath at the look of pure adoration in his eyes. If she didn’t know better, she would think she created the moon, the stars and the sky.

“I only want you,” he whispers into her mouth, lips tickling hers with the movement of each word. “In this life and the next and the one after. I want to be with you forever Annette.”

She smiles, “Good, because I really need you inside of me right now.”

Richter nods, kissing her again and adjusting their bodies so he can reach down between them. Supporting most of his weight on his forearm near Annette’s head, his fingers glide through her slick for a moment, collecting some of it to spread around the fat mushroom head before he takes hold of himself and lines the tip up, nestling it at her sopping wet opening.

Annette’s eyes slam shut and she pulls back to choke out a moan at the feeling just the tip has ignited inside of her. Above her, Richter stills and she thinks she might sob if he starts to move away.

Her hands fly up to the space where his shoulders and neck meet, the column thick between her hands.

“No Richter, don’t stop.” She wiggles her hips in an attempt to take him deeper, but his hand comes to rest over her lower stomach; effectively holding her in place with ease.

“Annette,” his breathing is labored, her name sounding rough in his throat. “Open your eyes.”

Above her head, his fingers twirl some of her individual locs and stroke at her scalp; Annette can’t help but to push her head up into his touch as she blinks up at him.

She’s never seen Richter look at anyone or anything the way he’s staring down at her now. His sapphire eyes are burning into her very soul, she is the sun and he is ready to pray to her for the rest of his life.

Annette licks her lips, pleased that his eyes tick down and follow the movement of her tongue, then says.

“If you stop now, Belmont, I will never forgive you.”

He laughs breathlessly, nodding. “I wouldn’t forgive me if I stopped right now either.” His finger tips massage her scalp, finding space in the new growth to really put pressure down and ground her.

Annette keens up into the feeling, a pretty groan of appreciation on her tongue.

His hand holding her still at the hips smoothes back around to the outer side of her thigh, gripping the flesh. Richter ducks his head, kissing her and holding her gaze as he murmurs into her mouth,

“Take a deep breath, baby.”

She does as he says without a second thought, gulping for air that he’s breathing into her. Richter smiles, rocking his hips forward and in the same motion, tugs her down onto his shaft slowly.

The feeling is delicious.

The stretch of his dick sliding into her cunt is exquisite, curling her toes and exploding stars in her vision. She’s barely aware of how her nails take down his neck and over his chest, leaving trails of red lines on his pale skin.

“R-Richter.”

He groans in response, his eyes closed and the tip of his tongue pressing into his top lip in concentration. Annette’s sure he’s never looked more beautiful than he does now. She clenches around him when he finally bottoms out, his hips meeting the back of her thighs.

“Fu—Fuck.”

Richter’s thrust start out tentative, his hips rolling experimentally and Annette finds herself lifting her own hips to meet him. Her arms wrap around his neck, holding him down so their chests are pressed together tightly. She rests her cheek against his and Annette darts her tongue out to lick at his ear.

“Please go faster, Richter.” She whines, digging her heels into his ass. “Please!”

Now confident, his hips pick up speed and the hand on her meaty thigh squeezes even tighter. Annette’s spine tingles at the thought of there being finger shaped bruises under her clothing tomorrow.

She clings to Richter as if he is her only life force, right now it feels like he is. The steady drag and pull of him inside her threatens to drive her insane, but Annette is happy to go there if it means keeping this feeling with him alive.

Richter sits back suddenly, onto his knees and the hand that was buried in her hair finds new purchase on her unattended thigh. He holds her open, his thrusts deep, hard and powerful; jerking her body back and forth along the bed.

“Annette,” he growls out, grunting in effort to not lose his rhythm. “You feel, so—so fucking good, squeezing me so tight.”

She nearly arched completely off the bed, his words stroking a very specific part of her brain. Digging her nails into the well carved muscles of his stomach, Annette closes her eyes and loses herself in the sensations.

“Richter!” She pants, eyes rolling in her head. “Don’t stop, please!”

“I won’t, baby.” He promises. “I’ll never stop.”

One hand leaves her thigh, his thumb finding her now puffy clit and strums it with intent, his hips keeping pace as he pounds into Annette.

She chants his name like a pray, one for every time his cock rams so deep inside of her she would swear she could feel him in her stomach. There’s a coil there, curling tighter towards her spine and Annette clamps around Richter in the hopes he can tap the right button that’ll give her what she wants.

He twists his hips down on the next few thrusts and Annette bites into his neck to muffle her scream as she explodes. She goes momentarily deaf, her body and cunt spasming while Richter works her through the life changing pleasure thats rippling through her entire body.

Every muscle she has is taunt and for a split moment Annette thinks his thrusts are going to snap her in half. And she would welcome that sensation with open arms.

Richter’s lips on hers brings her hearing back, the bed beneath them creaks steadily and their skin clapping together bounces off the walls. He licks inside of her mouth, his breath hot and ragged as he chases after the completion she just reached.

Annette holds him tighter, whimpering and mewling at a pitch she knows will root in his brain. Richter moans, losing the rhythm and his thrusts becoming erratic.

“Richter—“

He nudges her head to the side, sweat from his brow smearing against her temple.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, baby.” He hisses, teeth clenched and his jaw strained, “I love you, Annette, I love you.”

Their hips meet hard three more times, the force jarring hiccup like moans out of her throat but Annette only care about riding out the spikes of unmeasurable pleasure that zip up and down her body.

Richter shudders above her, a roar erupting from his throat as he grinds into her with every last bit of strength he has. Annette whimpers, her face heating at the feeling of Richter’s cum flooding her with warm from the inside.

She watched him with half lidded eyes and massaging at the bite mark shes left in his skin. He slowly lowers down to rest on his elbows and hover over her, his blue eyes blinking open to look hazily down at her.

“A-Are you o-okay?” He asks panting.

She nods, offering him a smile as they both let their chests heave together;

“I’m great.” Annette confirms, lifting her head and kissing him sweetly. “Are you?”

Richter laughs, his eyes scanning her face a few times. “I think I had just had the best sex of my life.”

She bites her lip to keep her laughter contained. “Thats high praise indeed coming from you, Belmont.”

“It is, isn’t it?” He teases, kissing her cheek before he gently tilts her head by her chin and connects their lips again.

They only pull apart when Richter’s weight begins to numb Annette’s hips and torso, both of them shivering when he shuffles back and slips out of her completely.

Using the edge of the blanket hanging off the bed, Richter gently wipes away the mess he’s made between her thighs; the movement gently and caring.

They settle in the bed facing each other. The steady rock of the ocean and the waves crashing together lulls the two lovers into a comfortable silence.

Her fingers thread together at the nape of his neck, arms bent so he’s pulled close. His massive hands holding her waist, the weight of them on her more comforting to Annette than she ever thought possible.

Richter kisses her, exhaustion starting to sag his body into the mattress but his eyes remain open. She strokes his head with her thumbs, smiling at him when it’s clear he intends to fall asleep staring at her.

“So,” she whispers, seconds before they drifts off completely. “You love me, do you?”

His lips twitch up into a smile. Squeezing her sides, he nods sleepily. “Wasn’t it obvious?” He mumbles, kissing the tip of her nose. “I’m all yours.”

The End

🫣 hope y’all liked it, pls like and reblog if you did ❤️

[laseracronym]

NSFW Alphabet (Aizawa Shouta)

(NSFW obviously, Demi/Ace-Spectrum!Aizawa, fem!Reader, chubby!Reader)

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Sleepy (no surprise there) and cuddly, very soft. He'll help you clean up, get you anything you may need in that moment, and then he'll pull you into his arms and close his eyes. His voice is a groggy murmur, speaking with you in his half-asleep state, not bothered if you want to talk for a while, but not exactly trying to stay up for it, either.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He likes to watch his hands press into your soft flesh, the way you look so delicate against his scarred body. He likes to brush his stubbled jaw along your tender neck, the lightest of shivers he gets from you after doing that.

He favors your waist, which he likes to grab and give a soft squeeze while passing you in the house. He likes your thighs, how they clench around his head as he goes down on you, like you need him there. He likes your upper arms, running the back of his knuckles up and down them as you spare a few moments to talk in the morning. Your body is so soft, it's precious, decadent, he's in awe that he's allowed to touch you.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He likes cumming inside of you. It hits on some sort of primal need in him that he's never experienced with a previous partner. Just you.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Midnight made a joke that you should try wearing cat ears in the bedroom and Shouta hasn't stopped thinking about it.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He has experience, enough to know what he's doing and what he likes. But he's found with you he has a bigger sexual appetite and he's found out even more about himself than he has with previous partners. He's greatly expanded his knowledge.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

He likes positions where he can see your face and watch your expressions, where he can crowd in close to you and be flush up against you.

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

Not necessarily either. He's soft with you, more open, he's not so stoic that there's no room for laughter in the bedroom.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He doesn't really trim any of his body hair, down below included, if it really bothers you, he'll probably do some basic maintenance.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He's all about the intimacy when it comes to sex with you. Before you, sex was scratching an itch, with you, sex is another expression of his feelings for you.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Occasionally jerks off in the shower if he feels the need, very disinterested about it. He's gotten into mutual masturbation with you, he loves watching you play with yourself, the way you react to him watching you.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Body worship. He could spend hours appreciating your body if he could, running his hands over your soft curves, pressing kisses to your sensitive skin. He also loves eating pussy, your pussy specifically. All of his most intense desires revolve around you.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

The bedroom or the living room couch, because the post-sex nap spot is right there and ready to go.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

You do. Sometimes you'll do the most innocuous thing and it'll just cause desire to bloom in him. If you look to him, express your want for him, your need, he reacts instantly.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He's not a fan of pain play, especially inflicting the pain. He might be willing to try bondage with you but he refuses to bring the capture weapon into the bedroom. It's a tool for his job, and he doesn't want to bring that into his intimate life.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He loves giving oral, he could spend the rest of his life buried between your thighs. There's nothing more intimate and satisfying than giving you pleasure in this way and he's made sure over the course of your relationship that he's damn good at it. Honestly, he doesn't even need to be reciprocated, this could be the extent of your activities for the night and he'd be a happy man.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

It varies, he's very much willing to go at your desired pace. He gets a lot out of the pleasure he gives you, so if you want faster, slower etc that works for him as well.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He doesn't prefer them, he likes taking his time.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He's open to new ideas but slow to voice his own curiosities. He can take risks if properly motivated.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Shouta's pretty much a one and done kind of guy, but he makes it last. He spends a lot of time on foreplay and he's pretty good at holding off on his own orgasm. He makes sure that you're satisfied.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He doesn't have any toys for himself but he likes to use toys on you and he likes watching you use toys on yourself. He likes getting you new toys and helping you shop for them, and helping you test them out, of course.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He can get in a teasing mood sometimes, but he caves so easily when you whine and beg.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Not too loud, lots of rumbling groans and cut off swears. He checks in with you a lot, wanting to know how you feel, what you need.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He's somewhere on the ace spectrum, maybe demi. He's desperately attracted to you, and it's because it's you. He'd never thought much of the curve of a person's waist, but the curve of your waist will often catch his attention. He doesn't really question it, he doesn't spend a lot of time pondering labels. He's happy with you and that's what's important.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

He's got a thick cock of average length, not much of a grower, what you see is what you get. He's got a lot of body hair, you'd think he has some sort of werewolf quirk, and a littering of scars all over from his dangerous job. Rugged. He's muscular, of course, after all the training, but he's got a little bit of softness to him still. He's not strict with his diet and his exercise isn't to achieve a particular form.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

He's got a moderate sex drive, but even on nights where he's not in the mood to receive pleasure, he can readily be spurred in the mood to give it.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Very quickly, and eagerly. It's one of his favorite parts of the whole ordeal.

(Let me know if you want to see me do this or the SFW Alphabet for other MHA characters. Feel free to drop me an ask for headcanons or drabbles.)

[katnissdoesnotfollowback]

When the Rooster Misses the Dawn

So I saw this post from @triassictriserratops and asked if I could have a go at it, since I do enjoy writing some oblivious Gale letting his arrogance where Katniss is concerned lead him into accidental voyeurism. What can I say? I hope you enjoy and this cheers you up a bit, my friend!

RATED M for mild sexual content, accidental voyeurism, and brief mention of miscarriage.

Written in haste and not beta read so all mistakes are mine.

***

There existed only a handful of situations dire enough to wrest Colonel Gale Albert Hawthorne from his duties. Of course, his duties lay so far afield from home that word of the disaster took months to reach him. 

The news first took the form of a letter from his mother. He hardly gave countenance to it. Surely she must be mistaken, he thought as he read the preposterous claims. Katniss engaged to be married? Impossible. She and Gale had an agreement. Nothing official, to Gale’s great chagrin. He had meant to formalize it before he left, but so many other details had captured his attention. Ensuring his family’s security before he left, for one. There was also the matter of that pretty little blonde claiming him as the sire of her brat. 

He couldn’t very well outright propose to Katniss while dealing with that potential catastrophe. It had been costly but well worth it in the end. While the tidy sum and stern words he’d given the girl had hushed her, Gale found himself floundering for the words ample enough to convey his intentions to his true beloved when the time came.

He thought she had understood. No. He was certain Katniss had understood. She had no wish to marry immediately but would welcome a proposal from a good man she could respect, one who could provide her with security and stability, she had told him. Who would help her see Primrose educated and launched into society at the appropriate age. A man who would be a dutiful father to her children and a willing caretaker to her mother, should Mrs. Everdeen live to see her elderly years. Gale had been certain she meant him. Who else could she have meant? 

He had left home, confident that Katniss would wait for him to secure his status in the army. They would marry as soon as he returned home. That was his understanding of the matter. His mother must be mistaken. 

Still, to be certain, he had dispatched a letter to Katniss, laughingly commenting on the preposterous rumors about her marital status. While he waited for her reply, he dispatched his military duties with alacrity, even with enjoyment at times. And if he occasionally spent a small, token amount of his earnings on pleasurable company, no man in his right mind would chastise Gale for the weakness. 

The fact that the number of women whose bed he had warmed numbered too great for him to count did not signify. He consoled himself with the conviction that his knowledge of the carnal delights would only enhance his skill in the marriage bed. Katniss, he was certain, would have no recourse to complain if he could provide her with unparalleled ecstasy as well as a parcel of strong, healthy children.

A second letter from his mother reached him before any reply from Katniss. In this letter, Mrs. Hawthorne delivered the news that it was done. Katniss had been married a sennight previous to the penning of the missive he held in his hand. His mother had been in attendance at what she called a ���lovely but rather hasty affair.” A quick calculation revealed to Gale the horrific possibility. The letter had clearly been waylaid. If indeed it were true, his darling Catnip had been wedded and bedded four months prior.

Gale denied it as long as possible. Until three days hence when at last a letter arrived from Katniss herself. No, not a letter. A mere note of five sentences. It too had been mislaid, likely due to the dampness that obscured some of Katniss’s already messy penmanship. Had she been in tears when she wrote this?

My dear friend,

I haven’t the time to give the news more than a few sentences, but indeed it is no jest. I write to you as a married woman and we depart this very morning for my husband’s estate. I have only time to provide you with my new direction. Write to me, Gale. I fear you would not understand our marriage and I could not bear it if it were the reason for the dissolution of our friendship.

Lady Katniss Mellark

Lady! So then, she had married a lord. Gale seethed at the indignation. She must have been induced into marriage for the sake of money. The security and stability she had claimed to desire for herself and her family was to blame. He had known that Katniss and her family existed constantly on the verge of gentile poverty, but had he known the situation to be so dire, he would have offered for her hand much sooner. Far better to be wed and separated for an untold number of months rather than see Katniss sell herself into marriage to a lord. No doubt an old, doddering fool of a lord, at that.

Such injustice! Gale raged for months, convinced of his righteous fury at the indignity Katniss must be suffering at the hands of her revolting spouse. To be forced to play nursemaid to an aging fool, and to then submit herself to his no doubt odious and lecherous advances in the marriage bed. No! It was not to be bourne.

It took days for the Colonel to untangle his affairs, both military and personal, enough for him to request a leave of absence. He wrote to Katniss at her new direction, providing a date she could expect him to visit. The journey required interminable weeks which he spent planning his strategies. How to convince Katniss to escape her horrific marriage, or encourage her to speed her husband’s journey to the grave. He would, of course, lend any assistance she might need in the matter.

At last, he arrived at the estate of Lord Peeta and Lady Katniss Mellark, Earl and Countess of Baecare. As he reined in his steed, his gaze swept the rather humble facade of the manor home. A place so quaint should prove no challenge for him to storm. A mere servant greeted him and as he gave his name, he was informed that Lady Katniss was currently indisposed.

“May I show you to your room? My lady will join you in the parlor after you’ve had a chance to freshen up and settle in your room.”

Gale agreed to the terms of engagement and dismounted. He had little enough in the way of luggage and carried it himself as he followed the maid inside.

The interior of the house impressed him even less than the exterior. He could not be terribly wealthy, this Lord Mellark, Gale thought as he examined the house. So simple and lacking in ostentation. Katniss could not be happy to have sold herself for so little. How exactly was this Lord Mellark meant to support Katniss, her sister, and her mother if he could so ill afford the luxuries of a wealthy home? 

He found his chambers serviceable but unimpressive. He had shared a bed with a courtesan whose chambers put this one to shame in terms of wealth and opulence. This house was no more than a country farm. To think that her husband claimed nobility with this shabby residence!

Gale freshened his appearance, and satisfied that Katniss, although he had never known her to be given to flights of romanticism, might in fact be swept off her feet by his dashing appearance, Gale made his way to the parlor to wait.

A footman offered him a drink and poured a glass of Scotch for him, then left him in silence to contemplate the room. He found more of the same. Serviceable but falling short of his expectations for the home of an earl.

“Forgive my intrusion,” a voice broke Gale’s strategic concentration and he turned about to find a man entering the room, one arm working a gleaming wooden crutch as he limped closer, an affable smile on his face. A young man, dressed in simple but fine clothes. A dark blue coat over an intricately embroidered, pale green waistcoat. His shirt and cravat crisp white and his breeches a soft, almost buttery shade of tan. Despite the man’s obviously deformed leg and limp, he wore gleaming riding boots. 

“You must be Colonel Hawthorne. Welcome to our home. Katniss has spoken so warmly of you that I feel I know you already,” the stranger said and stopped far enough away to execute a polite bow. “Please, allow me to refresh your drink.”

Gale stood there as the stranger claimed his glass and refilled it.

“I hope your journey was swift and untroubled?”

“A little longer than I had hoped, but no challenges I could not handle.” The stranger chuckled and offered the refilled glass to Gale. He accepted it and attempted to puzzle out who this young, cheerful man could possibly be in relation to Katniss. Surely this was not the Lord of the Manor… or perhaps it was.

“Indeed. My lady has spoken at length about how capable her dear friend Gale Hawthorne is in all matters,” the man spoke the words and yet Gale could not absorb them fully. His lady. Of course servants address their mistress with the honorific, but this man did not dress like a servant. Perhaps the lord’s son and heir, then? A cripple, how embarrassing. Perhaps then the aging Lord Mellark had offered comfort and wealth to Katniss in the form of a dowager title in the hopes of producing a different, younger heir…

“Peeta. You are not teasing our guest already, I hope.”

Gale found himself paralyzed at the sound of her voice. Months now he had dreamt of her and her lovely voice. Now to hear it addressing this man, so familiarly, he could hardly bear it. Of course she must act as required. Still, it stung.

The pain only alleviated a little as he turned at last and noticed an unprecedented pallor to her skin. 

“Lady Mellark,” he managed to say as she came forward and clasped his hands, presenting her cheek for him to rest his against. An old family greeting. He could hardly stand to feel the meager brush of her skin against his when he longed to pull her fully into his arms. But then she was gone, removing her hands even from his grasp. “It has been too long.”

“Far too long, and you are a wretched correspondent,” she declared.

“No worse than you,” he retorted and the other man laughed. 

“She does seem to demand far more in words than she is willing to return,” he said. Katniss turned her face enough to scowl slightly at the man, but he seemed unashamed and unaware of her expression. “But no matter. My lady finds her own means of conveying her thoughts.”

The only advantage to her ire was the flush that rose to Katniss’s cheeks, chasing away the frightening pallor. Perhaps then the man was not so oblivious, Gale considered, but had no chance to delve into deeper strategic observations.

“You must forgive my husband, Gale. He believes himself to be an unparalleled wit,” Katniss declared with a saucy lift to her chin. So then this was in fact Lord Mellark. Young and crippled. Not much better a match than old and crippled. Still, perhaps Gale’s plans could still work. He sensed indeed that Katniss would need them to work.

They sat then, and conversed, covering Gale’s journey and the other required topics. All of it quite banal as tea was served and sipped. Katniss ate but one biscuit, a little surprising given how healthy her appetite had always been, at least to Gale’s knowledge.

He hoped for some time alone with Katniss, to pry further into the particulars of their marriage, so that he might fine tune his strategies for extricating her from what was clearly an unfortunate marriage. He became only more convinced of the need to free Katniss from the odious union when she suggested that she show Gale about the estate, and Lord Mellark intervened.

“My dear, the Colonel has ridden a long way on his journey. Perhaps he might prefer rest. Or perhaps a walk in the gardens.”

“I can manage a ride quite well enough. I am used to long days of difficult work,” Gale countermanded, but Katniss demurred.

“No, my husband is quite right. You should rest before dinner. We shall ride out in the morning instead,” she declared, and Gale could not argue without seeming rude. He bowed in acquiescence but rather than accepting their invitation to walk with them both in the gardens, he declined and retired to his chambers.

Yet he did not rest. Instead, he paced his rooms. At one point, he lingered at his window long enough to catch sight of them returning to the house. Katniss’s dress, he noted, seemed to be stained in several places and her hat trailed by the ribbons behind her. Lord Mellark seemed oblivious to her shocking state and even laughed as she gripped the balustrade before slowly making her way into the house.

Manners be damned, Gale was ready to charge to her room when a servant appeared to inform him that dinner would be served in a half hour.

Thwarted, Gale fumed as he dressed for dinner. He silently fumed as Katniss made awkward attempts to draw him into conversation over dinner and ate little again. Was she ill? What had the bastard husband done to her? Gale wondered as he ate what he would otherwise deem an exquisite meal. The table seemed populated with all his favourite foods, a detail that he noted as a plea from Katniss. A silent reminder that this should have been their marriage table. Not Lord Mellark’s.

She retired early, leaving Gale alone to converse with Lord Mellark in the study. He used the opportunity to study the man as best he could. What little he gleaned only further convinced Gale of the man’s unsuitability to act as Katniss’s husband.

A third born son, not even intended for the title, who had lost his entire family in a tragic fire at one of their older estates while he had been away. 

Third born sons, Gale mentally scoffed, so needless and undesired as to inevitably fall into the dissolute lives of gamblers, wastrels, amoral spendthrifts, and seducers of innocent maidens and opera singers. Gale wondered then if Katniss’s clearly declining health were due to the obvious unhappiness of her marriage or to something more sinister. Perhaps Mellark had infected her with some terrible venereal disease!

The idea gave him pause, but no. His love for Katniss transcended such petty matters. He would not punish her for her husband’s cruelty in inflicting such a disease on her. Gale would love her regardless, passionately even, and in every sense of the word. As soon as they were free of her husband.

Even if a venereal disease were not the culprit, Katniss could not be happy saddled with a crippled husband. Gale knew how she disliked dealing with injuries, suffering from queasiness at the mere discussion of her mother’s skills as a healer. Perhaps this was it then! Of course Katniss was constantly ill around her husband. He was permanently injured and she required to face such an injury each time he demanded his marital rights in her bed.

Gale continued to fume and build a case against her husband. When he spotted Katniss fingering a faintly tarnished trinket hanging on a chain around her neck, he formed the theory that Lord Mellark, as a third son, was ill equipped to handle the fortune entrusted to him. Yes, that must be the reason for the modesty of their home, and the gold locket perhaps the only bit of finery left to Katniss that had not yet been sold to pay for her husband’s debts. 

No matter. Gale would shower her with jewels, if she would have them, once they were free of her husband. If she would accept them, of course. Katniss had always hated the pompousness that came with wealth and the ostentation that seemed to flow from every thread of the lives of the wealthy, and even from their pores.

As the days passed, Gale only became more convinced of the need to free Katniss from her marriage. Because despite all the mounting evidence that Lorn Mellark must be the worst sort of husband for Katniss, and that she must be genuinely miserable in her marriage, Gale could not help but like the man.

Damn his eyes! Lord Mellark projected a character so opposite to what Gale knew he must truly be. The devious man made it nearly impossible to hate him. Until Gale recalled the privileges Lord Mellark enjoyed beneath Katniss’s skirts.

He had his strategy prepared, even allowing for the fact that they would need to make haste to retrieve her sister and mother, in order to protect them from Lord Mellark’s wrath and retribution once he realized Gale had spirited away his wife.

Finally, Katniss’s health seemed to improve, and on a night when she declared herself to be famished and then consumed a prodigious amount of food, Gale decided it was time to enact his plan. He suffered through the after dinner pleasantries, although he did fully enjoy the delights of Katniss’s singing. He’d never known her to have such a sweet, melodious singing voice, and he realized that he had never heard her sing before this night. 

Her voice seemed to take wing and soar about the room, and he was awash in emotion, so overcome that he hardly noticed her husband’s clumsy playing of the pianoforte in accompaniment to her song, nor did he countenance the small gesture of Lord Mellark grasping her hand and lifting it to his mouth for a soft kiss after the song had ended.

Katniss shivered in revulsion, and begged leave to retire shortly afterwards. That was all that mattered to Gale. Tonight, he would go to her and declare himself and his intentions. A sneak attack in her chambers, although he fully expected her to fall weeping into his arms in gratitude.

Perhaps not weeping, he amended as he grimaced and dismissed the servant. He packed his belongings then and waited, tracking the moon’s progress across the sky until the hour when he could be certain Lord Mellark slumbered in his bed.

***

Katniss sat at her vanity, brushing her hair. Her eyes fixed unwaveringly on the reflection in the mirror. On the open door behind her that led to her husband’s rooms. She despised this concession to wealth and nobility in their house. She had in fact been meaning to remedy the odious arrangements of their rooms since they first arrived. But the excitement and anticipation of waiting for him each night had provided a thrilling and diverting distraction for far longer than she had expected. And then the baby. The one she had lost.

She nearly began weeping again thinking of the babe, but no. She lifted her chin and forced herself to appear serene. It would not do to have Peeta see her in tears. He had been delaying this night far longer than she desired, far longer than the doctor had recommended, at first out of concern for her health, and then out of concern for her broken heart.

Tonight, she would wait no more. Peeta would return to her bed or she would march to his room and seduce him. But he would not ignore her summons. Of that she was certain. She had sent him a note. His precious words he always begged from her lips, although he wielded them far better than she ever hoped to do.

Come to my bed, husband, or suffer my wrath come the morning. Love me again.

With all my heart, body, and soul,

Katniss

Perhaps a bit pathetic, but she was desperate. Having Gale in the house only increased her frustration since Peeta seemed overly conscious of setting her childhood friend at ease. He had barely touched her this past fortnight and she was half starved and out of her mind with need for all the small intimacies she’d grown accustomed to receiving from him. That was why she’d nearly combusted and simultaneously melted into a puddle at his feet when he kissed her hand after she sang tonight.

Damn him and his sense of hospitality. She would have him tonight and have him fully. If she moaned loud enough to bring the rafters down on Gale’s head in the guest room down the hall, then so be it.

At last, she saw him filling the doorway, leaning against the frame as he gazed on her, a familiar and achingly welcome heat and longing burning in his blue eyes. She controlled her breathing as best she could, but her heart she could not command. It raced with excitement. With love.

It had taken her far too long to admit it to herself, but once she had, her heart seemed intent on making up for her slow awareness of her emotions, inundating her entire being with passion and love for this man. Even now after months of marriage, she yearned for him.

“You commanded my presence, my lady,” he murmured and Katniss shivered again, this time at the dark intimacy in his voice. The velvety promise in his tone. Her knees shook as she stood and she strode across the room, uncertain she would make it to the bed before she collapsed.

“And you were wise to heed my command, my lord.”

He smiled at her sassy retort and met her there, beside the bed. She stared at his chest, both of them breathing heavily, the air pulsing with anticipation. He leaned his crutch against the bed and cupped her cheeks in his warm, broad palms. She leaned into his touch letting his familiar, beloved scent wash over her.

“Katniss, my love,” he murmured, sounding almost in pain. It satisfied her to know he had felt the denial of their love as deeply as she had. It soothed her irritation at him enough to spur her into action. Katniss lifted her face to his, and rose onto her toes, opening her eyes only for a moment, so that she might see the hungry expression in his blue eyes before their lips met.

***

Gale paused outside the door and smiled to himself. His silent tread, developed through years of hunting beside his father -- a gamesman to a lord -- and then through years as a soldier, had come in useful tonight. He had arrived at Katniss’s chamber door undetected. He pressed his ear to the closed panel. No sounds within, but just as he reached for the door handle, a loud clatter sounded inside followed by a swift curse in a man’s voice and a feminine giggle.

A giggle?

Never in his life had Gale known Katniss to giggle. He pressed his ear more firmly to the seam between the double doors and listened. Silence again. Still, he waited. He could be patient. His quarry lay within and he would not be denied victory this night.

When the clock down the hall began to strike the hour, he used the sound to mask his knock. A mere light rap. Likely not enough to wake Katniss, but he must try the polite approach before he intruded. He reached again for the door handle, but when he pushed down, nothing happened. 

Locked!

Steeling himself, he curled his hand into a fist and prepared to knock again. A little louder this time, he thought, but then a new sound reached his ears. It sounded… yes it sounded like moaning. Was Katniss injured? He tried the handle again to no avail and dropped to his knees. He felt a little foolish using the keyhole to spy on his beloved, but he had little choice. He needed to ascertain the situation before he charged within.

With his ear to the opening, he could hear much more clearly. Katniss was indeed moaning, a desperate and inconsolate sound. But just as he prepared to stand, intending to kick down the door and storm inside, coherent words reached his ear.

“Peeta, my love! Oh!”

Gale froze. The sounds morphed and penetrated his brain at last as Katniss’s moans grew in intensity.

Colonel Gale Albert Hawthorne had warmed the beds of many women. Too numerous to count, in fact. And as he knelt before the locked bedchamber door of his beloved Katniss, the sounds within finally coalesced into something truly horrific. His brain knew that it was time for a strategic retreat as he listened to Katniss moan and whimper in ecstasy. But his body would not obey his commands. All he could manage was to turn his head and peer through the keyhole. To spy upon his love and watch in horror as she threw her head back on her pillows, her bosom heaving beneath her askew nightshift and her hands grasping at a head of blonde hair moving between her thighs. At a pair of pale, bare shoulders as he pleasured her with his mouth. The wooden crutch discarded on the floor would reveal her lover’s identity even if the sound of his name falling in sighs off her lips did not.

“Ung! Peeta, please,” she whimpered and writhed and then gasped as her body convulsed.

Still, Gale could not walk away. Not while Katniss smiled and hummed and petted his hair in the aftermath of her passion. Not while he could clearly hear the wet sounds of Lord Mellark dutifully worshipping between his wife’s thighs. Not when Katniss’s breathing evened out and she released a content thigh, opening her eyes as Lord Mellark rose up above her, and her smile widened.

“Now… now I steal your words, husband of mine,” she said and placed one hand on her husband’s chest, deftly pushing him over onto his back. She followed him, straddling his thighs and Gale nearly vomited as he caught sight of Lord Mellark’s disgustingly pleased and clearly besotted face as he gazed up at Katniss.

When she reached for her shift and began to lift it off her body, Gale finally broke himself free of the spell and stood. He stood there, blind but unfortunately not deaf as he stared at the door and attempted to refigure everything he had seen during his visit in this house.

And when the sounds of mutual pleasure within grew too loud to bear, Gale finally forced his feet to obey. He walked away, back to his rooms, his tread disconcertingly loud, but it mattered not. Who could possibly hear his retreat that mattered when his beloved Katniss wailed and sang her pleasure with such unmatched enthusiasm and volume?

[moonshinesonic-moonstarslight]

Even more Tiny Cumplane!

Binghe has met his parents. Kinda. It's complicated.

Because he met them as children. Supposedly the younger versions of his Shizun and Shishu, Shen Yuan and Shang Jingyi are a confusing mess most of the time.

'Time travel shenanigans' apparently. Combined with an artifact cursing both Shizun and Shishu. So the elders are convinced one thing while reality was another.

Binghe has given up trying to wrap his mind around it. Too many sleepless nights and beatings as a result. (Even if A-Yuan has helped reduce the beatings and punishments they still happen when Shizun sends the child away.) But he was sure on a few things:

Shang Jingyi 'brought him into existence.' (Binghe still finds that a weird way of describing giving birth but they were currently little kids at the moment, strange foreknowledge aside)

Shen Yuan 'loves Binghe more than he loves Xiao Yi!' (Which Binghe doubts seeing that A-Yuan clings to Xiao Yi whenever possible and only shares him with Binghe and Shishu)

They are both bound to 'the System' (which was a heavenly messenger/assistant who was very tried of the trouble his parents get into)

Shang Jingyi would always call him 'my son!' if it was safe to do so. (While it made Binghe feel very loved by his birth mother, he didn't want them facing questions they couldn't answer. The System barely allowed him to know what was going on)

Both of them weren't happy with the fact he was sent down the Luo river. (A-Yuan muttering about how it should have been a death sentence for an infant that young and that Binghe was extremely lucky thankfully. Xiao Yi either looking very sad about it or getting furious at 'creepy old men who can't stand humans and demons caring for one another'. Binghe didn't understand the connection until he learned that apparently his parents were Shizun's and Shishu's future children, and that Shishu was married to a demon. Or going to be.. again complicated.)

Both of them knew that he would be stronger than anyone else in the world. (Again feels very loved at their conviction even though he silently thought that it was misplaced some days)

They were children right now, with weird memories and stranger knowledge, but they loved him dearly. And Binghe was so grateful that he could meet them anyway. He was even more grateful that he could keep them even if it was for a little while. (He will be looking into turning them either back to their rightful age or having them stay in this time. A time they put him in an desperate attempt have him survive.)

But for now, he was enjoying watching his parents run around driving their parents (his grandparents it was weird to think) insane.

[This System still says Luo Binghe does not have a proper picture on what is going on!]

"Is System willing to share the proper picture?"

[....]

"No? Pity then."

"Bing-ge! Bing-ge! Come on! A-Yuan is going to sneak in a critter if we don't hurry up!"

Laughing, Binghe quickly joined his birth mother. "Coming! Coming!"

It would be a horrible time if his father brought a proper beast onto the peak. Grandfather will be furious and no one deserved to face that at the moment.

[kamily-art]

Pjo au

Who is each of the turtles (and usagi) godly parent?

Are the turtles still brothers?

Were they still created (either by draxum or a god who wants to start a war?)

hihi!! thanks so much for the ask! i wanted to do a couple doodles to go along with it, and ended up yapping a LOT more than i meant to.... my bad....

the godly parents aren't totally finalized for all of them but i'll tell you what i have for now.

Leo - he's unironically the one i've had the most trouble with, but i think i'm gonna go with Poseidon; it matches what with the blue and all, and i think it would be cool for him to have water powers. i still need all their mystic weapons to work, but i'm thinking of having the weapons' power sources be from something other than their godly parents.

Donnie - Hephaestus of course; he's been building things since he was a kid. i honestly think he'd be the one to resist the knowledge that their parents are gods the most. he doesn't want his talent to be because of some dad who doesn't even care about him.

Mikey - he was the easiest- Apollo. has to be, with all of his art, skill at cooking, charm, etc. he also possesses the gift of prophecy, but no ability to control it (like rachel dare). it manifests in the form of drawings; when he's drawing the future, he is in a trance and cannot move, speak or look out for himself. this has led to his brothers never letting him go anywhere alone, something he's annoyed about.

Raph - it had to be Ares; however i like to think he doesn't fit in very well because of how much of a softie he is despite being strong, etc. he likes hitting things; preferably punching bags or bad guys. he doesn't like war.

have a doodle of him when the turtles first met Usagi. (the rest of the turtles are hiding behind him btw. they just got their asses beat by said bunny.)

speaking of Usagi, his godly parent is Hermes! this AU is not meant to exchange specific PJO characters with rottmnt/Samurai rabbit, but, similarly to Luke, Usagi does end up possessed by Kronos. However, it is not willing.

Someone does willingly join Kronos, however. I won't tell you who.

as for whether they'll still brothers- not biologically! however, they met as toddlers and ended up sticking together. it was necessary to survive, with all the monsters after them. point is, they're basically adopted brothers- which brings us to your next question!

essentially, they started off as human demigods. however, they were kidnapped when they were babies and mutated into turtles (i always thought it would be interesting if the turtles were humans originally); but as they were still demigods, they were still pursued by monsters. they were with draxum for a few years before escaping when his lab was attacked. god knows how they survived. i headcanon (whats this? a hc of my own AU? yes) that they had another sibling originally but she was killed early on. trauma for the boys.

there are loads of other mutants created by draxum, by the way. Usagi's actually one of them! he too escaped during the attack; however unlike the turtles, he was found by the Camp Half-Blood demigods and taken in. when he and the turtles first met, they both thought the others were monsters.

anyway that's the end of my yap! lmk if you have any other questions and sorry for being so longwinded lmao

-karma

[multiheadcanons]

TF2 MERCS RELAXING

scout: if scout has an actual day of relaxation, he will end up asleep within 30 minutes of him realizing he can relax today. for those 30 minutes, however, he is an absolute terror. and whoever is his victim for the next 30 minutes will be fielding some of the most irrelevant, obvious, outlandish, generally some combination of those terms, questions. and he does not shut up. for 30 minutes you’re fielding questions well outside of your knowledge, and as he starts to make fun of you for not knowing, a small yawn escapes. and it’s the beginning of the end. all of a sudden, he’s checking out the bed. the couch. an assortment of chairs in a precarious line. the floor if there’s a good enough rug. starts patting the area. lays down. “i mean it’s not even that comfortable, it’s enough to sit on but i couldn’t fall asleep—” and the next thing you know all you hear is a soft snore. the team leaves him wherever he crashes. if he falls asleep on a line of chairs they play what they call scout jenga, where they see how many chairs they can pull from underneath him before he falls off. once he wakes up from his nap, he is generally more able to go do a quiet activity alone. likes his comics. will generally fall back asleep in bed in a couple hours. only seen during mealtimes.

soldier: soldier doesn’t relax, per se. to find him in a conventional state of relaxation is during mealtimes and his nighttime routine. that’s really the only time he is “relaxing” in the sense you’d expect him to be relaxing. otherwise, training is relaxing. pushing his body to the limit is relaxing. making the trek from the infirmary to training is relaxing. firing his rocket launcher is relaxing. if you held a gun to his head, he might read a book or two. nothing overly complex. probably war journals. maybe catch some rest if he has nothing else to do. him and scout together is engie’s nightmare. stupid questions asked in cut time with doubled duration. he’ll kick them both out if they can’t be quiet.

pyro: depending on the weather they’ll spend some time outside! normally takes walks. likes to pick the flowers they find to give to the team. maintains their flamethrower in worse weather. they have various ways they keep themselves entertained during down time, but they aren’t quite sure whether that counts as relaxing. one of the few people engie lets hang out in the workshop because they’ll actually sit there in silence. engie got them some coloring books for when they’re down there. keeps them occupied until they’re hungry or tired and ready to go back to their room. sometimes they can even convince engie to take a short nap too.

demo: lovingly cares for his bombs. overlooks his notes on them. ponders if he can improve them. normally gives up and gets a drink. comes back, continues to think and ponder over them. sometimes medic will ask if he would be willing to get on the operating table for the day, which is fine for him. they’ll make idle chatter until they run out of things to talk about, then he just lays there. likes to take off days to make various jerky. he’ll give them to the team to test it. scout is always incredibly pumped for whatever kitchen experiments demo’s cooking up.

heavy: when he’s not caring for sascha, or natascha, or the tomislav, or his shotgun, or with his doctor on the operating table, he likes to read. generally located in an easily accessible common area so if anyone needs him he’s right there. can get anywhere in the base in about a minute. he’s normally quietly hoping everyone will leave him alone for his down time, but he never refuses a teammate who wants to come sit with him… quietly. likes to go to gun shows. will take old man naps on the couch in the common area. the team can tell where heavy is based on his snoring. his naps do not affect his ability to go to sleep at night. if anything, he feels even better the next day after a full day’s rest. greatly enjoys sunbathing. he’s not a big enjoyer of the warmer weather, but on a nice brisk day, with a clear sky, if he can find a place out of the wind chill, he’ll just relax on a chair, sunglasses on, reading or resting quietly.

engineer: engie doesn’t relax. engie is a blue collar working man with too many things to do; he doesn’t relax. not to mention, because he’s one of the few teammates who consistently has a full plate, the teammates who don’t have consistently full plates come down to his workshop to ask him some of the most baffling (derogatory) questions he’s ever heard. but when he gets some down time… it’s beer time bud. he’s laid back, bottle in hand. generally thinking about all the work he has left to do while he sits on his ass. planning how to most efficiently manage the rest of his day. will go outside to stretch his legs if the weather’s nice. if pyro is particularly in need of companionship, he’ll spend the day with them.

medic: medic also doesn’t relax. he’s one of the other mercenaries who have a consistently full plate. the difference is when scout and soldier go ask him stupid questions he becomes interested in answering them. sometimes the results are favorable, normally they are not. and it’s too cold for pyro to hang out down there. so if he’s not doing paperwork, one of the worst parts of his job, or performing a surgery in the infirmary, or fiddling with his medigun, he is with his birds. tending to them, making sure they’re in good health. he enjoys sitting with them as he reads, which normally becomes a light nap. they’re his babies. paints their talons.

sniper: if sniper is not asleep in his van, or on grill guard, then sniper is just not on the base. generally nowhere to be found on the base. he is either out completing errands for the base, “out completing errands… for the base”, or he’s out on a drive, enjoying the wind and the sky through his windows. it’s hard to get a hold of him when he’s gone but somehow he always has a sense for when he’s needed at the base, and is always there just in time. sometimes he’s walking in to the team preparing for dinner, and he’s a little heartwarmed. sometimes he’s walking in to absolute chaos. really depends on how the team feels. either way, he’s prepared for it.

spy: will spend all day in his smoking room. sometimes he’ll come out and interact with the team, or slip out just long enough to cook something and be out of the kitchen by the time the smell of cooked food starts to linger, or he’ll sit with engie in his workshop, but usually he’s watching sniper. there was a time he snuck into the van to see where sniper spends all his free time. he was not happy to find out it’s normally the grocery store and a trip to the payphone. he almost feels like sniper knew he was there, and he did that on purpose (he did know, and he did do that on purpose).

[ruporas]

The thing about plant!Wolfwood is that he has never had a say in his own body. It's been used and abused and twisted so much over the years, all without his consent, and he's had to navigate it all on his own. Figure it out or die. The vials won't even let him keep scars, unlike Vash, his body is spotless and pristine, every wound and mortal injury and supposedly permanent scar forgotten almost as soon as it happens. He has never had a say in his body, not before or after the EoM. So him coming back to life as a Plant, or something going wrong and the vials turning him into a plant-hybrid thing, is extra tragic because that's another thing that was done to him without his knowledge or consent, another way that his body has been altered beyond his understanding and without him even being aware of it happening, unable to stop it, too late to do anything but endure and deal with it. Figure it out or die. I don't even think it matters if he gets a fraction of Vash's power. I think the ability to like, telepathically send vibes would be too much for him, enough to make him think of himself as the worst kind of monster, because not only is he going against everything the EoM believed in, but he's mocking Vash for daring to taint his lineage. I think the wings and the sharpened claws and the fangs and things would be just one more thing that was taken from him, another change to his body that he would never understand and can never change, another thing he can never get back. Even Vash, trying to be there for him to walk him through the worst changes and to comfort him, wouldn't be able to give him back what's been taken from him time and time again. Maybe he'll be able to help Wolfwood to love his body in a different way, be able to see the beauty in how he was changed, God's most faithful servant, willing to sprout wings and transform into an angel to better serve his wishes, but regardless, there's nothing that Wolfwood would be able to do about it. His humanity, what little was left of it, was taken from him. Again. Figure it out or die.

😢 it’s entirely what makes it tragic far more for someone like wolfwood. there’s a central part of his ideology that leans on the idea of being human too, what humans must do to live, the actions he’s taken so far because he is human. although it doesn’t make the deeds forgivable, there’s a reason all this time he couldn’t choose anything else.

not sure how to describe it but to me, wolfwood’s relationship with his body has always been fractured. while i think seeing the physical effect of this transformation would horrify him, i think it’d be easier to digest as opposed to anything happening internally. he wouldn’t want the fangs, feathers, wings, and all, but least of all, if he was to go unstable or act without being conscious of it, it’d kill him on the inside terribly. it’s like a true nail in the coffin, no point of return. everything else, while it’s difficult to come around, i feel like wolfwood can adjust to it, foreign as his body is already.

i don’t think vash would assist in him accepting it as reality though, i always imagine he’d be trying to help figure things out - how to revert this change, not live in it. i omitted it from the previous ask, but if we’re taking it as like prior to v7, i’d imagine it’s another question he’d take to knives. perhaps it’s the first time he’s seen it but maybe not his brother, who has done crueler things already. because although not human, vash has lived through it too, when you’re forcibly changed or something inside that he never wanted is pulled out of him. i also don’t think wolfwood would want that reassurance nor would he be super susceptible to it. under those circumstances, i imagined he’d feel resigned to it, but much like wolfwood anything, he’d put up a fight against the loss of it all. his goals doesn’t change, he’ll fight with a gun unless alternatives are an absolute must, he’ll have to keep going until it’s over, and then only after i think he’d be able to grieve properly of what he was made into. much like vash lol

[[[ TRIMAX SPOILERS (V10 MENTION) ]]] in an au like this, i’d imagine he has to survive but if he was to go through that fate, it would be just utterly depressing, like downright Sad😭😭 so i’m taking it as he survives, lives, gets the chance to look back at himself and gradually learn that he’s loved all the same, always has been, always will be. and vash will be there to witness it, live alongside him, and that would be enough. [[[ TRIMAX SPOILERS (V10 MENTION) END ]]]

it’s bound to be a tragic au regardless though, putting him through the wringer and he’ll be suffering ten times over…

[buubonita]

What do you think the bad sanses love languages are? Like physical touch, gift giving, etc

Well this is a hard one to define. Mainly because it will be an answer based on what I understand of the characters and not so much if it is canon appropriate or not.

But canon doesn't matter.

BSP displays of affection, do you mean between them or towards each other? I still can't figure out how they work together. So I'll talk in general.

I think Killer has no idea what it is to give affection. And if he does, his ideas must be distorted by his own experiences. The closest thing to a display of affection he could have is to warn others from the knowledge he has about his environment and the people around him if that can avoid an unpleasant moment (I go back to that post where I said he would advise Dust and Horror about Nightmare and when or how to handle him)

I don't see either of them being physically affectionate. Killer touches others as a method of keeping himself grounded rather than with a good intention. I'd say it depends on the state of his soul but I'm not sure either (state 3 and 4 seem to be prone to extreme violence and 1 is the full awareness of guilt eating away at the poor guy)

Killer doesn't have the best references when it comes to giving affection either. If we think of a setup where Murder and Horror are there as "toys" that Nightmare gave to Killer, I can see him translating Nightmare's behaviors to the two of them.

Though who knows, maybe he can learn a thing or two from the right person.

Murder and Horror seem to be the most willing to do something terrible in the name of those they love the most.

Horror doesn't seem like the gushing type at all, Sans didn't usually be either but he showed his affection for his brother in small gestures (reading to him before bed, helping him make costumes for his party, peeling an apple for him) so I think he would follow that same pattern of doing small things, niceties to take care of who he cares about. Maybe he knows Dust has a favorite color and gives him a gift of that color, or maybe he lets Killer name his weapons and addresses them that way.

Small nonsense but it makes it known that he is there.

What I do see as a form of affection, and partly because his memory fails, is that Horror gives nicknames to the people he hangs out with. The more nicknames, the more dear they are to him.

I also don't see him touching anyone so openly. Maybe on rare occasions and they are simple touches like punches or pats.

However, he is not above hurting or simply ignoring their personal desires and convictions. He fed his brother human flesh despite Papyrus telling him he didn't want to, he lied to the entire town about a new policy because he didn't want to take responsibility for things getting screwed up because of him, and he condemned his friends (although he is not the only one to blame) to a screwed up life.

Nightmare.

All of Nightmare's "displays of affection" lead to violence. Nightmare can't feel healthy affection for anyone in his corrupted state. I think even if he wanted to love someone, he'd end up hurting them.

I've said this before, but Nightmare would definitely compliment anyone in the group while they're dying because he finds their pain "too irresistible."

Becoming the object of Nightmare's affection only brings more pain unfortunately.

In a healthy version it's even hard to determine, because the best mercy Nightmare could give the MTT is to let them go. While some like to explore the idea of ​​Nightmare striving to improve, I personally like that but it also depends on how heinous Nightmare's actions have been and trying to determine if it makes sense for the rest of the MTT to trust his promise of wanting to change for the better.

If he did change for the better, their relationship wouldn't stop being complicated. There are no perfect relationships, there will always be instances of tension between parties even in the best of times and it's a matter of everyone involved doing their part to make it work. Relationships are not one-sided and one person cannot and does not have to bear all the responsibility.

It would be nice to see, if Nightmare were to redeem himself, teach others to better manage their "negative" emotions in less destructive and healthier ways. And above all learn to respect everyone's personal boundaries.

Nightmare would be fine with physical contact if he was the one to initiate it, I think. He would have to trust someone a lot to let them touch him and it wouldn't last long.

And lastly there's Dust.

I really like the idea that Dust writes. He doesn't know how to voice his feelings very well so he's better at writing them down. Maybe little notes left in the space of the people he cares about, even if they're just loose sentences, it doesn't take a lot of words to express great things when it comes to feelings.

And sometimes saying I love you feels like an impossible feat or something sacred that not many feel ready for.

Dust and physical contact don't get along very well either, but I like to think that sometimes he would initiate contact, leaning on his companions to make himself noticed and know that he is there.

I hope this satisfies you, anon! Thank you for your ask, i have fun braining all this.

[the-raven-and-the-tower]

Viago: You're the client?

Fun fact: Viago knows Lace Harding from a prior quest, so I tried to bring her to this meeting and was bummed when she wasn't included in the cutscene.

Teia: This is Rook. Did you want a drink? I promise not to let Viago near it.

Viago: (Sighs)

I fucking love the way exasperated way he handles her affectionate bullying. It's adorable and I love their dynamic. I especially like that despite Viago outranking Teia (will replace this with a link to a cute bit of banter between them about that), he doesn't bother with rank. If anything, Teia pushes him around.

Viago: Viago de Riva. Fifth Talon.

Quick, efficient, brief, and without boasting.

Viago: And this is Caterina Dellamorte. First Talon of the Crows.

I love how his tone shifts to one of profound respect / a call for respect as he indicates Caterina. We didn't hear any of that when he referenced himself, which I think is cool.

Rook: An honor. And you are?

Illario: Illario Dellamorte. Her grandson. What brings you here?

Also brief, blunt and to the point. Why is he here? He's her grandchild. Not a Talon, not a named assassin. Caterina's grandson, a role he sees himself as having been reduced to and is planning to break free from forever.

Rook: Right. My target is a pair of elven gods—or that's what they call themselves. They're ancient blighted mages.

Rook: My detective says you have a man who brought blood mages and Venatori to their knees.

Caterina: Lucanis.

Caterina: My grandson. They called him "the Demon of Vyrantium." He was the one who did those jobs.

Rook: Sounds like there's more to it.

Viago: Lucanis Dellamorte is dead. He was killed a year ago, now

Caterina (tapping her fingers pensively): What I say doesn't leave this room.

Caterina: The body our people brought back was not my grandson. It was dressed in his clothing, but it had been altered with blood magic to have his face.

Real quick, let's look at a slowed gif of Illario's face.

The facial expressions are pretty limited in most cutscenes, but we still can catch that quick flicker of surprise and then fearful concern on Illario's face as he checks first Viago and Teia's reactions, then Rook's. If Lucanis is alive, that means Zara didn't uphold her end of the bargain to kill Lucanis and instead kept him for her own purposes. This is the face of a man realizing his plan is unraveling.

Illario: My cousin is still alive? And you didn't think to tell me?

Quick recovery, responding to the shock with anger to cover his dismay. "You didn't think to tell me" is an interesting choice of words.

Viago: His ship was attacked. We knew someone sold him out... so you kept your suspicions to yourself.

I pulled this from the wiki for Viago, under the Eight Little Talons quest in Tevinter Nights; "Given his familiarity with poisons, suspicions fall on Viago. He declines Teia's offer to lie for him to give him an alibi, and Caterina orders for him and Dante to be locked in their room[s] as suspects." The way Viago willing accepts that suspicion points his direction then... and sees the reason in Caterina withholding information now- it's great. Unlike Illario, there is no protest, no immediate offense. Not only because he has done no wrong, but because he understands. He knows what they are and the nature of their lives. He trusts Caterina. That's enough for him. I love it. And him.

Rook: But you've brought it up now. Why?

Caterina: I've had eyes on the Venatori ever since they took my grandson from me.

Despite all her failings, I do appreciate that she refers to him as her grandson and not the Demon (of Vyrantium) or 'her best assassin' or even just his name, Lucanis. She wants her grandson back.

Caterina: They were hunting your Dread Wolf. And what you did to his ritual threw them into disarray.

"Your Dread Wolf" and "what you did" - I like the direct acknowledgement of not only how Rook's actions gave her this important knowledge, but also the direct nod to Rook's quest and the overall reason he's here, asking the Crows for help with his cause. Their goals are bound together, as are their paths forward.

Caterina: They made mistakes. And now I have a location. The Ossuary. Where the Demon of Vyrantium is kept.

Now she calls him the Demon of Vyrantium - that's who Rook's looking for. She wants her grandson back, but Rook needs the Mage Killer.

Caterina: Find this Ossuary. Free Lucanis. You'll have your god-killer. And I'll have my grandson.

I fucking love "you'll have your god-killer", the faith she has in his abilities. Granted, they're abilities she systematically beat-and-starved into an orphaned seven-year-old boy and I do not love her for that, but I do like knowing that Illario probably grit his teeth pretty hard when he heard it. I gobble the angst up like cookies.

[skeletwinsauaskbox]

Since I have the pictures ready now, I guess I could explain the Skeletwins version of Horrortale. Or, as I call it, Not-Quite-Horrortale.

So the story starts off as the same as Horrortale. Undyne becomes the Empress, the CORE breaks down, Alphys convinces Undyne to take Sans' eye (to my knowledge - I haven't read the comic), and of course, Undyne takes Sans' eye and leaves him with a gaping hole in his head and uses it to power the CORE.

However, here, there's a divergence. And that divergence is during Sans' confrontation with Alphys.

As far as I know, in the original story (which I have mixed feelings about, honestly), Sans destroys the CORE, takes back his eye and "lobotomises" Alphys (not a fan of that term). But here, Lento/Sans doesn't do that. He does lose his temper with her, but the most he does is destroy one of her machines or just a little bit of the CORE. It's not enough for it to be unrepairable, but it's enough to set the monsters back a bit. But he doesn't hurt Alphys, not physically. He basically lashes out at her, declares their friendship over and leaves, therefore giving Alphys a much bigger role in this version. Also, the famine does eventually get resolved because Sans doesn't destroy the CORE.

So the timeline diverged there. Now the story has two plots. One of them focuses on Alphys and Undyne, their relationship and their struggle trying to fix a broken kingdom, all while struggling with their internal conflicts and heavy guilt for everything they have done and will have to do. The other will focus on the twins, of course.

I don't have it all figured out, but I have this outline of getting Papyrus more involved in the story. After the incident, Sans and Papyrus continue to try and help Snowdin as best as they can, but Sans' head injury and resulting instability causes a lot of issues, which eventually culminates with him isolating himself to protect others from him in one of his more lucid moments. Papyrus, meanwhile, figures out what Undyne did to him and repeatedly confronts her, angry but at the same time desperate to convince her to stop doing whatever she's doing and hold on to their friendship. Of course, Papyrus doesn't want to give up on Undyne, because he's, well, Papyrus. But after a series of confrontations, Undyne snaps and outright attacks Papyrus, which inadvertently reveals that he also had the same energy Sans had in his eye. After that, Papyrus just... leaves and returns to Snowdin to focus on Sans and his town.

Meanwhile, Sans goes back and forth between talking to Toriel and isolating himself at home with Papyrus, only rarely appearing at Grillby's. One day, Toriel notices the toll his isolation and mental health problems are having on Sans and, relating heavily to this, invites him into the Ruins for a visit. One visit turns into two, then three, then ten... And eventually, Papyrus starts visiting her too. They bring her books from the library and talk about their lives, and Toriel teaches them about snails and talks about her past, and eventually, the three of them become a small family. It's not perfect, of course. They have their ups and downs, and Sans never truly becomes his old self again, but with time, they make it work, and they find happiness from it.

The twins also gain new outfits from Toriel, including a hat to cover Sans' wound! They even requested to have the Delta Rune on their clothes, so they kinda have their cute little family logo.

By the time Aliza falls down, Toriel and the twins are doing well for themselves, being each other's support systems. Over time, Sans becomes stable enough to help Snowdin again. Toriel invites the boys to live with her full-time but they refuse, not willing to just abandon Snowdin. Sans never fully forgives Alphys, but he makes peace with what happened, and Papyrus still doesn't want to give up on Undyne because he's Papyrus and Papyrus is awesome.

(Also, side note: I kinda see this running gag of Sans using his head hole for practical jokes after making peace with it. Like using himself as a teapot, or using it for storage, or even growing a flower inside his head. Leave it to him to see the funny side of things.)

When Aliza falls down, of course Toriel takes her in! But like all children, Aliza wants to go home. Toriel doesn't trust the rest of the underground (for very, VERY good reasons. Human sentiment quickly decreased and devolved into outright hatred during Undyne's reign, so the monsters would be a lot more aggressive and desperate to escape) so she calls upon the two monsters she can still trust, the twins, to personally take her to the barrier. Thus begins Not-So-Horrortale, where the twins basically join Aliza and help her out with silliness and horror all in one.

Ideas everywhere. Hehe. So, what do you think? Could you give me suggestions for Undyne and Alphys' part of the story? Could this possibly become its own thing entirely? Who knows? Have a wonderful life!

[adragonsdance]

Does anyone else ever think about how WC!Scott canonically brought Mertha back to life and there was a bit of hand waving like “Eeuuhh she was a goat that’s not to difficult” but really she was a human soul trapped in a goat’s body, so Scott could bring back a human soul by like, the middle of the trials, so he might have already been powerful enough to bring back Milo by that point or soon after, without having to go full Lich and do all the horrible things that ritual entails, but by that point he had convinced himself so thoroughly that the only way to achieve his goal was by becoming the Supreme Witch that it didn’t even cross his mind to try?

[triglycercule]

can the mtt commit more crimes that just murder please i know theyre the MURDER time trio but ppppleasse,,,, please,,,,,,

they'd be terrible to be next to on the highway. horror's going 160 mph amd has long past gone over the speed limit. dust's out for BLOOD and by blood i mean your tires. he's somehow sniping those round rubber wheels from the high moving vehicle with the precision of a master fruit ninja player. if your car explodes or flips over in the process that's not his fault. and then to make matters worse for everyone on the highway killer's in the backseat scratching up the doors and windows of your car with a knife everytime horror gets close to another car and oops he accidentally just disfigured your face also did i mention theyre all drunk during this

ok so theyve all got the classic face WHY DONT THEY ABUSE IT!!!! horror gets to do a little paper mache to cover up his head hole and then wearing glasses. killer i dont know what the FUCK he can do to get rid of his perpetual tears but let's just pretend that theyre conveniently gone for now. and then all dust has to do is put down his hood! anyways identity theft is cool. imagine how much they could totally fuck up classic's reputation with this. set up fake tinder profiles and then scam people for their credit card info/free dates (while ordering every expensive thing) and stealing wallets. walking into various grillby's's around the multiverse and telling terrible jokes. like ACTUALLY bad jokes. and then of course just being a huge piece of shit at the bar. god theres so many things they could do pretending to be classic. which one of us is hikaru looking ahh except the only difference between the three is the color of the stains on their clothes (either gray (dust) black (killer) or red. well faded red (horror))

ROBBERY!!!! ROBBERIES PLURAL!!!??? train robbery gas station robbery bank robbery GOVERNMENT robbery (what would you rob the government for?? documents??? idk) anyways. mtt robbing a train except its just a really shitty plan and they dont know jackshit about what theyre doing. killer's taken over the conductor's cabin and now he is booking it. how fast are trains allowed to go idk but the maximum. anyways meanwhile horror's on the tracks fucking up the rails with his strength or whatever (listen i know he's weak but picking and choosing what hcs i believe in is my art) and dust is there to teleport him away before the train crashes into him and turns him into a trolley problem victim. and then of course that shit doesnt fucking work and the train just ends up flipping over and catching on fire or something (killer survives because of course he does he's killer). and then in the end dust just has to flip the entire train over and they just stroll into the part that actually HAS the money

and then they go out and get ice cream. sometimes the murderers need to take a break from murdering and just do NORMAL crime yk???

[mishy-mashy]

Bruce is actually really attractive, and I have enough reasoning to make a list

He's:

Tall (. Tall enough to hit his head on the vault doorframe)

Long-legged

Has a straight nose bridge

Has high cheekbones (more noticeable in 2nd pic below)

Has a strong jawline

Sharp eyes, but they aren't small (plus eyebags if you're into that)

Overall, he has strong, attractive facial features

Has broad, refined shoulders. You can tell he works out (or he did, when he was alive)

Even has a thick, muscly neck

He has MUSCLE. Is SCULPTED. NOICE. VERY NOICE. (nice arms. Nice shoulders. Nice neck. Nice legs. Nice butt-)

(There are actually panels where you can see some of his muscles. Other than those already shown here, he's got bricky thighs-

-and in the panels where we first get his name dropped, he's got those shoulder blades too-)

The one time we see him smile, and he actually has a scary one

Has small, kinda sharp pupils, and his eyes remind me of a cat. We only ever saw him tense or defensive, so his resting/listening face is really cute

Other than the physical appearance stuff, he also:

Takes shit without batting an eye (patience, knowing it's just how Kudo is, etc)

Kudo being all "Cut the crap Bruce and give it to me straight", after Bruce tests his blood and is rightfully Concerned because they just faced AFO

Put up with Kudo's experimenting and testing over Yoichi's transferable Factor

Did ya'll see the look on Kudo's face when he realized he had Yoichi's Factor/will? Kudo was going to start in nonsense and Bruce just dealt with that.

Also something I noticed when looking back at the images here; Bruce has bandages on his arms in the void. But not when he faced AFO in the sewers.

Were he and Kudo cutting their arms open in their experimenting over Yoichi's theory? Is this why Kudo has two gauntlets instead of his one? Why we never see his bare arms in the void? That he always keeps his arms down so there's no slip?

Is smart enough to run blood tests, plus has enough common sense to pick Shinomori as his successor

He picked a guy who avoids society, has an Ability to detect danger so he can always stay away from AFO, is also a coward so he's never going to go throw himself into danger, even without knowing instinctively he stands no chance, etc.

Meanwhile, Kudo chose Bruce, who he played Hot Potato Yoichi with; but he did also trust Bruce, and put the only pure combative Ability in OFA through Bruce.

These two made their choices based on what they valued and saw the Factor needed.

Is logical, analytical, and calm.

He tried advising Midoriya on their Abilities in One For All, especially his own.

Midoriya then tried ignoring him about using Fa Jin for the first time, but found he was right, thinking: "Dammit!! I had [Lady Nagant] right where I wanted her, but... ugh! The Third was right. My parallel Quirk processes are all screwed up!" (ch. 314).

Plus, when Midoriya fixed his processing mistakes, Bruce was analyzing the way he reached his new conclusion. Pure facts, no bias, very calm, just saying it as it was.

We never see him panic. When he's caught by surprise in the sewers by AFO, Kudo, and Yoichi's little bubble event, he immediately reacts. He doesn't falter, he just knows he has to do something right now.

Was more willing to listen than Kudo to Yoichi's beckon, and probably was just following Kudo's rejection of Midoriya

While we don't see Kudo's face, we see Bruce's eyes when Yoichi calls on his heroes. Bruce was more open and receptive, or at least more impacted.

Bruce was also the one to start talking, while Kudo just kept quiet.

He actually communicates a lot

When Yoichi called them to support Midoriya, Bruce started talking to paint a picture of why they thought the way they did, so Yoichi understood where they were coming from.

(Though he seems to beat about the bush sometimes, since Kudo spoke up to be direct on how they couldn't just put their trust in some starry-eyed teenager. Plus, when Kudo tells him to just tell him what's wrong [double Factors])

When Midoriya first used Fa Jin against Nagant, Bruce came out just to tell him he knew what he was trying, but that Midoriya wasn't ready; and Midoriya found he was right. Midoriya just didn't want to listen to him then.

He asks Kudo for clarification after finding Kudo had two Factors in him after the sewer incident ("Just to be sure, All For One didn't touch you, right?") Kudo knew him well enough to go "stop beating around the bush and tell me", so Bruce was probably gonna start with questions, theories, and trying to understand everything in general, before saying "yeah you have two Factors. Don't know why".

Is strong-willed and loyal.

He followed Kudo, even to death, carrying on the cause he started until it ended with him.

Plus, when talking about how AFO needs a strong will to override OFA's own, we first see Bruce, Kudo, and Yoichi.

AFO couldn't steal OFA because the will was too strong for him, and that was back during Banjo's time. Since Shinomori never actually tried opposing AFO and just hid, we can assume the first Three (Yoichi, Kudo, Bruce) already had an accumulation of strong willpower that made OFA un-stealable. Those three are a strong enough foundation, and the main wills, that the other users just become bonuses.

Kudo, also saying that Midoriya needs allies with the same will and drive as him... hey Kudo, you're talking about yourself and your old allies, aren't you? That's why you look at Yoichi and Bruce when you say this.

Not only is Bruce attractive, but he's got good character. THE END.

[double--cross-d]

I DON'T THINK WE TALK ENOUGH ABOUT HOW SUPERFLY ACTIVELY SPEEDS UP TO PLOW INTO THE VAN WHILE HE CAN CLEARLY SEE MONDO CLINGING TO THE BACK.

HE CLEARLY DIDN'T CARE THAT THEY WERE RIGHT THERE EVEN THOUGH HE COULD'VE SERIOUSLY INJURED OR KILLED THEM IF THEY HADN'T NOTICED OR GOT AWAY FAST ENOUGH.

[mymarifae]

also veritas and i are on a first name basis now partially because his last name is fucking stupid and i hate calling him "ratio" but mostly because after poking at his character a bunch i've decided i like him quite a lot LMFAO