#and I think it does that well and ends in a way that makes sense for the most part!

[bisexualbaker]

Oh shit yeah I got this!

Okay, so our main characters, let's call them Steve and Monica, because I need names and don't want to think too hard. Anyway, they grew up together, were platonic ride-or-die for each other in high school, but drifted apart when they went to colleges in different states where they eventually settled down. Monica ended up in a very restrictive state and Steve ended up in a much more pro-choice state. They occasionally message each other on the internet, but nothing really meaningful, usually no more than a Hi on their birthdays or relevant holidays (etc).

Then one day Steve gets a call from Monica. Her recent ex-boyfriend—well, she'd really been thinking of breaking up with him for a couple of months before that, but the final straw was three months ago when she found him messing with her birth control. She immediately kicked him to the curb and went about disentangling their lives, went and got Plan B or equivalent ASAP, just in case.

Well, turns out it was too late: She was already pregnant, and didn't get real confirmation until very recently. And, well, surely Steve knows how things are in the state where she lives.

Steve does know how things are in the state where Monica lives. He also knows that Monica has never wanted to have children, since they talked about it some in high school. There could be various reasons here, from bad experiences with her own parents, to financial reasons, to health reasons, but he never saw fit to argue with any of them. Her choice, right? Meanwhile, Steve himself isn't really sure on the kids thing, but he's leaning towards "no thanks", because he is sure that anyone making the choice to bring kids into the world had better be 100% on board, and he's not, so that means no. (Also, if he feels the need to spend any time with kids, he's got local friends and/or family with little ones he can spoil.)

Anyway! Steve tells Monica that it sounds like she's been having a rough time, maybe he could come pick her up and she could spend a week or two at his place, get resettled after everything that went down with That Jerk (very clearly not saying what else they could, or rather will, be doing while Monica is visiting). Deeply relieved, Monica takes him up on his offer enthusiastically. Steve calls his job, takes a few weeks off of work, and drives over to pick up Monica.

They've got an appointment in Steve's state, but it's still some days away, so they take a leisurely trip back to Steve's. All the while they're reconnecting, and Steve is noticing that all of the things he liked about Monica as a friend in high school are still there, and are also things he'd really like in a life partner. Her sense of humor, her willingness to compromise, her determination to find a way to make things work, her money sense... She's also much more confident in herself than she used to be, which Steve finds really attractive.

Or at least, she's more confident in herself whenever pregnancy shit isn't getting to her. Steve already knew that pregnancy and kids aren't something Monica ever wanted, but if he ever needed more convincing, he's getting it both on this road trip and when they get back to his condo. Still, he does everything he can to try and keep Monica's spirits up, to distract her and/or make sure she's prepared for her abortion and everything it will involve. (All the while, he's also learning what he can to make sure he can help her through the aftermath. Apparently post-partum isn't necessarily just for giving birth; all those hormones and body changes can also hammer down after any other pregnancy ending circumstances!)

Steve drives her to the clinic, waits with her when she asks him to, waits for her during, and does everything he can to make her as comfortable as possible as she recovers. One thing after another is just more yes, yes, yes, this is what he wants in his life, Monica is who he wants in his life.

He's a bit stuck on how or if to confess, though; this was a deeply shitty situation for Monica, and it's also something he could hypothetically hold over her legally after everything, which he would never do, but he knows might make things more difficult for both of them. Then, a day or two before he's set to start driving Monica home, he checks in on Monica packing—only to find her crying.

Steve immediately asks Monica what's wrong, if he can help with anything, and Monica just starts crying harder. She ends up confessing her own feelings, how she started to fall for Steve when he didn't judge her for her shitty ex-boyfriend and how she wanted to terminate the pregnancy (which more than a few of her local friends had), and then everything else he did to make her feel happy and secure while helping her out just really sealed the deal! She got half way through packing before she realized that she didn't actually want to leave him, but she also didn't want to put pressure on him after he'd done so much for her already.

Steve immediately hugs her and confesses back, telling her he doesn't want her to leave either but didn't want to put pressure on her, and also maybe this was a little soon after all of the everything going on. But he would love to go out to dinner with her properly, before he takes her back home, and again when they get there, and then maybe they could see how things go from there? They can try doing long-distance for a month or two, and if they're both still certain, they can get together more formally and figure out where to live.

Fast-forward ten years, Monica and Jake are happily married, with three dogs and a tortoise. They still don't want kids.

The end.

Edit: Okay, this is not "and the person who got them pregnant", but it mostly still works!

there's an extremely niche plot in romance fiction wherein our invariably heterosexual leads fall in love after a night of passion leads to an unplanned pregnancy and they're now bound together by an impending child. I cast no judgment on anyone who enjoys this, but since I'm an evil gay and this is my personal nightmare scenario I want to see a zany romance novel premised on the opposite resolution: a couple falls in love while on a whirlwind roadtrip to obtain a legal abortion

[am-i-interrupting]

Across the River | Viktor x Jinx’s Older Sibling

Chapter 4 | Sleepy Studies

Summary: After the explosion and disappearance of Vi, you take your little sister across the river to Piltover. You struggle to keep the two of you afloat but manage to get Jinx to the academy. This is where she procures an internship that changes your lives.

“What is your sister like?” Viktor asked during one late night.

“Why?”

“Simply curious. I was an only child.”

“Okay,” Jinx said slowly, looking Viktor up and down. “Well, they’re like. . . Geez, I don’t know. I mean, when I was little I spent waaay more time with them than with V— We’ve always been close. I don’t really know how to describe it.”

Viktor noticed her cut off and raised an eyebrow but otherwise didn’t question.

He tapped something Jinx wrote twice. She looked down and her lips curled up. She wiggled her pencil in her hand for a moment before she flipped it and erased what she’d written, replacing it with something else.

“Perhaps phrasing it differently will help? What is it like having siblings?” the question phrased plural on purpose.

Jinx shrugged. “I mean, you’ve got someone to look up to, I guess. Someone who’s your friend and your bully all wrapped up into one present and shoved in your hands but the wrapping paper is kind of wet which is weird because that’s not how presents are supposed to be, right? It’s kind of off putting because it’s kind of gross. Then you open it up and look at the box and the box is weird too. It’s like purple instead of brown. And then when you finally open the box, it’s like all your insecurities are there in the shadows and then you put it in the light and boom! Unconditional love that you definitely don’t deserve but it’s hidden because of insults and petty drama.”

A pause.

Viktor blinked once, twice.

Jinx looked him up and down.

“Does that make sense?”

“None at all.”

“Oh.”

She was quiet for a moment. She looked off into the space before her. Unmoving, slightly unnerving.

She sniffed. She shrugged. She bounced back, leaning into his personal space. “Welp! That’s the best I got.”

Viktor shook his head with a bemused slight quirk to his lips. “Alright, so,” he began, pointing at some of the runes.

The rest of the night passed by until it was closer to early morning. Viktor stretched his arms out behind his back. Jinx was standing, leaning her back against the table, bending backwards. She’d taken out her pins that held her bun in place and long braids pooled on the table, one even hanging off.

“Do you think that trees cry when they’re cut down?” Jinx asked. “That they know they’re going to die?”

“And I will take that as our sign to call it,” Viktor said.

Jinx gave an over exaggerated groan in reply but Viktor could tell by the way she was twirling the end of one of her braids and occasionally hitting her face with it, she was feeling the pull of sleep begin to tug.

She tilted her hips towards the table and moved her leg. In one fluid motion she was upright. Then she almost fell. Quickly she righted herself and shot Viktor a giant smile.

Viktor grabbed his crutch. He situated it beneath his arm and curled his fingers around the handle.

Jinx let her body weight all go to one foot as she kept the door open. The only thing which prevented her from falling was her hold on the doorknob.

When he walked through, she followed him.

“Ow! Shit!” she yelled.

Viktor’s head whipped back and her braid had gotten caught between the doors. She jerked the door open and yanked her braid out of the way. It hit his leg and the door closed.

“I see why you keep your hair up,” Viktor said.

Jinx scoffed and rolled her eyes. “I like my braids being down, even when they do get caught on things.”

“May I ask why that is?”

“Because, they keep me grounded. Without their weight I feel like my head is floating away from me,” she said.

“Then why don’t you wear them down?” he questioned.

“Stupid Upper City people,” she muttered under her breath. “They think it’s ‘unhygienic’ because they drag on the floor. Yeah, they do and guess what! I clean them every day. They don’t even drag on the floor unless I’m hunched over.”

“I didn’t think you the type to let others people’s opinions bother you,” Viktor told her.

“I don’t! Normally. It’s just doing all these things and following all these stupid fucking rules is how I got here,” she said with a pointed gesture at the academy floors. “I can’t lose that now. Sis worked too hard to get me here.”

Viktor could empathize with the struggle. Being not only from the Undercity but also disabled prevented an entire load of problems up here. He’d take them though, over the polluted air. At least here he could breathe.

Viktor held the door open for Jinx. He waited until she was a decent bit away before letting the door fall closed.

“Let me haul you a taxi,” Viktor said, worried for the girl in her tired state.

She shrugged but didn’t fight him.

They sat in the backseat of the taxi. Jinx’s braids pooled in the floor.

She scooted closer to him. She slowly pushed her hand between his arm and torso until he tentatively let her wrap their arms together. Her head immediately plopped down on his shoulder. He tensed.

“I don’t even get to do my building anymore up here,” she said as she nuzzled her face against his shoulder.

“Building?” he asked as he forced his body to relax.

“Yeah, before we came up here, I used to build all sorts of gadgets. I mean, I still do but I can’t do it as often. I can’t even find a place to test my bombs and since the Industrialist took over the Undercity, we don’t go down there much. Just on special occasions.”

“You build bombs?”

Jinx laughed a bit. “Yeah.” She closed her eyes and sank against him. “Smoke bombs—“ internally he sighed in relief— “real bombs, guns.”

“Huh,” was all he could say.

The rest of the ride was relatively silent. That is until Jinx started snoring and some drool seeped through his shirt. He didn’t make any attempt to move her though.

The automobile came to a halt. With a quick word to the driver and careful movement, he slipped out. He walked into the apartment building and knocked the door labeled 07.

A couple long moments passed. He raised his hand to knock again as it but it jerked open.

“The fuck do you want at one in the— Oh, it’s you. Hi,” you said as you processed who exactly stood in front of you.

Viktor felt his stomach do the smallest twist. Your hair was a mess. Your shorts were hanging off one hip and up too high on the other. A strap of the tank top you wore was twisted.

“Jinx is asleep in a taxi. I would bring her in myself but ah,” he gestured with his crutch.

“Oh, yeah,” you said as you walked out of the threshold of the apartment. “She sleeps like the dead.”

You yawned as you walked with him to the taxi.

Jinx’s head was lulled forward. Her chin touched her clavicle but still she snored on.

You crawled a bit into the automobile and put your hands beneath her legs and her back. You pulled her closer to you until you could heave her up in your arms. Her head bobbled and smacked you in the chin. She just groaned and used her hand to push your face away.

“Ow,” you said in a monotoned voice. “Anyway, thanks for getting her home.”

“Of course, it was my pleasure. Do you need me to open the door for you?”

“Yeah, that’d be great.”

Inside you put Jinx to bed. You slipped off her shoes, pulled her vest down her arms, undid her belt. You undid the buttons of her shirt and slid on an oversized one before slipping off her button up and pulling off her pants.

She pulled the blanket around her and face planted in her pillow.

“Thanks, sis,” she mumbled, half asleep.

“Yeah, yeah,” you said.

Still, you moved her face so she wouldn’t suffocate on her pillow and brushed her bangs out of her face. You placed a kiss right above her brow.

Then you grabbed your own covers to wrap yourself in and laid back on the couch where you’d been, wondering why you felt all warm inside by the man who kept caring for your sister with you.

[prettyboykatsuki]

fang i need to see yukimiya with an oversexed s/o so bad

i think about this all the time bc of hypersexuality

tags for some implied religious trauma on mr yukimiyas part and very explicit sexual content. reader is very wanton lol, 18+

it is . sooooo hard for him. the thing is yukimiya genuinely thinks of you as such a warm, kind person. his feelings for you are so deep and sincere and completely removed from any lust he might feel for you. or at least that lust is intertwined with a stronger desire to be gentle and intimate and sweet with you yk

but you are sooooo horny and so shameless and it is soooo much for that poor boy. i do genuinely think yukimiya has like self imposed saving himself for marriage thing. and he's super upfront about it with you from the start bc u so obviously want to jump his bones. he has a very Strong sense of discipline overall.

like the first time you kiss you're just like... all over him. hands in his hair, pressed against his lap, tongue in mouth and he is trying to handle all the sensory input and failing. he has to PRY you off of him and he's so red and he's like no no we can't go any further.

and you pout jokingly but you never push him. you're so sweet about it, maybe a little teasing but that's it. you always express your desires and voice them, always tell him whats on you mind. if you think he looks handsome or sexy or whatever—you'll sort of fidget with the end of your straw and bite and make a comment so unbelievably lewd before moving right along.

you make these like... eyes at him. fuck me eyes, he's heard the term before but he didn't really get it until he met you. you know exactly what you want from him and you're thinking about how you can get it. a little dazed, very determined. always gets him sooo flush.

you brush things off easily enough when he blows you off about it. you're a lot but you're not....forceful or anything. he makes a little face of faux disappointment and you laugh it off and thats all there really is but the longer you date the less he feels sure of himself.

yukimiya wanted to get married young and didnt see a whole lot of purpose in trying to lose virginity to someone he didn't love so he held onto it for longer than most people. that plus growing up religious its just something he was so sure about it.

and he does want to treat you well. marry you. yukimiya is the first guy to ever be such a gentleman to you and he doesnt want to taint that because of his own ...desires. its dirty to him. he doesn't think it's bad when you want things, but it's different when he wants things.

but it gets. harder and harder. you're so forward and you are also so good at touching him (too good) and so attractive already without trying very hard. you could do anything and look insanely beautiful to him but god.

you really don't go farther than making out and heavy petting. but that in itself gets so obscene. the way you space out your kisses, the way you flick your tongue - how your hands slide up his chest and neck, thumb rubbing against his ears, how you carry your weight in his lap, how you use your teeth. you kiss him like you could eat him whole.

when your hand gets on his belt he always loses his sense of reason - only barely tears himself a way from it each time. half-hard and apologetic. eventually you get the feeling that he's not even... it's not like he doesn't want to do it but he's holding onto beliefs he only barely has.

you have to have a long conversation about it i think. give him a peptalk about how you know how much he loves you and sex can be intimate too etc. when he's still resistant to it, you make a compromise. no penetration until he's ready, even if that means marriage. no sex. you think its silly but it helps him make sense of everything.

i think he agrees to this kind of blindly, assuming it will take the edge and tension off. like letting the pressure out slowly so something doesnt explode.

but. once you open that box, you can't really close it again.

so you do everything but have sex. and it absolutely makes him want to fuck you.

its light at first. dry humping while you make out and making him cum in his jeans. giving a handjob or teaching him how to finger you ("for when you do fuck me, someday"). directing him on how exactly you like getting head - on foreplay, your sure hands over his shaky ones as he make him squeeze your tits and guide them into his mouth. tell him the other places on your body you like being touched.

you teach him things about his own body too. or rather, he learns them because of you. his ears get red and sensitive, he likes when you bite his ear lobes lightly.his lips too. likes your hands on his biceps or chest or back, kissing and rubbing his muscles appreciatively. it does something to him. he knows he's attractive but it's... different. it's a nice feeling to be wanted but being wanted by you makes his whole body break into these terrible shivers.

he learns that the tip of his cock is way more sensitve than it should be. he learns he doesn't mind when you take advantage of this either.

he's got a few moles on his body and he likes how you kiss them when you go down on him. on his hip and inner thigh and some other places. likes when you rub up against him in general, when you cling to him during it or when your nails dig into his arms

yukimiya likes how... relaxed you get when you feel good. the first time he makes you cum with his mouth he feels so absurdly accomplished, even more so when you giggle at him and kiss him so full of love.

nothing changes. you go on dates and see each other. sleep in the same bed. but when you stay over at his place now - he's started to anticipate your little escapades.

no penetration. he knows that should mean not getting his dick anywhere near you. but you're persuasive. it's fine, yuu-kun. just slide your dick against me, it'll feel good. you can do it between my thighs, if you want.

the first time yukimiya slides his hard cock through the soft, slick folds of your pussy he nearly passes out. randomly on a date night. it just turns out that way. your hands on the back of his neck, kissing him as it slips through the sticky warmth.

it feels so good. it's mindblowing. it's so unfair. how can something feeling so much better when everything else you've been feeling had felt so incredible? how can there be anything more tempting than what you already do?

but there is. its you with your ass up and your thighs squeeze as yukimiya fucks the plush of them - tip knocking against your clit, catching on your hole, one misstep away from thrusting. the thought haunts him even as he's cumming up against your belly and thighs.

there's a guilt he feels about greed in particular, even more than lust. sometimes you go at it and he just. can't help it. can't help but want more. can't help but shamefully jerk off in the bathroom after you've already done it for a while.

you come onto him the same as always, more now that he's receptive to it but god he can never turn down your advances. even when it'd be smarter to do it. all it takes is his name now, or maybe just you taking his glasses off so it's a little easier to kiss him. it scares him a little, just how easy it'd be to slip up and . take you really. thin threads of control fraying as he gets close and closer to just giving you what you want.

it's Hard. he holds onto it for so long. i think he snaps eventually when you do something very thoughtful for him on a bday or anniversay and he just becomes uncharacteristcally aggressive (not that ur mad) and u have such intense deep missionary. like eye contact, chest to chest, slow rolling of his hips while he grinds into you. it is such a crazy feeling.

yukimiya just really. bends to your whims after you have these breakthroughs. he is so unbearably seduced by you even when he tries so hard to fight but it . god its rough on his brain. shame and pleasure are not opposites for him, that's for sure.

[neverending-shenanigans]

Look, I don't disagree with you, per se, but here's the thing: this is all just in theory. The game fails to show this in a meaningful way or in a way that is satisfying from an RPG point of view.

Everybody matters for the success? Cool. How so? If I literally leave them behind in the lighthouse for the rest of the game, it makes no difference.

I love Emmerich, dearly, but what exactly does he do in the Veilguard? Is the game saying the few time he talks to corpses are so vital to our success that the world is doomed without him?

None of the former games (to my knowledge) implied that not recruiting someone screwed everything over completely.

And if the game wants me to see that this is different, because the stakes are higher? Well, game, show me directly what happens if I don't recruit people, make them as vital as you claim they are. And have a number of quests where I can feel their absence if i don't have them around as the experts for necessary tasks (and I mean more than these funky little dagger mechanics or that one final battle, alright). Let me experience how much worse off everyone is if I don't help them. Or if I give them bad advice, if I make them objectively into worse people.

Tie their personal narrative more strongly to the main issue. Balance them out a little. Have Zara's blood magic be a vital part of the ritual Elgar'nan is preparing. Have Isseya actually blight a griffon or two for Ghilly and let them do some hefty damage to the Anderfels or elsewhere. Let Rivain be under siege by the Dragon King and his mind-controlled beasts. Make everyone's issues matter equally with options for real Bad Outcomes.

RPGs used to be about the consequences of my actions, about having choices with actual impact within the game narrative itself, and those were more than just one bad ending option.

This would also be a way to make sure that "these are professionals" can come across. By showing me what happens if they aren't. If we aren't - if Rook isn't.

Don't just have the narrative put up a red tape that says "you cant, because you shouldnt".

Not to mention that I frankly think it does the characters a disservice by saying that "they are professionals" somehow means that they dont have issues, they have to like you, they have to grow as people.

Bioware had a fantastic system in DA2 in the rivalry system which allowed for much more interpersonal nuances. This would have solved a lot of issues here, even if we are in a set-up in which characters will stay with you no matter what. They stay with you for the cause, but they hate you personally. How many professionals feel like that about their Boss and co-workers?How many professionals are great at exactly one thing but still assholes anyway?

And I have seen it be thrown around that "Rook cannot be an asshole because Varric wouldn't have picked them". That feels like cop-out to me. And does not make sense for narrative consistency. He is not some sort of infallible Thedas Jesus. There is precedent for him being wrong about people.

Varric recruited Hawke for his brother's expedition and Hawke had much more potential/freedom to be an ass (to the point in which Varric might end up as a drunkard for it, because Bioware used to include consequences). Varric was as much part of the disaster/tragedy/failure of Kirkwall as the rest of that crew. Varric didn't see Anders' plan coming, either. He also did not spot Solas' plan from miles away.

Varric might have picked Rook up for their moment of bravado that the game always provides, because he was running our of time to stop Solas. Nowhere does it say he might not have ended up regretting that choice a little if you turn out to be a competent ass. Wouldn't that have been a neat thing?

If we and the characters got to experience... regret?

"I wish you could be mean to the companions" it's a story about professionals

"I wish you could have a choice to not recruit companions" it's a story about every single person being vital to success

"the companions are too nice to eachother" it's a story about professionals

"rook puts out people's squabbles too easy" it's a story about a boss who actually cares and doesn't buy pizza to get people to work unpaid overtime

"I wish you could recruit a therapist for the team" based and valid

[aestas---estas]

Working hands

MDNI 18+ | Part 1 | Part 2 | Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader | ~4,6k words | fem!reader, assistant!reader, reader described as shorter than Simon, suspend your disbelief for how long it is inbetween missions, basically all fluff | if I forgot a tag/tw please tell me | divider by @cafekitsune | Read on AO3

It's early Saturday morning and you get woken up by a strong fist incessantly knocking on your front door. It's pointed and regular, military in its consistency. While Price knows where you live — it's on your paperwork after all — and you have no doubt in your mind that both Johnny and Kyle could've easily found out, you know in your bones that it's Simon.

“Coming!” You call out, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you quickly find a pair of sweatpants to throw on; it would probably be in bad form to open the door in only a washed-out shirt and underwear. You stop in front of the bathroom mirror to quickly fix your bed hair as much as possible, splashing some cold water on your face in an attempt to look more awake than you feel. Simon’s still knocking intermittently and you can practically hear the irritation he’s starting to feel through the door — the man does not like to be ignored or left to wait.

“Good morning,” you say as you finally fling your door open, annoyance at having been so rudely interrupted clear in your voice despite the amicable words. He’s standing with his fist raised, ready to knock once more, a tool kit gripped in his other hand and you eye it curiously. “What-?”

You don’t really know how to end the sentence — what is he doing here? What’s with the tool kit? What makes him think he can wake you at 7:30 in the morning on your day off? — but you’re cut off before you manage to get another word past your lips, as he’s already made his way into your flat and toward the bathroom.

In confusion you close the front door and follow behind, your bare feet padding against the cool wooden floor, making you wish — not for the first time — that your landlord allowed heated floors. Simon’s courteous enough to have already toed off his boots by your shoe rack, so at least you don’t have to clean up dirt and grime, but the barging his way inside your space only worked to further annoy and confuse you.

“Simon, it’s not even 8,” you say as you lean against the doorframe of your bathroom, watching as he gets down on his knees in front of the broken washing machine you still hadn’t had a chance to look at. The annoyance seeps out of you as you remember the conversation you had that Monday; about how you wanted to return his jacket washed, but hadn’t been able to do your laundry. It’s a thoughtful gesture, one you can’t help but smile in appreciation at.

“I’m an early riser,” is all Simon says in return, not even glancing your way. He’s already busy with turning the machine on and off, looking at all the hoses and pipes, to try and discern what the issue might be.

For a moment, you just stay there, watching him quietly. He’s not wearing the skull mask or printed balaclava that had become synonymous with his alias, but rather a more simple black surgical mask. You don’t really know what you expected Simon to look like; you knew he was blonde, something Johnny had once shared with you to tease his Lieutenant, yet the sight of the surprisingly well groomed tresses on his head make something inside of you stir. His hair is just long enough for you to be able to card your fingers through it, and his left eyebrow is cleaved in half from a faded scar. You can’t see his jaw or chin properly, and the only time you remember him ever lifting his mask in your presence was to drink his beer in the pub all those weeks ago before he walked you home. You’d been drunk back then, hadn’t had the sense of mind to memorise his visage, and you mentally kick yourself about it now.

“It’s the water,” you supply, wanting to be helpful and hopefully distract yourself from thoughts of how it would feel to pet his hair and trace his scars, and Simon turns his head to glance at you. “It doesn’t drain properly, overflows about half the time too.”

Simon nods before turning back to the washing machine, pulling it away from the wall with little effort. “Sounds like the hose, or maybe the drainpipe. Could also be the lint trap. If there is one.” He’s mumbling more to himself than to you at this point, craning his neck to look at the backside of the machine all while nodding or shaking his head, making mental notes of possible solutions.

“Might be a while, love. Why don’t you go make us some tea?” It’s the out you didn’t know you wanted, but the second the suggestion leaves Simon’s lips you pounce on it, leaving the bathroom for the kitchen with no words or fuss.

You make two cups of some berry blend one of your friends got you as a birthday present — the mugs are white, bland, a little too boring for your liking, but they get the job done. And besides, you have more important things to spend your money on than crockery.

When you return to the bathroom, two steaming mugs in hand, you can’t help but stare at Simon for a moment before making yourself known. While the hoodie he’s wearing doesn’t provide you with much, his jeans are tight fitting around those muscular thighs of his, especially with the way he keeps crouching and kneeling. God, he’s got an ass too. The thought makes heat race to your face and you pull your eyes away from the enticing view of his rear.

“One cup for you,” you say, placing the tea down on top of the washing machine for whenever he feels like taking a sip. He sends you an appreciative look before focusing back on the task at hand; you’re both relieved and disappointed that he didn’t remove the face mask to have a taste of the drink right then and there. But then again, if he did, you’re more than sure that his uncovered visage would haunt your dreams in the best way possible.

“I’ll, uh, leave you to it then,” you say when he makes no move to speak again. 

It’s odd having Simon in your space like this. Sure, he spent the night on the couch that night after the pub. But you had been drunk then, had thought of nothing but the soft embrace of your bed that awaited you. Now you’re both sober, both clear minded and both all too aware of whatever it is that’s been growing between the two of you. 

Usually on your days off you would sleep in, would take a long shower so hot the fog on the mirror wouldn’t disappear for over an hour afterwards, would even make a proper breakfast if you had the energy for it. But Simon was currently occupying your bathroom, so a shower was out of the question, and while a short nap as he worked didn’t sound so bad it felt almost rude to go back to sleep as long as he was still there. He was doing something sweet for you; fixing something you hadn’t had the time or money to fix yet yourself.

So instead of your usual routine, you plant yourself under a blanket on the sofa with a new book you’d been meaning to read but haven’t had the chance to just yet and turn on some music. You can hear Simon in the bathroom, the clattering of tools and humming of the washing machine as he starts and stops new cycles every so often. The whole thing feels almost domestic, and it tugs on your heart in a way you don’t want to look too deep into.

---

“Can I ask you something?” you question and Simon grunts in that affirmative way he always does when you knock on his office door in the mornings. He had felt you coming back into the bathroom five minutes ago, leaning against the door frame, watching him with inquisitive eyes; but he had kept his attention on the washing machine. “Why do you wear that mask?”

If you hadn’t been studying him so intensely, you might’ve not noticed the way his shoulders and back tensed for half a second; it’s gone before you even have a chance to ponder about his reaction.

“Anonymity,” he answers at length, but you can tell there is more to it. Most of the other operators don't wear facial coverings — and if they do, it’s only while in active combat.

You understood wanting to keep his identity anonymous in the field, not letting the enemies know his name or face, it was dangerous work what he did after all, yet you couldn’t help but press. “Everyone on base already knows your name. And besides, there’s no one around but me right now.” Who are you hiding from? is what goes unasked, but the question still makes the air around you both feel heavy.

“They know what I want them to know,” he supplies, as if that would be a satisfactory answer. And it is, you suppose, at least somewhat. It doesn’t answer why exactly he keeps himself closed off, why no one — not even the men he fights beside — knows what he looks like. But it does tell you that he’s deeply paranoid and near obsessive with personal security. It tells you that he’s willing to show more of himself to the few he deems worthy; god, you want to be worthy.

“When’s the last time you took it off?” It’s a gamble of a question, but you know if Simon wants to leave the conversation he’ll let you know it in no uncertain terms.

“Last night.” You roll your eyes at that, because of course he doesn’t sleep with a stupid balaclava or face mask — maybe in the field, but you don’t know what goes on during their missions if it’s not in the reports.

“I meant with someone else in the room, Simon,” you tell him and cross your arms over your chest.

It’s quiet for a few moments, seconds stretching into minutes as Simon gives no indication of giving you a reply. Just as you let out a sigh, ready to give up on the conversation and walk back to your living room, he speaks. “It’s been… a while. Years.”

You don’t feel sorry for him, you have a feeling Simon wouldn't take kindly to pity, but empathy courses through your veins at the pain evident in his voice. He puts down the tool in his hand, turning his head just enough to make you appear in his vision, but makes no move to stand up. You realise he’s studying you, your reactions, your body language, every micro expression you don’t have the education to hide like he does.

“That sounds lonely,” you eventually say, taking the few steps from the doorway to where he’s kneeling beside the washing machine, lowering yourself until you’re eye-to-eye. “If you ever…” you hesitate for a second, but the fact that Simon has yet to end the conversation makes you power through. “I’ll be here, if you ever want to show someone.”

It’s not a demand or a manipulative tactic to get him to feel secure before ripping the rug out from under him; you genuinely want to be there for him, face or no face, want him to not go through his life with that crushing loneliness that’s been making it hard to breathe freely for years. Your eyes shine with open honesty and it’s almost too much for Simon to bear. He nearly tells you everything then; about his past, his family, Roba, everything. But you seem so innocent, untouched by the cruel reality of the world. And although he’s destroyed more uncorrupted and pure lives than yours, he wants you to keep living in the bubble of life is worth living for as long as possible.

“It’s not pretty,” is what he says instead. It — his life, him. A sad smile passes your lips as you nod your understanding.

“I’ll be here,” you repeat, giving his shoulder a quick squeeze before standing and leaving him alone in the bathroom to work.

Simon stays there for another half hour before packing everything up and making his way towards the door. Truth be told he had figured out the issue after only ten minutes, had fixed the problem — a clog in the drain pipe — as slow as possible just to be in your presence for a few minutes longer. He knew he had disrupted your morning, had woken you up too early on your day off just to selfishly indulge his own need for your warmth, and now you were offering him unadulterated support without demanding anything in return. He didn’t deserve your kindness, had used your predicament to satisfy his own wants. It made him feel low, dirty, unworthy. 

“It works now,” Simon tells you as he walks past your spot on the couch, heading towards the front door without a second glance back.

Quickly you scramble from the couch and follow behind him, the blanket once more wrapped around your form. “Thank you,” you say, your eyes tracking his movements as he pulls on his jacket. “I’ll get your jacket back as soon as it’s washed.”

Simon shakes his head. “Told you, love, keep it.” There it is again; love. Before that weekend he had never called you that, and in the moment you had assumed the nickname had slipped from his lips the same way you had called him baby — simply to sell the illusion of a relationship so the creepy guy at the club would leave you alone. But now you couldn’t be so sure.

“At least let me buy you lunch or something as a thank you,” you insist, catching him by the wrist as he reaches for the door handle, grasping at straws for anything that would allow him to stay in your life. You had always done a good job at keeping your private and professional lives separate; but that was before Simon.

Simon’s eyes flicker down to where your fingers envelop his wrist, but he does not shift out of your grasp nor tell you to let go; so you don’t. “It doesn’t have to mean anything other than thanks,” you say, hoping the reassurance will help him decide.

Something indescribable passes through his eyes before he gives a firm nod. “I’m not much of a restaurant guy, but… a lunch sounds nice.”

“Great!” You beam, something akin to butterflies fluttering around inside your chest. “We can order in if that makes you more comfortable.”

Simon nods and it feels like he wants to say something, but no words leave his lips before he’s out the door.

---

As the hours of the day tick by, you find yourself glancing over to the hook where Simon’s jacket hangs. He said you could keep it, that it looks better on you. It feels wrong both to keep it — like you're owed something when you're not — and to give it back — like you don't appreciate his gesture of friendship.

It's a tightrope, one you can't navigate properly, one that wobbles and every step threatens to topple you over. It's anxiety inducing yet the most excited you've been in a while.

Deciding to bite the bullet, you send him a text.

Hope I didn’t scare you away with the invite to lunch.

You chew nervously on your bottom lip, already dreading his reply, but before your inevitable anxiety can spin out of control, your phone buzzes in your hand and the screen lights up with a new message.

You have plans tomorrow?

You don’t, actually, and tell him as much. It’s a few, short back and forths after that — Simon is concise even in text — but you have an official game plan that involves takeaway from the Indian place down the street and Simon showing up at your place around noon.

---

Simon had left the ordering up to you, having no idea what was good at the chosen restaurant — but he trusted you to guide him. He shows up just as you hang up on the Indian place, a can of WD-40 in hand, and you raise an eyebrow in question.

“Heard the god awful squeaking of the hinges on your bathroom door yesterday,” he explains with a shrug before making his way over to it without invitation.

You follow behind with a soft smile on your face, watching with more fascination than really necessary as he sprays the hinges and moves the door back and forth a few times until satisfied.

“Thank you. You didn't have to,” you say, giving his bicep a quick squeeze in gratitude. You'd lived with those squeaking hinges for months now, it had annoyed you in the beginning but it quickly fell into the background and it just became a noise you now ignored. 

“The food should be here in fifteen minutes,” you add.

“Alright.” Simon gives you a short nod, not quite meeting your eyes. If you hadn't known him, you would've thought he was uncomfortable or seeking an escape — but you did know him, knew that he would just up and leave if that was his prerogative. But he was here. He brought lubricant for your door without prompting. He entrusted you to pick the restaurant and the food. 

“Do you wanna sit?” you ask, gesturing to the couch; a fluffy blanket was draped over one of the armrests, embarrassing really how many times you folded the damn thing while cleaning up to make everything look presentable.

You were nervous, buzzing with both excitement and anxiety. You had hung out with Simon one-on-one before, a few times where he had walked you home from the pub, that time you called him after being ditched by your friends at the club, every single morning when you brought him a cup of tea in the office, and just yesterday when he had showed up unannounced to play handyman. But it had never been anything preplanned, you had never had time to rethink your decor and spend hours meticulously vacuuming and dusting and rearranging everything. And the realisation from the day before, about how kind and strong and capable and downright attractive he was, did not help.

You knew you wanted this to be a date, but there had been no clear confirmation from either side whether it was or wasn’t. Maybe he just saw this as lunch between co-workers, or as some sort of indebted meal because he fixed a problem that was entirely yours to sort.

It comes as no surprise when Simon spreads his legs wide on the couch when taking a seat, one arm on the armrest, the other slung lazily across the back. You knew if you sat down next to him, his knee would press against yours and his hand would be dangerously close to falling around your shoulders.

It was an easy choice, really, to plop yourself down beside him.

The conversation flowed easily, one topic blended into the next, Simon relaxed fully in his seat and you found yourself smiling enough to make your cheeks ache. It wasn’t until after you had thanked the delivery driver for the food and was starting to unload the various dishes you had ordered onto the coffee table, that his previous visible trepidation came back.

“I may have gone a little overboard,” you explain nervously, eyes downcast as you organise and open the boxes of food. They smelled delicious, and steam was rising from all of them; it nearly made your mouth water. “I didn’t know what you liked, so I ordered a little of everything.”

It’s good to have left-overs, your brain chimed in in defence of your own actions.

“‘S not that,” Simon replies, reaching for one of the dishes. You study his movements from the corner of your eye and as he stops his hand mid-air to his face you realise what the problem is — the mask.

“I can… turn around or something,” you supply, hoping to be helpful, to ease his nerves. But Simon just shakes his head and pulls the band away from behind his ear, letting the mask dangle for just a moment before unhooking the other side too.

You try not to stare — it’s obviously a big step, something significant that he chose to do with you — but it’s hard to tear your eyes away when the image in your head of what he looked like was actively being shattered and reformed.

There’s a raised, jagged line across his right cheek, a bump that makes his nose just a little crooked from where it hadn’t set properly after being broken, another smaller scar down the left side of his jaw. But the one mark that rocks you the most is the Glasgow smile. It’s only one side, but it’s clear as day that it wasn’t just someone getting a little too close with a knife in the field; it’s meticulous, sharp, someone with a steady hand had held his face still enough to carve it slowly. Not a battlescar, but rather one from torture.

You shake your head slightly, forcing yourself out of the spiral you’re otherwise likely to go down, and grab one of the boxes at random. “Let’s eat.” You hope your voice doesn’t shake, but when Simon raises an eyebrow you know you’ve failed.

“It’s okay to say it. It’s ugly. Told you it was.” He doesn’t sound mad about it, more exhaustedly used to it. Like it was an inevitability you would find him unattractive once he showed you everything.

As if instinctual, your hand shoots out to cup his knee. You can’t give him reassuring words, because the scars are awful, and you know Simon would see right through you if you try to lie and say you barely noticed. But they don’t take away from his attractiveness; rather, they make you sad at everything he’s gone through and angry at every person that’s inflicted pain upon him and forced him into the hard shell he now hides behind.

For a split second, Simon freezes, the unexpected touch sending adrenaline coursing through his veins as his body gets ready for a fight that never comes. He’s unaccustomed to friendly and harmless touching, at least the kind that lingers. The occasional congratulatory pat on his shoulder from his captain and teammates, but never one from someone like you.

“Let’s eat,” you repeat, giving his knee a quick squeeze before resituating yourself on the couch and digging into your food.

---

It becomes a form of routine after that; Simon showing up at your place the weekends he has off. More often than not he’s got a toolbox in hand, fixing small things around your flat that he grumbles that your lazy landlord should’ve already fixed ages ago. You always say it’s not his job, that you’re used to the leaky tap and squeaking hinges and uneven shelves, and then thank him with the offer of lunch, trying a new restaurant every week; he seems particularly fond of the various noodle dishes they provide so you order those more than anything else.

Eventually he starts placing the black KN95 on your entryway table when the front door closes behind him. You never mention it, and neither does Simon. And even when there’s nothing left to fix (apart from completely ripping the floorboards up and installing heating, but you vehemently refuse to let him do that in fear of being kicked out), he still shows up for lunch and just a conversation. Most of the time he lets you ramble on about whatever you please, chiming in with hums of acknowledgements and one-worded replies — if he was being honest with himself he could listen to you talk for hours and be satiated.

You kiss his cheek goodbye every time before he shrouds his features again with the mask; your lips are soft and reverent, right over the scar that gives him a perpetually lopsided smile. It takes Simon four goodbyes to let his hands rest, warm and heavy with intent, on your waist, and it makes butterflies flutter to life in your stomach.

It’s a simple gesture, inconsequential in the grand scheme of things, but it’s also a big step. While you haven’t shied away from physical intimacy — a hand squeeze here, a bumping of shoulders there, all the cheek kisses — it was the first time Simon allowed himself to reciprocate.

It takes him two more goodbyes to finally angle his face enough to let your kiss catch the corner of his lips.

“Sorry,” you mumble and try to take a step back, but Simon’s grip tightens and keeps you firmly in place.

“Don’t be. I’m not.”

Oh.

Oh.

Carefully you raise your arms to wrap around his neck, going slow enough that even just a twitch from Simon would stop you in your tracks. But he stays still as a statue, eyes flickering between yours before settling at your lips.

“Is this okay?” you ask, your fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck, nails gently scratching his scalp.

“More than,” Simon replies, his breath washing over your face as he dips down, letting his lips hover over yours, his every exhale intermingling with yours.

You press yourself closer and in turn his hands slide from your sides and around your back, holding you in place firmly against him, his touch leaving a scorching trail on your skin despite the fabric that separates you.

You don’t know who moves first, who closes the small distance between you, but suddenly his lips are on yours and the butterflies in your stomach metamorphosize into fireworks and you can feel your heart race against your ribcage. His lips are warm, softer than you'd imagined, and you can still taste the cigarette he smoked before entering the building. Your fingers tug gently at his curls, angling his face to your liking so you can easier slot your lips over his.

A broken moan leaves your throat as Simon’s tongue finds yours and it’s all he can do to not push you up against the wall and fuck you right then and there. God knows he’s fantasised about it enough, fisted his cock to mental images of how you’d sound as he punched the air out of you with every thrust, how you’d look with his cum dripping down your thighs, how your eyes would roll to the back of your skull as he wrings out another orgasm from your already spent body. But he knows that’s not the way to go about this, not if he wants to keep you.

He licks into your mouth, exploring and teasing all at once, indulging in the sounds you let slip from your lips. His hands twitch, eager to wander over your body, but settles on curling his fingers in your shirt, pulling you impossibly closer.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you trying to kill me?” Simon rasps when you eventually break to catch your breaths and your teeth nip at his lower lip.

“No,” you hum and trail a hand down his face and neck, smoothing your thumb over every risen scar in a show of unadulterated affection that makes him preen under your touch. “Quite like you alive. Like you a lot actually.”

Simon surges forward again, captures your lips in another bruising kiss because, fuck, if that doesn’t make his heart soar.

He doesn’t know what the future holds, how this will affect both his and your work, neither of you do. But he knows he’d rather be right here, with you in his arms, kissing you senseless, than anywhere else in the world.

--- Masterlist

[sflow-er]

Henry and Simon’s dynamic over the three seasons

For YR Faves Fest 2024 organised by @youngroyals-events Prompts: 2. Favourite teen side character (+ 7. Favourite not-quite friendship)

In one of my replies to the recent side character ask game, I briefly mentioned being partial to the dynamic between these two. So for this Faves Fest, I decided to elaborate with an analysis post (featuring screenshots of variable quality)!

I want to preface this with a brief acknowledgment of Henry’s privilege and classism. It is not my intention to diminish them. I do, however, feel that it’s a bit apples-to-oranges to compare them to Simon’s views (citrus pun intended). 🍊 is politically active and has put in the effort to form his own beliefs, while 🍏 shows us time and again that he is ignorant of the world outside the elite bubble and not inclined towards deep reflection. He is largely a product of his upbringing and the (liberal conservative) values imparted by his parents.

While Henry doesn’t grow enough to change his core views and values in the canon timeline, he does change his views on Simon. This isn’t enough progress for them to become actual friends before we leave off (I doubt Simon could be friends with someone who only exempts him), but I would still argue that they end the show on amicable terms.

And yes, I mean that in a mutual sense, even if Simon doesn’t soften towards Henry quite as much as Henry softens towards him!

So, let’s dive in!

Dialogue taken from the English CC and [abbreviated or corrected].

1.01: the tax debate

Henry: “Take my dad’s estate, for example. They’re struggling to make ends meet because of the high taxes.” [Simon chuckles and explains his views] Simon: “Like your dad. [Do you know how much he gets in EU subsidies every year]”? Henry: “And what the fuck does your dad do?”

Like most viewers, I find it a lot easier to relate to Simon’s views than Henry’s here – but I do think Henry often gets judged quite harshly for insulting Simon at the end. His comment does not come out of nowhere (cf. Stella’s unprompted dirty look at Simon and Sara when she talks about welfare scamming).

Henry only knows that his father has said their estate is struggling, so of course he won’t take kindly to Simon suggesting that they are actually getting undeserved subsidies instead. It’s also important to note that this estate isn’t just any old farm. It was granted to one of his ancestors as a reward for their services to the Crown, which makes it a core part of his family history. As we learn in 1.04, Henry is a Society boy and very proud of his noble ancestry, and Simon’s comment likely feels like an insult to his entire family. So although his retort is unquestionably rude, it is understandable that he lashes out.

Also, Henry has no way of knowing that Micke is a deadbeat. He is just applying a common stereotype (and potentially making assumptions based on the views Simon just expressed on welfare).

1.02: parallel but separate experiences

Early in this episode, we see Simon side-eye Henry and Walter for the paid tutoring. He decides to follow their example, but as we know he can’t actually afford it, we can already guess it won’t go as well for him as it did for them.

Next, we see Henry in the group as the rowing team ignores Simon at morning training. The camera also pans to him and Walter when August gives that bizarre speech about Simon’s class journey.

These moments highlight how different life at Hillerska (and beyond) looks for Henry and Simon. They are technically coexisting and even doing the same things, but their experiences are nothing alike.

However, there is also some potential for development here. August’s words about rowing bringing people together (and also about the class journey) should absolutely be taken with a heap of salt, but as we no longer see any open animosity between Henry and Simon, we can still wonder if rowing played a part.

Being on the same sports team is an entirely new frame of reference for these guys. They are no longer just the sosse and aristocrat who have been going to school together since pre-canon and clashing over their views; they are crewmates. They may be able to ignore each other for most of the time, but they may also have to do some team activities or even cooperate on occasion. At the very least, they will be around each other several extra times a week from late September/early October to Christmas break. This could definitely help to put them on more neutral ground.

1.05: Henry pays attention to Wilmon

In this episode, Henry learns more about Wilmon than the average Hillerska student knows. He is present when August tells the Society that Wille and Simon “hang out”, and also when Wille changes the plan from Simon to Alexander.

What’s more, he actually looks fairly thoughtful leaving that last meeting. We don’t know if it’s just shock over Wille’s ruthlessness, if he’s thinking about the plan to set up Alexander, or if there’s something else on his mind.

Now, this may veer into overinterpretation, but for the sake of thoroughness, let’s also include the blink and you’ll miss it moment before the Lucia procession where Henry notices Wilmon texting each other. In this cropped screenshot, you can see him looking at Simon, who has just put his phone down and is looking over at Wille.

1.06: Henry shows restraint

As we know, Henry is the only classmate who tries to treat Wille normally after the video, asking if he “saw the match yesterday” (he absolutely knows Wille didn’t). What is perhaps less noticeable is that he also shows more restraint than most of his schoolmates when the rumour mill gets going.

In this scene, Henry is pretty dispassionate reminding Walter that Wilmon sat next to each other at movie night and the two of them talked about it. There is a stark contrast to Walter, who absolutely pounces on that bit of gossip.

This one quick scene could just be a coincidence, but the same thing happens again when Wilmon return to school. Instead of engaging with the others who are all eagerly talking and whispering, Henry is already sitting at his desk minding his own business when Wille arrives. His only reaction to Simon showing up is this quick look, which is immediately followed by his show of kindness to Wille:

So the restraint does look very intentional.

As an aristocrat, monarchist and Society boy, Henry is loyal to Wille, who he now knows has been carrying on with Simon for a while already. He also knows how far Wille went to protect Simon, despite the fact that Simon had actually supplied the drugs, so he is going to side with Wille.

What’s more, Henry’s behaviour in these scenes also confirms that he isn’t hostile to Simon. We can surmise he probably doesn’t think Simon is the most appropriate choice of partner for the crown prince, but he is willing to take his cues from Wille. We never see him sneer, joke, or say anything nasty about Wilmon as a couple (cf. Stella and Fredrika joking about surrogacy).

We are also shown his reaction to Wille hugging Simon before we move on to season two.

2.02: the floorball hug and walk-by

The first interaction between Henry and Simon in S2 is them celebrating a floorball goal with a spontaneous hug, as seen at the top of this post. What a difference a term makes!

Now, I don’t think this moment is meant to signify that they are friends all of a sudden, and I do feel it comes slightly out of the blue. I suspect it was included as a nod to those who already liked Henry after S1, but I for one would’ve preferred to actually see their reconciliation.

But then again, if their initial antagonism was always class conflict rather than personal beef, maybe there was no need for apologies…? Maybe each of them just accepted that the other was going to be around and decided to try and get along (potentially aided by their shared rowing team history)? Henry is following Wille’s lead as we already saw – and as for Simon, I doubt he would be hugging Henry even in the heat of a game if he held a grudge. Whether we saw it or not, they have moved on.

In the same episode, we also have the locker room scene.

Contrary to popular opinion, I don’t believe Henry actually overhears the entire conversation, but he may have still heard something about them having to wait two years (as Simon did raise his voice for that). It’s also possible he comes out of this scene assuming that Wilmon still “hang out” in secret. In any case, he probably assumes that Wille wants to keep the whole thing quiet, as per the usual “policy” on queer relationships among the upper classes. In addition to his monarchist ways, he also seems to be casually friendly with Wille in S2 (keeps inviting him to do stuff, from coffee to pranking Sprucewood). So it makes a lot of sense for him to keep whatever he overhears or suspects to himself.

2.03, 2.05 and 2.06: book report scenes

While Henry must be a nightmare to have in the group, he and Simon are nice to each other in all the book report scenes. This is further proof that they are in a place where they can talk civilly and even work together.

They start the project before the rowing race and only present it the day before the gun range scene, which means they had these group sessions for at least a few weeks (the timeline is a bit wonky here).

2.04: Henry snitches on Wille and Felice

The lunch scene at the start of the episode starts with this bit of vicarious interaction, as Henry and Simon (and Wille too) are amused by the nonsense Walter is spouting about girls:

Also, Walter's monologue feels more comphet every time rewatch it, but I digress.

As this post is focused on Henry and Simon, I’m not going to dig too deep into Henry’s role in spreading the story about Wille and Felice. Suffice it to say that he did tell his canonically gossipy bestie Walter, and it was recently pointed out to me that he seems to have let something slip to someone else as well. In the common room, Walter goes “det var du som sa till…” [you were the one who said to…] just as the focus shifts to Wille and Nils, which suggests that Henry either purposely told someone or misspoke without realising it. The latter would explain why he seems genuinely appalled when Wille confronts him, but it’s not a hill I’d be willing to die on!

If Henry did spread the story on purpose, I assume it was because getting with Felice was considered a credit to Wille and also “fair game” to tell, unlike the relationship with Simon that Wille wanted to keep hidden.

Still, Henry and Simon are definitely on better terms in S2. Even though Henry inadvertently causes pain to Simon with his part in the Wille and Felice thing, they still keep working together on the book report without any animosity.

Insofar as Henry’s lacklustre effort can be called working. Simon is a bigger person than I am for not blowing up at him when he announces minutes before the presentation that he won’t be taking any questions.

3.01: background Henry

We start S3 off with this one-sided interaction where Henry reacts to Wilmon kissing with a mild smirk. No more waiting or secrets to keep.

3.02: double standards on the camping trip

It’s not entirely clear what Henry is thinking when he says the infamous line about gay couples being allowed to share but not straight ones. I think some people read it as him deliberately putting Wilmon on the spot, but personally, I doubt he even realises it’s going to make them uncomfortable. He’s just noticing the double standard and pointing it out to mess with the teacher.

While Simon is very clearly not pleased with Henry for the comment (glares at him while saying to Wille that people are going to think they plan to have sex), he does not seem to hold that against him. Because what we do see them doing soon?

Sitting next to each other by the fire, even though Henry could’ve easily sat with Walter and Simon with Wille:

Also, it seems Henry isn't new to camping, as he tells Wille that part of the fire is too hot to grill a sausage in.

The part where things get interesting is when Henry acts classist towards the Marieberg students.

Henry seems to be down with meeting Rosh and Ayub, who are there as Wille and Simon’s friends. But after Fredrika brings up New York, he agrees that the situation turned “stiff as fuck.” That stiffness was entirely Fredrika’s fault (I think she is at least semi-consciously trying to mark herself as the most compatible partner for Stella there), but Henry seems to feel it was more about Rosh and Ayub not fitting in.

He also sneers and makes nasty comments when the other Marieberg students get into an altercation with Malin, which elicits a frown from Simon.

And yet, Simon does not condemn Henry as strongly as he might have done in the past.

Importantly, Simon tells Wille “it wasn’t the right time for everyone to meet.” This indicates that he could’ve imagined them all getting along at a better time, and it’s pretty clear that also includes Henry. Furthermore, “you [meaning Wille and the others] don’t realise how privileged you are sometimes” is actually a pretty neutral way of putting it. Simon would have been entirely justified if he had said the others were classist pricks, but he blames their privilege and lack of understanding instead of their character.

All of this forms a backdrop for my interpretation of the scenes in the next episodes.

3.03: First of May

Simon: “You do know that you’re not off so you can party the day before, right?” Henry: “Uhh…what?” Simon: “It’s the First of May.” […] “The day of the labour movement?” Henry: “Okay, so what’s their style? How do they celebrate?” Simon, scoffing: “You don’t celebrate. You demonstrate.” [Henry and Walter share a chuckle]

This may be a controversial take, but I don’t think Henry is being particularly nasty to Simon here.

He actually looks and sounds quite sincere asking how the labour movement celebrates. When he and Walter laugh, it reads more as “there he goes again, our very own sosse, saying wacky things!” than the kind of disdain he expressed towards the Marieberg students in the last episode.

Simon also doesn’t take the laughter as an insult; he’s just stupefied by their ignorance. Also, note that he already scoffed at Henry’s question, marking the question as silly.

This exchange is immediately followed by Vincent attacking Simon for his beliefs, which feels like an intentional trick to create contrast between his and Walty’s treatment of Simon.

3.04: the lollipop

In this scene, Henry starts out asking quite nicely and seriously if Simon has another lollipop, as if they had that kind of rapport. Simon makes a face, but then he just shakes his head and nicely says no. It’s only then that Henry switches to offering money for the already half-eaten lollipop, to which Simon reacts with disbelief.

He does not, however, get snarky with Henry. He settles for exchanging a look with Wille as Walty go on to complain about the hunger strike. Only when Henry isn’t present anymore does he point out to Wille how ridiculous Henry was being.

In a sort of parallel to the lunch scene, Simon and Wille now share a chuckle at the wacky thing Henry said:

Feel free to disagree, but I actually wonder if this could be a common pattern between Simon and Henry. They have accepted that they aren’t going to see eye to eye on many things, but instead of getting into conflict, they just roll their eyes/laugh at how the other can seriously believe/say such things. Then they let the conversation move on to something else.

Which is a perfectly valid dynamic. They can acknowledge that their outlooks on life are wildly different without hating each other for it.

3:06: Henry includes Simon

Look, I dislike the library scene as much as the next person. The talk that Henry interrupts between Wilmon was so much more important than anything he could possibly say. It was just a moment of comic relief that didn’t add anything to the story.

Except… Now that we are tracing Henry and Simon’s “not-quite friendship” arc, this scene does give us a conclusion.

Henry: “Hi! Uh, what are you wearing tonight?” [He rambles on about clothes] Wille: “I don’t know if… If I’m coming.” Henry: “Okay…?” Simon: “I don’t know if I can come either.” Henry: “Oh come on, you two have to come!” [He rambles on about how much fun it will be] Simon: “Yeah, we’ll see. I have to go now.” Henry: “The point is that we have to be together! This is the only night we have together, maybe ever. [I mean, we are brothers!]”

In Swedish, Henry goes “vi är ju bröder” just as the music starts. This has been translated to “we are like brothers” in the English CC, which is already quite something, but the little word ju makes the original even stronger. It means that something is true, so instead of just saying they are like brothers, Henry is saying that is what they are.

(In the dub, there is an audible pause after like, so Henry is actually using it as a filler word. They should have put a comma in the CC to denote that.)

Given that Henry prefaces this ramble with “you two have to come” and barely stops to acknowledge Simon’s exit, there’s every reason to assume he is still talking about all of them. He is saying he considers himself, Wille, and also Simon part of the brotherhood that will be disbanded indefinitely come morning and wants them all to have one last night of fun together.

Simon never hears the brothers part and is of course frustrated with Henry for interrupting, but he still takes his leave on a casually friendly note. He gets that Henry wants him to come and have fun (Henry is unaware that Simon doesn’t drink when he tries to persuade them both by talking about the alcohol). Thus, Simon politely says “we will see” even though he has zero intention of going.

We do not see them interact at the party when Simon goes after all, but we do hear Henry being ushered away when Simon comes to talk to Wille. We don’t see it’s Henry, but someone insists that he wants to stay just as we see Walter and Alexander leave, and all three of them were there moments before:

I’m tempted to end this with a parallel to Wille’s initiation party.

Way back in 1.01, Henry and Simon were explicitly shown discussing the first party with their friends. They never talked about it with each other or interacted there – Henry attended as part of the in-crowd, and Simon only got to go because he supplied the alcohol. But for this last party, Henry was the one to get the alcohol, and he specifically invites Simon to come. They still don’t hang out as they are both there with their respective friends, i.e. in their own bubbles, but those bubbles do bump into/brush past one another without clashing.

Kind of like Henry and Simon’s lives.

Thank you for reading this marathon post! I hope my take on these two brings something to your next rewatch, whether you agree with me or not!

[funkii4-blog]

While the 2024 Christmas special today was heavily Tari focused, I realized the episode also had a subtle reference to 3’s insecurities as mentioned in trash friends, so I wanna talk about it

There’s a scene toward the end where Tari seems to see the “dark” versions of her friends insulting her (that scene had Saiko, Meggy, Bob, Boopkins, Mario, and 4). However while 4 is the one standing there, this scene gives him both 3’s subtitles and voice.

I initially thought this was just a really complex error, but the more I think about it the more it makes more sense for it to have been intentional.

At the very end of the episode it’s revealed 3 is the one telling this Christmas story to Eggdog (possibly having written it as well but we don’t know that). And this little moment is the only time he’s even in the story, which feels unlike him to me.

But then I remembered what he said in his breakdown in Trash Friends early this year:

He sees himself as the worse version of 4, and the only time he put himself in this story was as the dark and menacing vision of 4. This told me that not only does he still feel this way about himself, he worries his friends think this way of him too.

I’m gonna be thinking about this all week at least, because this is the first time since Trash Friends that it’s even been hinted at again. Hopefully this means that that whole thing will finally be revisited soon, likely early next year if so.

And since this new episode’s description didn’t have any mention of the holiday break like usual, that most likely means there’s one last episode for the year next week. Maybe something could happen then, who knows? Just gotta stay tuned to see :3

[captain-hawks]

oh well... I mean... how about oliver x snowed in? do we manage not to punch him in the face by the end of it?

over easy 🎀 oliver aiku x f!reader

In which domesticity creeps into the all the cracks in you and Oliver's casual arrangement as you find yourself snowed in at his apartment.

1.4k — fluff, soft oliver, fwb, mentions of sex

It’s no good for your stupid, reckless heart—this predicament.

“Over easy? And two sugars in your coffee, right?” Oliver’s voice calls out from the kitchen.

It’s so fucking domestic, the way he says it. 

Like you’re not just some girl he fucks into his king size mattress in the middle of the night twice a week.

Like you’re not just going on your third morning of being stranded at his apartment because your car’s buried under several feet of snow that just keeps on coming down.

Like it’s okay that your heart fumbles meekly behind the confines of your ribcage whenever he tugs you back into his bed to stay the night. 

(That beats so hard it aches when he spins you around to kiss you in the doorway on your way out.)

You’re not dating.

You can’t date him.

Oliver doesn’t date.

But he’s handsome and charming and polite and funny and the sex is so good that you’ve never come so hard in your life and—

There’s no fucking Oliver out of your system unless it’s with Oliver himself.

And if you have some inconvenient feelings dangling on the sidelines, that’s your cross to bear on your own time when he’s not fucking you stupid in the backseat of his car or eating you out on his kitchen counter.

You don’t ask Oliver what he does on nights that he’s not with you. And you tell yourself it’s because it’s none of your goddamn business, not because you know his answer would probably hurt you too much to hear.

You assume, anyway.

But now it’s Christmas Eve, and you’ve lost any and all hope of digging your car out by tomorrow for your family dinner—not that you really wanted to go to that, anyway. 

And Oliver’s humming a Christmas song under his breath while he makes you breakfast, while you stand in his living room wearing nothing but one of his practice jerseys while perusing his bookshelf. 

It feels dangerously, terribly, awfully domestic.

And part of you thinks you’d be better off trudging across town home on foot than bearing the full weight of this walk of shame when the snow melts.

You’ve spent hours on his couch over the past few days, and he can’t seem to stop touching you. He scoots closer if you sit down too far away, places a hand on your ankle if it’s in reach, tucks your feet under his thigh. He puts his head in your lap or tugs yours down into his when you start yawning. He plays with your hair and your fingers—

And the two of you have been making your way through your favorite show, one that he’s never seen, one that you didn’t even think he would like. But it was his idea.

You even went down to his apartment building’s gym last night—something which didn’t feel strange in and of itself until Oliver kept appearing out of nowhere any time a guy tried to strike up a conversation with you, going so far as outright making out with you while you were on one of the stationary bikes. 

(The two of you barely made it through the door back up in his apartment before he was fucking you right there on the floor in the entryway.)

And you’ve yet to examine the feeling that stirred in your gut when you found oat milk in his fridge, knowing full well he doesn’t drink it. 

“Oh yeah, almost forgot to tell you. That’s for you, I picked it up the other day. I know you hate using regular milk in your coffee.”

—and the bag of mini dark chocolate bars you spotted in his cabinet last night.

“Yeah, yeah, you were right. Dark chocolate’s better.”

—and the brand-new, full-size bottle of your body wash that was staring you in the face when the two of you climbed into his shower the first morning, a mirror to the tiny travel bottle that you’ve taken to keeping in your purse for accidental sleepovers.

“It doesn’t make sense for you to have to carry soap around in your purse—”

You hadn’t even realized he knew you did that.

And yet now, as your eyes stray to the Christmas tree that sits in the corner of his living room between two large windows that overlook the city below, it’s the sight beneath it that promises to be your undoing.

Nestled between several gifts addressed to his parents and sisters is a box wrapped in gold paper with a blue bow on it. Your name is written carefully in his handwriting on the white tag stuck to the top of it. 

Your heart catches in your throat.

—and oh god you’re going to kick his ass if it’s some stupidly expensive piece of jewelry that he probably didn’t even pick out himself in there, one that’ll make you feel like you’re his even if you’re really not.

And you didn’t even get him anything because this is fucking casual—

“Wanna open it now?” You jump as Oliver’s voice comes up beside you, his chest against your back while he rests his chin on your shoulder.

“It’s not Christmas yet,” you stall, your noses brushing when you turn to look at him, but he spins you back toward the tree. 

“Yeah, I’m too impatient though,” he sighs, his breath hot against the shell of your ear as he reaches past you, arms hugging your sides while he places the package in your hands.

It’s oblong and light.

You’re glad, if nothing else, that he’s not directly facing you to see your uneasy facial expression. Slowly, with the tip of your finger, you begin to peel back the wrapping paper.

White bristles and bright green plastic greet you beneath it.

A toothbrush.

“Be my girlfriend,” Oliver whispers, nose brushing against your cheek. 

You choke out a laugh as your heart swoops. “You got me a toothbrush?”

Girlfriend.

“You would have thought jewelry was a tacky way to ask,” he hums, kissing the corner of your mouth.

You tilt your face into the kiss, murmuring against his mouth, “I didn’t get you anything.”

You almost did.

Several times, actually.

But nothing screams casual hookup gone rogue like a fucking Christmas present—and that was the last thing you wanted him to think.

And yet—

Oliver shrugs, spinning you around and cupping your face, the toothbrush still clutched in your hands. “You’re my gift.”

There’s no hiding the ridiculous smile that creeps across your face as he kisses you, tugging you with him as he walks backward into the couch, pulling you into his lap.

His lips are warm and soft as his mouth engulfs yours, kissing you in a way that you know now is far too familiar to be casual. Far too easy and gentle and intimate as he cups the back of your head and feathers a thumb against your hip bone and nips your bottom lip and laughs and—

He stops kissing you and looks at you seriously. “Oh, I also got you that dough mixer you kept looking at videos of when we were laying in bed that one night, but it’s going to be late because of the storm. I don’t want you to think I actually only got you a toothbrush.”

You blink at him.

“Oliver!”

He grins. “What?”

“I’m leaving right now to get you a gift,” you grouse, trying to hop out of his lap.

The room spins as he lifts you up, and you find yourself caged in beneath him on the couch.

“We’re snowed in,” he says, matter-of-factly.

“I’ll walk,” you frown.

“Nope,” he counters, hands sliding to pin your wrists above your head. “I’ve got the perfect gift already. Have you met my girlfriend yet?”

He reaches down into his pocket to pull out his phone, and you’re met with a photo of you laughing that you hadn’t even realized he took.

And it’s his wallpaper, for fuck’s sake.

Girlfriend.

“She’s beautiful,” he murmurs as he puts down his phone and cups your face, lips brushing against yours. “And smart.” Kiss. “And funny.” Kiss. “And—”

“I didn’t say yes.” 

Oliver stills, blinking several times as he looks down at you with a serious expression.

You roll your eyes as you thread your fingers in his hair and tug his mouth back down against yours.

“Yes.”

A pleased sound of satisfaction rumbles in his throat as his mouth skirts away from your lips, leaving a chaotic, hot, messy trail of kisses across your face, down your neck, across your collarbone—

The smoke alarm goes off somewhere in the kitchen.

[maythedreadwolftakeyou]

(DATV thoughts with spoilers ahead; i think my tags will keep it filtered but just in case it doesn't since i dont want this in the actual game tags)

i just... man. i don't have a well formulated thought for this yet (and its my PERSONAL OPINION and other people can feel as different as they want, this is not an attack) but it keeps bouncing around my head, so. i know the popular thing right now is coming up with in-universe justifications for The Pantry Almost-Kiss Scene in ways that imply Lucanis didn't mean it/it doesn't represent him as a person/he was Faking It.

and i just don't like any of them. they make me sad!!!!!! i don't like the idea that one of the like 4 romance scenes we get in this game is him Pretending in some way, even if he does at that point like Rook back at least somewhat. None of the justifications i've seen make me feel Better about that being the point where we declare him as a romantic interest, which is what it is in the game, functionally. It doesn't lock you in yet but that point IS where the game says "they will take your flirting more seriously now". I did those same scenes for Davrin, Emmrich, and Taash and this is the formula the game uses (the "interrupted almost-kiss/confession" happens for almost all of the companions).

so if the answer for Lucanis' is "actually he stopped because he Didn't like what he was doing/feel that way yet" or that he felt he had to pretend for Rook's sake... it's kind of a letdown you know? esspecially when it comes right after what seems like an actually authentic moment (dispelling his "perfectly gathered clouds of doom"). Because, at that point in the game from my/Rook's perspective, it was like he finally was reciprocating. It made me hope that he'd acknowledge whatever was between him & Rook more in future scenes, especially because you get so little else from him at any other point, in terms of flirting back/showing you he IS interested. like up to that point I felt kind of bad for continuing to flirt at him, when he'd just change the subject right after! if someone did that in real life i would take it as a hint to stop. This is pixels and not real people so I didn't but they have done "reluctant/fearful interest" better in other characters if that's truly what they were going for in this one.

so after finishing the romance and getting the rest of content... idk. I don't like saying "one of the major chunks of characterization we get needs to be Thrown Out Actually because he was Pretending". because it's not like he or Rook ever actually address it in game--you just don't get to talk about feelings until some dialogue choices only in the act 3 romance scene, and then his speech at endgame (not even a full conversation, so much as his personal declaration). like it takes until the VERY end of the game for him to say the thing about "he was afraid to want you", but that comes after you've already hooked up, even.

I think truly what annoys me is that it's a story choice that can only make sense in HINDSIGHT not AS PLAYING. Only once you have all the scenes can you say "this one is out of character" and then you either have to accept it as bad writing, or come up with some in-universe justification to explain it... and so far none of the in universe ones feel good to me. i wish they did because maybe then I'd be less annoyed, rip. but at the end of the day i think even if there was some intent there, it was a poor choice for his story arc, because it doesn't effectively convey anything... and the reason why we can project a lot of different explanations onto it is simply because it is never addressed again (and again, Lucanis Dellamorte is NOT A PERSON he is a CHARACTER used to further a story for you the player, and so the reasons I don't like this choice are story-level and not a dig at how real life people feel or act).

So yeah at the end of the day. that is simply not a narrative device I would ever personally use in this way on a player/reader. certain kinds of hindsight revelations have their place (see: what the devs tried to do with Varric though I also think that falls apart on close inspection, but at least it has justification in-universe), but for a romance it just makes me embarrassed for Rook. In a game where you don't have nearly as many back-and-forth conversations with characters and have to resort to eavesdropping on them talking to each other, it's sad that one of the like 5 times you actually get to talk to Lucanis one on one we're maybe supposed to believe he wasn't being authentic, and also that Rook can't respond to this ever. It would be different if it had any kind of follow up, imo. or honestly as i've said before i would rather it have been swapped out with something entirely different or where we get to talk about their feelings instead, before i get labeled as one of the "people mad he's not Zevran 2.0/a sexy latin sterotype".

But having to step back to player-level analysis versus in-character analysis when looking at his whole romance arc just feels sloppy. but i'd much rather stick to "bad writing" than "intentional character choice" in terms of how to interpret the scene I guess, at this point, for poor Rook's sake. and i know people disagree with when I've said that before bc as much as I love Mary Kirby in other areas, she has said many times that she doesn't like writing romance, and I think it really does show here. As much as I love Lucanis and the scraps we got I wish I didn't have to do so much filling-in-the-blanks on our own.

[something-wild-calls]

Getting another part out before Christmas, woo! :D

Previous

FIRST

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Cody trotted alongside Jordan, who had a rather chunky brilliant red and orange feathered staffwyrm clinging to him. He met its flame-colored eyes, but couldn't guess what it might be thinking.

They passed through clusters of buildings that nestled in patches of greenery and perched atop small hills. Today was the fifth day since his encounter with Jamie in the woods. He'd completely healed, and not for the first time he found himself enamored by the possibilities that came with magical healing.

It was a pleasant town, with folks they met along the way waving good-naturedly. Most had curious glints in their eyes at the sight of the stranger among them, but none held any hostility.

He had to wonder... how long would that last?

He gently wrapped his arm under the tattered bag draped over his shoulder, feeling comforted by the lump that weighed it down. To take his mind off his worries, he asked, “No Jamie today?”

“She might be around somewhere.” The chief shrugged. “She hangs out at the edge of the valley most of the time. Or with the griffins.”

“Griffins?” Cody glanced at the sky, as if the mention of them would summon some of the large winged beasts. He caught sight of some in the distance, but he couldn't make out any details on them. “Are there a lot around here?”

Jordan nodded. “There's a huge colony living in the northern cliffs of the valley. There's something of a long-held agreement between our town and them—We work together to keep the territory safe.”

The blond boy smiled. “Huh. Neat!” At the same time, a chill ran through him as well. He considered asking on a further thought, but decided it would be better to hold off. The need to ask may not even arise, but if it did, it might be better to be in the Chief's good graces than a stranger among his people.

As they continued along in discussion, the houses and buildings began to thin out, with the paths being edged in more and more wild growth.

Soon the path they walked was alone in the wilderness aside from lampposts to light the way come night. A smaller path split right from the larger main road that led out of town, and Jordan took Cody down this way. The trees and plant life filled the boy with a sense of calm. Birdsong filled the air, and the quacking of ducks sounded, rising in volume as they walked.

~ ~ ~ ~

~ ~ ~ ~

Cody stood in the entry way as the door clicked behind him, uncertain where to go from here.

His host, Frenzy, hung his hat on a coat rack nearby and gave Cody a nod. Without saying anything or changing his expression, he strode into the heart of the house. The blond boy noticed his gait was uneven, and the man now gripped a tall cane in his hand that clacked softly on the floor as it matched its owner's footsteps.

The place was cozy, dotted with dressers, bookshelves, and small trinkets. In the living room, a couple of comfortably padded chairs sat invitingly, a coffee table shared between them. Against a wall was a couch with small tables on each end.

Cody turned to Frenzy. "Do you, uh... does someone else here?"

He shook his head. "Nope. Just me." He beckoned. "I'll show you to your room."

With his bag strap in hands tight and slicked with sweat, he followed the man.

"Here y' are."

Frenzy flicked on the light, and Cody scanned the room. It wasn't terribly big, but it still seemed like a nice place to call his own, at least for the time being. As he stepped in, he let out the breath he'd been holding. "It's nice here, Frenzy."

"I like to be open to company. If needed."

Cody looked toward the older man, who stood in the doorway of his new resting place. His hands wringed the bag's strap anxiously. "You, ah, d-don't seem like the type to like company."

For a moment, Frenzy was silent, and his expression shifted, though Cody still couldn't read it. Then, he shrugged. "No. Not really. But I don't hate it."

The boy hesitated, still unsure about his new situation. "Uh, do you mind if I take a moment to get settled?"

Frenzy nodded again, backing away from the door. "Go right ahead." He paused a moment, and Cody caught a flicker of something in his gaze. "My home is your home now... 'Cept my room. Andy my workshop. Stay outta those. Please."

Cody nodded. "Yes, Sir."

Frenzy gently shut the door. Cody listened as the sound of his steps and the tapping of his cane faded away, and once he was alone, he approached the neatly made bed and sat on it with a sigh. A clock ticked on the wall in the silence, and the boy looked around.

A window caught his attention. He set his bag gently on the bed and walked over to it, fiddling with the latch. He was happy to find it slid open smoothly, and no screen barred it. Leaving it open a considerable amount, he returned to the bed. Before sitting, he leaned over to see what kind of space was underneath it.

Plenty.

Good.

Finally he sat back on the bed next to his bag, and, carefully, he unzipped it. The pink head of Pari peeked out at him, the russet mark across her face beaming a false grin while her pale purple eyes shone anxiously.

Still, they exchanged a smile as Cody gently cupped her head in his hand. He leaned in close to her, glancing at the door.

In a whisper, he said, "Guess we're gonna have to be careful again, Pari." He sighed. "Just until I can find a good time and way to tell him about you..."

And what for?

The mental voice growled, low and hopeless.

Just to be back on the road, traveling endlessly to each town that will let you in only long enough to gather your senses.

Cody laid back onto the bed, his legs hanging where he'd sat them.

He tried to tell off the voice of doubt, but it persisted.

We should just thank Frenzy and Jordan for their willingness to help and move on. There's no point in staying.

Pari hopped onto the boy's chest, gazing down at him with concern.

He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a crouch on top of him, and she nuzzled his chin. A purr rattled in her throat.

At that, Cody couldn't help smiling.

How many people were bold enough to learn that imps could purr?

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Introducing a new cast member, ~Frenzy~

Previous

FIRST

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

My view on the dreams is that they are a twisted image of a desire that the boys have. They are simplistic in nature though, and that is reflected in what desire they portray. Deuce cares more about making his mom proud than going the easy way, but as shown in book 3 he does sometimes take the easy way out. He misses when this were simple and he could solve problems by just throwing punches. If I had to guess, in Deuces dream his mom supported him being a delinquent so he could solve problems with his fists and make his mom proud. For Cater, I think it has more to do with wanting to been seen. When Cater arrives at the courtroom everyone cheers for him. With how he is with magicam, I think he wants to been seen but is scared to show his true self. I think that Malleus' magic took his desire to be seen as a desire for attention--Which Cater typically portrays it as too--and put him in a position where he would be admired and praised. I also think it is interesting how Trey and Riddle are kinder(?) to him then canon. We see Trey complain in canon about Cater not opening up to him, so maybe this shows that Cater wants to open up to Trey but he doesn't know how. It is midnight for me and I can feel my sleep meds getting annoyed that I am fighting them to write this, so if you want me to elaborate on anything lmk and I will do so when I am not mostly asleep.

I understand what you’re trying to say about the nature of the dreams; that’s my basic understanding too 💦 The bare bones of how they work is… fine, in isolation. I just wish the main story didn’t try to be super ambitious with the concept because the more they try to explain it, the less sense it makes and the less it sounds like the writers themselves seem to understand what they’re saying 😔

I think there’s a difference between acquiring someone else’s study guide to guarantee a passing grade versus dropping all efforts to excel academically in favor of trading fists instead, but I think I still understand the general idea. This ends up rounding back to the question of how much do the dreams pull from conscious desires versus unconscious ones, because there’s a clash between the desire for simpler ways to resolve issues and Deuce actively wanting to turn over a new leaf.

I think this could lead into other issues as well. For example, if Deuce’s mom (Dylla) theoretically supports him being a delinquent, would that not trigger an emotional response in him and cause Deuce to wake??? I’d imagine that this would conflict with his reality in which he overheard his mom’s emotionally distressing phone call, which was his motivation to abandon his days as a delinquent. Lilia woke when the dream!senators praised him for hatching Malleus rather than berate him for it; his brain registered the discrepancy and reacted accordingly. In Cater’s dream, the dream!Riddle trying to collar everyone ended up waking him—so isn’t this proof that the darkness trying to keep them asleep can fuck up and accidentally be the trigger that causes them to wake up too?? Would this not become a concern for Deuce as well if his dream begins to struggle to maintain the logic of his delinquent school?

Cater’s dream provides a similarly confusing scenario. If his desire is just to be seen, there were several much easier situations he could have gotten. Why would his dream actively hand him a position, power, and responsibilities he doesn’t want instead of… I don’t know, simply making him a popular, admired, and well-liked upperclassman??? You don’t need him to be a dorm leader in order to accomplish this. You could literally only change it so that Trey is HIS childhood friend instead or Riddle’s. Wouldn’t that be the easier solution????

It continues to feel like the writers are picking fanservice scenarios rather than what actually makes the most sense in-universe. Again, it’s a big inconsistency with the writing of the dreams and as a result it has been a major point of my criticism for the writing of book 7 as a whole.

I do think it was interesting that both dream!Trey and Riddle were more lenient with Cater than they are irl, though Trey is generally lenient with everyone. Maybe more indulgent is the right word?? This behavior change is much more noticeable with Riddle, whose attitude most likely had to be adjusted to avoid any “party poopers” in Cater’s dream. Can’t say I really see why dream!Trey and Riddle being this way with Cater would imply him wanting to open up to Trey…? They didn’t really seem to demonstrate any more intimacy or familiarity with one another than they do irl. Dream!Trey isn’t all that different, and any changes we do observe are not exclusive to him and are, in fact, more notable in dream!Riddle than in Trey.

And that speaks to another recurring issue I have with book 7’s dreams… They don’t make a ton of sense on their own and have to rely on fan interpretations, most of which will be imperfect or flawed somehow because the game failed to explain the parameters beforehand. If the game wanted us to come to a certain conclusion, they should have granted us the clues and the tools to do so. The way it is now, it’s like a mystery that’s full of red herrings (but hey, at least they’re “fun” red herrings) and everyone is looking at different clues and coming to radically different answers because of that. As I suggested in this post, maybe this was intentional because dreams irl are vague. If could have been done this way to promote character analysis and theory crafting in the fandom… but since no one has found a “perfect” explanation and no general consensus has been reached—on top of the many, MANY plot holes—I doubt it 😅 It feels like you’re trying to repair a dam by slapping a band-aid on a leak, only for two more leaks for spring up with every corrective attempt.

Those are my thoughts!! (And remember to stock up on sleep!)

[cyberhughes]

— 𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐑𝐔𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈 ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ jack hughes

chapter 5: just teasing

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*:･✧* 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: jack hughes x fem!oc

*:･✧* 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: swearing, sexual jokes

𝓐𝓾𝓽𝓱𝓸𝓻𝓼 𝓝𝓸𝓽𝓮: you guys are gonna hate me for what i’m about to do next chapter…let’s just say i’m a sucker for that miscommunication trope😁🤞

series masterlist + character intros

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mimispam: flicked up

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↳ jackhughes: i’m gonna eat u

↳ mimispam: out?

↳ quinnhughes: GET THE FUCK OFF OF MY FEED WITH THIS

↳ lhughes_06: jack passed out btw

↳ yasminramirez: bitch are those my jeans

↳ mimispam: no comment

↳ yasminramirez: I THOUGHT I LOST THOSE WTFFFF

↳ trevorzegras: hey what does your shirt say last slide😂😂😂😕😕😕

↳ colecaufield: it says out of work pornstar do you need glasses its pretty visible

↳ quinnhughes: tbis fucking idiot

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“please! i need it so bad!” naomi dangled her feet off of her bed as she talked with jack on the phone. “your deal doesn’t even make sense!” he replied. it was currently 1:00 am and naomi was craving canes so, naturally she called jack. “you said, and i quote, ‘you drive and you pay’ so then what the fuck are you contributing?” he tried to sound serious but let out a laugh at the end of his sentence. “i’ll give you a kiss~” she dragged out the last word and without hesitation jack replied, “i’m on my way.” before hanging up abruptly.

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“—and can you throw in an extra toast please?” naomi had her hands on jacks thighs as she leaned over him to speak in the drive thru, him mumbling something about her using him for money and she rolled her eyes. “should we get the 32 ounce sauce?” she looked back wiggling her eyebrows and his eyes widened “i don’t think—“ “okay and we’ll also get the 32 ounce sauce!” she fell back into her seat, smiling contently and while jack should have been annoyed, seeing the smile on her face made it all worth it.

after getting their food, they had parked in the parking lot to eat. “so, where’s my kiss?” jack teased, tossing a fry in his mouth. “hm okay, close your eyes.” and he’s never closed his eyes faster. he sat there for a few seconds, then felt naomi place a cold hand on his cheek and his heartbeat quickened, he didn’t expect her to actually go through with it. before he could finish preparing himself, naomi had taken a piece of toast drenched with sauce and shoved it in his face. “naomi what the fuck!” eyes wide as he stared at her in disbelief. she tried to suppress her laugh but he looked absolutely ridiculous. “oh you think this is funny?” he cocked a brow and she shook her head, still laughing. “well you still owe me a kiss so pucker up!” sauce still all over him, he grabbed naomi’s face and tried to pull her in. “GROSS GET OFF OF ME!” she burst into a fit of giggles as she tried pushing him off, but he was stronger, he placed a fat, canes sauce filled, kiss on her cheek. “you’re fucking disgusting.” she laughed, reaching for napkins as jack sat back proudly.

eventually after eating, they had driven back to naomi’s house but stayed parked in the driveway, still talking for hours about god knows what. “can i ask you something?” she proposed and he nodded, her legs currently stretched out on his lap as she leaned her back against the passenger door. “do you think we could ever actually date?” she asked nonchalantly, eyes focused on her hair as she played with her split ends. “what are you talking about?” he laughed and looked over at her. she looked up from playing with her hair, “us dating? for real though.” she waited, but took the confusion on his face as an answer and she shook her head, removing her legs from his lap “nevermind.” she grabbed her sweater from the back seat. “stop, i’m just confused, you’ve never said something like that before, like you were never serious.” he held her arm to stop her from leaving. “and i was just joking now too.” her expression shifted, a soft smile now on her face. “i was just teasing, that’d be weird. you’re just cute when you’re flustered.” she pinched his nose before getting out of the car. jack’s stomach dropped at her words, would it be so weird if they were actually together? “thanks for the canes jack!” she began walking to her front door, but stopped about halfway and ran back to his car. she motioned him to roll his window down. rolling the window down, he searched for something to say but before he could, naomi kissed him gently on the cheek. “there’s your kiss.” she grinned before running into her house. jack sat back puzzled, running a hand through his hair. “what the fuck just happened?”

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“you’re a fucking idiot, jack.” quinn shrugged as his younger brother told him and luke what naomi had asked. “seriously dude, if i had a penny for every time you fumbled, i’d be filthy rich.” luke added, attention barely focused on them as he played fortnite. “what the fuck do you mean? she said she was joking?” jack groaned and quinn sighed at his brothers ignorance. “you cannot be that dense dude, she clearly wasn’t joking. she was being serious and you laughed right in her face.” jack listened to his brothers words, was she really being serious? luke turned off the game, getting up before patting his brothers back, “you my friend, have officially fucked up.”

HOT MESS EXPRESS🤠🔥

[causeimcrayzeebee]

Wolfgang Akire through the lens of the law: an analysis

i would like to give a disclaimer that while im very interested in the law, im not a lawyer or in law school. my knowledge comes from the few law classes i have taken, participation in a couple mock trials, and some personal research, so please take this with a grain of salt! if im missing something or saying something inaccurate, please let me know! i am always open to learning more!! not to mention this is my understanding of law in the United States, so this may differ by country.

in the end, this isn’t meant to be too serious, just using the knowledge i do have and applying it to p:eg!!!

okay now spoilers for the prologue and all of chapter 1!

well ig before we get into it let me say rest in peace a king... I will miss you, you hypocritical bastard........

alright, so firstly, let’s consider Wolfgang’s character profile.

two things stand out to me here. the first is how he has “successfully defended over 200 of his clients without dropping a single case.” we can infer that Wolfgang is a criminal defense attorney. it’s possible he could be a lawyer in the civil law sector instead, but considering his strong feelings about murder and crime, and the fact that this is Danganronpa, it leads me to believe he is a criminal attorney for the sake of relevance (I don't think any of us would care if he were a corporate attorney after all).

now, that sentence you just read is particularly interesting in the case of Wolfgang Akire. From the prologue's mock trial, we can see that Wolfgang feels very passionately about murder, condemning the murderer even without insight as to why they committed the crime, instead big on retribution and justice (which the definition of could definitely be debated). Yet, as a defense lawyer, Wolfgang would have been defending people from criminal accusations, from anything to armed robbery, arson, or murder. we’re not particularly sure on his view of other crime, but we can assume he also has a similarly negative view of it that he has of murder. out of 200 people (within such a short time span of finishing law school too), what are the odds that out of all 200, not one of them was actually guilty? of course, lawyers have the ability to drop or not take on cases, but as his profile says, he hasn’t dropped a single case! it’s quite possible he had complete faith that every client was innocent, but with the evidence and files he’d have to go through, he had to have seen something that was damning and prepared accordingly to address in the most sympathetic way possible to avoid prosecution winning their case. and that's the thing with Wolfgang; his job requires building sympathy for the accused, and it requires sowing seeds of doubt in prosecution's case. there had to have been someone that he was defending from an accurate charge(s). so whether he knew it or not, he has very likely defended people guilty of crime; and yet, he still feels very adamantly against them.

Here's where I fall short on my analysis; I honestly do not know what to make of this conclusion. his behavior and his ideals are almost contradictory in a sense. is this insight to wolfgang's clear hypocrisy? but what does that really say about him? I'd love to know what any of y'all think in regards to this :0

Now, the second thing that stands out to me is that he wants to make sure that everyone is fairly represented and make sure logic and evidence drive the discussion. While this does seem to be true, the mock trial shows that he lets his feelings become a big part of the discussion as well. everything he does screams prosecutor to me, so it was shocking to find out he works as defense. Wolfgang has a very interesting way of viewing things, almost dichotomous, unlike what his profile says. it's similar to the format of a trial, where it's not meant to be a team working together to find the complexities and nuance within a certain issue, but rather an attempt to prove your point and disprove the other side. trials aren't supposed to be a discussion where everyone reaches the truth together (Danganronpa trials are not very accurate but of course I don't think they were intended to be in the first place), they are for you to win your case-- as a defense attorney, its poking as many holes into the prosecution’s case as possible. (little fun side note, this is very similar to how debate works; Wolfgang and Damon are a lot more alike than one would originally think.)

Considering all of this, it makes me wonder if Wolfgang was intentionally trying to split the group apart,,,, because it's easier. because it makes more sense. as defense, lawyers may pin the crime on another, but without the burden of proof that prosecution does, they can sling out accusations to increase doubt on prosecutions case without having to actually prove it (that would be left for a separate case). it's easier to divide a group and have a bunch of people follow you while isolating the 'other side', and with that division made, it's more likely someone you isolated will be the 'villian' anyways; and in this case, this was true-- Eva, who has been socially ostracized her whole life, was driven to murder to protect herself from the blinding fear that everyone was out for her (even if that wasn't entirely true). this could be just how Wolfgang has gotten used to going through his life. maybe the bad habits he picked up from his father were the divisive kind of us vs them mindset lawyers have to have in a courtroom.

speaking of his father, let's address the motive-- there's so many things that Wolfgang's blackmail could be about; faking his law degree, not taking the bar exam, defending horrible people, the list goes on. Honestly, a scenario i have considered is that it's about him defending his father for a crime he actually did commit, yet winning the case; or his father commuting a crime in general and winning his case, leaving Wolfgang conflicted as that is the sort of thing he does all the time, yet his father had just taken away his mothers life and gotten free (this is very much just me guessing a possibility though). when Wolfgang was hallucinating, he says he's not like them (to diana who he thinks is someone else) and he'll never be like them; It's most likely that he saw his father. the theory I'm going with right now is that his father was at the very least heavily involved in the likely murder of his mother (thus bring her back in reference to his mom). his father was probably also a lawyer and may have pushed wolfgang into going into the field himself, especially when he sent him to law school as a teenager. maybe Wolfgang wanted to live up to the expectations his father had of him. who knows exactly what Wolfgang wanted everyone to know him as, it was probably a long the lines of a competent lawyer. but, as of right now it's all speculation (objection! haha.... that was not funny my bad), so again, I'd love to hear some thoughts.

Another little funny thing i'd like to note is when Damon and Eva come back to the dinning hall and Wolfgang asks where they've been, Damon responds saying it was for discussing the motive. He's internally smug about how defeated Wolfgang seemed to be by that, and I thought that the funniest shit; very similar to being on cross examination, thinking you have the witness in your hands, when suddenly they wiggle out of your accusation. he's so real for that.

that is pretty much all i've got so far! let me know what y'all think and thanks for reading!!! :)

[mcytegg]

id love to see flame and a locked in ro team up tbh. like i feel like it either goes very well for both of them bc they have the potiential to work well together, given ro's ambitious nature and his way of loving to just Do Things w his teammates and flame's loyalty nd apparent (unconcious) way of seeking out someone to follow and do fun things with.

or it could go EXTREMELY poorly bc of who they are as people since flame is a wild card with a lot of pride that can be used to set him off and ro just isnt an assertive person, esp w people hes not as close to, so if someone made flame crash out and he started doing things ro didnt like, itd cause an entire Thing cause it can end one of three ways. ro doesnt saying anything and is upset by it and it festers. ro DOES say smt and flame doesnt care or gets upset w HIM. or ro says smt and flame listens to him.

cause like, okay flames thing seems to be that he generally returns the energy of everyone he interacts w. mane and pentar have done nothing but be loyal to him so he is FIERCELY loyal to them both. he felt like wemmbu was a leech and as if it was only a matter of time until he betrayed but since wemmbu never actually did he never acted upon it. the empire has always treated him as a hostile enemy so thats what he is to them in return. the only person in the server aside from mane and pentar that he seems to genuinely adore and respect is pangi (to the point of being Against it when ash wanted to kill him) and i think a very big part of this is bc pangi has continued to treat him like a person and to treat him w kindness in spite of what he has done and regardless of if he deserves it given how much he has done to hurt pangi specifically

and like w how ro kind of just lives in the moment and makes his decisions based on what is happening just naturally in the moment (unless u are mapicc LMFAO. in which case he will always do his best to be friends w mapicc) i can see them synergizing well. but also if ro played the server and had fun as a team w flame only to vanish once again, i dont think itd go well at all bc i do think flame would remain loyal but i also think he'd do whatever he thinks is fun, and given his little knack for destruction itd give them enemies ro doesnt want yk .

as im saying this all i cant help but think theyd be similar to s4 dualities but the ending could only be on opposite extremes of them thriving and ending the season together, or w some sort of betrayal and flame being determined to ban ro himself bc he REALLY doesnt seem the type to just be ex teammates and to leave it there. for as similar as flame and mapicc are, they are equally as different. idk if any of this makes sense, ive just woken up after 3 hrs of sleep but whatever i just wanted an excuse to talk abt ro and flame

[atleastpleasetelephone]

Little Darling

Chapter 10 - With my toes dipped in the sand

It's 1997, and Elvis is still alive and well. He quit music in 1972 after a successful world tour, and now he runs Presley Studios - teaching people karate across America. His daughter and grandchildren are regular visitors at Graceland, and when he’s in Memphis he likes to do a little teaching. His life is quieter now, though. Most of the Mafia have gone - going to live their own lives - and after his divorce from his second wife, Elvis is sworn off women for good. Will a Welsh girl with a wicked sense of humour be the one to make him break his promise to himself not to fall in love again?

Need to catch up? Go here.

Pairing: Old Man!Elvis x OC - Tegan, a Welsh girl he meets at karate.

Word count: 4.5K

TWs: Erectile dysfunction, drug use, slight mention of addiction, mention of spanking, discussion of parenthood/children, ass play, masturbation, discussion of anal.

Once Tegan has fully recovered, she and Elvis live out of Graceland for a while. She gets used to driving out of the mansion gates every morning, and the handful of fans she sees there regularly are on first name terms with her after a few weeks. Living together is surprisingly easy, though Tegan refuses to give up her apartment, however many different ways Elvis thinks of to ask. It’s not just that she wants it as a safety net, she genuinely loves living in it, and tries to persuade Elvis that they could hop between the two instead of always living in the mansion. He’s not sure. It was the last house his Mama lived in, after all, and part of him feels guilty wanting to live anywhere else in Memphis, even if he does really like the apartment too. 

They’re sitting together in bed one morning, Tegan between Elvis’ legs, when he remembers he wants to ask her something. 

“Queenie?”

“Hmmm?”

“Ya wanna go on vacation soon?” His hand trails up and down from the top of her sternum to her belly. 

The back of her head is against his chest, and she looks up at him curiously. “With you? I’d love to. Where are we going?”

“Wherever ya want, honey.”

“Oooh.”

“But, uh… probably not just us.”

Tegan tries to hide her disappointment as he tells her about the million and one people he wants to invite and promises to pay for. She knows Maria will be thrilled, and the kids too, but she was hoping for some kind of romantic getaway, rather than a family holiday with people who were not, in fact, her family. She tells him she’s going to shower and he makes noises about breakfast. 

“You decide, though, Queenie. Wherever ya wanna go. Nice beach somewhere.”

The shower clears her head, and she decides that going on holiday with everyone probably isn’t as bad as she thinks. The more people, the bigger the likelihood of someone wanting to go with her to do things. She’s starting to think that Elvis has become a very beach holiday person in his old age, and she can’t think of anything worse than just lying around getting sunburnt. She pulls on jeans and a jumper and wanders downstairs, finding Elvis in the kitchen, reading the paper as he eats his rubbery eggs. 

“Good shower?” He asks, reading glasses perched on the end of his nose.

“Yes, thanks.” 

She puts an arm around his shoulders and looks down at the paper. His palm slides onto the inside of her thigh, possessively. 

“Look at this.” He points to an article in the paper and she reads it over his shoulder. “Think I should ask Dr Dawson about it?”

The article is about Sildenafil, a drug recently approved for use by the FDA. As Tegan reads further, she realises it’s for erectile dysfunction. She’s not sure she’d ever really thought about Elvis’ dick as being dysfunctional before, but she does always feel like they have to make the most of it whenever it is functioning as it should. Interesting.

“You might as well see what he thinks about it.”

He doesn’t really want to talk to the doctor about his penis, but he knows this is something that could really help him. He feels a bit like his life is controlled by the whims of Little Elvis, and he’d really prefer to be in control of it himself. He calls Dr Dawson after breakfast, and the doctor promises to be round in a couple of hours. Elvis doesn’t like seeing medical professionals at all, nowadays. He feels like he had such a close brush with death in the early 70s that he tries to keep away from temptation now. After the world tour he’d fired Dr Nick and specifically looked for someone who dealt with addiction to sort out his problems. It has been tough, but looking at Tegan now, as she fusses around the kitchen trying to tidy up, he thinks that it has definitely been worth it. 

“He’s comin’ up the drive,” He says, to no-one in particular, as he sits staring at the CCTV. 

“You want me to talk to him with you?” Tegan strokes his hair as he wraps an arm around her. 

“Oh, yes please, honey.” This whole thing is embarrassing, but her being there will at least be a hand to hold. 

They settle into the study with the doctor and Elvis shows him the newspaper article. 

“I uh… I-I-I-I thought maybe they uh… m-might… help me s-some…” he stutters. Tegan reaches for his hand and squeezes it. 

“Well you’re not the first person to ask me about this today, and you sure won’t be the last!” Dr Dawson jokes. Elvis smiles, thinly. “Can you describe your symptoms?”

Elvis starts to blush and Tegan can see the start of a full on stammer coming, so she cuts in. 

“Well he just can’t necessarily get it up every time. It’s better in the morning, I think that’s quite common, um, but it’s kind of unreliable in the evening. And I’m… well I’m nearly 40 but I’ve always struggled getting relaxed enough for intercourse, I need a lot of foreplay, so we do struggle sometimes. It’s frustrating for both of us. We um, I mean we have a good sex life but I think anything to improve it a little is worth a try, you know?”

Elvis squeezes her hand tightly and she looks over at him as he mouths “thank you”. 

“Well that sounds just like what this drug has been made for. I’m happy to prescribe it for you, if you agree your wife’s description of it is accurate?”

Tegan’s eyes go wide at his mistake but she doesn’t say anything. Elvis smirks. 

“Oh yeah, I agree with everything my wife just said.”

“Great. Lucky for you I have a bottle on me, but here’s a prescription for more. It lowers your blood pressure, so make sure you take it easy. Don’t be popping more than one of these a night.”

He hands over the bottle, and Elvis immediately passes it to Tegan. “You can look after that f’me, honey.”

She smiles and nods and they get up to shake hands with the doctor and show him out. As soon as he’s gone Elvis turns to her and bursts out laughing. 

“Yer face when he called ya my wife!”

“You didn’t correct him!”

“Didn’t want ta. A man can dream, can’t he?”

She shakes her head and smirks a little herself. “Well, looks like we’re going to have a fun holiday.” She holds up the bottle of pills and shakes it. 

“Not just the vacation, Queenie. The fun starts now.”

Still shaking her head, she holds the bottle behind her back. “Uh-uh. You gave it to me to look after. I’m keeping it hidden until we go on holiday.”

“What?!” Elvis’ eyes are wide. He had been thinking of throwing her over his shoulder and carrying her up the stairs immediately. 

“I’m keeping the spark alive! Ahhhh! Elvis!!” 

She starts to run but he catches up with her quickly, grabbing her around the waist and trying to get the pill bottle off her. She squeals as they play-fight, both ending up on the carpet in the living room, scrabbling about. She throws the bottle as far away as she can manage and then tries to get up and run after it. He grabs her ankle and brings her tumbling back to the floor. 

“I don’t think so.”

“Ow! Elvis!” 

“Ya should practise karate more at home, ya know,” he tells her as he rolls away from her, getting up himself and running after the bottle. He scoops it up and turns around, just in time for her to attempt a wrist lock on him to get him to drop it again. Now it’s his turn to cry out in pain. “Ow!” 

She stops, worried she’s actually hurt him and his expression immediately changes to a wicked grin. 

“Tricked ya.”

She’s just realising what’s happened when he picks her up and throws her over his shoulder, grabbing hold of her thighs tightly. 

“Spanking time fer naughty girls.”

“Elvis!” 

He chuckles, striding up the stairs with her over one shoulder, kicking and struggling but getting nowhere. He throws her on the bed and then looks at the label of the pill bottle. 

“Ah. Half an hour to kick in. Good amount of time ta spank ya for, I reckon.”

***

The group flies to Cancun for Thanksgiving break on Elvis’ private jet, and Tegan has to admit that she could get used to this kind of lifestyle. There’s no real rules on the jet, although she does remain sensibly in her seat and wearing her seatbelt for the majority of the flight anyway. There’s also champagne on the jet, and plenty of tasty food. Maria’s kids make the most of the lack of rules, tearing up and down the plane, playing all manner of games. Elvis joins in with them for a bit, but then he gets worn out and sits back down next to his girlfriend. He watches as Gina comes barrelling over and jumps on her lap. She looks shocked as always, and very carefully picks the little girl up and places her back on the floor again, explaining as patiently as she can muster that she’s not a climbing frame. He chuckles, taking her hand in his. 

“She’s a little firecracker, ain’t she?”

Tegan huffs out a sigh. “Yeah. I swear she came out of the womb like this and she hasn’t taken a breath since.”

“She might even be too much fer me,” he observes with a wry smile. 

Tegan looks over at him, surprised. “Didn’t think any kids were too much for you.”

“Psssh. I’m old, Queenie. My knees ain’t what they used ta be. Ben, over there, is more my speed nowadays.” He nods towards the little boy, who is colouring in carefully, as usual. 

“You’re just saying that because he’s the only kid who gives me the time of day.”

Elvis shakes his head. “Nah. I’m sayin’ it because it’s true.”

They sit in silence for a while, Tegan trying to weigh up what she ought to say to him, since he’d brought up the topic of children. She still doesn’t know. 

“Ya never wanted any?” He asks, stroking the back of her hand with his thumb. 

“No.” She decides to go all in. “I’m not the maternal type. Never felt the urge. I find them… difficult to relate to.”

She doesn’t dare look at him now that she’s basically told him she doesn’t like kids, in what seems quite a bit like a jet plane full of kids. 

“I uh… I always thought I’d have more, ya know. Only ended up with one.”

She nibbles on her lower lip and nods, still looking away. His thumb carries on rubbing circles on the back of her hand. 

“Thought I’d make a good dad. Not sure I did. Ya’d have ta ask Lisa I suppose.” He pauses for a while, and she wonders if she should contradict him. Then he continues, “don’t think either of us were ready. Me or Cilla. Not sure she had a maternal bone in her body, but she had a kid anyway.” Another pause. “Y’know, Stella wanted kids. An’ I was always too busy with one thing or another. Another reason she left me. She was pregnant almost straight away, after she’d gone.”

Tegan finds herself squeezing his hand and cautiously looking into his face. “Thought you’d think less of me, you know. Because I’m not… maternal.”

He shakes his head. “Confused me at first, when Maria told me. But then I thought about it an’ I guess I realised we’re not that different. I mean I coulda had a whole army of ‘em, but I didn’t. Coz I didn’t think I’d give ‘em the life they deserved.” He looks over at Lisa, wistfully, as she helps Riley with her cross-stitch. “Never had time fer her, when she was little. Said that’s why I stopped with the music, ta make time fer her. But I just filled it with somethin’ else.”

He sighs deeply. Tegan raises his hand to her lips and kisses the back of it. 

“I’m sure everyone thinks they could’ve done a better job at being a parent. But look at her now. She’s grown into a wonderful, capable woman with a career and two great kids of her own. And she loves you, you know she does.”

Elvis turns his head and presses a kiss to Tegan’s temple. “Thanks, Queenie. That means a lot.”

“Any time, ‘raur. It’s not hard to say when it’s the truth.”

***

They arrive at the resort and once they’ve unpacked a little the men gather around the barbeque and try to cook fish that Maria picked up at the market. Elvis pulls a face about the smell, but accepts little mouthfuls of Tegan’s when she feeds them to him from her plate. 

“You should try a prawn, ‘raur. Not fishy at all.”

She gets up and rescues one from the barbeque, moving it back and forth in her fingers as she tries to peel it. It’s still pretty hot, but once she gets the shell off she takes a bite. 

“Mmmm. Delicious. You want?”

Elvis has already taken a pill, and the sight of Tegan with butter running down her chin brings Little Elvis to attention immediately. He shuffles about, rearranging himself to make his erection less obvious, and then leans forward with his mouth open. Tegan giggles as she puts the rest of the prawn in his mouth. She’d noticed the little movement and knows exactly what it means. He won’t last long at this table. 

“Hmmm that’s okay, actually,” he concedes, then winks at her. 

She wipes her chin and giggles. “You want another?”

“Only if you do.”

They’re both giggling now, and she repeats the process with another prawn, eating it even more messily and making Elvis groan audibly. 

“Okay, this has been fun,” he announces, once he’s eaten the other half. “But Queenie and I have a bed to test out.”

Tegan puts her hand over her mouth in embarrassment. The kids are all still awake and they immediately start asking things about the bed and why it needs testing. 

“Elvis!” She elbows him in the side as they walk off together, the rest of the adults laughing and wishing them luck. 

“Ya shouldn’ta eaten that prawn like that, baby. It was like a porno.”

She almost cries with laughter as she holds onto his arm, both of them stepping back into the condo. “It was not! It was me, eating a prawn, normally! You’ve got problems, Presley.”

He turns her to face him, running his thumb over her chin and grinning back. “I’ve got one problem, Queenie. An’ it’s that I need ya now. I can’t wait.”

He leans down and kisses her, his tongue exploring her mouth eagerly. 

“You’ve got no patience, nowadays,” she tells him as she leads him into their bedroom for the week. “No patience at all.”

They’d used the pills a few times since he’d been prescribed them, and it had really taken the pressure off. Elvis no longer had to worry if his erection could make it through a change in position because it always did. He’d had a lot of fun throwing her around and trying new things, with the help of a bottle of lube that she’d bought in Memphis’ only sex shop. But he’s by no means finished the list of things he wants to try, and he’s glad he’s got all this time on vacation now.

Once they’re both naked he lies on top of her, still relishing the fact that she likes it, and kisses her neck. 

“Queenie…” he murmurs into her ear. 

“Mmm. Yes, baby.”

“Y’know that time ya were sick and ya… well we… y’know…”

She giggles at his shyness. “I think I know, but use your words, ‘raur.”

He groans. “Okay, okay. I didn’t want yer finger, but uh…y-ya could… would ya wanna lick it? I mean… ya don’t have ta, if ya don’t wanna it’s fine but…” he trails off, aware he’s just making noises at this point. 

Tegan bites her lip, hard, to stop herself from giggling. She breathes out very slowly through her nose and prays for some kind of composure. 

“You want me to eat your ass?”

“Oh-oh-oh-nly if ya want to.” When she doesn’t reply straight away, he carries on. “I-I mean it’s fine if ya don’t, I don’t expect ya ta, I… I know I’m an old man with a hairy ass and I wouldn’t want ta stick my tongue there…”

Tegan can’t suppress her little giggle at the description. 

“Ya don’t want ta. I knew it. I shouldna asked. I’m sorry honey, my horny brain jus’ gets these ideas an’...”

She moves her head so she can look at him, putting a hand on either side of his face. “I would love to eat your ass.”

“Y-you would?”

She giggles again, a little shyly. “I wanna make you feel good.”

“Well I think ya would, honey.”

“Girls have done it to you before, haven’t they?”

It’s his turn to smirk a little now. “Yeah. Once or twice.”

“Well I might not be any good at it.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Practice makes perfect.”

They both giggle again, foreheads pressed against one another, in that conspiratorial way they’d developed over the weeks and months they’d been together. 

“I need ta shower.”

“I’ll come with you.”

He gives her a slightly funny look. “Honey, I need to wash down there.”

“So?”

“Okay, fine. But ya have ta close yer eyes fer that bit.”

Tegan rolls her eyes a little in disbelief but assures him that she will. They get in the shower together and she giggles at his raging erection. Once he’d taken a pill, if it was up there was no way it was coming down until he’d cum (and sometimes not even then), and she finds it very amusing. He insists that she closes her eyes and puts her hands over them whilst he washes his ass, which she finds even funnier. Eventually she’s allowed to look again and they get out of the shower and dry off. 

“You’ve gotta stop giggling, little girl,” he chides as they get back on the bed again. 

“But you’re so cute and funny.”

Elvis tries hard to put on a serious face but only manages for a few seconds before laughing again. He'd laughed and joked around with all of his girlfriends, but he can’t remember laughing so much with anyone before Tegan. Especially not in bed. He always took sex very seriously, which meant being proud of himself when he made a woman come for the first time, but also beating himself up when he couldn’t perform the way he wanted to. She somehow manages to make it silly and sexy at the same time. 

“How do you want to do this, then?” She asks.

“A bit pissed,” he answers, and they’re back to laughing again. 

Tegan gets up and pulls on a robe so she can walk to the kitchen and grab a bottle of champagne from the fridge. They sit and drink and talk a little about who they think will fall out with who first on the vacation. Elvis’ money is on Lisa-Marie arguing with Sonny, but Tegan thinks that Maria and her husband won’t last a day with the kids without fighting. Once they’re about three quarters of the way through the bottle, Tegan puts her empty glass down. 

“C’mon then. Which way round do you want me?”

Even a little drunk and a lot horny, Elvis struggles to answer such a direct question. “Can I uh…” he stops and swallows down the rest of his champagne in one big gulp. “Can I sit on yer face?”

She nods and gives him a quick kiss, before settling down on her back. He gulps. He sort of had expected her to say no. 

“C’mon then,” she encourages again, holding her arms out. 

He carefully arranges himself with a knee on either side of her shoulders, then kind of hovers, uncertainly. She grabs his hips and pulls him down so she’s actually sitting on his haunches. 

“That okay?” He asks.

Her hands move to his ass and she squeezes it a little before pulling the cheeks apart and licking between them. He makes a little moaning noise and she smiles. 

“Shuffle back a bit, if you stay that far away it’s going to hurt my neck after a while.”

He does as she suggests and she hums approvingly, starting to lick again. He groans, his hand sliding up and down his dick as he looks at her body stretched out in front of him. He likes looking at her tattoos, and her piercings. And of course he likes looking at her breasts. And her pussy. Well, shit, he likes her body generally. Sitting like this is giving him a great view and her tongue being where it is is like the icing on the cake. 

Tegan keeps licking for a while, wide, long movements and then little kitten licks. Then she makes her tongue into a point and pulls him down onto her face a little more, pressing it against his entrance. 

“Mmmmm.”

She tries a few times but she can’t get more than the very end in, so she pulls back. 

“Baby?”

“Hmmm.” The feeling of her tongue is making Elvis sweat and he doesn’t know how to respond. 

“You’re tensing up,” she tells him, running her thumb between his ass cheeks now. 

“Mmmm.” He still can’t speak, now she’s rubbing him there and he’s starting to feel a little insane. 

“If you imagine you’re pushing a little, that might help.”

Tegan hears Elvis panting, but he still doesn’t say anything. She mentally shrugs and moves her head back into position, pulling him down on her mouth again. Her hands massage his ass as she tries again with her tongue. This time she presses in a little further, and he moans loudly, moving his hand faster on his dick as he feels his orgasm building. 

He’s never let a woman do this before. He was always kind of strict with the girls he had let near his asshole. The idea of something going in, whether it was a finger or a tongue, just seemed sort of violating. Like something that shouldn’t happen to him. But Tegan’s little tongue… he moans again as she flicks it in and out, and he finds himself matching her rhythm with his hand. He thinks again about the way she is with him, how much she makes him laugh and how reassuring she is. Her patience, how she never once got frustrated or upset with him when he couldn’t give her what he promised, in bed. How she ate whatever he tried to cook her, never once pointed out that his attempts at cleaning the kitchen floor left it dirtier than it was to begin with and always looked so delighted to see him after a long day at work. He suddenly realises, with his release heavy in his balls and a pretty girl’s tongue halfway up his ass, that he loves her. 

“Shit,” he mutters, as his orgasm peaks and cum starts to shoot out of his dick and all over her body. “Tegan…I love you.”

She pulls her tongue back into her mouth and kisses him there instead, until he shakily gets off her and lies down on the bed. She leans over and tries to kiss his lips, but his hand stops her. 

“I know where yer mouth’s been.”

Grabbing his hand and pulling it out of the way, she climbs on top of him and pins his blissed out body to the bed. “Yeah. Your arsehole. My mouth. So the least you can do is give me a kiss for it.”

Drunk on champagne and his orgasm, Elvis gives in, letting her kiss him passionately. She pulls back and then presses a little kiss to the end of his nose. 

“I love you too, by the way. Couldn’t reply at the time as my tongue was otherwise occupied.” She chuckles. “That’s one to tell the grandkids.”

Elvis laughs, putting on a high-pitched voice. “Hey grandad, when did you tell grandma you loved her for the first time?” His voice changes to an exaggerated version of his own deep southern drawl. “When she had her tongue up my ass, son.”

They fall about laughing again, trading lines back and forth about it, Elvis howling with laughter at her impressions of him. When they recover, he looks at her seriously for a moment. 

“This old man woves you so much, Tegan bach.” He holds her face in his hands and stares at her, lovingly. 

“She woves him too,” she replies. She really does. Has done for a long time now, but for some reason it didn’t seem important to say it. She felt like he already knew. “You want the end of the champagne?”

He nods and she gets up, pouring the remains of the bottle into two glasses. 

“Hey, how d’ya know to tell me to do that thing… so ya could get yer tongue in?”

She smirks. “I’ve um… done anal before.”

His eyes go wide for a moment and he takes a sip of his drink. “Ya like it?”

She nods. “What about you?”

“I’ve never let anyone fuck me in the ass,” he replies, completely deadpan. 

She pushes him in the chest and he starts to laugh. “Okay, okay. Yeah I did it with a girl once. Good Christian girl, no sex before marriage ya know? Kept that pussy pristine, good as new. But her asshole musta seen some things.”

Tegan shrieks, her hand over her mouth, nearly falling onto the mattress she’s laughing so hard. 

“You can’t tell me you want me to eat your ass, but you can say that?”

He shrugs. “Tellin’ stories about other people is easier. Tellin’ ya what I want… I don’t want ya ta think I’m some kinda weirdo.”

She reaches up to stroke his cheek. “I definitely think you’re some kind of weirdo. My kind of weirdo.”

He smiles then, a beautiful radiant smile that lights up his whole face. 

“Don’t ever feel like you can’t ask me for whatever you want. I’d never make you feel bad about it.”

He kisses her again, softly, on the lips. “I will hold ya ta that, Tegan bach. I’ll hold ya to it.”

***

Taglist:

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[rainbow-pop-arts]

Gravity Falls x anime I like

Reasons why I paired the Pines family with each anime characters under the cut:

Ford with Nanika from HUNTERxHUNTER

Ford loves mysterious things, right? So he would love to meet Nanika! He would be very fascinated by her abilities although be a bit upset that he wouldn’t see here wishing-granting abilities in action. Also I just thought it would be cute.

Stan with Vash from Trigun

Just like Stan, Vash has a a twin brother he was really close to but something happened that caused them to argue and go their separate ways. He’s also a wanted criminal on the run but unlike Stan, he didn’t even do anything but people blamed him.

Dipper with Laios from Dungeon Meshi

Nothing much, I just wanna draw Dipper being weirded out that some guy looks at the journal and asks if he could eat the creatures in it. Laios is really interested in learning about creatures but also interested in eating them and know what they taste like if it’s possible, does that make sense if you haven’t seen Dungeon Meshi?

Mabel with Doremi from Ojamajo Doremi

These girls have crushes on many boys and try to get together with them, only for it to not end well. But Mabel is more boy-crazy cuz through out the series I think Doremi only fell for like 4 boys and didn’t go too crazy over them.