#and hes just so interested in how all these little human things work and he needs and desires his s/o in a less-than healthy way

[magniloquent-raven]

Day 3: Missing Moments

a little something for @bucktommypositivityweek 💜 tommy POV after their first date + buck calling about meeting for coffee

**

Tommy's not moping. He doesn't mope. Especially not over a relationship that wasn't even a relationship yet. It was one date. Arguably less. Half a date with a guy he's hung out with—if he's counting very generously—a grand total of four times.

A blip, as far as relationships go. He has more history with that guy he used to trade semi-frequent blowjobs with who's saved in his phone as Nose Ring.

...Come to think of it, he should delete that guy's number. They haven't spoken in years. He's pretty sure the last text in their message history is—yup. Dick pic. From Nose Ring. They'd gone six months without contact, then he sent a picture of his penis and nothing else. Tommy couldn't find it in himself to be even vaguely interested, and there's been no communication since.

And that's really that's the problem, isn't it. His dating history is riddled with guys like that. Dead-end hookups and bad dates with people he didn't click with no matter how much he tried to force it. And people who just...didn't care enough. Then Evan...

Alright, he's moping a little bit. He's only human.

He's been laying in bed, staring at the ceiling. Pretty much since he got home. It's not late enough that he's tired, really, but he's also exhausted. In a soul-deep sort of way.

It was nice. He had a nice time, sitting across from Evan, letting him stutter his way through all the usual first date talking points like he was reading them off a list in his head. It was cute, how seriously he took it, how he'd pause and smile and get that soft look in his eye when he was listening to Tommy talk.

It would have been so easy to be greedy and keep spending time basking in that warmth he seems to radiate. Evan was clearly willing to push himself way past his comfort zone, but. Tommy wasn't. Isn't. His stomach twists just thinking about it.

But maybe he's being selfish either way. He wants more than Evan can give him, so he's pulling away completely, retreating before he can get too deep into planning a future Evan isn't ready for.

He sighs, feeling around next to his pillow until his fingers close around his phone.

Maybe Evan will reach out again. Some day. Eventually. Once he's more at ease with himself. Or maybe Tommy already ruined what could have been before it even started. Probably safer to just assume the latter. Restrict himself to hoping they can still be friends after this.

He scrolls aimlessly through his contacts. There's quite a few numbers in there that he should delete. Names he's not sure he recognizes anymore. Ones he wishes he could forget.

For some godforsaken reason he still has Sam Westbrook in here. Just reading the name puts a pit in his stomach. He doesn't remember everything about the three horrible months they spent together, it's mostly just flashes. The taste of too much beer on his tongue, saturated and clumsy in his mouth. A sharp smile and a sharper suit, always pressed and starched and better-than-you.

Tommy was newly out and far too hard on himself about how difficult it was. Guys like Sam seemed to sniff that out, made his personal shame all about them. It didn't always work, but Sam was particularly good at it. He always left Tommy feeling gutted and guilty and far too willing to do whatever it took to make it up to him the next time they saw each other. It's not a relationship he likes to think about.

But it's a reminder that he did the right thing tonight.

And...

Maybe he'll call Evan. Not yet, not right away. Tommy needs time to square away his own messy feelings, but maybe in a couple weeks. Just to let Even know he's. Around. If he needs someone to talk to about all this.

They can be friends. He'll make it work.

He deletes Sam's number, and tosses his phone aside.

Two weeks.

—

It's only two days later when his phone rings, Evan Buckley written across his screen in big white letters. He stares at it through five long buzzes while his heartbeat pounds in his ears.

This...wasn't the plan. And to make matters worse, he's at work. He catches one of his coworkers side-eyeing him curiously, and that pretty much guarantees he'll have at least three people ask him what was up with the phone call before his shift it over.

Well. He should at least give them something to gossip about. A guy called me and I watched it go to voicemail isn't much of a story.

He swipes to answer, before he can make himself any more nervous.

"Hey."

"Tommy! Hey!" Evan's voice crackles a little through the phone with a surprised intake of breath, like he wasn't the one who called in the first place. The corner of Tommy's mouth twitches. "H-how's it going?"

Tommy spent four hours yesterday taking apart his neighbours' lawn mower because he'd convinced the man it was making a weird noise and he could fix it. There was nothing wrong with it, but he checked every inch anyways, and put it back together well-oiled and exactly as pristine as it was before. That morning he'd gone grocery shopping with a paper list and his phone at home so he'd stop obsessively combing through all his files trying to find things to delete.

So, he's having a very normal week, clearly.

"Good," he says instead of explaining any of that. "I'm actually at work right now, so—"

"Oh crap, I forgot you were working today, sorry. I—I can call back later if you're busy."

"No, it's okay. Slow day so far." He pauses. "One might even say qui—"

"Ah, don't jinx it!"

Tommy snickers. Apparently Eddie wasn't exaggerating. He's known a lot of superstitious people, but most of them didn't take it this seriously. Evan sounded less panicked about flying directly into an actual hurricane. "Right, the dreaded Q-Word."

"Did you hear about the power lines that fell on our engine?!"

"Yes." He'd seen the pictures too. Pretty much everyone had, the 133 were sending them around all day after they took that call.

"And then some guy stole it later that same day, y'know. It was a terrible shift."

He'd heard about that too, but not that it was the same station. Damn. "Alright, alright. No tempting fate."

"Well. Good. Too many things can go wrong with helicopters."

Tommy squints up at the rafters, feeling unbearably fond. Like he's full of something warm and syrupy and too big for his chest, like he's spilling sunlight between his ribs.

He should ask why Evan called. Polite check-in after their date ended so abruptly? Another storm he needs Tommy to fly into? Metaphorical or otherwise. Hopefully it won't involve stealing anything else. They got way too lucky the first time for Tommy to trust it working out again, and he kind of likes his job.

He slips his free hand into his pocket. "How are you doing, Evan?"

"Oh." He lets out a soft exhale that comes through as quiet static. "I, uh. Good, actually. B-better, um. Listen, are you free tomorrow?"

Tommy stops breathing, lungs seizing for a long moment before he very carefully reminds himself how to use them. "Yes."

"I wanted to. Talk. To you. Um. In person, preferably."

This really wasn't the plan.

But it's fine. It's more than fine. It's...

He'll just have to deal with wanting to kiss the living daylights out of someone who's off-limits, it's not like he's never had to do that before. If Evan needs something from him he's not about to say no, he just didn't expect it to happen so soon, if it happened at all.

"I, uh, would've just popped by your house unannounced, but I thought this might be more polite," he continues, a teasing lilt in his voice. Tommy purses his lips against the smile threatening to overtake his face. "Also, I don't know where you live."

"You could've asked Eddie."

"Oh, so you're saying I should have ambushed you then?"

"No, that's very rude. Who does that."

Evan's delighted laugh is bright and infectious, and has him grinning at his feet, sunlight spreading down to the tips of his fingers.

"So, coffee? Tomorrow?"

"Alright."

"Cool. Awesome. I'll text you the details?"

"Cool," he echoes, purposefully deadpan. "Awesome."

He can hear the smile in Evan's voice when he pretends to be offended by the mocking. It's there all through their goodbye too, and Tommy finds himself coiled up around his anticipation at the thought of seeing that smile again.

It's going to be a long 18 hours. But it's worth the wait.

[kaiser1ns]

#. I'D RATHER BE LOST IN THE LIGHTS

featuring 𝘁𝗮𝗸𝗶𝗶𝘀𝗵𝗶 𝗰𝗵𝗶𝗸𝗮 𝘅 𝗳𝗲𝗺!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

fluff. he can't even recognize himself. he's feeling so alive lost in the lights.

recommended to listen to jimin's "like crazy"

For Takiishi Chika, there are two types of people besides himself, those who stand in his way and must be eliminated, and those who give him a way. He doesn't remember, doesn't know, and hasn't thought about whether he ever had an interest in any of these people, and he doesn't even know their names or how they even look. One always did what he wanted, bought him what he liked, and gave him absolutely everything to make him happy. The other was annoying, it was the first time he had thought such a thing about someone — a person, who made him feel enjoyment.

But there was one type of person that he couldn't define what it was or why it was like that. The way she treated him, the tone of her voice when she spoke, the little touches that happened when she passed by on the crowded streets. Why did he continue to see this human being every single day? She's saying, "Baby, come and follow me."  Baby, my love, treasure, prince, darling, sunshine … my boyfriend. Since when did such names mean anything to him, since when did he begin to listen to the words of someone so insignificant? Why?

There's nothing wrong here tonight, on this starry night he goes after her, he'd rather be lost in the light, lost his mind. There's no reason why, and if there is it doesn't matter. He sinks alone into these unknown depths, his fire not extinguished even as he falls, it's going to be a good night. Where am I? A dark haze clouded his eyes, but it was so gentle, the fingers covering his sight, a touch he knew so well. Then he looks up just as her fingers move to hold his hands. It's high, but the view is nice from the rooftop. She's prettier. But why? 

Emotions on ice, he is melting, let him have a taste, when she begs him with those striking and intense, often with a jewel-like depth, eyes of hers, it's as if she's saying everything she can't, because the eyes are a window to the human soul. All his reflections, he can't even recognize because he is feeling so alive, his desires are the same as hers. Why do you make me feel like this? 

A loud noise, like shots that had just pierced his heart, like a catastrophe had occurred in his mind, like the fireworks in the sky. He is trying to take the pressure off, been reaching for the stars. When did I go too far? He reached out for the stars, but instead, he found a new galaxy, something unusual and unfamiliar. For the first time in his life, he experiences something called ... love. The girl who not only gave him what he wanted but stood in his way. This will break him, this is going to break him. He doesn't want to leave her orbit, he doesn't want to rise from these depths, he doesn't want the spark between them to die out. Tell me, will I find myself again?

How can he feel like that? Their lips are doing a gentle but smooth dance, but everything is so slow even though their hearts are beating like crazy. Closer and closer, he wants to be as close as possible to the person who made him feel and think.

“I think we could last forever,” she says and he is afraid that everything will disappear. “Forever you and I.” Being alone again. What's the point? This feeling doesn't even have a name as he tries to keep his whole being intact, to distract himself from emotions he can't deal with. Eventually, he has to face himself, he has to face her. You are so damn annoying… Why are you always like this? "I wish I could describe this feeling to you." But she knows, she just knows without him saying it because, in his own way, he conveyed what she already knew. “I love you, too.”

taglist :: @maruflix @heartkaji @17020 @stunie @nyxypoo @kazuhaiku @slerixx @kiurona @meidiary @mydream-synopsis

©2024 kaiser1ns do not copy, repost or modify my work

[thelostgirl21]

So, you are telling me that Jaskier used to wear outfits the color of the sea in Season 1...

That he constantly complains about his feet hurting, or struggling with keeping his footing while having to wear boots (is the problem his actual boots or a lack of early practice in life?!)...

That he got all excited at the thought that Geralt might catch him a fish to eat...

That a huge part of his identity and the pride he takes in himself is tied to his singing voice and abilities...

That his songs have been described as having the power to sing a king off his clothes...

That helping his best friend in the whole wide world bathe after rubbing soothing chamomile onto his lovely bottom is typical friendship behavior to him...

That he vulnerably asked for Geralt to get away for a while with him, and head to the (west?) coast, in the hopes that he might be able to prove himself a worthy [travel] companion (works whether you interpret the interest as romantic or queerplatonic).

And then he basically implied that (returning home with Geralt?) might be what would please him most.

That the very first thing he did after Geralt returned to him and got him out of his cell in Season 2, is take off his top and jump into the freaking nearest body of water!

That he's hypersensitive to the way people on land start stinking after a while (including himself), and will openly suggest they should bathe (or downright bathe them himself)!

That he talks with animals...

That you had him fall in love with a human prince in Season 3...

... then had him sing a song about a human prince that falls in love with a siren to Ciri right before you had him go meet with said prince, share his first kiss with him, and make love to him in a woodshed!

... only to show a clip from "Sirens of the Deep" revealing that the Netflix version of Jaskier is from

Bremervoord

a.k.a. The vassal state of Cidaris and one of the places that goes the furthest west into the sea on the Continent!

Bremervoord, with an economy running primarily on pearls fishing.

Bremervoord, the place where the story of Jaskier's Season 3 song, "A Little Sacrifice" takes place...

A place where a prince (though I think it's a duke in the actual short story) meets a siren, falls in love with her, and willingly leaves his human life behind to follow her at sea.*

*according to the song, at least! And I'm not sure it ends well for the prince of the song, because that part about him sinking to darkest night sounds a bit ominous if you ask me... The book's short story has a different conclusion.

You're basically telling me that Jaskier comes from a place on the coast that goes far into the sea to the west, a place where merpeople and humans occasionally interact, and that he didn't really feel like talking about where he's from, because he felt like the only way for him to ever be able to "become himself" was to leave his home behind...

... AND YOU EXPECT ME NOT TO LATCH ONTO THAT POPULAR MERMAN!JASKIER THEORY?!

OR INSTINCTIVELY START DEVELOPING A BUNCH OF HEADCANONS ABOUT IT?

For example :

What if Jaskier keeps repeating that "he's just a bard" not because he's actually dismissing how good, influential, or powerful he is...

... but because he chose to give up his tail to permanently become a human, and he doesn't like to be reminded that he doesn't quite "fully belong" with humanity, because there's something a bit different and "unique" about his singing.

What if, growing up as a merboy, he'd kept feeling like he was born in the wrong body and with the wrong species given his brethren's attitude about singing as an artform.

What if when merpeople sing, they typically rely on pure melodies without lyrics, and argue that only humans and other species of the land - with their inferior vocal capabilities - must rely on something as primitive as words and lyrics to inspire emotions and make ideas take root into other people's minds.

What if they do have a singing speech pattern, but when it comes to artistic expression, the songs are purely melodic.

But Jaskier, after listening to some of the folk songs that the local bards enjoy singing by the fire at the beach, often accompanied by a lute or other instruments, fell in love with the way the words of those songs flow and sound.

Perhaps he revealed himself to Essi then, and that, instead of being scared of him, she agreed to show him how to play the lute, speak her language, and sing the way humans do.

And when he did fully grasp the beauty and the power of using verbal poetry into songs, he knew he could never look back.

What if Essi was the first person to ever really see him for who he was and treat him as family, hence why he loves her like a little sister.

Maybe "the Lettenhoves" are basically a group of merpeople with no actual blood relation, that lost their own families and were rejected by them when they chose to make the full transition from merperson to human.

By pretending to be blood relatives, they've managed, however, to realistically pass as a large human noble family, acquire a bunch of lands and estates over the years that is passed to each new generation that wants them, and each new member is given a certain amount of money when they become one of the Lettenhoves to begin their new life on land!

They aren't extremely close, because they each have their own lives and personal ventures (very few go into singing careers), but they are still people that understand what being a human born at sea feels like, and that will be there to offer each other help and support if need be!

And so, Jaskier was able to go study at the University of Oxenfurt and learn as much of the human world and its arts as he could!

But, while his voice remains a bit more powerful and influential than most humans that were born on land, that influence comes with a "curse"...

Most people that instinctively fall under the charm of his melodies (note: Jaskier can use his voice to make an audience more susceptible to anger and annoyance when he sings, too. An especially useful skill to have when you're relying on food being thrown at you to eat... Hence why Geralt's lack of emotional response to his singing when they met was so intriguing!) will typically only care about how they make them feel, rather than how Jaskier himself was feeling when he wrote his songs.

Geralt, Yennefer and Ciri are all immune to his siren charms - and dwarves appear to be more resistant as well - but, while his songs inspire people, and hearing him sing them "live" with his actual voice tends to make people become instantly infatuated with him (or immediately hate him, should Jaskier wish to repel rather than attract them)...

... they rarely ever see him or seemingly attempt to connect with him on an intimate, emotional level, like they would with another human being.

And so, every time Jaskier is reminded of how much influence he appears to have over how people see the world when he uses his voice, Jaskier's tendency to remind them that he's "just a bard" is because he wishes people would connect with his humanity, too, rather than what he can do.

Regardless of him being able to pass as someone that was born on land and started his life in a fully human body, he knows that his voice will always carry some remnant of his siren abilities.

And that this difference appears to be preventing him from emotionally and physically connecting with other human beings that weren't born at sea like him, the way he wishes he could.

And so, that's why he was initially hesitant to sing for Radovid, and he kept insisting that he wasn't in a "singing mood" that day.

Because he knew that, the moment Radovid heard his singing voice, he might stop listening to him and trying to connect.

But there was something in the way Radovid insisted - while asking for Jaskier to pick his favorite song and showing a sincere curiosity about listening to what pleased him most - that made Jaskier ultimately choose to risk it.

And, while Radovid was obviously affected by the sound of his voice (to the point where he felt the need to pretend his speechlessness was caused by drunkenness), it was also very clear that he'd been listening.

Not only was his gaze very sharp and his eyes clear and bright while Jaskier was singing - seemingly attempting to analyse every note and word - but, for once, the things Radovid was complimenting him about weren't related to his ability to make people feel and experience things...

For once, what Radovid was claiming made Jaskier so special wasn't the beauty or power of his voice, or how catchy the melodies of the songs he'd sang to him were.

It wasn't even about how Jaskier's lyrics had made him feel.

He'd told Jaskier that what made him so special was his ability to see people for who they really are rather than who they pretend to be.

He'd essentially told him that his ability to truly comprehend those around him was his gift - that he had a unique ability to connect with them at the core... the very thing Jaskier had always felt that he was lacking.

And when Jaskier pushed him for more, all Radovid told him was that he didn't know yet, but was determined to figure it out.

"You connect strongly with others and my desire is to understand and connect with you."

That is what Radovid had taken away from who he was, even after having heard him sing, and Jaskier couldn't help but feel like he'd found a kindred spirit in that human.

Someone stuck in a world and a birth family that simply couldn't understand and accept him as he was - constantly hiding parts of himself to survive.

Radovid had then agreed to help him with the whole situation with Rience - despite the fact that Jaskier hadn't used any song to attempt to suggest he should, just genuinely asked for his help.

And - if that hadn't been enough - that prince had gone one step even further by asking him if Geralt knew how lucky he was to have him, after Jaskier had been singing about his self-worth issues when it came to relationships and his fear of never being good enough - or human enough - for a fellow human (or mutated human) partner.

He'd been listening to him.

He might have been born on land, and he might not have been immune to Jaskier's siren abilities, but Radovid still hadn't lost sight of who he was, nor been tempted to start obsessing about owning him or treating him like a prized possession.

And so, Jaskier tentatively begins to allow himself to hope...

Until Radovid does something truly unexpected that none of his prior human, elven or dwarven suitors or lovers had ever done before...

Learn his song.

Sirens are typically immune to the power that another siren's voices carry... until they fall in love.

One of the ways to know if a fellow merperson is alterously or romantically drawn to you is to sing back one of their own melodies to them, and see how they will respond.

Should they feel that instinctive, near irresistible pull towards the melody, and vice versa, then the two sirens will often start trying to discover and explore different ways they can learn to harmonize and use their voices to complement each other's, and create new shared melodies that will resound through the sea.

And, for the very first time in his life, Jaskier finally understands how people feel when they listen to him sing.

Despite the fact that the "siren's melody" being sung back to him is a human song he wrote, with human lyrics, accompanied by human instruments...

Despite the fact that Radovid himself is most definitely not a siren but very much human - fumbling a bit with Jaskier's lute, visibly nervous, too shy to allow his voice to rise above a whisper...

To Jaskier, it's the most beautifully mesmerizing "siren's melody" he's ever heard in his existence! It's filled with warmth, love, understanding, a promise of unconditional acceptance and safety...

It's absolutely intoxicating, he can barely breathe, feels like he's on the very edge of losing his sanity, and it takes all the power he has to avoid launching himself right at him!

And if a human can make him feel this way singing back to him a song filled with poetry and lyrics - rather than a classic, traditional siren's melody - then maybe there's never been anything wrong with Jaskier or the way he's always preferred to sing!

His people made him feel unwanted, but the sea never did! It probably would have been welcoming to a lute-playing merman singing like a bard, if his people hadn't been such close-minded arses!

Jaskier feels at home on land and has never once regretted his choice, but maybe he still has a right to also be a child of the sea, regardless of him having ultimately chosen a pair of legs over his fins!

And maybe Radovid would love to see parts of his old home some day - even if they can only access the surface of it, rather than go explore everything hidden in the water's depths (unless Yennefer has a spell that would allow Radovid to breathe under water as he does. Because Jaskier would never trust a sea witch with Radovid's life!).

And if Jaskier himself can be mesmerized by Radovid's song and feel like he would let that man lead him anywhere and do whatever he wants with him, without any desire to own and control him; maybe he'd simply been trying to connect with the wrong people.

Radovid is the first person he's ever met that seems to be able to connect with both the human and the siren part of him. And when Jaskier offers to help him work on his lute playing and singing, what he's truly saying is that he wants them to learn to harmonize their voices together and create their own melodies...

It's an intimate need Jaskier still has, and he's finally found himself a mate that appears to fully get him, and be able to fulfil those needs.

Of course, then the whole mess with Cirilla happens, and for a moment there Jaskier loses faith that any of it was ever real!

Who was he kidding!? The Redanian Intelligence kept insisting that they knew everything about everyone! Maybe they'd figured out Jaskier used to be a merman, done their research, noticed that Jaskier "fancied" the prince, and instructed him to surprise him and trick him into lowering his defenses, by courting him the way a fellow merman would!

He really should have known!

But then, when he finds Radovid alone, lost, and hiding, he realizes that Radovid had never meant to trick or hurt him.

Radovid had just been genuinely afraid, and trying to deal with the threat of a looming war as best he could by seeking Ciri's help.

And now, the war he'd attempted preventing from happening had begun, he'd clearly internalized Jaskier's earlier blame, and that spoon of a man was sufficiently bonded to him by now that he might just allow himself to be captured and killed if he doesn't do something about it!

And then, Jaskier himself might end up symbolically 'washing ashore' somewhere and letting himself die of heartbreak, for fuck's sake!

Because merpeople are dramatic as fuck and they feel the loss of friends and family in a way that's devastatingly sharp. Being rejected by a queerplatonic or romantic partner - or having them die on them - is the worst type of injury one could inflict upon them!

When he'd sung about having also survived, no thanks to Geralt, he'd fully meant it! That loss had nearly killed him!

If he wants to survive this, he needs to figure out a way to keep Radovid safe, and then make sure that Geralt and the rest of his family are safe also, because he doesn't know how he'd manage to continue to live in this world if the war ends up taking everything from him in a way where all hope would be lost of ever getting any of them back!

[starcurtain]

I love your post so much I love how everything is backed by evidence. I wanted to ask for your opinions on ratio and aventurine's relationship (relationship in general, not necessarily in a romantic sense).

My mind keeps goes back to Aventurine and "Aventurine"'s conversation about Ratio's fake betrayal part of the plan and Aventurine says "Or maybe he wasn't acting at all?". I just keep thinking about how even though Ratio did exactly what he was supposed to do to help the plan succeed, Aventurine can't help but doubt the motives of the person that he's working with even when he does exactly what will benefit his plan. I've just been thinking that maybe it's another part of Aventurine where he can't completely trust anyone. I've seen a lot of post where people state that they had a great deal of trust in each other and that's why the plan succeeded but ignore what that line means for how Aventurine might've felt about it.

And then on Ratio's side of this, I do think he cares about Aventurine's well being but only does what he can to help him because if he tried to force Aventurine to be better, to treat himself better, it wouldn't really change Aventurine's mind on his self if it's for someone else's sake instead of his own. The little flavor text of Ratio's sticker in 2.3 mentioned how he's "just doing what a supporting character should do." which is, supporting the main character I'd think. Ratio does genuinely care for humanity so I can't think the only reason he sticks around Aventurine is "because he makes an interesting conversation partner than most."

I just can't stop thinking about how they're undoubtedly connected for another reason besides just their work, and I am just so curious about what the writers have in mind for their cooperation in the future. sorry for my trash heap ✌️ if this is too incomprehensible I understand not answering it

Okay, the full answer to this ask is over here in a separate post, since I thought it might stretch people's dashes a bit if I didn't, BUT before we get to that, there is one little thing I wanted to say and don't have room for in the other post:

You mention: Aventurine says "Or maybe he wasn't acting at all?" I just keep thinking about how even though Ratio did exactly what he was supposed to do to help the plan succeed, Aventurine can't help but doubt the motives of the person that he's working with even when he does exactly what will benefit his plan.

And while I agree that Aventurine has TRUST ISSUES stamped on his forehead, I also think that a lot of people kind of gloss over one major aspect of the scenes between Aventure and "Future" Aventurine, which is that:

Aventurine spends most of those scenes convinced he's actually talking to a manifestation of Sunday's power.

Aventurine starts off suggesting the "Future" Aventurine is a dream or psychotic hallucination.

He rejects the idea that "Future" Aventurine is actually himself at all, and asserts that this "Future" figure is a "newborn of the Harmony's power." He even has a throwaway line asking if he's about to become an Emanator of the Harmony himself. (And the Ena-Gaiathra fans rejoiced.)

Normally I would say that's all there is to this, Aventurine just not wanting to accept this ghostly version of himself and the harsh truths it keeps bringing to light.

But, throughout the entire lead up to the end of 2.1, we get weird moments where the "Future" Aventurine asks for information it should already have. A lot of these are passed off as "Well, I just want to hear you say it yourself!" but... if it's truly Aventurine himself and knows all there is to know about him, why does it need to hear the info from the real Aventurine?

Why do we continually get exchanges that strongly call into question what the "Future" Aventurine even knows?

And:

Later:

(Shouldn't it have already known?)

Repeatedly, the "Future" Aventurine says things that imply it is still learning about the real Aventurine:

Even up their very last scene together, the "Future" Aventurine was constantly pressing the real Aventurine to reveal every detail of his plan:

"Future" Aventurine goes through the cornerstone shuffle, guesses at Ratio's involvement, pushes Aventurine to reveal the broken Aventurine cornerstone, asks what tactics Aventurine intends to use to win his gamble, how the IPC fits into all of this, and finally comes to the realization that Aventurine plans to use Acheron to create "death."

We could go very deep with this and suggest all these weird "Did you or did you not know this information? Are you really me or not?" exchanges are just meant to show Aventurine's doubting nature, that his mind is a mess and that he doesn't, even at his deepest, understand himself, but I don't think the devs did this accidentally. We're being given plausible deniability on purpose.

At the very least, we players are supposed to ask ourselves: Could it be that this really is the Harmony and not Aventurine himself?

Until the very last scene, when "Future" Aventurine completely changes his tune to gentle empathy, real Aventurine is definitely convinced that he's still talking to a manifestation of Sunday's power.

Right after the line about Ratio's betrayal supposedly being real or not, Aventurine is still saying:

Or, an even clearer indicator that real Aventurine was convinced he was talking to Sunday's manipulations: The "Future" Aventurine is listed as ??? in the dialogue option all the way to the very end, when Aventurine at last accepts that he may be speaking to himself, and the name card finally changes to "Aventurine."

So, what to make of this line then:

Personally, I think there's enough dubiousness to the whole situation to suggest that we can't really take this line at face value.

Is Aventurine genuinely doubting Ratio here... or, convinced that he's still talking to the Harmony, is Aventurine scrambling to try to keep the last details of their plan out of Sunday's reach?

If after this line he's still telling "Future" Aventurine to stop stealing information from his mind, can we really expect him to be speaking truth here?

Throughout all of these scenes with "Future" Aventurine, real Aventurine continually refuses to reveal new details about his plot, forcing "Future" Aventurine to fill in the gaps. It's clear from other lines throughout the theme park scenes that Aventurine is intentionally avoiding giving away any specifics that the "Future" doesn't already know:

So to me, even though I agree that Aventurine has been made into a distrustful person by his traumatic experiences and I think he does doubt the sincerity of everyone around him...

I don't necessarily think this one line about Ratio should be held up as an example of that deep doubt.

I think there's enough suspicion cast on the "Future" Aventurine and its possible connections to the power of the Harmony that many of the things Aventurine says to it might actually be attempts to mislead and distract, so that he can carry his final gamble through without Family intervention.

And I think looking at this line about Ratio from that mindset also introduces an entirely different possibility many people seem to overlook:

Is it out of character for Aventurine to make sure the only person sacrificed in his gambles is himself?

If Aventurine really thought he was talking to a manifestation of Sunday's power, could it be that saying "Maybe Ratio wasn't acting! Maybe he really did betray me!"... wasn't doubt, but an attempt to protect his co-conspirator? To shift the blame away from Ratio and spare him from the fallout if their plan ultimately went awry? To make himself the Family's only target?

I'M JUST SAYIN'!!

Anyway, totally go read the rest of the actual answer about Aventurine and Ratio's relationship now~! It's all posted!

[izzyspussy]

anyway so seasons 1-early 3 mickey is a pessimist with a dash of nihilist (miserable), and because of that ian looks like an optimist verging on idealist to him.

the fact of the matter is that ian is not an optimist and he certainly is not an idealist. he's a little naive, sure, but less than what would be appropriate for his age. he's also not a pessimist or a nihilist (either kind). or a realist or a pragmatist or any of those.

no, ian is quite simply. unfathomably stubborn. and that is all.

he'll get into west point. he's absolutely certain of this. why? because he fucking said so.

he'll have a real relationship with mickey. they are in love and they are going to be together. this is true. how does he know? because. he. fucking. said so.

he doesn't have hope. he doesn't want things. that's pussy shit. there are precisely three types of things in this world: things ian isn't interested in, things ian already has, and things ian will have. that is simply that!

(which is obviously its own very specific mindset and is at least as extreme as pure optimism and pure pessimism, and is almost certainly just another fun little factor when the force of his will alone is not enough to change the reality of an ongoing traumatic event that contributes to the somewhat early onset of his bipolar disorder. but that's tangential.)

now. once again, disclaimer, these characters cease to exist past early season 5 for me, so there's every chance this next bit is exclusive to MY mickey and ian. there's just no way to know ❤️

that said. ian matures into a nihilist (carefree) - and i would say he's here-ish already in season 4, but in a maladaptive way at that stage - and then eventually matures further into a nihilistic (carefree)-leaning pragmatist.

mickey on the other hand - after a period of having no particular mindset of this type of thing at all which in effect amounts to a months-to-a-year long panic attack where his every action is fueled by emotional desperation and he has no solid concept of his own wants, needs, values, or future beyond the ever-present but totally incoherent certainty that he can't live without ian but ian can and will leave him with ease for even the slightest infraction or failure that terrorizes him like a weasel terrorizes a hen in his every waking moment - um. what was i saying.

oh right. mickey on the other hand, after All That, matures first into a sort of quiet idealism (kind of a pendulum swing maybe, but not quite not also progress, iygiygi), and then. into a less naive version of the old ian's way lmao.

there is no "that's how things are/go" or "that's how the world works" or "life is/isn't fair" or any fundamental human nature or any purpose or lack thereof to life or possible and impossible or likely and unlikely or anything else along any of those lines. there are only two types of things in the world: things that don't matter and mickey's next achievement. and that's that, baby!

and then eventually, mick finishes out at a relatively stable and sustainable realist-leaning optimism, heavily informed by romanticism of the Certain Things Are Meant To Be kind. like, he wouldn't necessarily express that or think of it in those terms. and he doesn't think it's a common thing, in fact it's rare and special and he's very lucky, and even if something is like that it still doesn't mean you don't have to put the work in for it to go well and end up Right. and he doesn't believe in a higher power or in Fate quite as such or in the will of the universe or a cosmic balance or anything like that really.

it's just, you know. sometimes. every now and then. there's just this one little thing that will continuously keep trying to happen without any heed to sense or logic or the incredible odds against it. just something in particular that will forever and always find a way to happen.

like say. for example. there's this gay kid, right? and he gets in this fight and he wins and he's about to bring down a tire iron and ruin this other idiot's pretty face and - for no discernible reason whatsoever - he just... doesn't. and maybe he'll think about it half a dozen years later and wonder why. that one tiny little thing that changed his whole fucking life, why did he do that? what was the reason? and there just. isn't one.

and that's not even all. see, these two dumbasses have no idea the other one is gay too, but some-fucking-how they don't have to say a word or even make any opening moves to just Know they want each other. it's like they read each other's fucking minds, even though he knows, he remembers, he didn't sense anything from ian. but for Some Fucking Reason he just never for a second considered ian wouldn't want him, and ian was in perfect time with him. and maybe he'll think back and try to find an explanation for this part too. was there some body language he read? was there some look in ian's eyes? but the answer is no every time.

and then after that, these two gay kids just can't be kept apart. they just can't. and it's not just that they inexplicably can't resist each other either. every time they're separated they find each other again, no matter what. even when they're the ones to separate themselves, situation after coincidence after happenstance after necessity keeps putting them in each other's orbits. secrecy and jealous exes and gun violence and imprisonment and infidelity and a fucking pathological fear of intimacy and conversion therapy and genuine threat to their lives and marriage to someone else and permanent life-altering illness can't break them up. at least not for long.

and then. somehow. SOME fucking how! after all that, and with the absolutely shit chances that they ever even hooked up in the first place, they actually fucking make it? they don't just get to be together, they get to be happy??

so no, he doesn't believe in god or destiny or soulmates or whatever the fuck. but at the same time, i mean. what other explanation is there?

[desired-misery]

BOW!Leon WIP | Luis's POV

An unlikely ally in Luis’s trying-to-comfort-a-BOW-because-it's-the-right-thing-to-do plan is one of the BSAA’s own soldiers. One of the soldiers who encountered 537 in the field, actually. Lieutenant Piers Nivans, second in command of Alpha team. Luis finds Nivans watching 537 over the lunch break, curiously peering at the computer monitor to see 537 inside its crate (which it had returned to and not moved from since the crate was put back inside its enclosure, proving the attempt to teach 537 the floor was safe was a failure).

Nivans— he insisted Luis not use his rank— is very interested in BOWs in a more academic way than Luis would have expected from one of the BSAA’s top soldiers, especially from Alpha team, which Luis knows is deployed to eliminate BOWs all the time. Frankly, Luis is surprised that Alpha team didn’t shoot 537 on sight. He asks Nivans about that decision.

“It’s really weird, but it wasn’t attacking us. It was doing exactly that, so we left it alone.” Nivans points to 537 through the one-way glass. “I’ve never seen a BOW be calm, you know? I thought it was just an animal at first, like a leopard or something. Didn’t feel right to shoot something that was minding its own business, so we just closed the door to the room and moved on.”

. .. ... .. . It is a brutal, callous thought, but it is scientifically interesting that 537 could even be taught to be ‘calm’ as Nivans put it. Nivans is thinking along the same lines, though, because he suddenly looks even more interested.

“Have you guys ever trained a BOW before?”

Luis frowns. “No.”

Nivans tilts his head. “Do you want to try?”

Luis stabs a finger at the paused video on his tablet screen. “That’s cruel, I won’t let anyone—”

“You know zoos train their animals, right? Their dangerous animals, including lions and reptiles. It’s possible— straightforward, probably, as long as the animal has the capacity to learn, which 537 clearly has.” Nivans pauses, looks Luis over. “Do you have anyone on the team who has experience with training dogs?”

“Why would we have someone on the research team with that expertise?” Normally, BOWs are pretty single-minded. If awake and aware, they are either trying to destroy or trying to produce more of themselves. The only time Luis has heard of anyone having any sort of progress ‘training’ a BOW is with Nemesis— but those were human, so it was more about preserving enough of the mind and brain to allow tasks to be remembered and completed.

“I could teach you how to do it, if you’re serious.” Nivans offers like Luis doesn’t already have a full time job. “I’ve helped train MWDs— uh, military working dogs. It’s actually pretty fun.”

“Why don’t you do it yourself?”

Nivans shrugs. “I don’t really have much free time usually, but I guess I could for a little while. Until we’re moved onto another assignment.”

“If you think that could be helpful,” Nivans adds.

“I don’t know what good it would do, to be honest. What do you think we could train it to do?” Luis asks.

Nivans watches 537 pretending to sleep inside of its too small crate. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s really smart?”

“That would be fascinating to discover,” Luis says. “But I think 537 is owed at least the understanding that it can have the whole room to itself.”

Nivans nods. “Let me talk to my captain.” 

[s1ckh1mb0]

The most loyalest of servants. That is what you and your partner Uruame were to your king Sukuna. Thousands of years the two of you spent by his side. Ruling and causing misery for those deemed below you three. The news of him being sealed away brought pain for you Uruame. But just how did the two meet you?

Sukuna was sat upon his throne, looking utterly bored and grouchy as servants scurry silently around him. He had taken over more and more of the land. Slaughtering anyone who dared defied him, and just because he could. Currently he was being given his sacrifices. All of them the same thing, meat or weapons.

Each and every one of the people cowered in fear before him, knowing he might kill any of them for even breathing too loudly for his liking . That is when you were brought in. Given to him by your village since they feared him. His most loyal servant, Uruame, stood next to him.

Behind you stood your villages leaders. you were they best they had, prettier than any girl. you were the towns doll, a porcelain doll. Sukuna was disgusted by it. This is what they gave him? Something some frail?

You were standing in front of your village’s leaders as you was lead into the castle of lord Sukuna. You had no idea what to expect since they never explained why you were going.

One of the village elders stepped forward, clearing his throat to get Sukuna's attention. The elder prostrated himself, touching his forehead to the dirty floor with his hands folded in front of him.

“L-Lord Sukuna, we have one last offering for you.”

One of the elders spoke. Sukuna had little to no interest, but lifted an eyebrow expectantly, peering at you with his four eyes. He glances at Uraume, and they speak wordlessly through eye-contact with one another before they turn back to look at you. Uruame, however, was the first to break the silence.

"So this is your offering?"

“Is he your best?”

Uraume added, looking you up and down while eyeing the village leaders. The leader bowed.

“Y-Yes. The finest the village has to offer in human form. We’ve offered you all we have, please spare us, lord Sukuna.”

Sukuna didn’t look to be entertained in the slightest. He let out an exasperated huff of boredness. The only female elder stood next to you. her expression clearly over her male counterparts.

“He is more than they have led on my lord. he is the spirit of our village. he has the ability of reincarnation, he can reincarnate others. he himself of immortal.”

Those were words that immediately caught Sukuna's attention, he seemed to have a piqued interest in your ability of reincarnation. Sukuna’s eyes narrowed slightly as he studied you, trying to decide whether this was truly the ‘best’ the village had to offer.

"Immortal you say?"

Sukuna muses, a sly smile tugging at the corner of his lip. He leaned back comfortably against his throne and looked at Uraume to speak.

“It’s true, sire.”

The elder spoke up.

“He is immortal. He has died and revived many times during our time. Our records date back millennia.”

Sukuna seemed impressed, but remained unmoving on the outside. He had a reputation after all, a reputation he worked hard to uphold. One of power and violence. After a moment of thought and staring at you, he spoke once more.

“Prove it.”

The room grew silent. all eyes in the room moved from Lord Sukuna to you. the pressure was immense. the air in the room was tense. the elder looked at you expectantly, looking to you to prove to Sukuna your worth. your leader gave you a nod, urging you to show Lord Sukuna that you were indeed immortal. Uraume's eyes were locked tightly on you, eagerly watching to see what would happen.

You went to turn to face the female elder when you felt her stab a small sword through my heart. You were not expecting of it at all, merely turning to speak with her. You looked down at the weapon sticking through your chest and back.

Uraume, now standing next to Sukuna’s throne was staring speechless at you in utter shock and disbelief. How could you speak with a sword through your heart? how was that possible? how could this be?

“A warning would suffice next time.”

For the first time you spoke up and you acted like it was nothing. Blood dripping from your chest, sword impaled through your chest, and you were worried about a damn warning. You got a chuckle out of Sukuna, a deep chuckle that echoed through the room and bounced off the walls. It was the first time he had ever laughed in the presence of any other being, and it was because of you.

“A warning would have been nice indeed…”

Sukuna muttered in agreement with you. Oh he was going to have some fun with you..

[beebopboom]

Shax’s Taunt

A scene that has always struck me as odd is this particular time Shax riles Crowley up, like it’s just so interesting. Not because she’s taunting him, that seems to be her thing, and not the switching of faces, that’s something that is established demons can back in s1.

Well maybe a little of that last one, has it ever been seen to be used as this extent?

No.

Back in s1 the Demons were disguised as humans, that much is true. They then turn around and boom they are back in the forms we recognize. Particularly Hastur.

And that’s all we see. Then they take Crowley (Aziraphale) to Hell.

But there is something more with Shax.

Shax is luring Crowley outside because she can’t touch him in the bookshop.

She then disappears, leaving Crowley to wonder around aimlessly not knowing where to expect her.

He bumps into someone throwing him off balance and that’s when Shax makes her first move, appearing just enough like the backpacking man but also with her features.

and then Crowley is further thrown off balance by the bike lady who just appears as Shax.

The thing though about both of these people is they continue walking after Shax has moved on to the next person, and you can only see Shax’s features after Crowley bumps into them.

Interesting, right?

This is not what we’ve seen before. This is something temporary, something that’s happening to actual people who don’t seem to even pause whenever Shax is done with them.

and then the final person that takes on Shax’s voice, a child.

No features of Shax, only the voice, no bumping into. This feels so significant, it’s different from both other times.

Why the child? Before this it was people who were physically throwing Crowley off balance. Maybe this was meant to throw him mentally off balance.

…Just how much does Shax know about our dynamic duo, and how did she get that information?

Picking a similar tactic to the one used to capture them for their execution, and only fully visibly transforming into the child. A known weakness for Crowley, at least for us. 

This is a predator move, calculated. She’s playing with him.

Taking away his safety, his balance (ironic cause he’s a snake right?), all to finished it off with a child’s face.

Smart. It could have worked. Interesting that it didn’t, not really.

Even when she goes to Aziraphale as the hitchhiker it’s much more like what happened in s1 face wise so it makes this time stand out so much more.

[mrs-stans]

Sebastian Stan Talks Career Interests And His ‘A Different Man’ Film

By Jeff Conway

Sure, you likely know him for his many Marvel film appearances as Bucky Barnes, but actor Sebastian Stan has often taken “the road less traveled” when it comes to his career, having built quite the unique repertoire of memorable performances in far less conventional films.

That observation has arguably never been more visible than with his involvement in the new A24 film, A Different Man. Written & directed by Aaron Schimberg and co-starring Adam Pearson and Renate Reinsve, it tells the story of Edward (Stan), an aspiring actor who undergoes a breakthrough medical procedure to transform his facial appearance, but soon regrets his decision when he becomes obsessed with reclaiming what he has lost.

I sat down with Stan, Pearson and Schimberg to uncover the origin and the creative thought process that went into this new project, which is now playing in select theaters in New York and Los Angeles - nationwide come October 4. For filmmaker Schimberg, this purposefully uncomfortable narrative and the overall project hits rather close to home.

Schimberg said, “I mean, for me, it’s sort of a personal story. I have cleft palate and it’s just sort of me thinking about how it’s affected me in my life and others’ perception of me and my perception about myself. My previous film [Chained for Life] also dealt with the subject in some ways, so that’s sort of what I am always thinking about when I am starting to write a film. I was also thinking about Adam because I had worked with him previously and he played a shy character in Chained for Life, my last film, and he’s not shy at all - and yet, people I think sort of thought that he was playing himself in my movie because they sort of assumed that he must be shy. So, I was inspired to write something that was closer to who he is - taken to a comical extreme, maybe, and I wanted him to show off his range, but I also just wanted to work with him again, so these were some of the starting points.”

Pearson, a British actor with neurofibromatosis, which is a rare genetic disorder that typically causes benign tumors of the nerves and growths in other parts of the body, went on to share what it was about A Different Man and his Oswald character that most intrigued him to want to make this his next film.

“Well, I enjoyed working with Aaron the first time, so when he said, ‘Would you consider working with me again?’ Straight away, I was like, Ding Ding! Round two - let’s rock and roll. Then the script - all the words have weight. There’s very little wasted motion in the script. The end result of the film is quite challenging and holds up a mirror to an audience. I’ve never been a fan of hand-holding or sugar-coating. I think audiences can be a lot smarter than we often give them credit for. A good film will change what you think for a couple of days, but a great film will change how you think for the rest of your life. We’re certainly trying, at least, to be in the great film business.”

With Stan not only acting in A Different Man but also an executive producer, I wondered how he has perhaps noticed his interests and priorities towards the stories that matter most to him as a professional and human being evolving as time goes on.

Stan said, “Well, you get a little older and the questions get a little scarier. A few years ago, I just decided to kind of just be a little bit more aggressive about finding specific work that was interesting and different and kind of challenging for me than what I was getting to do. Eventually, you find yourself in conversations that are in the development of certain things and that might lead to a producing kind of aspect. I think in this [A Different Man] situation, I was involved before A24 came on, which never really happens for me. Not only because of obviously how I felt about the story and so on, I felt really brought in by Aaron and [producer] Vanessa [McDonnell] into their journey with this film and like what they were wanting to do. So, I felt a much bigger attachment than I usually do as an actor in a way.”

When it came time to film A Different Man, Stan recalls the production not having much time, which he actually found to be helpful within his producer role “because when you’re involved in some capacity beyond acting, sometimes you can kind of go, Hey, let’s continue shooting or something. You can help add more to the making of it in some capacity and that was big for us, given our time - that we didn’t have a lot of time.”

In fact, during one particular scene in the film, Stan remembers while everybody else was wrapping up the production trucks for the night, he decided to head out on the streets of New York City with his A Different Man director of photography Wyatt Garfield and Schimberg to grab additional footage. “I just kind of took one of his other little cameras and then we started going up and down Columbus Avenue. It was Friday night and we just got all these shots. Maybe you don’t always get to do that, so that was helpful.”

As I began to conclude my conversation with these three gentlemen, I wondered what Pearson and Stan would say to their A Different Man characters, Oswald and Edward, after seeing their stories play out on-screen and understanding their wants out of life.

Pearson said, “I’d be like to Oswald, Maybe turn it down a little bit. Be nicer to [Stan’s character Edward] because he might not say it, but he loves you and he needs you right now.”

As for the message Stan would tell Edward, he said, “Listen to me! I’m here - I’m telling you. I don’t know how I feel about this. Just hear me out.”

He then added: “It’s very interesting because we all have these moments in life, big or small, where you make a decision or you even say something because you’re with other people or you’re supposed to say something the right way, but you know your reaction in the moment or the decision you’re making is not what your gut is like really telling you. Then, you feel kind of like you’ve abandoned yourself, but then you just quickly deny that - that can kind of like spiral down. We’ve all kind of not owned certain things in the moment and that’s sort of what happens. He kind of drowns out that voice.”

[imustbenuts]

nuts reading trigun 4 - i sniffed out the spirit of leiji matsumoto and his galaxy express 999

so this is. a bit of a doozy and a little detour i took...

first off, i thought it was really interesting that chapter 4 is titled Bang!Bang! in EN but ポポ popo in jp. popo is basically pop pop, but also if pitched down, would sound more like 'poooh poooh'. very similar to what sound a steam locomotive makes,

but not quite. the 'correct' one would be ボbo, not ポ po.

like the sound effect here:

sfx: BOOOOOOOOOOOOOH

there's no good way to translate this, to be clear. nightow seems to really like pulling off these weird little japanese wordplay here and there. theres one instance with the escorts trying to sleep with vash, but thats a lot of effort to explain a pun and its not very interesting so. uh. sorry. (these posts take very long to write bc im poopoo)

so. its CH 4: PoPo. 4 =Death? this feels deliberate.

the next chapter is CH 5: 強襲 / Assault. EN title is very accurate here so yippee. but wait.

that. dark contrast and a presence of a vaguely steam locomotive. the framing of the train itself being this romantic machine that was built to send people on their journeys to parts unknown. the presence of 4 = Death.

theres something about the following panel. and i know exactly what it is despite having never read or watched it bc of just how influential this particular work is.

so i went sniffing.

Galaxy Express 999.

and. uhm. i found a thread and a rabbit hole that links back to TriStamp again.

Galaxy Express 999 first ran as a manga in 1977- 1981. Made by the late Leiji Matsumoto (25th Jan 1938 - 2023) who passed away last year.

the gist of this story. we follow a boy named Tetsuro in the super far off future, who wants to obtain a mechanical body so he never again feels the inconvenience of a flesh one. and to also fulfill his promise to his mother who was hunted down in front of him and turned into a trophy by mechanized hunters. he meets a mysterious blonde woman named Maetel who gives him a pass to ride on the Galaxy Express 999, promising him one at the end of the journey, but there seems to be a catch.

the same themes of a train in the darkness, its window the main lightsource, but in GE999 theres the added planets and stars. GE999 is full of promotional material and artwork like this, its iconic

the story is very philosophical and full of questions about death, living, and the worth of a human life. theres a constant theming of the train bringing its passengers to a place unknown, and how its a departure from the base in which they start the further they go. like a wanderer. (something something blank ticket wink wink.)

but anyway. Chapter 2: The Red Wind Of Mars is the interesting one.

i strongly recommend reading this chapter at least, but ill summarize the interesting bits.

the cast arrives on Mars, a Red Planet thats constantly being buffeted by a Sandstorm. its said that the planet is pretty much in a state of poverty and is barren due to people turning themselves into machine bodies and having no need to care for the environment and nurture it.

also an american saloon on this red desert planet wowee--

testurou later gets jumped by a couple who basically wants to steal his pass to the GE999, but once they realize the boy has not been mechanized at all, the couple lets tetsurou kill them. they are then left in the desert to be eventually covered up by the red sand. and then, the final page has this fucking thing:

"They say that the sound of Mars' red wind comes from the wailing of people resting under its sand. This vermilion wind will continue to lament for the fate of those who couldn't make their dreams come true... That's why they say this planet will stay red forever..."

....studio orange. listen.

STUDIO ORANGE. PLEASE

ON WHAT LEVEL ARE YOU GUYS EVEN COOKING. stop sending me on these rabbit hole runs i swear to god ill never finish trigunbookclub at this rate GGGGGGGGGAAAAAH

anyway the sandsteamer arc in the original trigun seems to be a homage to Galaxy Express 999 in a way, and Studio Orange understood the assignment.

[icewindandboringhorror]

Lineup of all of the characters that appear long enough to need a visual representation of them in the game lol

[sysig]

Size difference.png (Patreon)

[rearranging-deck-chairs]

hang on are cougars like panthers

[piplupod]

the very nice guy who works at the centre was asking me abt my art and i was so anxious the entire time bc i didnt want to ramble or talk more than i was supposed to, but he kept asking questions and didn't seem like he was in any hurry to go talk to other members so i just kept talking and I'm like. so scared I did smth wrong w the amount i told him but fhdksl I didn't know how much I was supposed to converse with him and I was trying to be so careful in case he needed to go talk to other ppl but he hung around for so long (probably not even ten mins in reality but it felt like absolutely ages, i never get to talk that much with a person in a setting that isn't strictly one-on-one,,,, that was wild) so I guess ,,, i was okay ?? idk, im going to be overthinking this for the rest of the day now augh 😭

[angry-geese]

the fact i havent written a whole lot for yandere gojo is criminal

[joonie-beanie]

Doctor's Orders | [Wriothesley x Reader]

Summary: “Simply put, the Duke needs to have sexual intercourse to relieve his tension. After watching the two of you and seeing you interact on both physical and intellectual levels, I determined that you would be ideal partners for each other. So, I invited the both of you to partake in an aphrodisiac made from the herbs you gathered for me.” In which a simple tea time turns heated, and you get caught up in the consequence of Wriothesley not listening to his doctor. Content: Smut, Consensual Sex, Oral Sex, Aphrodisiacs, fem!reader Word Count: 7.9k

Sigewinne is evil.

You would have never suspected that such a tiny, cute body could contain so much malevolence. (Although, Sigewinne would personally argue that you’re confused, and that the word you’re looking for is actually benevolence. But, you digress.)

It all starts a few weeks into your employment at the Fortress of Meropide.

You’d spotted a job listing for a “personal assistant” in passing one day, and had immediately become interested thanks to the very generous salary listed on the paper. Seeing the job was located in Fontaine’s unofficial prison had, of course, caused you to have some second thoughts about applying, but at the end of the day, money is money.

Which is how you’d found yourself down on the ocean floor, waiting with a few other candidates outside the Duke’s office.

You’d be lying if you said that you weren’t nervous—waiting there to meet the head honcho of the prison. That when he stepped out to call you inside for your interview—all tall and beefy and scarred—your heart didn’t nervously flutter inside your chest.

…but to your surprise, he’s actually much softer than he appears.

“So,” he says, sitting down across from you at his desk. He folds his arms and smiles at you. “Why should I hire you? ”

Having been through this process before, you had immediately rattled off your qualifications and experiences. A few of which Wriothesley had proceeded to comment on and inquire about further. But it wasn’t until he asked—

“What benefit will I receive from picking you specifically?”

And you’d responded with—

“Errand girl.”

“What?”

“I can run errands for you. I’m sure the guards can be slow, going back and forth. But if you’re my direct employer, I can do whatever you want. Drop documents off, check in on things…pick up more tea.”

—that Wriothesley finally makes up his mind.

“Hmm. Very convincing.”

The next day, you receive a letter with the terms of your employment, and your official start date.

So, since then, you’ve been working for Wriothesley. Which is actually kind of…nice.

Your job mostly consists of going back and forth between the prison and the surface, so that Wriothesley can stay in the Fortress and better monitor his domain. The autonomy the job grants you is very rewarding, and in the same breath, Wriothesley also feels rewarded by how you take care of things without him needing to ask more than once.

Safe to say, the two of you get along.

…which Sigewinne notices.

You, of course, meet Sigewinne on your first day. Wriothesley makes a point of introducing you and showing you where the nurse’s office is located, in case you get hurt, or need to drop something off.

The human-like melusine enthusiastically welcomes you, and, at first, you see her as…someone sweet, and caring. A treasure of the prison.

However, over time, your opinion of her slowly starts to change.

Because she keeps looking at you. Specifically, whenever you’re standing next to Wriothesley.

“Why is she doing that?” you ask him one day, nudging him gently with your elbow. He immediately looks up from his meal, over to where Sigewinne is waiting in the lunch line, her pink eyes boring into you.

“She’s probably just double checking that you’re healthy,” Wriothesley responds, paying her no mind. “I often catch her staring at me, too. You must be growing on her.”

Despite his reassuring words, you can’t help but feel a little…put off…by the look in her eyes. Like she’s plotting something.

The second weird thing you notice is when you walk into the infirmary to drop off some herbs she’d asked for, and find her drawing. At first, you assume she’s doodling, since she seems kid-like a lot of the time.

But instead, when you lean over her shoulder and look, you see that she’s writing words. A big, black “DO NOT DISTURB”...with pink hearts and a few flowers drawn around it.

“What’s that for?” you ask her, forcing a smile.

“Oh! It’s just for a project I’m working on,” she responds, swiveling in her chair to face you. She happily kicks her feet, her eyes darting to the herbs you’re carrying with you.

“Ah, are those what I asked for? Thank you!”

You hand her the small bundle of dried flowers and grasses, watching as she immediately turns and places them on her desk next to some string, and cheesecloth.

“You’re welcome,” you respond, taking a small step backwards. “If that’s all, I’ll keep working on the rest of the tasks on my list—”

“Wait,” she says, grabbing your wrist. You instantly freeze, your eyes going wide as you turn back to face her. There’s a serious look on her face.

“How do you feel about Wriothesley?”

Her question makes your heart skip—heat rising on your skin.

“What?”

She doesn’t bother elaborating or giving you context, just waits for you to respond. You cough a little, feeling awkward, and wondering what kind of answer she’s looking for.

“Well…I mean. I think he’s a good boss. He’s friendly, and devoted to his job. He runs the prison well.”

Sigewinne nods, but doesn’t comment. Just keeps…staring.

Feeling pressured, you force yourself to think of more to say.

“Um…he’s deserving of his title and the respect he garners. I…enjoy speaking with him? Like when he invites me to partake in tea breaks. I dunno…he just kinda reminds me of a big, fluffy puppy. He looks scary but he’s actually pretty…cute, y’know?”

Finally, Sigewinne smiles. She takes your hand in her tiny ones, giving it a squeeze.

“Thank you for answering my question. You can go now.”

You blink at her dumbly, but nonetheless excuse yourself from the room.

Two days later, Wriothesley invites you to his office for tea. And to your surprise, when you walk in, you find Sigewinne waiting there as well.

“Thank you for coming!” she says as you enter the room. You flash her a smile, taking a seat in one of the open chairs around the table.

“Of course!”

“Sigewinne has a tea she wants us both to try,” Wriothesley explains, a fond look in his eyes as he watches the resident nurse flit around—pouring hot water into the teacups that have been set out.

You nod.

“I see.”

“Although, I don’t know why you won’t just steep the tea in the pot,” Wriothesley complains to her, just as Sigewinne places individual tea bags in each cup. “Are we not all being served the same tea?”

She cutely huffs.

“For your information, no we are not. Your and Y/N’s tea is unique.”

“Oh?” Wriothesley leans forward to look into the teacups as the colors from the herbs begin to bleed into the water. “What’s so unique about it?”

“You’ll see,” she responds with a playful look, one that causes Wriothesley to amusedly raise his eyebrows. However, he doesn’t say anything more—simply waiting for the tea to appropriately steep.

“...are you using the herbs I brought you?”

You can’t help but notice the smell wafting from the cup in front of you is a little familiar. Sigewinne nods.

“Wow! I’m surprised you noticed.”

“Ah, so this must be the reason you wanted me to lend you Y/N for a task the other day,” Wriothesley chimes in, his icy blue eyes once again shifting to Sigewinne. 

“Do I get to know what herbs you requested Y/N to bring you, exactly?”

The resident nurse shakes her head, quietly laughing when Wriothesley sighs and deflates back into his chair. 

“It’s meant to be a surprise! I want to see what you think about the taste without knowing the ingredients.”

“I suppose that’s fair.”

Folding your hands on your lap, the office descends into silence for a brief moment, the three of you intently watching the teacups in front of you. Then, Sigewinne finally claps her hands and declares—

“Okay, they’ve steeped long enough. Go ahead!”

“Finally,” Wriothesley happily mumbles, reaching forward to pick up the pristine little plate on which his cup of tea resides. He brings the cup to his nose, inhaling deeply, and then takes a tentative sip.

“Hmm…”

He frowns, his brows pinching as he tries to discern the flavors he’s tasting. 

Curiosity getting the better of you, you take a sip from your own cup—wincing as the hot liquid accidentally burns your tongue.

“So?” Sigewinne prompts, staring excitedly between the two of you.

“It’s…pleasant,” you respond, clearly not as big of a tea connoisseur as the Duke. “It has a hint of sweetness.”

“It tastes like a Rainbow Rose smells,” Wriothesley adds, taking another sip. His gaze slides to you. “Did you pick some for her?”

You shake your head.

“No, I didn’t. Or…at least I didn’t pick any fresh ones. I did go to a vendor and purchase something in a bottle that looked like crushed, pink dust.”

Sigewinne cutely laughs. 

“As expected of you, Your Grace. Yes, one of the ingredients is dried Rainbow Rose petals. Do you like it?”

Wriothesley makes a pleased sound.

“I do. The taste is light, but pleasant—like Y/N said.”

“Good! I want both of you to drink up.” 

Sigewinne finally picks up her own tea, and you can’t help but notice the difference in color when compared to yours and Wriothesley’s. She really is drinking something different…but why?

“Aye aye, captain,” Wriothesley responds, which makes Sigewinne laugh. You smile at the cute interaction between them, and have some more of your tea as well.

Together, the three of you engage in friendly conversation—catching up about recent topics while indulging in tea and a few different snacks that Wriothesley had pulled out for the occasion. As you drink, you can’t help but notice you feel…warm. A heat that spreads out from your stomach, and slowly creeps into your limbs.

You’ve never felt this way before but…maybe the tea is just extra hot today? 

You glance up to Wriothesley and notice that he’s a little flushed as well. Which is…reassuring? You think. Since you’re obviously not the only one affected.

“Oh! Y/N!” 

Sigewinne’s sudden call of your name draws you from your thoughts, and you look over at her. She smiles.

“I forgot to ask, but are you dating anyone?”

“Sigewinne,” Wriothesley gently scolds. He leans forward and sets his teacup on the table, the cup now empty.

His tone practically says “It’s not appropriate to ask questions like that” without actually saying it. Sigewinne pouts.

“Aww, c’mon. We’re all friends here! I wouldn’t ask otherwise.”

Hearing that the melusine considers you to be a friend, you decide to grace her with an answer—ignoring the tingling of the taste buds on your tongue.

“No, I am not seeing anyone,” you inform her with a polite smile. Sigewinne nods happily at your answer, which makes your smile waver.

Is she happy you’re single?? Ouch.

“Okay, good,” she says. “I’d feel a little bad, otherwise.”

You blink in confusion at her words, watching her as she pops off her chair and heads towards the door. Wriothesley raises an eyebrow at her.

There’s sweat beading on his brow.

“Where are you going?”

“Away,” she responds. “To give you two some privacy.”

You and Wriothesley glance at each other, mirroring each other’s confusion.

Your tummy starts to ache.

“Why are you leaving us alone, exactly?”

Stopping just in front of the office doors, Sigewinne turns on her heel to face the two of you. There’s a smug grin on her face. 

“This is what happens when you don’t follow doctor’s orders.”

You frown, raising a hand to your chest, wondering why your heart is suddenly racing. 

What’s this about doctor’s orders?

You glance over at Wriothesley…only to see that he’s frozen in shock—his eyes wide with realization.

His pants feel too tight.

“Sigewinne, you did not—”

There’s an edge to his voice when he speaks, his eyes narrowing. He plants his feet on the floor and prepares to stand and confront her, but before he can blink, Sigewinne has drawn her pistol—a tranquilizing bullet hitting him square in the chest, where a little patch of skin is showing. 

He makes a noise of surprise, and quickly flops back into his chair to avoid falling on the floor—his limbs immediately going numb.

“Sigewinne!” you gasp. You’re not sure what’s going on, but the fact that she’d just shot Wriothesley is…

“It’s okay,” she says with a little sigh. “The effect will wear off in a few minutes. And…I’m sorry I scared you. Let me explain…”

She holsters her gun and smiles at you, trying to calm you down.

“As the nurse of the Fortress of Meropide, it is my duty to look after all residents, including Your Grace. And over the last few months, I’ve noticed him becoming more… irritable.”

“Sigewinne…,” Wriothesley mumbles, but the girl waves him off.

“After observing him for a while, I realized that his stress levels were getting high. And as his doctor, I recommended him a way to manage his stress, but he refused. He insisted tea was enough to soothe his nerves, but that’s simply not true. So…when you started working here, and I saw how well the two of you were getting along, I…got an idea.”

Sigewinne glances over at Wriothesley, noticing how he’s begun to shift his boots against the floor. 

Her tranquilizers won’t be in effect much longer. They never work as well on people Wriothesley’s size…

So, she decides to cut to the chase.

Reaching into her pocket, Sigewinne pulls out the DO NOT DISTURB sign you’d seen her making the other day. She holds it in front of her, and beams at you.

“Simply put, the Duke needs to have sexual intercourse to relieve his tension. After watching the two of you and seeing you interact on both physical and intellectual levels, I determined that you would be ideal partners for each other. So, I invited the both of you to partake in an aphrodisiac made from the herbs you gathered for me.”

“You…you drugged us?” you gape, completely thrown by everything she’s just told you. She immediately gets defensive, her cheeks puffing.

“I medicated you,” she corrects. “And in the end, I’m only acting as a doctor. This all could have been avoided if Your Grace had just taken care of his own needs, as I’d insisted. Since he didn’t, I could only logically assume it's because it’s his preference to have a partner, rather than going at it solo. So, if you want to blame anyone for this, please blame him.”

“Sigewinne—” 

Gripping the arms of his chair, Wriothesley breathes out a heavy sigh and begins to push himself up. You can’t help but notice his face is much redder now, and you’re not sure if it’s from embarrassment, the effects of the drugs, or both.

Seeing that Wriothesley has nearly regained his strength, Sigewinne hurries to exit his office.

“Anyway! The effects of the tea should wear off in a few hours, but only if you relieve yourselves. Otherwise, it will last much longer. So I suggest you let loose and indulge yourselves. You like each other! Enjoy this time!”

Wriothesley opens his mouth to say something, but his words catch in his throat the second Sigewinne opens his office door. He doesn’t want anyone outside of his office walls to hear him or know what’s going on.

“I’ll hang this sign on the door,” Sigewinne continues, her voice hushing. “So no one comes in while you two are…busy. Just remove it once you’re done, okay? Have fun!”

With a supportive little fist pump, Sigewinne then closes the door, leaving you and Wriothesley alone.

A few long beats of silence pass, then Wriothesley finally sighs.

"I…apologize for this. I never meant for you to get roped in."

You turn to look at him, only to find that he's standing with his back to you, his hand raising to rub at the back of his head.

You can see his muscles flexing as he does so, and you hate to admit that it causes the heat inside you to grow.

"It's…not your fault," you respond, laughing a little awkwardly. "I doubt it's easy to follow directions when your doctor tells you to jack off to rectify your hardass-ness."

Wriothesley glances at you over his shoulder.

"Have I been acting like a hardass?"

"You've been a little snippy at times," you tell him, smoothing your sweaty palms down your legs. Seriously, your clothes are starting to make you feel claustrophobic…

"Not to me, specifically. But I've noticed it towards some of the prison residents."

"Shit," he sighs, rubbing his temples. You continue to watch him, your eyes wandering the expanse of his back. For a second, you don't understand why he won't face you. Then it clicks.

"...are you…hard? Is that why you're not turning around?"

"It's…pretty bad," Wriothesley admits, his shoulder sagging in defeat. "I don't know what all was in that tea but…as an aphrodisiac, it's doing its job."

"Yeah…," you agree, swallowing heavily. You can feel wet arousal pooling on the fabric of your panties. His office has also started to feel like a sauna, but you're not sure if it's the air that's hot, or your body.

However, you're still not willing to breach the topic of "relief" with him. You haven't reached that level of desperation…yet .

So, you think of something else to carry the conversation in the meantime.

"So…Sigewinne said you like me?"

"Ah, you caught that."

He laughs a little, and begins pacing around the room, still careful to keep his back to you. You can't help but notice his stride is a little…impeded.

"If I'm being frank—yes, I do. You've been…a pleasure to have around, since I hired you. Actually, one of the reasons I picked you in the first place was because of how you acted during your interview. Most people are scared of me and therefore talk cautiously. You're certainly respectful, of course, but…you're a bit playful, as well. And I found that quality to be attractive."

"Ah, so I charmed you," you respond playfully. "Remind me to add that point to my resume later. "Managed to woo the Lord of the Fortress of Meropide". That sounds pretty good—"

"And there you go again," Wriothesley laughs. He steps behind the chair he'd been sitting in previously, and then finally turns to face you—the back of the chair tall enough that his lower half is out of sight. 

"Although, if I recall her words correctly, Sigewinne stated that we "like each other". So, is there something you'd like to say as well?"

Your eyes go wide, and you feel more blood rush into your head. Wriothesley smiles, wide enough to show teeth. 

"C’mon now. It's not fair that I praise you and get nothing in return."

You pout.

"To be fair, I didn't know why Sigewinne suddenly asked me what I thought of you…"

"That’s understandable, but still. I'd like to know what you told her."

Wriothesley maintains his playful demeanor, despite the way his knuckles begin to turn white at his sides—a deep-seated need slowly sinking its claws into him.

You sigh.

"I just…told her that you're a good boss, and are deserving of your titles and the respect you garner…"

You trail off, suddenly remembering the last thing you'd told Sigewinne during that conversation. Wriothesley clearly notices there's something you're leaving out, one of his eyebrows raising.

"And?"

You take a deep breath.

"That you're a cute puppy."

He blinks in shock.

"...excuse me?"

Oh god, you wanna phase through the floor.

"I said that even though you look scary, you're really just like a big…cute…puppy."

For a moment, Wriothesley can only stare at you. Then, he throws his head back and laughs. 

Embarrassed, you plant your palms on your thighs and push to your feet, instinctively wanting to run away…only to realize that your legs have gone weak. 

With a distraught noise, you flop back into your chair. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Wriothesley notices.

He coughs, pulling himself back together.

"Well, I've certainly never heard myself described in such a way before. I can't say I totally hate it, but I'm not sure if I agree with the term "puppy"."

You force an awkward laugh, finally losing steam as the arousal inside you begins to cloud your thoughts. Sigewinne obviously wasn't messing around when making her aphrodisiac…you've never felt so horny before that it has literally hindered your mental and physical faculties.

The office is silent for a few tense moments, but finally, Wriothesley heaves a heavy sigh. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, his shoulders slumping as he hangs his head.

"You may revoke your good opinion of me, considering how inappropriate it is for a boss to even consider such a thing, but…I think my dick is gonna explode soon, so I'll just come out and ask."

You swallow, anticipating his next words.

"Would you be…interested in having sex?"

Your body shivers in excitement at the idea, the lustful part of your brain screaming at you to jump him already.

"I…would," you admit, managing to keep it together. Wriothesley's entire body jolts impatiently at your words, but he’s able to keep himself grounded. 

"I don't think I'll be able to survive…this without some relief. And…I trust you. So…"

"So we're in agreement," Wrioslethely supplies, waiting for your confirmation. You nod your head. 

"We are."

In the next beat, he's is crossing the space between you, a "thank god" barely making it past his lips before he crashes them into yours.

Immediately, you’re groaning into him—your arms wrapping around his neck and his hands finding the backs of your thighs. He lifts you from your chair easily—your chests pressing together as he holds you close.

You’ve always been acutely aware of how large Wriothesley is, but you don’t think it fully sinks in until now—as he manhandles you with ease, quite literally carrying you with one arm as the other sneaks beneath your shirt and tugs it over your head.

You’re forced to break the kiss as he does so, but the second the fabric has been discarded, you’re tangling your fingers in his hair and dragging him in for another. 

Your action evokes a pleased little rumble inside his chest.

“You taste sweet,” he mumbles, his palm roaming over the exposed skin of your back. The warmth of his skin against yours makes you ache.

“It’s probably the aphrodisiac,” you reply breathlessly, a shiver raking your spine when you feel his fingers toy at the waistband of your pants.

“Hmm, shall we posit your theory?”

Before you can even think to ask what he means, the room is spinning—too many things happening at once. However, it’s nearly impossible to miss the feel of your pants being shucked down your legs.

When everything settles, you find that you’re no longer chest to chest with Wriothesley, but rather, face to dick.

“Wh—”

Your cheeks heat up as you finally digest the position he’s put you in—your ass in his face, and his crotch in yours—his body now firmly planted in a chair as he spreads his thighs and makes himself comfortable.

“Wriothesley!” you say in shock, your palms gripping his legs for support as you attempt to turn and face him. However, you quickly realize with the position he has chosen, you’re fairly helpless to do anything—completely at his mercy as he locks his arms around your legs and grips your ass in his hands.

“Hm?” he responds nonchalantly, one of his fingers slipping under the edge of your panties. You shift a little, trying to glare at him, but only succeed in having his clothed dick poke you in the cheek. He tenses at the sensation, and you feel his cock strain helplessly against the fabric of his pants—begging for more friction.

“I’m just testing your theory, like I said,” he continues, a surprised mewl tearing from your throat as he leans his head forward and nuzzles his nose in the damp fabric of your panties.

“If you think it’s the aphrodisiac making you sweet, let’s see if it’s also having that effect elsewhere—”

Before you can protest, Wriothesley is tugging the crotch of your underwear aside—his tongue licking a hot, languid strip between your folds. You gasp at the feeling, your nails digging into his thighs through the layer of clothes that he wears.

Above you, the Duke makes a pleased sound, repeating his previous action—noting the way your body writhes against his hold. His fingers grip your ass tighter, his brows furrowing as he presses his tongue inside your entrance—your arousal quickly coating his taste buds.

“Yep,” he mutters after a moment, his voice tight and his throat bobbing as he harshly swallows. “You taste…addicting.”

His words have your cunt squeezing around nothing, although he quickly dives back in and rectifies that problem—stretching your walls out around his tongue. 

“Fuck…,” you pant, your head dropping as your strength wanes. Your muscles progressively start to feel like jelly, thanks to his ministrations. Especially, when he moves his mouth to your clit and begins rolling his tongue around it—a whine escaping you as the desire inside of you sears white hot.

And yet, despite the way Wriothesley presses on—groaning into your pussy as he eats you out—you’d be remiss to forget about the fact that he’s currently affected by the aphrodisiac as well, and has his own needs that need to be taken care of.

So, gathering what strength you have, you manage to push yourself up onto your forearms—your hands moving to the waistband of his pants. You frantically work open the button and zipper of his slacks, and then hook your fingers under the elastic of his underwear, tugging the band down.

…only to have his freed cock immediately spring up and smack you in the face.

Your eyes go wide, and in normal circumstances, you’d expect Wriothesley to laugh at the comedy of what has just occurred. However, too immersed in the way your cunt tastes and feels, and the way your body continues to twitch in his hold, he doesn’t even notice. And, too amazed by the sheer size of Wriothesley’s dick as you finally lean your head back and get a good look at him, you don’t bother saying anything.

No, instead you simply part your lips and take the head of his cock into your mouth—sucking lightly, your tongue teasing at his slit. The groan that’s immediately torn from his throat is involuntary—the sound becoming muffled by your pussy as he momentarily stops to savor the feeling of your mouth on his dick—your tongue flattening on the underside of his shaft as you slowly take more of him into your mouth.

Then, he goes back to eating you out with renewed fervor—your eyes nearly rolling back into your skull when he sucks at your clit.

The room quickly fills with the sound of sloppy and messy oral, your head bobbing up and down Wriothesley’s cock. Saliva drips down his length, his pre-cum smearing against your tongue, and you can’t help but moan.

Everything feels so good—from Wriothesley’s tongue on your cunt, to the way his cock fills up your mouth…

“Fuck,” Wriothesley growls. His fingers move to pull at the folds of your pussy, spreading you open wider. You can feel his hot breath on your skin as he moves his mouth back to your clit, where he then stays—his tongue flicking rhythmically against the sensitive bundle of nerves.

The pace and motion he settles on is one that you know will very quickly damn you, and he figures this out as well based on the way your thighs begin to shake in his grasp. Your body attempts to jolt away from him—trying to escape the onslaught of pleasure he intends to give—but he leaves no wiggle room. He holds you tighter, enjoying the feeling of your mouth on his cock, and how your efforts slowly start to crumble along with your sanity.

“I…,” you mumble the word around dick, trying to warn him of the orgasm you can feel quickly approaching. Your entire body swims with arousal, your head feeling light. 

“Keep going, sweetheart,” he pants. “Let’s cum together.”

You feel his cock throb against your tongue, and, dutifully, you do your best to continue sucking him off—your lips once again suctioning around his shaft. Your actions immediately evoke a pleased groan from the Duke, and you feel his thighs tense in your grasp—his own orgasm quickly approaching.

However, despite your best efforts to continue, everything falls apart the second your climax finally crests.

With a cry, you come undone—your body writhing in his hold. You go brainless almost immediately, the strength in your arms wavering, and Wriothesley’s cock stuffing into your cheek—your hot breath fanning over his length.

Luckily, the vulgarity of the entire situation is enough to push Wriothesley over the finish line—his dick painting the inside of your mouth with his cum. And to his surprise, once he’s spent, you actually pull your head back, close your lips, and swallow.

Shit, he thinks. 

His dick is just starting to soften, and yet somehow, it’s also already getting hard again.

There’s a few beats of quiet that are filled only with the sound of you and Wriothesley panting. Then, once he’s caught his breath, he says—

“Let’s get you right side up.”

—and the world spins again.

Honestly, the fact that he can manhandle you this easily is criminal.

“You okay?” he asks, sitting you on one of his thighs. He brushes a few stray hairs from your face, staring at you with a hint of concern.

You nod your head, grateful that the carnal desire you’ve been afflicted with is clearly less, now that you and Wriothesley have both gotten off. But…even despite that, you still feel hot and tingly. Like you want more.

You glance down at his lap.

“Mmm. Seems like you’re in the same predicament as me.”

“Think you can handle another round?” he asks. You meet his eyes, playfully raising your eyebrows.

“I’m almost tempted to say no, and see what you do.”

Wriothesley rolls his eyes, his hands grabbing your waist, and in the next moment, you find yourself slung over his shoulder.

“Hey—!” you protest, attempting to look at him, but he only caresses your ass with his free hand.

“If you have that much spunk left in you, you can handle another round,” he says, carrying you down the nearby staircase, to the floor below his office. “But, I’ll be kind this time and make you more comfortable.”

His boots echo against the metal floor as he walks, and for a second, you wonder where exactly he’s taking you. But, soon after, Wriothesley pushes through a nearby door, and you find yourself in a moderately sized bedroom.

It must be his, you realize, feeling a little silly that you’d never pondered before now where the Master of the prison actually sleeps.

“Here we are.”

Wriothesley gently deposits you onto his bed, and then immediately reaches for his tie. You watch him with bated breath, your heart doing a tiny flip as you realize that he’s finally stripping out of his clothes. He opts to leave on the leather belts encircling his arms and neck, instead focusing the bulk of his time on shedding his suit, and undoing the many buckles on his boots. 

By the time he’s finished—his erect cock once again sitting heavy between his legs—you’re practically drooling at the sight of him.

His lips twitch into a little smile.

“I’m happy to know that you like what you see. However, in the time I spent undressing myself, you couldn’t be bothered to remove what little clothing you have left? C’mon now, are you waiting for me to wrestle you out of them?”

Still feeling cheeky, you flash him a grin.

“Hm, I’d like to see you try.”

Wriothesley immediately cocks an eyebrow, his eyes glinting at the challenge you’ve just issued, and your attitude wavers, realizing what it is you’ve done. You open your mouth to say you’re only teasing—your hands already raising behind your back to undo the clasp of your bra—but it’s too late.

In one swift motion, Wriothesley grabs your ankle and twists you onto your stomach—his weight settling above you as he kneels onto the bed. You shiver when his knuckles brush against your skin—his fingers swiftly undoing your bra.

“You’re just a little brat, aren’t you…” 

He speaks the words fondly, with a hint of amusement, and yet, they still go straight to your cunt. 

“Don’t say things like that,” you respond, instinctively raising your hips when Wriothesley hooks his fingers on your underwear and begins tugging them down your thighs. He stares intently at your backside as he does so, an idea popping into his mind.

“Why? Because you like it too much?”

He discards your panties on the floor along with the rest of the clothes you’d both shed, and then grabs your knees, forcing you to spread your legs, so he can properly settle between them. 

Another blush rises on your face at his words, your tongue feeling heavy in your mouth. At your lack of response, Wriothesely continues.

“In my understanding, brats tend to like it a little rougher, so…” 

His hands ghost up your thighs, to your hips, and he grips you tightly—forcing your lower half off the bed until you’re propped up on your knees—his cock sitting heavy against your ass.

“...what say we continue like this, hm?”

Bracing yourself on your forearms, you turn your head back to look at him—your body tensing as you watch him fist his cock and drag it downward, between the lips of your pussy. 

His icy eyes catch yours.

“Any objection?”

“...no,” you mumble, your fingers anticipatedly fisting in the sheets. 

Wriothesley nods—

“Good.”

—and then presses the head of his cock inside you.

Immediately, you drop your forehead against the mattress—willing your body to relax for him as he slowly inches inside of you.

His tongue had certainly been enjoyable, but this? Fuck. Nothing compares to the sensation of him slowly stuffing you inch by inch—the girth of his cock positively delicious as he forces your cunt to stretch to accommodate him.

It’s so much that by the time he’s fully seated inside of you, your body is shaking—your breath coming out in quick, desperately little pants.

Seeing your reaction, Wriothesely soothes a hand up your spine, his warm palm settling between your shoulder blades. He decides to start slow—to give you a little more time to adjust to him. 

And honestly, he’d love to take his time in general—to really savor the sight of you beneath him, your cunt swallowing his cock so perfectly, but alas. The effects of the aphrodisiac make him impatient with need, and it’s not long before he’s moving faster—little gasps and whines finding their way past your lips as he begins fucking you back onto his cock.

“Ahh…seriously you’re…so fucking tight,” he curses. His fingers dig into the plush of your hip—his jaw clenching, and his racing heart pumping lust through his veins.

Your cunt clamping on his dick seriously might be his personal slice of heaven.

“Wrio, I—,” you can’t even get the words out, your brain short-circuiting. You can’t think straight anymore—not with his cock rubbing you in all the right spots, making a mess of your insides, and quickly rocketing you towards another—

Wait, no, it’s only been a minute—!

“Fuck! ” 

You choke the word out, your spine curving and your knuckles turning white as your second orgasm of the night is unexpectedly forced out of you—your pussy spasming around Wriothesley’s dick.

The last of your strength officially drained, you collapse forward onto the mattress, your cheek smushing into the covers.

…however, Wriothesley doesn’t allow your lower half to fall along with the rest of you—his hold on your hips keeping your twitching pussy firmly planted on his still-hard dick.

“We’re not done yet, sweetheart,” he reminds you, his cock continuing to languidly drag between your walls, drawing out the tail end of your pleasure.

You can’t help but whimper at his words, already feeling a bit oversensitive thanks to two consecutive orgasms. Wriothesley does his best to soothe your frayed nerves.

Leaning over you, he gently tangles his fist in your hair—coaxing your head off the mattress so he can kiss you. 

The kiss is messy, but sweet—the angle of your bodies forcing his cock deeper inside of you, his hips completely flush against your ass.

“You’re doing so good,” he tells you, peppering a trail of kisses against your cheek, and across your jaw. His praise causes you to whimper, a shiver raking up your spine when his tongue drags across your skin—his teeth nipping at the nape of your neck.

His actions successfully get you to relax—your body becoming more pliable in his grasp as he once again begins to move. And soon enough, the wet sound of sex fills his bedroom once more.

Wanting to help him cum (and to feel his seed fill you), you do your best to help Wriothesley along—purposefully flexing the walls of your pussy as he fucks you. However, in doing so, you accidentally start yourself down the path of yet another orgasm…

Feeling the familiar, aching pleasure beginning to build inside of you once again, you quickly stop what you’re doing. You think that a third orgasm honestly might kill you, but…it’s too late.

Wriothesley has already noticed your growing arousal, and decides that he likes it better when the two of you cum together.

So, he sneaks one of his hands between the apex of your legs, and begins rubbing at your clit.

The garbled, desperate cry that leaves your mouth immediately becomes seared in his mind for a long time to come.

“No, Wrio, I…I can’t. I—”

Your words come out jumbled, tears beading on your lash line.

Momentarily removing his hand from your clit, he once again reaches forward and grips your hair—pulling your head back so he can kiss you. His lips swallow up your worries.

“You can,” he insists, his voice whispering in your ear, and his hot breath fanning over your skin. 

“I want you to cum with me, pretty girl. You can do it.”

You give no protest aside from a cute little whine, and that's good enough for Wriothesley.

Releasing your hair, his hand finds your clit once more.

He then proceeds to fuck you into the mattress—pursuing his orgasm with abandon. A groan leaves his mouth at the way your pussy starts clamping on his dick once again—tightening up with each pass of his fingers across your clit—your pussy slick and messy with your own arousal.

Unable to think straight, you can only hold on for dear life—clinging to his sheets like a lifeline. You can’t even process the sounds that are coming out of your own mouth—a damned, desperate symphony moans.

To Wriothesley, it all sounds like a siren's cry—beckoning him closer to the edge.

“Shit,” he pants, feeling his cock throb, and his balls tighten. The motion of his fingers on your clit quickens—your toes curling as the coil of pleasure in your tummy continues to wind—so close to snapping.

Sweat beading on his brow, Wriothesley leans forward, curling his body against yours. His teeth nip at the shell of your ear, his husky voice sending goosebumps across your skin.

“So good for me…,” he breathes, his hips smacking into your ass. His broad strokes deteriorate into needy rutting, and the sensation has you quite literally sobbing—his cock now incessantly grinding into your g-spot.

You can’t take it anymore.

Shoving your face into the mattress, you bite the sheets and scream—your entire body shaking as you cum for a third time, your cunt milking around Wriothesley’s cock.

He curses at the feeling, his face burying in your neck. Wrapping his arms around you, he hugs you to his body—fucking inside of you a few more times before finally joining you in ecstasy. 

His teeth sink into you as his orgasms peaks, a heady groan muffled against your skin as his balls empty—pumping you full of his cum.

It’s not until the intensity of his pleasure has died down that Wriothesley ultimately releases you from his hold—your lower half immediately flopping down onto the bed, and his softening cock slipping out of you.

The Duke takes a moment to simply look at you, and how fucked out you are. Your eyes bleary, skin flushed, and the imprint of his teeth engraved in your flesh.

He grunts at the sight, and settles in beside you—his arm curling around your waist as he tugs you back against him. His tongue immediately begins lapping at the bite mark he’d inflicted, attempting to soothe the sting.

After a few seconds, you begin shaking, and Wriothesley immediately pauses, scared that he’s hurt you in some way.

…only to realize that you’re laughing.

“...puppy…”

He props himself up, glancing at you.

“What?”

“You really are like a puppy,” you giggle, your finger lifting to brush a stray tear from your eye. “The way you bit me, and then immediately started licking at it in apology. So cute…”

You break into another tiny fit of laughter, and Wriothesley rolls his eyes, yet can’t help cracking a smile.

“Well, I’m glad to know I didn’t break you, at the very least.”

His hand rubs against your waist.

“...right?”

Finally getting ahold of yourself, you roll onto your back and smile at him, your hand reaching out to cup his cheek. He immediately leans into your touch, and it makes your heart flutter.

“I’m not broken, no. Just…sore. And gross. And sweaty.”

Wriothesley chuckles.

“Well, I think I can rectify some of those issues. I do have a bathroom, with a tub.”

“Wow,” you respond, watching him as he scoots to the edge of the mattress and gets to his feet. He waits a second for you to join him, but you don’t move.

“My…limbs feel like jello,” you admit, raising your arm and flopping it back down bonelessly for emphasis. Wriothesley rolls his eyes, but nonetheless leans over the bed and scoops you into his arms.

You rest your cheek against his chest, admiring for the first time how soft it really is.

“Whatever shall I do with you,” he playfully sighs, carrying you into the adjacent bathroom. He sets you on the vanity, moving over to the tub and turning on the tap for the hot water. You hum.

“Mmm, I can think of a few things you can do. The first of which is helping me into the bath once it’s ready.”

Wriothesley quietly chuckles. Returning to your side, he takes your hand, and brings it to his lips.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Once the tub has filled, the Duke keeps true to his word—once again carefully cradling you in his arms as he seats himself in the tub basin, before positioning you in the space between his legs.

The steaming water immediately soothes the ache of your body, and you sigh in relief—sinking back against Wriothesley’s body. He lightly wraps one arm around your waist, the other resting on the edge of the tub.

For a few long minutes, the two of you bask in silence, simply enjoying the refreshing feel of the bath. 

…then, you start to notice something beginning to grow—pressing at your back.

“...really? Is the aphrodisiac still getting to you that much?”

“No,” he admits after a beat, leaning forward to kiss your neck. “I think this one is actually all me.”

You roll your eyes, but nonetheless crane your head to the side—allowing him access to more of your skin as his mouth begins to wander.

“I thought I made it clear that my limbs are jello right now.”

“I can work with that,” he responds, and you feel him grin. His hand slowly trails down your stomach, and between your legs.

“I’ll do all the work. You just get to make pretty sounds and feel good.”

His fingers slide between the folds of your pussy, and you jolt as he passes over your overly-sensitive clit. But seriously…how are you going to say no to him?

“What am I going to do with you?” you sigh, echoing his earlier words. His chest rumbles with laughter, and he grabs your chin with his free hand—turning your head so he can kiss you.

“Mmm, I can think of a few things.”

The next morning, you find yourself in a back in your clothes, standing beside Wriothesley just inside his office door.

“I’ll go first,” you say, to which he nods. “I have some errands to run anyway. You can wait a minute and then come out after me.”

“Sounds good.”

The two of you stare at each other for a second, before you finally square your shoulders, and reach for the door handle. 

Before you can twist it, Wriothesley catches your wrist. When you look back at him, you find that there’s a blush on his cheeks.

“So, I’ll…see you later?”

His suddenly bashful demeanor causes you to smile. Pressing onto your toes, you cup his cheeks and softly kiss him. He immediately grabs your waist—deepening the kiss.

“You’ll see me later,” you promise. 

With that, the two of you finally separate, and you disappear through his office door.

Wriothesley takes a deep breath at your departure, combing a hand through his hair as he waits for the right moment to make his own exit.

To be safe, he decides to wait a good few minutes. But finally, he opens his door—preparing to venture into the main area of the fortress, and make his normal rounds.

…however, he only makes it a step before remembering the sign Sigewinne had made.

With a sigh, he immediately backtracks and tears the DO NOT DISTURB sign off of his door, crumpling it between his palms.

When he turns back around, he nearly jumps—Sigewinne standing right in front of him.

“So,” she says, a pleased grin on her face. “How’d it go?”

Narrowing his eyes, Wriothesley only stares ahead, and walks past her. She easily follows after him.

“The fact that you’re out and about this early in the day means something likely happened between you and Y/N.”

“No comment,” Wriothesley responds, which makes Sigewinne giggle. They pass by a few prisoners as Wriothesley makes a B-line for the elevator to the production zone. Once there, Sigewinne squeezes herself in along with him.

As the elevator begins to descend, only a few seconds pass in silence, before Sigewinne asks one last question.

“As your doctor, it’s my recommendation that you continue to regularly relieve your stress. So, are you going to be dutifully carrying out my orders from now on?”

Wriothesley makes a little face, glancing away from her.

“...maybe.”

Sigewinne smiles. 

That’s good enough for her.

[A Dragon's Constitution] ->