#and how either the part of her that KNOWS what's going on OR something ELSE (scream!!!!) is just underneath the surface.

[jedi-enthusiasm-blog]

I mean they still coerce/steal children into joining them. And they left Anakin's mom to die a slave death. Like sure they aren't awful as an organization but they aren't always right?

Sometimes I wonder if I'm too harsh on Jedi antis. Then something like this happens and it hits me that no, if anything I'm being too soft.

Let's begin with the obvious, out-of-universe part. It's very rude to come to people's clearly tagged posts and say something like this. I love the Jedi I see in the PT and TCW, and I should be able to make, at least, vaguely positive posts about them without having to see this in the comments.

Now, onto your argument:

"They coerce/steal children into joining them."

You'd have a hard time arguing this, even using only Legends, the continuity that's most critical of the Jedi.

Baby Ludi doesn't offer us much information beyond "the baby's family was reasonably but incorrectly pressumed dead". Even then, these type of stories are used to show what the public opinion of the Jedi was, not what the Jedi were actually doing.

Children of the Force (the comic) is another of these stories. The Shatterpoint novel, on its own, contradicts every single instance of the Jedi being baby-snatchers or not being allowed to know their birth families/culture. Shatterpoint was written by Matthew Stover, who spoke with George Lucas personally and knew George Lucas' vision for Star Wars, and had that aside from his own personal interpretations that may or may not align with Lucas', unlike many other EU writers. This puts Shatterpoint very high in Legends canonity tier.

Jedi Path is stupid even when reading it in good faith. Movies, shows and later books with more canonity contradict it, so not good for argument.

Anything written by Karen Traviss is bullshit because 1. she disagrees with the good vs evil narrative of a franchise intended for kids, and 2. she only watched the PT halfway through, as a child. That's not getting into how she tries to paint both sides of the Empire vs Rebellion war as bad. Let me repeat, she's presenting the original heroes as bad. She's not engaging with the narrative presented to her, so what she writes is something else with the names of the Star Wars universe slapped into it.

In TCW this is trope of baby-snatchers is invoked and defied. A planet believes the Jedi steal children (manipulated by a Dark Side cult, so the people's worries were born out of propaganda), the Jedi stop going there, and the arc ends with them making up and solving the misunderstanding. To add to that, Children of the Force (the episode) is about Force-sensitive children being kidnaped by Cad Bane, and ends with the Jedi giving the children back to their parents; one of them was in the middle of an adjustment period to the Order and the other's parents had refused to give their child up, and there is zero indication that either child becomes a Jedi in the future.

In the PT the only introduction into the Order is Anakin, and the Jedi refuse. Until they can't refuse because Anakin is in danger of being discovered and brainwashed/stolen by a Sith, the Jedi say no. This is not how you portray characters to want to paint as kidnapers. Also, Palpatine (y'know, the Sith who's grooming and trying to turn Anakin against the Jedi) doesn't bring up anything related to child-stealing. If the main villain doesn't make that point, not even to be subverted later on, it's simply not true.

Coertion is an interesting argument because… it's never brought up. Yeah, you read that right. Never. Not even in arguments against the Jedi done by villains.

Jedi are not kidnapers in any continuity. Fandom made that up. Can that make for some interesting story about shady situations? Sure, if you're into that, but it's not canon. If you're critizing canon Jedi, bringing this shit up immediately makes you lose the argument.

"They left Anakin's mom to die a slave death"

No, they didn't. This post talks about her death, but something important I want to add is that she'd been free for years at the time of her death. Also, who's to say they didn't try? Who's to say they even knew she was a slave? Qui-Gon brought Anakin to the Order and then he died.

In Legends they actually had a hand in her winning her freedom, too.

You proved my point. You can critize the Order (I'm the first person to say they aren't perfect and some of their choices should be critized), but creating a narrative about the Jedi stealing children that has no basis in either Lucas', Legends or Disney canon to dunk on them is not being critical, it's just slander.

Friendly reminder that if you're gonna critize the Jedi, they have to be wrong.

"They told Anakin he wasn't fit to be a Jedi" Yeah, was he? He was unhappy the whole time, broke all their rules and eventually slaughtered them.

"They massacred the Sith Order" Yeah. Those "I'm better than everyone and everything and they all should kneel to me or die" people? I see no issue here.

"They fought in the Clone Wars as peacekeepers." Yeah. What was the alternative? Standing by as the clones, civilians and the Republic itself (the best government out those in the galaxy, although admittedly that's rather a low bar) were massacred by the Separatists? Yeah no. And peacekeepers ≠ pacifists.

"They forbid marriage." They are a religious organization, monks. Fobidding its members from marrying is pretty standard in monasteries. They also aren't celibate, friendship isn't discouraged at all and it's all but stated by Obi-Wan in TCW S6 that romantic feelings are perfectly allowed. Several of the Order's members practice their home planets' culture and religion and language (Barriss has a Mirilian Idol in her room, she Luminara Quinlan etc have cultural tattoos, many characters have accents which implies Basic isn't their first language and others don't speak Basic at all,etc). They have no dress code, they are allowed to drink, smoke, etc., even become part of other religions organizations (see Plo Koon)! Marriage being forbidden is nothing, literally meaningless next to the freedom Jedi have.

If you're gonna critize the Jedi, they have to be wrong.

No, they shouldn't change their whole way of life just because you don't like it.

[wonkizz]

do you feel the same way i do about you?

성훈 x fmr genre: angst warns: cursing, shit talking, alcohol/drinking, unrequited love, parties, not proofread

Sunghoon is your best friend. Someone you’ve gone through hard times with, someone who’s always been there for you. It was easy for you to catch feelings, but it was also just as easy to hide them away.

The one thing people always say about you and Sunghoon is that you’re so different it’s almost comical. He’s loud and cheerful, albeit around people he’s comfortable with, while you’re quiet and shy with practically everyone, even him.

You’ve tried over the years to branch out and make more friends, but you always find yourself falling short and just missing the mark.

But Sunghoon, he’s never made you feel bad about your personality, if anything he’s allowed you to embrace it.

Which is why when he convinced you to go to a party with him, he was as shocked as you were.

You don’t go to parties, they’re just not for you. But Sunghoon said this one would be good and a chance for you to make more friends.

He wanted to introduce you to his other friends, the ones he’s made at your college.

You were hesitant but decided it might be worth it in the end.

Only problem is, you don’t have party worthy clothes. Your style is basic, you wear jeans and sweaters on most occasions because you prefer comfort over anything else.

When you tell Sunghoon this, he urges you not to worry about it, saying he’ll handle it.

What exactly does that mean? Buying you the skimpiest outfit he could find.

The dress is short, barely covers your ass and your chest is nearly exposed.

“Sunghoon, I don’t think this is for me,” you say, staring at yourself in the mirror.

You did your own hair and makeup, although barely any, and the outfit was the final touch.

You don’t look like you.

“Are you kidding? You look great!” He says, enthusiastic as ever.

“I just… I don't look like myself, you know? I feel weird.”

“I promise, everything will be fine. I know you’re stepping out of your comfort zone for me, and I really appreciate it. This is just part of it.”

Sunghoon, ever the sweet talker, smiles when you nod.

“Okay, let’s go.”

The drive isn’t far, it’s being hosted by Sunghoon’s friend Jay.

When you say the house is gigantic, you mean it.

Your one bedroom is more like a studio compared to it.

Your nerves start to get the better of you, and you almost don’t want to get out of the car.

Sunghoon opens the passenger door for you, holding out a hand, “Come on.”

You take it, and he leads you up the steps and straight inside, not even bothering to knock.

Then again, why would he have to? It’s a party for god's sake.

He leads you through a wave of bodies until you reach the kitchen.

6 other guys are standing there and Sunghoon greets them eagerly.

You can’t help but stand there awkwardly, twiddling your fingers and looking down at the ground.

“Guys, this is Y/N, my best friend,” Sunghoon says as he begins to point at everyone, “Y/N this is Heeseung, Jay, Jake, Sunoo, Jungwon and Riki.”

You wave at them, giving a shy smile as they all greet you.

“You didn’t tell us how pretty she is, Sunghoon,” Heeseung says, raising an eyebrow.

Sunghoon scoffs, “Yeah yeah, don’t overwhelm her, this isn’t her type of thing.”

He grabs two beers from the fridge, opening them and handing you one.

You sip it gently, souring at the taste. You’re not a big drinker either.

It’s not long before Sunghoon effectively abandons you.

He dragged you to the dance floor one minute, then the next he was gone.

You don’t know why, but something is telling you to head upstairs.

It’s there you hear your name coming from a bedroom with the door slightly ajar.

“Why didn’t you introduce us to Y/N sooner?” You barely recognize Heeseung’s voice amongst all the noise coming from downstairs.

You certainly recognize Sunghoon as the next person to speak, “Parties aren’t her thing, I told you that.”

“We’ve been in college for 4 years though. This is the first time you’ve gotten her to come to one?”

“What else can I say? She’s a stick in the mud.”

“That’s not a very nice thing to say about your best friend,” Sunoo speaks up.

“I know, but it’s true. She’s kind and all but she’s so shy and closed off that she can’t make friends. The only reason we really became friends is because our parents pushed us to be close.”

Ouch.

“So you’re friends with her out of pity?” Riki asks.

“I wouldn’t say that,” Sunghoon retorts, “she’s sweet and I appreciate having her as a friend but she’s kinda boring and our personalities don’t really match at all. If it weren’t for our parents, we probably wouldn’t be friends at all.”

“That’s harsh, man,” Jake pipes up.

“I know, I just…don��t know how else to describe her.”

You’ve never felt genuine heartbreak. Not until this moment.

So this is how he feels about you? The best friend you thought accepted you for who you are, truly just…tolerates you?

Has he always felt this way? Has he only kept you as a friend out of pity?

You never thought of yourself as less than when it came to Sunghoon, but now, you’re doubting everything you thought you knew.

As tears gather in your eyes, you turn around making your way back downstairs and out the front door.

You call yourself an uber and go home, crying silently in the back seat of this stranger's car.

Once you make it inside your apartment, you take the heels Sunghoon bought off, thank god because they were killing your feet.

Heading into your bedroom, you look at yourself in the mirror again. The girl glaring back at you, isn’t you. She’s what Sunghoon wants you to be, but clearly you can’t give him that.

You almost tear the dress as you’re taking it off, and change into sweats and a t-shirt.

As you lay in bed, you think back on your years with Sunghoon.

All the time he tried to convince you to do things with him, all the times you tried. All the times you asked him to do something with you and all the times he declined because they “weren’t his style.”

Has it really always been like this? You, trying to be different for Sunghoon, but Sunghoon, never trying for you?

Suddenly you feel humiliated.

Humiliated at the fact that your friendship with Sunghoon has all been a fluke.

You’ve always accepted Sunghoon for who he is. Yet, he never truly did the same for you.

Your phone buzzes beside you, Sunghoon’s contact coming up with a text.

‘Where are you?’ It says.

You don’t bother answering, instead, putting your phone on the charger and turning it off.

You fall asleep with your eyes swollen and heart broken.

When you turn your phone on the next morning, it’s full of texts from Sunghoon.

You, again, don’t bother answering. You’re disgusted by last night's events.

You don’t have class thankfully, so you lounge around in your pajamas all morning.

It’s not until noon when there’s a knock at your door.

You mentally slap yourself for not checking the peephole, because once you open it, you regret it.

Sunghoon stands there, an evident frown on his face.

“Why haven’t you answered my texts?” He says, immediately.

You feel snappy, like the word nice is not in your vocabulary at the moment.

“Can I be honest? I didn’t want to talk to you.”

Sunghoon’s face furrows, “Why? What’d I do?”

You just begin to laugh. You don’t know if it’s the leftover pain morphing into anger or the fact that you’re tired.

“Why are you here Sunghoon? I don’t need your pity, not anymore.”

“What are you talking about?”

Then, you’re shouting, “I heard you last night! You’re friends with me out of fucking pity and I’m honestly disgusted!”

Sunghoon’s face morphs from confusion to shock.

“I…you heard me?”

“I did.” You nod, “And honestly, if you were so fucking bored of me, you should’ve just ended the ‘friendship’ instead of dragging it along like this.”

“Y/N I…I didn’t mean any of that—,”

“Yes you did! You did because if you didn’t, you wouldn’t have said it.”

There’s nothing but silence from his end, like he’s trying to process everything while you’ve already caught up.

You can feel tears pricking your eyes again and damn if it isn’t embarrassing to cry in front of him, but at this point, you don’t care.

“You know what hurts the most?” You ask as Sunghoon looks up, into your eyes.

“The fact that I did so much for you. You wanted to go out? Fine. You wanted me to put myself out there in a place I was totally out of place at? Fine. So many times I made myself uncomfortable for you. But the very few times I asked you to do something with me, for me, you always said no. It wasn’t your thing. Do you realize how fucking pathetic I feel knowing my friendship was so one-sided?”

Sunghoon doesn’t say a word, tears gathering in his own eyes. “I’m sorry.”

You nod, “I’m sorry too. Sorry that we both wasted our time. Sorry, that I ever had feelings for you. Consider this ‘friendship’ over, Sunghoon.”

With that, you close the door in his face, locking it before letting yourself break.

You settle on your couch, curling into a ball, clutching a pillow as you cry.

There’s a few stray knocks, but he eventually leaves.

WONKIZZ 2025

[sugarwarachan]

title: better than most to say the least

pairing: dabi x reader (also on ao3)

wc: oops this is almost 3k

CWs: soulmate!au, fem!reader, slight angst if you squint, no condoms used (wrap it up in real life yall), Dabi's a little mean, reader's a little into it, the unbearable burden of being seen, i haven't written fic in years be gentle

Dabi doesn’t care about much. You can’t in the sort of world he inhabits. It’s much easier to scorch the earth behind you than to plan for good things to come. So he’s furious when he hears your voice, a real soft and low number, like a siren out in the fucking fog, say, “That’ll be ¥500.”

His brother laughed when the soul mark activated; even at the age of three, he’d known just how mundane the words were. Part of him had laughed as well; maybe you and he would laugh about it, too, when you met. The laughter died in his throat when he saw his father’s disapproving face.

He looks down at the packaged onigiri in something like disbelief. Your face is starting to express apprehension. He still hasn’t said anything, and it doesn’t even look like he’ll pay. He’s not surprised you’re weirded out, and fuck, something is pressing against his chest, like a buoy rising up, pulling him to the surface so he can finally suck down oxygen.

He feels fucking free, giddy with it. You’re real. He never once imagined you would be.

The grin that cracks his face must look a touch maniacal because your eyes widen, and he watches you press yourself against the counter as he says, “Well, ain’t you a sight for sore eyes, princess?”

He’s not all that pleasant to look at.

You know that’s not a nice thing to think, especially about your soul mate, but you can’t help that your first thought upon seeing the guy was holy fucking shit what happened to you?

A moment ago, he was glaring at you, and now he’s radiating a nervous energy that puts you on edge. It’s like he thinks you’ll disappear the moment he takes his eyes off you.

You’re no criminal, but you’re no hero, either. You’ve got a quirk that makes most people wary of you, so your nonsense detector is finely tuned, and fuck, your soul mate is definitely the kind of dude who ends up on the other side of those hero compilations your coworker streams on her lunch break.

“Not done talking to me, are you?” He pouts, pushing out his lips and pulling at the staples in his face. His voice is nice. It relaxes you somehow, even when every nerve in your body is shrieking in alarm.

“Where’s yours?”

This throws him. A part of you doesn’t like forcing his hand like this, but another part of you thinks this could be a really convenient trap.

“Your soul mark?” You tap the side of your wrist. “Mine’s along the radial bone.”

He reaches over the till to grab your arm, pulling you closer. You yelp in protest. His touch is hot, familiar. You’re grateful no one else is in the store right now. Explaining this to yourself is going to be enough of a hassle later on.

There’s a menace in his voice when he addresses you. “You think I’m a liar?”

You don’t, actually. Even without the soul mark you would take this man at his word.

“No. But you’ve been in here a whole lot, and I’m a naturally suspicious person. So, pony up and show me.”

You’ve gotta be smart about this. Heroes and villains alike would do a lot to get a person with your quirk on their side, and you’re not so naïve as to think that soul marks can’t be discovered and used against you.  

He grins, and you feel it like a twist to the gut. This guy might actually kill you; you don’t really know. But something—the little bond between the tug of you that threaded your lives together the moment he opened his mouth—is already tugging at your brain for answers, for knowledge, all to better assemble who your soulmate is.

“We’ve gotta go somewhere safe for me to do that, doll.” He leers at you, and you wonder if he’s trying to intimidate, trying to imprint on your brain that, yes, he is, in fact, dangerous. “You’re just gonna have to take my word for it.”

Fat fucking chance.

You don’t take him at his word. You call him every name he’s ever heard and then some, and then you close your eyes and hum, and a feeling like sugared caramel slides into his head. Fuck is he floating? he thinks before he crumples to the ground like a sack of potatoes.

When he comes to, his head is splitting. He’s sitting in what he assumes is the store’s backroom, judging by the shelves lined with cleaning products. You’re on a crate watching him with an annoyed expression, lips kicked out in a pout. It draws attention to the fullness of your lower lip. He tries not to notice.

“You could have just shown me,” you grouse.

“And miss out on the chance to have you hit me with your quirk? What kind of masochist would I be then?”

He doesn’t know what you’re doing as a cashier, but it’s safe to say you’re hiding. He has no idea what you did to him, but just before he’d knocked out, he remembered the first time he mastered the flames, that sticky-sweet feeling of hope in his chest. He has no idea how you managed to dig that out after all these years.

You shrug, ignoring him.

“Too good to fucking explain?” he snaps.

You saw something vulnerable, so personal that not even the league knows he has those thoughts, those memories. If he could scrub them from your brain, he would.

“I can make you dream,” you snap back. “When I was a kid, I used to spend a lot of time in my own head. It worried my parents. They got me tested because they thought I was quirkless. The doctor said I had a minor empathy quirk. Nothing to worry about. What kid wouldn’t want the advantage of knowing how others feel?”

You clench your hands.

“I didn’t know if I could implant a dream into someone’s head, but I spun that dream the night before, and my parents were never the wiser. Up until the day they died, they never knew I’d planned out that scenario already and made that man lie to them.”

He’s floored. He can’t believe you’re willingly offering up such valuable information to him. What would Shigaraki do with you, he wonders, before a violent pain follows the thought. No, Shigaraki isn’t getting his hands on you. He doesn’t exactly know what happens to the things that kid collects for his master.

“Not at the top of the list for hero candidates?”

Your lips pull back in a sneer before you realize. You’re bad at hiding your feelings, he realizes, something that makes him feel oddly protective. You’ll need to get better at that.

He turns his hands out, palms up. A thin blue flame erupts. You jump, but your eyes don’t leave his.

“We’re gonna need to move, sweets. Neither one of us is exactly hero material.”

He takes you to a sorry excuse for a safe house because it’s just some guy on vacation who was stupid enough to leave a spare key behind, but it works in a pinch. He can’t take you to the league just yet. He already barely knows you, and there he would have to split your time with everyone else.

You’re standing in the doorway like a spooked animal. That you agreed to come is shocking in itself, but then again, he would have followed you into a coffin if you asked it of him. Maybe there was something to those soul mate stories Toga pretended not to read after all. He thought the whole bond thing was exaggerated, but maybe not.

He clenches his jaw and grabs a beer from the fridge.

“I’m not gonna fucking hurt you. You can take the bedroom,” he says, even though he wants you to sit next to him, to look at him, to share something again the way you had in the storeroom. But you’re already shuffling away, and before he knows it, the door shuts with a click, and he’s alone in the dark.

Confirmed villain.

It took you all of two seconds to search the web for League of Villains and/or criminal activity across the country, and bam, there he is, menacing even in blurry camera footage.

You stare up at the ceiling and wonder if you should be horrified at yourself that this confirmation changes nothing. He’s just your soulmate, for better or for worse.

And you’re a coward for sitting in here rather than performing the simple task of sharing a drink with him.

The blue glow of the television lights up the living room. He’s moved to the couch, long legs spread open, arms resting along the back. Desire drops low in your stomach at the sight, an almost innate need flashing in your body to climb into his lap.

He catches your eye and smirks like he can read your thoughts. You blush furiously. “Did you realize hiding doesn’t solve shit?”

“Shut up,” you retort, like a child, which makes him laugh. It’s a nice laugh. A little subdued, you think, but warm, hard-won. You don’t imagine he laughs often.

When you settle down next to him, he seems to barely register, but something in you knows he’s pleased. You curl toward the feeling like a cat seeking a sunbeam.  

“Really, though. What made you come out?”

Looking him in the eye is a mistake. He has beautiful eyes, a cerulean blue that puts the sky to shame.

“I don’t like running from things,” you manage. You were wrong to think he wasn’t pretty. “What’s your name?”

He snorts. “You’ve gotta know it, doll, didn’t you spend ten minutes in there panic-searching for violent crime?”

You can’t help but roll your eyes. “Call me old-fashioned, but I’d still like to be introduced.”

“It’s Dabi.”

You raise a brow. “That’s it?”

“For now. I’ll tell you the real one later, okay?”

“Fine.”

He’s watching compilation videos of pro heroes, the footage flickering on the walls around you.

“This is what you do in your spare time?”

He shrugs. “Just what was on.”

You don’t believe that for a second, but it’s fine, because you’re a liar, too. You’d do anything to avoid painful topics, like the possibility that your soulmate already has plans outside of you that you won’t be able to change.

“You know, your words used to get me in a lot of trouble,” you say, to get you back into familiar territory.

He smiles, like that pleases him. You bet it does.

“Oh yeah? What sort of trouble?”

“Just the usual. Your soulmate has a potty mouth, your soul mate’s probably a villain…”

His shoulder tenses against you. You don’t remember scooting closer, but the sheer fucking heat of him is searing into your skin.

You want him. If you’re being honest, you’ve probably wanted him since he first appeared in the store. The part of you that doesn’t exactly abide by societal standards saw a kindred flame in him.

“That sort of thing used to bother me when I was a kid, I guess. But the older I got, the more I realized how much I liked them.”

Your hands ache to touch him. His thigh tenses alongside yours.

“What do you like about them now?” he asks.

You have a whole slew of thoughts in your head about them, the characteristics you assumed based on one little question, but for now all you can say is, “That you finally said them.”

He doesn’t know who moves first.

You tumble into his lap inelegantly, but he doesn’t care; he wants you closer. He’s wanted you closer since he arrived at this shitty studio apartment, has been trying to rein in the overwhelming feeling of possession swarming under his skin, but he wants.

He's a villain, and he’s never been good at waiting for what he wants.

His hands press into the meat of your hips, and he savors the little gasp you make. He’s hard as iron already and all you’ve done is settle your clothed cunt on top of him.

“You’re already fucking scorching, baby, can feel you through your fucking jeans,” he hisses, dragging you along his thigh. You whimper. “I know, fuck, I know, you’re driving me crazy, too.”

Your hands are everywhere, sliding over his scarred skin like you were born to it, fingers exploring the cool metal of his staples. You’re gentle but also not, and it’s like nothing he’s ever felt in his entire life. You move to kiss him, your hips moving more and more, a desperate noise bubbling up in your throat.

“Please, Dabi, please.” You sound so fucked out, and he hasn’t even touched you all that much. “I wanna kiss you, don’t you wanna kiss me?”

He smirks. A little brat, begging for kisses.

He does want to kiss you, has been staring at the plushness of your lips for the better part of since he met you, but his mouth aches today.

“It’s okay if you don’t wanna kiss me now,” you’re saying, tongue licking and tasting and sucking at his neck. He bucks against you. “We can feel good in other ways.”

The whimper that comes out of him feels ripped from his soul. His arms cage you closer, one palm snaking up to cup your neck, the other under your shirt.

Neither of you talk as you make quick work of each other’s clothes, discarding them to the floor. He tries not to feel insecure as you take in his body. Over the years, his appearance is as much a part of him as his past. He can’t shed either, no matter how much he might want to.

“I’m sorry I didn’t think you were pretty at first.”

You look so devastated that he can’t help but laugh.

“I don’t fucking care,” he says, pulling you to him and kissing you despite how much his lips ache, because fuck, he has someone, finally, and he’s so glad it’s you. “Just want you.”

He punctuates this by cupping your bare pussy with his hand. Just from grinding on him earlier, you’re slippery and warm, and his fingers part your folds easily. You sigh into his mouth as he rubs the pad of his thumb around the sides of your clit, huffing a laugh when your hips buck for more.

“Getting desperate for it, huh?”

“Fuck you,” you grit out. “Just fucking touch me –" you roll your hips forward – “like you fucking mean it.”

“Don’t worry, baby, I’ll have you dumb on my cock before long.”

“Big fucking talk for a man who hasn’t even – “

He cuts you off by stuffing your pussy with two of his fingers, the stretch of it making you whine. You can feel the cool metal in the staples at the heel of his hand as he strokes, in and out, a steady and rough rhythm that feels impossibly good for it to just be fucking fingering.

“No one ever made you feel this way?” You can hear the smirk in his voice without even seeing him. Splayed out on his lap like this, your tits bouncing as you shift your body closer to him, you bet you look like a fucking mess. But you don’t care, because he's right, no one has ever made you feel like this, and it’s important to you that he feels just as fucking good.

His cock curves along his stomach, weeping pre-cum and jerking up whenever your voice hitches. You think it’s so hot, how in tune he already is with you, how much he wants to please you, that you grab him in the palm of your hand and stroke, relishing the groan that rumbles in his throat.

“No one ever made you feel this way?” you taunt. His eyes flash, and before you know it, you’re both on the ground, his hips slotting in between your legs and his cock notching up at your entrance. He looks up at you, pupils blown, chest heaving.

“If you don’t fuck me right now I’ll fucking murder you –"

He cuts you off with one quick rock of his hips. You burn at the stretch. He’s big, and it’s been a while, but he’s already moving before you have time to process that little blip of pain before the pleasure is overwhelming you. You squeal when he lifts your hips up, but it’s just to slip a pillow under you before he’s manhandling your hips and fucking into you like a man possessed.

His breath is hot against your ear, whispering a litany of confessions while he drags his cock in and out. It’s so purposeful, you feel every stroke of him in your fucking skull. His pubic bone grinds against your clit with every thrust, and before you know it, you’re chanting praises, begging him to let you come.

He knows the neighbors will complain, that the safe house is absolutely busted, but he can’t fucking care, because your perfect little cunt is squeezing him like a vice, and your eyes are so blissful as you come that he feels, finally, at peace.

“That’s it, princess,” he says as your orgasm shatters through you. “Make a fucking mess, just for me, god yes –"

He comes so hard that his vision whites out. All he can feel and hear and see and think is you.

He collapses on top of you, nosing at the baby hairs damp with sweat along your neck. He smiles. Maybe later he’ll take you to a bed and tell you his real name.

[mista-svech]

You Should Probably Leave - Part Two - Lia Wälti x Reader

Part One

Summary: For once neither of you walk away, but will the two of you be able to figure it out?

Authors Note: Thank you for all the love on part one, here’s part two! As always feedback is greatly appreciated.

The morning light filtered softly through the blinds, casting a pale glow over the room. You lay there, in the silence, staring at the ceiling, the weight of the night before pressing down on you. It wasn’t the usual emptiness that came with mornings like these this felt different. It wasn’t just the usual mess of tangled sheets and lingering touch. Something had shifted, and you couldn’t quite put your finger on it.

Lia was still asleep beside you, her back to you, her breath slow and steady. For a moment, you just watched her, your heart feeling too full of things you couldn’t say. Things you were afraid to say.

You wanted to tell her that maybe, just maybe, this time it could be different. But how? After everything, how could you trust that it wouldn’t all fall apart again? How could you trust that suddenly all of her fears of something real would just disappear?

“Shit,” you muttered under your breath, trying to push the feeling down, but it was impossible to ignore. You’d made this mistake so many times before. You weren’t ready for this, whatever it was, but the way she looked lying there, so peaceful, so real, made it so damn hard to walk away.

You shifted slightly, careful not to disturb her, but the rustling of the sheets felt deafening in the quiet room. You sat up and grabbed your clothes, moving quickly to get dressed. You had to go. It was safer that way.

You didn’t even know why you bothered trying to sneak out quietly anymore. Maybe it was out of habit, or maybe it was because the idea of facing her, of dealing with the inevitable morning after conversation, felt too heavy to bear.

Just as you got to the door, you heard a voice.

“Leaving already?” Her voice was groggy, her words soft like she’d just woken up, but there was an edge of something else there something that tugged at you.

You froze, your hand still resting on the door handle, your heartbeat suddenly louder than anything else in the room. You turned around slowly, unsure of what to say. The vulnerability in her eyes caught you off guard like she too was stuck in the same cycle, unsure of how to get out.

“I—I just…” you trailed off, unsure of what to say. The truth felt too complicated, too raw.

Lia looked up, her face still soft with sleep, but there was something different in her eyes now. “I don’t know what to do with us,” she said quietly, her voice a little strained. “I don’t know how to keep doing this back and forth. But I don’t want to hurt you.”

The honesty in her words hit you hard. It was always easier when things were messy, when you both pretended it was fine. But this? This was real, and it scared you. “I don’t want to hurt you either,” you murmured, stepping closer to her, but still unsure whether to reach out.

She met your gaze, her eyes filled with that quiet understanding you’d always felt between the two of you, even when you couldn’t make sense of it. “Then what do we do now?”

You didn’t have an answer. Not immediately. But in that moment, as the silence stretched between you, you realized something: you didn’t have to leave. Not today.

“I don’t know,” you finally said, your voice steadier now. “But maybe we should stop pretending it’s over every time.”

She blinked, processing your words, and for the first time that morning, a small, hesitant smile touched her lips. “Yeah, maybe we should.”

For the first time in a long while, you didn’t feel the need to run. The air between you felt lighter, less like a dead weight, and more like something you could work with.

You stepped closer, placing a tentative hand on her arm. “Maybe we don’t have to figure everything out today,” you whispered. “Maybe we just… try.”

Lia’s smile softened, and she nodded. “Yeah. Maybe we do.”

The day stretched on, but neither of you had the urge to pull away. It was a strange, wonderful feeling. You sat together on the couch, the space between you now filled with a quiet kind of ease. No pressure. No running. Just the two of you, side by side.

It wasn’t perfect. You both knew there were still things to figure out there always would be. But it felt like the first step had been taken, and for once, that felt enough.

After a while, Lia broke the comfortable silence. “So… we really did it, huh?”

You glanced at her, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “Did what?”

“You know, not leave. Not run.”

You laughed softly, feeling lighter than you had in weeks. “Yeah. It’s… strange, right? But good strange.”

She nudged you with her shoulder, eyes bright with a mix of humor and something deeper. “You mean I’m not going to wake up tomorrow and find you sneaking out before sunrise?”

“Nope,” you replied, shaking your head. “Not this time.”

The playfulness in her eyes softened, and she looked at you, really looked at you, for the first time since you’d gotten here. “I think… I think maybe we’ve been afraid of what we could be,” she said slowly, almost as if testing the words.

“Afraid of what we could be?” you echoed, searching her eyes. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, it’s easier to walk away than to face what we could actually have together,” she said, her voice growing more confident. “But maybe it’s time to stop running from it. From you, from us.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. She was talking about the thing that had always scared you most: the possibility of a real relationship. Not just the moments of passion, not just the easy connection, but the messy, hard work of something real.

“What if we mess it up?” you asked, your voice small for a moment.

Lia smiled, a warm, genuine smile that made your chest ache. “We probably will. But maybe that’s the point. Maybe we need to mess it up to get it right.”

You stared at her for a long moment, your heart swelling. Maybe she was right. Maybe it wasn’t about getting everything perfect. Maybe it was about taking the risk, choosing to stay when everything inside you screamed to run.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you said softly. “I don’t want to, not this time.”

She reached for your hand, her fingers curling around yours. “Then we’ll figure it out together.”

And for the first time in what felt like forever, you realized that maybe this time, it wasn’t just another chapter in the same cycle. Maybe this time, it was different.

You leaned in, kissing her gently, letting everything else fall away, because for once, you knew that this, whatever this was, was worth fighting for. Together.

[sunsetsover]

of course! like i said to you already i think it's so interesting that they differ so strongly on these points considering how aligned our opinions on things have been so far!! and it's fun tbh !! and likewise i would never want to change your mind either, but i also i wanted to address the stuff you brought up just to see how vastly our opinions differ

like it's just so weird bc i don't see what you see at all. i've always got the impression bison is kinda just like 'urgh ok let's do this then' when it comes to killing. like it's a chore. like he's being put out every time they have to do it. even in ep 1 i got the immediate impression that he would've rather been literally anywhere else than in that hotel room w that guy, and was out of there literally as soon as he could be, and i just personally wouldn't think that he'd be so eager to get it over and done with and leave if he was getting any kind of joy or satisfaction out of it, yknow? like wouldn't he be radiating satisfaction after a job well done? wouldn't he wanna bask in the afterglow a bit?

and i'm definitely not gonna sit here and pretend that it's bc it bothers him and he's morally opposed to the killing !! i don't think it's that at all, he definitely dgaf abt killing ppl and wants out for purely selfish reasons, we agree there, but i've never thought 'oh he likes this' beyond that one moment in that first scene, and again, i don't think that was a killing thing but a power thing. bc he was relieved when fadel turned up and they could get it over and done with, and again, he was out of there at the first opportunity. to me there was never any satisfaction there, it was just a job to be done.

even in that gif i don't see what you see, though i CAN see how you see what you see, if that makes sense? like i get where you're coming from, there's definitely a contrast, but i personally look at that and think well. fadel's bigger and likely stronger, and the guy he's knocking out is already unconscious and no longer fighting. bison is smaller and the guy he's dealing with is putting up a fight. that face, to me, is literally just him struggling physically. so i think what you're reading as enthusiasm to me is just the contrast between fadel and bison as people: fadel is stoic, and bison is dynamic. fadel shuts up and gets on with the task at hand, bison struggles and complains and huffs. but that, as far as i'm concerned, is just their personalities and nothing more.

although, weirdly enough, i definitely get what you said abt the sadism thing. it's something i've gone back and forth abt myself, and i still haven't made my mind up yet - whether the two are separate in bison's mind or not. either way, i think to me there's a difference between taking pleasure in killing and taking pleasure in hurting people. i think if the two were conflated, we would see that manifested by now. like he'd be fucking with people a lot more during these hits if there was a connection i think. instead all he does is do his job and move on. i think if anything bison gets off on the psychological aspect of it all as opposed to anything physical, but that would go back to control and power, which is what i've always said is bison's thing. i don't think that really has anything to do with the actual killing part of the equation personally.

i also don't think bison views lilly as evil or disbelieves her! but i also don't think he's.... enthusiastic in his part in all of this? he's not like keen. but i think that leeway is necessary when it comes to bison. it's not bc she likes him more or treats him special bc she acc considers him special, i think it's bc lilly is clever and she knows the harder she tries to rein bison is the harder he's going to fight, so she gives him the illusion of power, of referential treatment. she lets him question her to her face with no real repercussions. but that's not bc she likes bison, it's bc she knows how to manipulate him. she knows how to manipulate fadel too. and while i said he's under her thumb, i didn't really mean it in the sense of him being on her side, but rather fadel - at least to me - is far more caught in her trap than bison is. yes fadel lies, but i don't think he's being strategic so much as he's doing everything he can to not rock the boat. probably bc he's already rocked it once and paid the price. if it wasn't for bison - and by extension kant and style - fadel would have been perfectly fine (maybe not fine but ygm) leaving everything exactly the way it was. he literally says that, both to style during his confession and to bison last ep. and ok he's definitely lying abt how happy he was w the way things were, but the point still remains that he had no intentions of changing anything. which is why i wouldn't say he's strategic at all, bc that to me implies he's planning something, and fadel clearly wasn't. he didn't even wanna let bison ask for a break.

and while i don't disagree that bison probably does trust her more than fadel given everything, i don't think the fact that he speaks up has anything to do w that personally. i think that's literally just a personality thing. i don't think being sneaky is bison's thing - it's why he struggled so much pretending to be in love with kant after he found out the truth while fadel seemingly had no problem w it at all. bison's outspoken bc that's literally just who it is. i don't think him going behind her back - or anyone's backs - is really an option for him, esp not for long periods of time. (also im just not sure what you mean abt fadel going behind her back? fadel lies to her abt the dating thing, but as far as i can remember any sneaking fadel is doing bison is also doing, so am i blanking? have i missed smth?)

i think it all boils down to what you view as enjoyment, i view as just fundamental personality differences between bison and fadel and how they express themselves. which is fun! i love the difference! it's what pushes us to expand our own views of these characters ! i just thought i'd expand on this bc obv i was limited in the tags and you know i loveeeee to talk 💞

just woke up in a cold sweat because i think i’ve realized exactly what all the fucking religious symbolism is actually pointing out and like hoooooly shit. holy shit.

the fact that bison wears a jesus shirt in his fantasies of killing kant has been nagging me since the moment i realized it and i think i’ve realized why it is - and the reason for all of the things pointing towards and symbolizing bison as jesus.

it’s because that’s how bison views himself. not as actually jesus and the second coming, no, but he views himself as righteous, as a reckoning for all these people that they kill. he believes their mother when he says they only kill bad people, and that’s why he gets so much enjoyment out of it, why he involves himself far more in it than fadel, who always detaches himself. it’s why he delights in the idea of killing kant now, fantasizes about it, because he thinks that’s what’s right. kant betrayed him, and he’s a good person. he’s righteous. so that means kant deserves to die for it.

and that’s why kant is judas the betrayer AND john the beloved. because when bison knows it’s coming and turns a blind eye, he views himself the same way as jesus turning a blind eye to judas’s betrayal. and he’s the one the makes kant into john the beloved finding the tomb empty first because he hides from him (notably after kant had confessed to not wanting to lie to bison anymore)!

bison views himself as righteous. as jesus.

but he’s not. because jesus would never take joy in killing anyone. jesus would never have fun with it, in the same way bison does. and even if he did, jesus wouldn’t want to stop to date.

but you know who doesn’t take joy in any of it? who detaches himself from it? who seems, in the very least, suspicious of their mother?

you know who’s birthday is on christmas?

fadel. and if fadel is jesus… then bison can’t be. actually, i think that might make bison far closer to judas the betrayer. and that’s just awfully poetic, isn’t it? because didn’t judas think he was doing the right thing, too, when he sold jesus out? when he took money in exchange for telling the soldiers which one jesus was? just like bison thought he was doing the right thing when he told kant to get fadel off his back. just like he exchanged his brother for a lover and took them both down in the process.

[yall-batman-fanfic]

It's a Bat-Thing | Batfam x Batsis x Batmom

Synopsis: As Terry spends more time with the Batfamily, he notices a pattern of sort when it comes to the partners of each vigilante.

It was one of those rare moments where Terry finds the entire family of Bruce and Vivian Wayne in the manor. People would joke about how busy each member of the family was that to spot them with at least three of them in one place is something to talk about. The press would immediately take photos of the Waynes whenever they are together. As he stood in the living room, he can only imagine this to be a reporter’s paradise with the scoop they could get.

From Dick Grayson, who resides in Bludhaven; to Jason and Cassandra Cain, who are often out of the country; and Damian Wayne, the busiest of them all. Every child that Bruce Wayne took in was in that house. For what reason? He wasn’t sure. He checked his and Bruce’s calendar – it was his job to know the old man’s calendar after all– and none said anything about a celebration or a planned dinner.

And it didn’t seem to be a planned dinner as everyone brought take outs too.

“Calm down, soldier,” Valerie teased him. “You didn’t miss anything from the old man’s calendar. It’s just one of those days where everyone just appears in the manor. Nothing special, just a coincidence.”

“A coincidence, huh?” Terry said.

“Yeah. Whose that?” Terry pointed at the couple.

“That’s Bernard, Tim’s husband,” Valerie told him. “Here, let me get you up to speed. So, you already know about Babs and Dick, and their kids,” she pointed at Dick and Barbara who were talking with Bruce and Vivian. “Then there’s Damian and Raven. Raven’s part of the Titans.”

“I know, I see her on the news,” said Terry, his gaze lingering on the woman wearing the robes.

“Then, there’s Jason. And then… who else… Cassandra… that’s Steph… then there’s Kate, she didn’t bring her girlfriend today. Duke’s here too, he came alone tonight. Harper rarely comes around.”

As he looks around, Terry notices something with the Waynes. A pattern…

“I know this sounds stupid, but is it a Bat-thing to be in a relationship with someone who either has red hair or magic?” He joked.

Valerie looked at him with a raised brow. 

“I mean, come on, look! Your Mom has red hair and magic. Barbara has red hair. Raven has magic and is the daughter of Satan! Then there’s Bernard.”

“Bernard’s blond.”

“Strawberry blonde – almost red. Then I don’t know about Kate Kane but she has red hair. Is it a requirement or something?” He laughed.

“Then you better watch out, kid,” Dick nudged him. “Know anyone who either has red hair or magic?”

“No–” Terry froze and turned to Valerie. The only person he knew who knows magic. Is a homo magi. “Um…”

“Yeah, never going to happen,” Valerie told her brother. “Come on, Dick. We don’t shit where we eat.”

“That’s not how that phrase works,” Dick told her.

“I stand by what I said,” Valerie left Terry’s side and went to be with her mother and father.

Alone with Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, and Tim Drake, Terry sighed and waited for the endless teasing he was going to get. Brothers, he thought. He has a brother but he didn’t really know what it was like to have a lot of them. 

“You know, if you look at the portraits, Martha Wayne has reddish hair… maybe it’s not a Bat-thing but a Wayne-thing.”

“Val’s a Wayne. Any candidates for her?” Terry chuckled.

“She did date Zachary Zatarra,” Tim mused. 

“The magician in Vegas?”

“Yeah. He’s Bruce and Viv’s godson. Close family friend.”

“And she dated Connor Lance-Queen,” Dick added.

“But the prick was blonde,” said Jason.

“So, how are things with training, Terry?” Tim asked him. “Beaten Val yet?”

“No,” Terry sighed.

“Got a girlfriend now?” Dick asked.

“We’re somewhere there — nothing official, yet.” 

He can’t really call whatever he and Dana have as an official relationship. They were still in that blurred area, and with him being Batman and training, he admits that he doesn’t have much time for her now. Maxine even joked that he might be in a relationship with Bruce Wayne instead since he spends more time with the old man than Dana, and when he flipped her off on it, Maxine then said, “Or maybe it’s not the old man… but the Princess.”

He also raised the middle finger at her for that.

But he will admit, he spends more time with the Waynes, with Valerie, than Dana recently. He even has Val at the top of his contact list than Dana!

“Well, between you and me,” Dick pulled Terry away from Jason and Tim. “If there is something between you two.”

“There isn’t.”

“Keep watch on your six. Jason is a good shot, and while Damian took the vow, he won’t hesitate with throwing a scalpel at you. And he has a good aim too.”

So, those two were the brothers he needed to look out for when handling Valerie, he feels sorry for any boyfriend Valerie had or has.

“Dick, stop messing with him!” Valerie pulled Terry away from her brothers. “Come on, let the guy rest.”

Terry blushed when she felt Valerie hold his arm. He quickly got out of her hold and maneuvered away from them. “I better head home.”

“But we’re just about to have dinner,” said Vivian. “Don’t you want to stay?”

“Yeah, no. I mean, I would but my Mom’s waiting for me,” said Terry.

“Dick scared him,” Valerie told her parents.

“Dick!” Vivian scolded her eldest.

“I didn’t!” Dick laughed.

“Please, hold on a second. Let me get you something to bring home,” Vivian got up with the help of Damian and went to the kitchen to fix a container of food for him. When she returned, she handed Terry the bag. “Take care on the way home, Terry.”

“Get some rest, Terry,” said Bruce.

“Thanks Mr. and Mrs. Wayne,” Terry waved at them.

“I’ll walk you out,” Valerie pushed him out of the room and to the front where their cars were, and among them was Terry’s motorcycle. “You sure you wanna head home now? Things are just about to get interesting.”

“Yeah. I need to head out. Thanks for tonight, for having my back, and for the fixes on the suit.”

“No problem. That’s what I’m here for… take care, Terry.”

“Yeah, you too, Val.”

There was silence between them. An awkward one.

“Uh… are you going to…” Val began.

“Right. I should go,” he put on his helmet and roared his bike to life. After one last wave at Valerie, he drove away from the Manor and headed home with the sight of Valerie’s smile lingering in his mind.

Maybe he’s just spending too much time with the Waynes.

He needed to get a life outside of being Batman. Because no way was he going to be part of whatever thing the Bats have when starting a relationship.

“Yeah, right. Good luck with that, Terry,” he muttered to himself.

[ofstarsandvibranium]

To Have and To Hold: Part 12

Fandom: Marvel - Moon Knight (Mafia AU)

Pairing: Marc Spector x F!Reader, Steven Grant x F!Reader, Jake Lockley x F!Reader

Summary: To ensure you’re always safe even after his passing, your father, a mob boss, makes you marry his right hand, Marc Spector. You don’t necessarily hate Marc, but you don’t get along either. Therefore, this marriage of convenience may be a bit difficult for you.

Warning: smut - oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v

A/N: surprise! idk who still cares for this but one of my new years resolutions is to finish some of my unfinished series so here we are.

Series Masterlist

It's late when Marc arrives to your father's home, well, his home now. He anticipates you're already asleep as he heads to the office to decompress after that very long talk with Layla and everything else he had to deal with today.

He had to admit that he did still care for the woman. Did he love her? No, but he'd always want the best for her.

Laying everything out on the table was good for him. He admitted his faults, apologized for being so stubborn and never reaching out until now.

Layla was still stubborn and firey as ever, but she understood. She accepted Marc's apology and offered up her own as well.

Then she asked if it was possible to try again.

That's when Marc admitted he had fallen for someone else, for you. He didn't tell her the whole truth behind his relationship with you, but he explained that it was unexpected. And it's true.

He didn't expect to fall for you when he agreed to the proposal your dad set out for him. Then the more time he spent with you, the more he understood why everyone called you Sunshine. You're sunlight personified.

You bring warmth and joy to everyone you meet, even Marc. And Marc thought he'd never feel this way again after Layla and all the bad he's done. But you brought something out of him, you allowed him to open himself up to love and light.

Seeing Marc's face when he spoke of you, Layla could see that Marc had genuine feelings for you. He seemed happy and she couldn't deny him that, despite everything that he's done and what happened between them.

So when Marc presented the divorce papers, she signed them.

They said their final good-byes and wished each other well.

After that, Marc immediately brought the papers to the L/N Family lawyer to set everything in motion. Then he had meetings for the rest of the day all around the city.

Body tense and craving the numbness alcohol can provide, Marc steps into the office, heading straight for the bar cart.

You switch on the desk lamp at the desk, causing Marc to jump.

"Fuck, Y/N! The hell you still doing up?"

You scoff, twirling your father's letter opener in your hands, “I think there’s some important things we have to discuss, Marc.”

He sighs as he pours amber liquid into a glass, “I agree, but it should wa-” his words are cut off as the letter opener flies at him, landing into the wall beside his head.

He looks at you with wide eyes, "The fuck do you think you're doing?!"

"No, Marc, what the fuck do you think you're doing?! You keep hiding things from me! What else are you hiding from me, Spector? Huh?" You stand from your father's desk, slowly stalking to your fiancé, "First you don't tell me about the arranged marriage my dad planned, then about your DID. You don't warn me about my dad's suicide plan. And now you don't tell me how you're still married?"

Marc gulps down the liquid and places the glass onto the bar cart, "I was planning on telling you-"

"When?! After we got married?!"

"No! Before that, I swear I planned to, but there's so much shit going on! I didn't want to stress you out because you're going through a lot!"

"Doesn't matter! I still had the right to know!"

"I know! And it's whatever now. She signed the divorce papers, I brought them to the family lawyer. They're being filed as we speak and it should be finalized by the time we get married. " He sighs again, running a hand through his hair and glancing at the letter opener lodged into the wall.

He looks back at you, "Listen, from now on, I promise, no more secrets." You scoff and roll your eyes, but he continues, "I'm serious, Y/N, no more secrets. This was my burden to bare and I handled it. Whatever happens now, we'll handle it together. I'll tell you everything that went down today if it makes you feel any better."

"You make me so angry sometimes," you say through gritted teeth.

"I know," he replies as he slowly closes the distance between you.

"Sometimes you make me want to scream."

"You always can. I won't judge," he says sincerely as he stands before you, hand hovering over your closed fist at your side.

"I really want to punch you," you mumble as you look at him.

"Do it," he says in a serious tone, "I've kept you in the dark for a lot of things, but I won't anymore. I'll let you do whatever you want. If you don't want anything to do with this business, fine. If you decide you want to partake in it, I'll let you. You have control here, Y/N," he slowly grabs hold of your wrist. He unravels your fist and guides your hand to his chest, "I let you in, Sunshine. I wanna give you my heart. It's up to you what you do to it."

You stand there speechless. For the first time, you don't know how to respond. Something in Marc's words stirs something in you. A fire in the pit of your stomach comes alive and begins to burn inside you.

Not knowing what else to do, you grip his shirt with the hand that rests on his chest. You pull him close and press your lips to his in a heated kiss. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, one hand gripping onto his hair.

Marc's hands go to your waist, pulling you even closer to him. You feel the heat of his body against yours as he kisses you back. His mouth moves against yours and you're so distracted by the taste of him you don't even realize he was walking you towards your father's desk.

He lifts you and places you onto the desktop with ease and he pulls back to look at you.

There's a haze over his eyes, his lips are slightly puffy from kissing you. His hair is disheveled from when you were gripping it.

"Do you want this?" he asks in a low whisper, his fingers grazing along the hem of your shirt.

You nod, "Yes. Fuck, Marc, fuck me."

He doesn't hesitate to pull your shirt off you in an instant, then working on your pants.

You never thought your first time with Marc would be in your father's office on his old desk. But fuck it, it's the heat of the moment. You're just hoping your dad isn't watching you about to get fucked in his office from above.

You're naked as the day you were born, laid out on the wooden desk. The cool surface a complete contrast to your body that feels like it's on fire.

"Need to get you ready," Marc murmurs as he drops to his knees, pulling your legs to rest on his shoulders, "Been dreaming about this pussy," he mumbles in between your thighs.

He licks a stripe up your slit and it causes your breath to hitch. Honestly, you could feel yourself getting wetter by the second.

He spreads your lips apart, delving in with a careful taste. He hums and smiles up at you, "Sweet, just like I imagined."

You whine in desperation, "Marc-"

"I know, baby. I know. Already desperate for me, aren't ya?" His thumb reached up and draws slow careful circles around your clit. The bud already hardening underneath the pressure.

You hiss out a "Fuck!" Your jaw goes slack when you feel his mouth on your again. His tongue collecting your slick, devouring you like a starved man. Your fingers weave through his locks, gripping tight, and keeping him place.

You grind up into his face and eyes staring into yours as you use his face for pleasure.

You see the lust in his eyes, the hunger and desire for you. Fuck, that look alone could make you cum.

Speaking of which, you let out a moan as you grind harder against his mouth, "Shit. I'm close," you say and it makes Marc immediately pull away.

"What-"

"Shush. The first time you cum is on my cock," he says as he immediately unzips his pants, pushing them and his underwear down enough to free his dick.

He grips himself at the base, the tip just hovering over your entrance, "This still okay?"

You roll your eyes and wrap your legs around him, "Shut up and fuck me, Spector."

Marc smirks and teases your entrance with his top. He coats himself in your slick and then slowly enters you.

Your head drops onto the desktop as he fills you, "Goddamn you feel good."

He gives an experimental thrust into you and then smirks when you moan in pleasure. He then grips you by the back of the neck and pulls you to sit up. He holds you close to him as he fucks into you.

With each snap of his hips, the desk beneath you shakes and creaks. A few of the knick knacks tip over, some pens roll onto the floor. Neither of you care in the moment, obviously, too lost in the lust.

"Harder, Marc. Please. I want it." you beg him with pleading, lust filled eyes.

"You want me to fuck you harder?" he asks in panting breaths.

You nod, "Make me forget. I don't want to think about anything else but you."

"Fuck, keep talking like that, it's gonna be over a lot sooner," he groans, thrusting into your faster and harder.

You chuckle and press your lips to his. He happily kisses you back as he fucks into you. One hand holds onto your thigh while the other is in-between you two, working your clit.

You pull away for air, your lips grazing against his. In short breaths, you murmur out, "I'm sorry I was a bitch."

He chuckles while he continues to fuck you, "It's okay. I deserve it."

"Did you really mean it? You'll give me control whenever I want it?"

He nods, "Whatever you want, Sunshine. I just want you to be happy." He leaves you speechless again, but it's fine, especially since you feel that winding in your stomach grow tighter and tighter.

"I'm close."

"Give it to me, baby. Lemme feel you. I got you, baby."

He fucks into your harder, deeper. You're sure the desk will break any moment now by how hard Marc's fucking you.

"Fuuuu-mmf!" Marc swallows your cries with a kiss. He feels the fluttering of your pussy around him and he feels in absolute bliss.

"Shit," he groans, and pulls out, jerking himself off just above your pussy. He enters you again and gives you a few more thrusts before pulling out and cumming right onto you.

He's a sweaty, panting mess and you're sure you look the same. As he catches his breath, he reaches onto the desk at the tissue box. He takes a few and wipes up the mess he left on you as well as your own mess. He then wipes himself off, tossing the remnants into the bin beside the desk. You sit up with a groan, rolling your neck and shoulders.

You sigh and look up to the ceiling, "Sorry, dad."

Marc snorts and helps you off the desk. He catches you when you lose your footing, a smirk on his face.

You roll your eyes, "Don't even."

"Didn't even say anything."

You sigh, gathering your strewn out clothes, "Let's shower and go to bed."

"Yes, ma'am," Marc murmurs, wrapping an arm around you and guiding you out of the office.

"We still need to talk more, you know," you say as you both climb the stairs.

He lowly chuckles, "In the morning. We'll talk. Promise," he pauses to kiss your head and then continues to guide you to, now, your shared bedroom.

[kradogsrats]

Okay, so: I have a theory.

Aaravos doesn't know everything. (That's not the theory.) If he knew in exact detail how everything would play out, that would undermine the story's overall central theme that the world (destiny) can be changed. Most of his actual advantage is millennia of observing mortal behavior—he's very, very good at predicting how elves and humans will react when put in situations. He can also, however, be surprised.

Now, that isn't to say he doesn't definitely have some degree of cosmic foresight/timeblindness. (That's also not the theory.) However, even the Cosmic Council in its entirety doesn't seem to necessarily see things in detail, since they obviously see "humans gaining primal magic starts the spiral into chaos" but not "because you then execute a child, prompting her father to personally oversee that spiral." So when Aaravos says things like this:

I don't think he necessarily knows exactly what role Claudia will play, besides that she is important—even necessary—to his plan. It would be chef's kiss irony if what he's actually seeing is that she will become important to him, personally. (That is also not the theory. I'm getting there.)

Despite his general foresight Aaravos can be surprised, and he's specifically surprised by Rayla making a second attempt at killing Viren despite being disarmed, sacrificing herself to stop him. So: did he know Viren was going to die, just not at that moment? Did he prepare a multi-year Worm Plan specifically to resurrect Viren? Or was there another purpose he had in mind?

This isn't the theory, either, but: I do think the plan from the beginning was for The Worm to, uh... pupate(?) into Sir Sparklepuff, and then to lead Viren (and Claudia) to the other archdragons and the clues to Aaravos's prison (or at least the one clue they actually need). The Worm begins to grow aggressively right as/after Aaravos and Viren corrupt the Sunforge, like it's preparing for an imminent new stage. I suspect that after hatching and once in proximity to the prison, Aaravos had every intent to use Sir Sparklepuff in some way to re-manifest in the world. After all, he's tied by blood to Aaravos just as much as he is to Viren—if he can be used to "restore [Viren's] life and future," there's no reason he can't serve the same purpose for Aaravos.

Of course, that all gets derailed, and instead we wind up where we wind up, which is with Aaravos being surprised:

He's surprised enough that, if it isn't in itself responsible for his hold on Avizandum weakening enough to be broken, he's at least distracted enough to be ambushed and physically overpowered. Someone has asked the "what's Sir Sparklepuff's unfinished business?" question, but I don't think that's actually what's at play, here.

Because this, finally, is my theory: Aaravos is surprised because this creature, this little homunculus puppet made a living battery, isn't supposed to have a soul.

He shouldn't be there at all—in the In-Between, or anywhere else. The essence put into him when the chrysalis was opened gives him a rudimentary consciousness, but if there was even enough there to persist, it should have been consumed to finalize Viren's resurrection. Aaravos is looking at something that should be impossible, and yet here it is.

Which makes me wonder... I had kind of dismissed the fairly extreme difference between the symbol for infantis sanguine in Aaravos's book and what is shown after the fact:

Like, that's a lot to draw in the sand. Maybe what's in the book is actually a more functional diagram or instructions of some kind, and Claudia has drawn the actual functional part?

However, because the rune Claudia has drawn is the same as the one on the cursed coins, I have to question. The assumption, I think, has been that Aaravos instructed Claudia in the infantis sanguine ritual to save Viren. I took that for granted because a) it makes sense, and b) it's funny to imagine Claudia's unhinged little "Blood of Child" giggle in s6e1 as "unfortunately for both of us, I do know you fucked the sparkly elf." However, depending on how quickly Callum and the others depart for Katolis, Aaravos is potentially moving away fairly quickly—maybe not so quickly that he can't contact Claudia and give her the ritual before being cut off, but still.

We also know Claudia knows about the cursed coins, including a good grasp of what they entail:

It's not clear if she understands it in the way Lujanne explains, with the coins containing only a piece of the soul and the rest being trapped elsewhere, in the In-Between:

Aaravos may have given her a different ritual (maybe infantis sanguine itself can only be self-targeted) that works more like that. Maybe, if Sir Sparklepuff had enough of a soul, only part of it was enough to anchor/revitalize Viren (essentially "stored" in him as the coin) and the rest went to languish in the In-Between.

Anyway, if Sir Sparklepuff is not meant to have a soul, but does... that raises some interesting possibilities, both thematically (depersonalization/what is a monster) and narratively. What if Sir Sparklepuff needs his soul completed to pass on, like Rayla's parents? Could he be after a piece of Aaravos's? Or, what if Sir Sparklepuff didn't have enough of a soul, but what he had entered the In-Between rather than being consumed because it was actually a piece of Claudia's that broke off to save Viren?

idek man this is just the shit I think about like constantly

[anxiousthoughts365]

Regulus Escapes: Part 1

There's a bright white light suddenly filling his bedroom, and Remus starts awake, squinting and trying to make out the shape in the centre of the sunburst. His chest immediately tightens when it solidifies into the form of a stag.

'Hey, Moony.' The Patronus speaks in an echo-y and slightly breathless rendition of James Potter's voice. 'I'm really sorry and I know it's the middle of the night, but we have a bit of a situation, and, well, can you just get to mine, please? I think - shit, Sirius, wait!'

The stag has barely dissolved by the time that Remus is out of bed. It takes him all of 30 seconds to pull on yesterday's clothes, write a haphazard note to his mother, and throw himself into the Floo, calling out James' address. He tumbles out of the ornate fireplace on the other side, coughing and wiping soot out of his eyes, and looks around the room. He pauses, wand in hand, as he tries to understand the scene before him.

James and Sirius stand at either end of the living room, glaring at each other but apparently unable to move. The reason soon becomes clear when Remus manages to drag his gaze away from Sirius, after hurriedly scanning his body to make sure that he isn't hurt.

Euphemia is positioned between the two boys, her wand raised and her eyes darting between them. It seems that her magic is the only thing keeping the boys separated. Remus' confusion only grows when he looks behind Euphemia, to the sofa opposite the fireplace. Fleamont hovers behind it, his usually jolly face grey and set, and his hand is resting on the shoulder of -

'Regulus?' Remus croaks, frowning and straightening out of his defensive posture. 'What are you -'

'He left,' James snarls, his voice tight as he apparently tries to rein himself in. 'He got out, and the first thing this arsehole does is try and attack him!'

This last is spat at Sirius, who instantly bristles.

'I'm not the arsehole here, Prongs!' he snaps, so viciously that Remus almost steps back. Things must be bad, if he's talking to James like that.

'Language, boys,' Effie chides, her words barely covering Regulus' mutter of, 'Here we go again.'

'Yes, here we go again, Regulus,' Sirius growls, glaring at his brother before twisting in the grasp of Effie's magic to look at Remus. Remus holds his ground against the fury burning in Sirius' gaze, in his tone. 'Picture the scene, Moony. My dear little brother finally, finally escapes that hell-hole, and turns up on our doorstep. He trips the wards, so we're all racing down to see who's arrived, only to find him with his fucking tongue in James' mouth!'

'Sirius,' Effie warns, and Remus sees the boy shrink away, ever so slightly. His rage is undiluted, but he still casts a slightly sheepish glance her way.

'Sorry, Mum,' he mumbles, his eyes slicing to James again. 'Can't help feeling a bit betrayed right now. Especially having learned that they have been sneaking around behind my back for the last couple of months!'

'James?' Remus blurts, himself feeling quite shell-shocked by this news. The nervous glance James sends his way tells him everything he needs to know. The secret-keeping stings at something in his chest, but Remus puts it aside for later. Right now, he needed to focus on Sirius. 'Effie, Monty, would it be alright for me to take Sirius back to mine for a while, please?'

'Of course, dear,' Effie sighs tiredly, seemingly quite glad that someone else is willing to take charge in this situation. The conflict between her boys appears to be wearing on her, and Remus briefly wonders how she had managed it during their fifth year, with all of the difficulty after the incident.

'What?' Sirius barks. 'No, I'm not leaving those two alone! They're going to be fucking -'

'There will be no fucking under this roof, Sirius,' Monty cut in sharply, and every eye in the room turns to him instantly. The boys all gape at him, even Regulus, who has apparently already grasped that Fleamont Potter, a man of few words, will only use them when necessary. And he's just used some of them to swear. He gives them all a small smile, then adds, 'And if you use that language in the presence of our wonderful lady again, my boy, you'll be tasting soap for a week. Understood?'

'Yes, Sir,' Sirius murmurs, his gaze sliding down to his feet. 'Sorry, Mum.'

'That's alright, darling,' Effie says softly, then her gaze hardens again as she levels it at the two boys. 'Now, I'm going to let you go, and if there's any more fighting, then I know from the look on Remus' face that I won't be the only one to intervene this time. And for some reason, I get the feeling that you two will obey him much more readily than you will me.'

To his surprise, neither boy denies this, and after a moment she flicks her wand upwards, and they both sag. They stare at one another for a brief moment, then Sirius opens his mouth.

Before he could get them all into further trouble, Remus lunges forwards and grabs his slender wrist, babbling as he pulls the boy towards the fire, 'Well, it's getting late, we should probably be heading to mine. Wouldn't want my mum to worry, now, would we? We'll be back when things are ... Um ... We'll be back in a few days.'

He reaches into the Floo Powder pot beside the grate, grabbing enough to carry the two of them, but before he can fling it into the flames, he glances over his shoulder. He looks past his still seething friend and his worried mother, and lets his eyes meet Regulus'. Silver eyes, clever and quick and so like Sirius'.

Right now, those eyes are heavy with exhaustion, but he sees the surprise in them as he inclines his head and says, 'Glad you got out, Regulus.'

'Yeah,' Regulus breathes, and at the sound of his voice James turns, as though he's unconsciously responding to someone calling his name. He watches Regulus' sharp features soften as his gaze meets James', and the younger Black boy doesn't bother looking at Remus again as he adds, 'Me too.'

Remus could swear that James lets out a slightly pained sound, but it's quickly covered by Sirius, who makes a disgusting false retching sound from behind him, instantly reminding them all of the situation. Without further delay, Remus throws the handful of powder into the flames and steps through them, pulling Sirius along behind him.

[rose24207]

I got this

Summary: Miles never lets anyone touch his hair except his mom, but when she’s not around, he just might make an exception.

Genre: Miles!42, fluff

TW: Google translated Spanish, my limited knowledge about braids and hair in general

A/N: I don’t know much about braids besides the TikTok videos on my fyp and my friend who tells me what she does when she has braids in. If I made any mistakes on that part in this story please correct me! I don’t mean to offend anybody by posting this I though it was cute!! 🫶🏻

English is not my first language. I hope you enjoy it though! Requests are open and welcome!

Credit to the picture on the right goes to @nightowl374art ! Really talented!!

Masterlist

Miles Morales sat on the couch in his living room, scrolling mindlessly through his phone. His fingers tapped against the screen, more from habit than interest, as he tried to ignore the growing irritation bubbling in his chest.

His braids had seen better days—frizzy at the roots, a little uneven, and far from the clean look he preferred. He’d been holding off redoing them because his mom had been working back-to-back shifts at the hospital. She was the only person who ever braided his hair. Always had been. He trusted her to get it right—not too tight, not too loose, and always with care.

The thought of going to a salon? Not a chance. He didn’t like strangers touching his hair, and he wasn’t about to start now. But still, walking around with messy braids? It didn’t sit right with him either.

From across the room, you glanced up at him. You’d been sitting at the dining table for the past hour, pretending to focus on homework. But really, you’d been sneaking peeks at him every few minutes. The way he kept rubbing his scalp absentmindedly didn’t escape your notice.

You smiled to yourself. You knew he was too stubborn to ask for help, but lucky for him, you’d been planning something.

"Todo bien, mi amor?" you called out softly, resting your chin in your palm as you watched him.

Miles looked up from his phone, his lips quirking into a small smile that made your heart flutter. "Yeah, I’m good, mami. Why you askin'?"

"Because you’ve been sighing like the world’s about to end," you teased, standing up and walking over to him. You perched yourself on the arm of the couch, close enough to reach out and brush your fingers over one of his frizzy braids. "It’s your hair, isn’t it?"

Miles tilted his head back, meeting your gaze. "Maybe. You know me too well, huh?"

"Un poquito," you teased, though you already knew the answer. "So? What’s the plan? You gonna let someone fix it?"

He scrunched his nose at the thought, leaning back against the couch. "Nah. I’ll wait for Ma. I don’t like anybody else touchin’ my hair, you know that."

You felt a spark of warmth at his words. He didn’t trust just anyone with something as personal as his hair—but you wanted to be the exception.

"What if it wasn’t ‘anybody else’?" you asked, trying to sound casual.

Miles raised a brow, turning his head to look at you more closely. "What you mean?"

You shrugged, your fingers playing with the hem of your hoodie. "What if I learned how to braid? What if I could do it for you?"

His expression shifted from confusion to surprise. "Wait, you serious right now?"

"Yeah," you said, grinning. "I’ve been practicing. Watching tutorials, practicing on myself and... okay, I even bought a wig to try on."

He blinked at you, his lips parting slightly in disbelief. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, and you started to worry you’d overstepped.

"Look," you added quickly, "I know it’s a big deal for you. You don’t have to let me if you’re not comfortable, but I thought—"

"You been doin’ all that... for me?" he asked, his voice softer now.

You nodded, your smile faltering. "Well, yeah. I know how much it means to you. I just wanted to help."

Miles stared at you, his mind racing. He didn’t let people into his bubble easily—not with stuff like this. His hair wasn’t just about looking good; it was about trust, about who he let close. And you? You’d gone out of your way to learn something just for him, without him even asking.

He swallowed, his voice quiet. "You’re somethin’ else, you know that?"

Your cheeks flushed under his gaze, and you laughed softly. "Is that a yes, Morales?"

He let out a small chuckle, shaking his head. "Yeah, that’s a yes. Just don’t mess me up, alright?"

"Boy, por favor," you teased, hopping off the couch. "Go grab the comb and gel. I got this."

Miles sat in the chair you’d set up at the dining table, his hoodie off, and his hands resting on his lap. You stood behind him, your fingers gently unraveling the old braids.

At first, he felt tense. He couldn’t help it. Letting someone touch his hair was like letting them into a piece of him he didn’t share easily. But with you, it felt different.

Your fingers worked carefully, detangling each section with patience. He could tell you’d practiced; your touch was gentle but sure, and you didn’t tug at his scalp like some people might.

"You good?" you asked, pausing to look down at him.

Miles tilted his head back slightly, his dark brown eyes meeting yours. "Yeah, I’m good. Just... not used to this."

"Used to what?" you asked, running the comb gently through a section of his hair.

He shrugged, a small smile tugging at his lips. "You takin’ care of me like this. Feels... nice."

Your heart swelled at his words, and you leaned down to press a soft kiss to the top of his head. "Get used to it, cariño."

Miles smiled to himself, his gaze drifting to the window as you continued working. He didn’t say it out loud, but moments like these made him realize just how much he appreciated you. You didn’t just see him; you understood him.

You worked in silence for a while, focused on getting each braid just right. You’d parted his hair into clean sections, spraying it lightly with water and smoothing it with gel before starting each braid. Your fingers moved with precision, and you couldn’t help but feel a little proud of yourself.

"You’re really good at this," Miles murmured after a while.

You grinned, though you didn’t take your eyes off the braid you were finishing. "Told you I practiced."

"On what again?" he asked, his voice curious.

"A wig," you admitted, laughing softly. "And, okay, a lot of trial and error on myself."

Miles chuckled, shaking his head slightly. "You really did all that for me?"

"Of course I did," you said, tying off the braid and moving to the next section. "Your mom’s been busy, and I know how much you hate going to salons. I just wanted to make it easier for you."

Miles leaned back slightly, letting his shoulders relax as your fingers worked through his hair. He didn’t say much, but his thoughts were a swirl of gratitude and affection. He didn’t know how he got so lucky to have someone like you.

"Thank you," he said softly.

You glanced down at him, your brows furrowing slightly. "For what?"

"For this," he said, gesturing vaguely to his hair. "For you. For always lookin’ out for me."

Your chest tightened at his words, and you leaned down to rest your chin on his shoulder for a moment. "Always, mi amor."

By the time you finished, nearly four hours had passed. You tied off the last braid and stepped back to admire your work. His braids were neat and even, each one perfectly aligned. You grabbed a mirror from your bag and handed it to him.

"Alright, what do you think?" you asked, a little nervous now.

Miles held up the mirror, turning his head from side to side to inspect your work. His eyes widened slightly, and a slow grin spread across his face.

"Yo," he said, twisting one of the braids between his fingers. "This is fire, mami. You really did this?"

"Really," you said, grinning as relief flooded through you.

He set the mirror down and turned to you, pulling you into his arms before you could react. His hands rested on your waist, and he looked at you with that soft, almost shy smile that made your heart melt every time.

"You killed it," he said, his voice full of admiration. "Thank you."

You wrapped your arms around his neck, feeling his warmth as he held you close. "Anything for you, mi vida."

He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, and you felt your heart flutter all over again.

"You know you’re my favorite person, right?" he murmured against your lips.

You pulled back just enough to look at him, your eyes meeting his. "Yeah, yeah," you teased, though your cheeks burned. "Don’t forget it."

"Never," he said firmly, his voice full of sincerity.

And in that moment, with his arms around you and his freshly braided hair, Miles realized something he’d known deep down for a while now: he didn’t just trust you with his hair. He trusted you with his heart.

Thank you for reading!

Taglist: @ipushhimback, @ladyoflynx, @lewishamiltonismybf, @cmleitora, @hxxi3, @cherryblossom-92, @same1995, @amatswimming

[lumdays]

Hihi!!! Tis the season to ask holiday themed asks!! Assuming the world of TWST celebrates winter holidays, do your OCs celebrate any holidays? If so, what are some things they like to do?

Thank you!!

I'M SORRY I'M SO LATE AAA😭😭

PAST

nico is pretty indifferent to holidays, it's a day just like any other to them. but they can see the appeal, objectively. so they do participate in activities if prompted to do so (amur). but they HATE the cold (it's almost like it killed their mom, their dad AND their sisters😹😹) so they tend to bundle themselves AND their friends up before going outside if they can't just stay indoors

agatha never really experienced holidays for herself back when she was a kid, but she's always been envious of the other children running around and having fun... which is why she’s very eager to celebrate now! she'll try out anything she can get her hands on, she does end up being a little bit of a try-hard but she's lazy usually so this is a somewhat positive change. anyway, she's having fun so it's alright

cue amur dragging her friends to go out and play! she loooves holidays! whether it's on land or underwater, she doesn’t care at! all! holidays are holidays and they're theeeee beeeeest, though she enjoys going out (for like, snowball fights and the likes. yes she does this the second it starts to get cold, even when it's not anywhere near the holidays yet), she also loves decorating christmas trees, it's the artist in her! (the tree looks AWFUL, but no one has the heart to tell her so. she proceeds to decorate the trees of everyone in the vicinity, she has to be stopped before she goes decorating all the trees in the forest nearby as well)

PRESENT

siyun sleeps in. big deal for someone who's usually up and about by 5 am. MORE SERIOUSLY, uhhh siyun sorta dislikes holidays. well it's more of a numb feeling than full on dislike, but it's definitely not love and not quite indifference. holidays weren't particularly good news back in their world either, but they usually powered through it with a smile ("hey! i managed to live long enough to see these lights fifteen years in a row! lol"). holidays were a handy way to locate themselves on the calendar, but things are different in twisted wonderland. they're lost and they have no idea how to get back on track, which greatly bothers them and their mild appreciation for holidays considerably soured (they did manage to get out of bed by 10 am and trudge through the day with their friends back on earth, give it another hour or two in twisted wonderland)

FUTURE

flos likes holidays! she tends to gravitate towards mer festive customs (??? i'll find something later) but she's a simple girl and if her friends wanna do something else then she doesn't mind! but do NOT expect her to do everything the right way, she WILL build a gingerbread house with 90% icing and 5% gingerbread (she ate the other 5%). part of her doesn’t really know what to do and is winging it, the remaining half of her just finds it funny

taglist 🤑🤑🤑🤑(SORRY IT'S JUST ME YAPPING)

@elenauaurs @twistedwonderlandshenanigans @skriblee-ksk @heyhellohihowareyou @distant-velleity @bunniehunn @jadelover69 @theleechyskrunkly @sickle-stick @angelwishess @nemisisnemi @chillygourami

[outlying-hyppocrate]

i have officially returned. ask me anything.

[coulsonlives]

I just had to share this video because holy shit, it hits the nail right on the head! So well spoken. This stuff needs to be circulated more, esp with the growing number of people thinking they have this because of misinformation, or just outright faking it.

[leori-the-unlearned]

the way digimon does conflict/drama between two characters who should be or are close: chef’s kiss <3

the way sonic idw handles creating conflict/drama between two characters who should be or are close: *wilting flower*

[scorchedmizar]

And if Alcor thought the singing was pretty! Sitting up straight again, he's gasping and ooing and awing with everyone else now. Even the Lord's displeasure with this performer goes completely unnoticed by him. How is she doing that?! He tilts his head with every odd angle in an attempt to make sense of it. Sure he himself has just as much mobility but he'd be too much of a clutz to manage even half of what she's accomplishing.

And to make things worse, here comes Ms. Helpbot again. Alcor had said she'd only be called if either of them hit that button and he is very much sure he did not do so. What the hell is she wanting? ... Sarcastic ass. The Lord stares at the glass of water. Many violent thoughts run through his mind within the span of about three seconds. Many, many thoughts... and others that are less violent and more petty in nature. Her model didn't handle fire too great, he wonders how she'd fair with water. Probably the same as most bots nowadays, annoying water resistance... Maybe he'll leave her alone, it's not- Did she just suggest using the god damned fire extinguisher on him? His voice comes out in a hushed snarl.

I appear to be doing just fine actually. Maybe you're the one that needs to be cooled down.

His right shoulder twitches but nothing happens. Fucking- Why's that so hard to remember?!? You've only got one arm right now, dumbass. Out of embarrassment more than anything he downs the glass in one go, slamming it back down on the table (surprisingly without cracking it) and turns back to her with bared teeth and a wounded ego.

Fine. I won't burn down your little circus tent. Now piss off and leave us alone.

Alcor startles out of his stupor by the loud thump. He'd still been staring down at the darkened stage even after Andromeda was long gone. How was she not dizzy? Maybe he'll hold onto the recording of that one spin for a few days, that was... he doesn't even know how to describe it. He's found that he's really liking the space themeing of the place. And the food, and the drinks. Did he go through his drink entirely already? Maybe that's why he's being a bit slow...

The Lord does not look happy glaring like that at Elara. His olfactory sensors pick up more than him not just looking happy. Did he burn something? Ooh... yeah, the napkin. Alcor is already imagining how he'll have to apologize for that later.

Ah, E- Elara! Hi! Hey. Um, uh, while you're here, could you maybe get me another daiquiri? Oh! An- And, uh, I read you guys have cheesecake? Do you think, maybe, um...?

He frantically looks back and forth between the two of them, one hand nervously tapping on his thigh. At the end he looks a bit more pointedly in the Lord's direction. He likes cheesecake. Please. Get the hint. It'll be a good enough distraction so the Lord doesn't... Alcor blanks out on the last part.

@stardusttheaters

Alcor holds open the door for his Lord, smiling up at him. He receives little but a grunt in response. Once inside, the servant is pulled close to the Lord's side with a firm hand around his waist. He's still nowhere near fully recovered, being drained of a good chunk of star power and energy isn't something that's fixed in a couple of days. But he promised Alcor he'd do this before the end of the year and he makes sure to keep his promises, the serious ones at least. Unfortunately the final week of the year he'd been stuck resting, at his servant's insistence, but he can tell that Alcor is simply happy that they're even doing this at all.

He's re-enabled his flames, at a lower temperature for now; they're a pertinent staple to his image after all. Right arm and shoulder are still pretty fucked but that's to be expected when he's only got one arm to fix it. Alcor's makeshift fix of pinning his cape over his shoulder so it covers the injury has gone untouched. Under bystanders' glances it's hard to tell that there's nothing underneath and it still makes him look pretty badass so...

But this isn't about him, it's about them today. His fingers flex against his servant's side. Normally the Lord is little less than repulsed by PDA but he's still sore as hell so he thinks he deserves it this time. They're in an unfamiliar dimension too! Of course he needs to keep Alcor within sight... and touch. Especially when he knows that that annoying staffbot is around somewhere.

So what are we waiting for?

Oh, well, um... Ah, let me- let me notify her...

Alcor does indeed text Elara, sending a short little "We're here :)". He has to resist fidgeting around with his ribbon at his neck, now tied into a cute little bowtie. It's a bit tighter than usual but he definitely saw the Lord eyeing it so it's worth it. Anything to keep his god content today.

Titan was in the midst of ensuring that some of the stage lights were indeed fixed and operational for today's show. Creator forbid he ever allowed anything to ever go wrong during a show. He was double-checking the high powered light bulbs were screwed on correctly --and they were. He took a moment to send a thanks to his mechanic in training along with a little praise for a job well done.

A notification popped up in his HUD, causing Titan to freeze in place and tilt his head slightly upward as he checked the message. Oh. His computer was pinging him that a multidimensional phenomena was happening around the Theater. Strange... it wasn't in the foam pit that acted as a portal. And that was turned off right now. So how was he getting an energy signature? He quickly made its way to the origan point to find the strange....knight? Animatronics? What the heck was he looking at?

He couldn't come off as he normally does -- stern and demanding to know where the hell they came from. Instead, Titan forced a very small smile and gave them a wave as he approached the pair.

Hello, Welcome to the Stardust Theater. I am Titan Star, Head of Security for this location. How may I be of service today?

[storm-driver]

gonna become a square enix executive so i can get exclusive access to kh4 stuff, and when the marketing team starts splicing together the worst trailer in the world to show you guys, ill whisper "psst don't watch that it'll be full of so many spoilers" and ill make my own trailer of all the shit i got to see instead without revealing the most important and plot-heavy stuff