#and quite a bit meaner than I meant it to be

[floraleevee]

Teehee oopsie!

[redflagshipwriter]

Mamabat 10 part 1/2

Chapter 10 : Calling from Hell just to say the demons are suspiciously absent, is that fine?

masterpost

“Fucking Batman,” Val said under her breath. Her Red Huntress mask muffled the words and made them come out even meaner than she probably meant them. “Years late and too little, even if he’s not working with the GIW.”

Sam hefted her requisitioned Fenton bazooka and pressed her lips even further together. None of them liked this at all. It stank. It was suspicious. Danny hadn’t sounded distressed, but he’d been out of contact too long for such a short conversation to put her at ease. There hadn’t even been time to update him on what had gone on in Amity Park.

“There.” Sam followed Val’s pointer finger to see the nearly invisible outline of a jet in the faint light. It was landing in the right field. 

“It’s them or it’s a trap,” Sam muttered.

Val let out a mean laugh. “If it’s someone we don’t expect, they’re the ones in trouble.”

Sam huffed and said nothing. She couldn’t disagree, but Val seemed too confident for her comfort. They waited in tense silence to see the jet come to a landing. Not long after, a hatch popped open and the distinctive ears of Batman himself were the first out into the cold night air of a January night in Amity Park. 

He was quickly followed by smaller figures- 1, 2, 3 of them. Sam felt nerves churning in her gut. She tried to channel them into aggression. She had to be tough, tougher than usual. There was no cavalry waiting to help out.

Well, there was Tucker, but he was probably going to be more useful in the wings to feed them information. He was pretty good aim with a thermos but that wouldn’t do jack about Batman and a small flock of, what, junior associates?

“Does Batman work with children?” Sam asked under her breath. One of them was genuinely small.

Tucker snickered on the other end of the line. “Uh,  there’s supposed to be a Robin. Guy in yellow, green, and red I guess? Aside from that, there’s debatably like, 6 former Robins associated with him. But there’s also the Justice League’s junior varsity team, so it’s hard to say.”

She frowned at the lineup. She saw purple, black, and red. There was- yeah, okay, there was quite a bit of yellow when the little guy faced them, but she didn’t see any green.

“Showtime,” Val said. Sam crouched further behind cover as the other girl zoomed out on her hoverboard, effortlessly drawing Batman’s eye. She adjusted the dial on her sound settings to hear Val’s feed just a little louder.

“Batman.”

“You have me at a disadvantage.” Sam cringed at the gravely voice over her sound system. Batman sounded like he smoked a pack a day. She turned the volume down just a hint.

“Not really, there’s four of you,” Val said breezily. Sam suppressed a snort at the dodge. “You wanna meet Jazz Fenton? You’re going to have to prove that you’re not a plant. There’s a GIW facility-”

“Two miles west of here, yes,” Batman interrupted. “I researched.”

“Great. Do you have ground transport?”

“Of course. What is it that you expect me to prove?”

“That you’re not with them.” The subtle whine of Valerie’s weapons started up. Sam only heard it because she was hooked up to the helmet. “They do experimentation and keep prisoners. Show me that you’re not a cop.”

“The police would not support the capture and abuse of people.”

Valerie made a skeptical sound in the back of her throat. Sam couldn’t blame her. “Yeah, but they do.” Her hoverboard’s jet whooshed up in power. “Meet me there, outside the main gate.” She was off like a shot in the dark. 

The four out of towners didn’t take long to get four silent motorcycles out and dash down the lane. Sam thought about what she’d heard as she cut a more direct route on Valerie’s spare hoverboard, taken from Vlad’s deserted mechanics lab. 

Either Batman was a liar, naive, or he was exactly what they were worried he might be. The Justice League was famously affiliated with governments. Wonder Woman was even a member of the United Nations! If someone accepted the claim that Infinite Realms Residents weren’t really people, then they’d say just what Batman had. It wasn’t lying if you didn’t think the people you were hurting were really people.

Sam watched from a distance as the group reached the gated facility. One of Batman's people did something that unlatched the electronic security system. It swung open. 

“Not shabby,” Tucker said quietly. “I coulda done it faster.”

“Not unless it goes off the rails,” Sam reminded him. She clenched a fist against her thigh. They needed to see Batman's real colors before they risked him knowing about their group. It was hard to outplan what you didn't know about, and they'd need every advantage they could get. 

She let them all go ahead before she followed onto the property. It was eerily deserted, tire tracks where dozens of white Vans ought to have been. 

The GIW had deserted Amity Park weeks ago. They were pretty sure there was a skeleton crew stationed out here, but no one came and left anymore. They only occasionally saw an agent wander across the path of a security camera, which were sparse inside the building.

But that didn't mean it wasn't dangerous to be here. Even now, a camera swiveled over the lawn, blinking a clear light that was easy to miss during the day. There was a reason that they hadn't risked a second raid after Danny had barely made it out last time. 

Sam swallowed, hard. The bitterness in her mouth felt a lot like guilt. Who knew what the GIW had been doing? They could have someone else held captive. It was a big building. Danny might have missed someone when he was breaking Vlad out. 

‘We did what we could, and we are making a move now.’ 

She repositioned her weapon and waited, tense with nerves. All she was meant to do now was follow along via what she heard on Val's comms and be in the wings to facilitate an escape, if needed. 

“Left,” said Batman quietly. The comms were quiet for a long moment, then- “clear. Clear. Clear.” 

Sam shifted her weight from one foot to the other. 

“Red Robin.” 

“Got it,” came a response, barely audible. Val must have been hanging close to Batman, then. 

“You think now's a good time to try their computers?” Val said helpfully. 

Tucker snorted. “Could just ask,” he sang to himself, cocky as hell. “I know all.”

Sam rolled her eyes. He didn't know all. About half of the property was disconnected from the security system, meaning they had no eyes on whatever was down there. 

“Six stationed here.” 

That had to be Red Robin’s voice. Sam cocked her head and focused on it, frowning slightly. Did it sound young?

Tucker's computer chair made a click when he sat up too fast. “Wait, what? How'd-” His end of the line devolved into rapid typing. 

“Did you find a schedule?” 

“No, it's not in the system. They're on paper, I suppose.” Seconds passed. “My bet is that labs would be in this wing.” 

“Be my guest,” Val drawled. Sam could all but see her crossing her arms across her chest. 

The line went silent for a while. Then, faintly, there came the sound of a metal door opening. 

“Fu-” A GIW blaster went off. “Intru-”

The alarm was cut off before the GIW goon got out a full word, but odds were good he'd been heard anyway. Sam flexed her hands. Sitting this out sucked. She wanted to see what was happening. How many agents were there?

“Robin!” Batman snapped. 

‘The little one?’

Sam felt vaguely ill. They had to be okay. This was Batman’s team.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Birthday II

Hardersson x Baby!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: It's your first birthday

Morsa is living in the phone again.

She's a lot smaller when she lives in the phone than when she lives with you and Momma. You think that's kind of weird but there's some cake sitting in front of you so you don't dwell on it for too long.

Today is a special day apparently.

Today is the day that Morsa is supposed to be visiting. It's your birthday too but you're more focused on the first thing rather than the fact that you're getting older now.

Morsa is meant to be coming today but she isn't here yet and now she's stuck in the phone again.

"And here's the birthday girl," Momma says to her," She's about to enjoy her cake."

You look down at your slice of cake. You don't get given cake a lot, especially not fancy cake that has writing and pictures on the top. You don't really care about the stuff on top but you know the cake is fancy because it's there.

You grab a chunk of cake in your fist and raised it to your mouth.

It tastes really nice and you grab more.

"Birthday girl looks very happy," Morsa comments," Is that right? Are you enjoying your cake, princesse?"

You grunt as you shove cake into your mouth.

"She's very much enjoying it," Momma agrees," Birthday girl got spoiled a lot today."

"I'm glad. I'm sorry I couldn't be there."

A match late last evening had Magda unable to fly out yesterday night. She'd booked an early morning flight today, hoping that it meant she could still spend your first birthday with you without missing much.

But she'd gotten to the airport and found her plane delayed. There was no eta and it kept getting pushed back further and further to the point where Magda has to spend your birthday on the phone rather than in person.

The presents in her carry-on feel like weights as she watches you shovel more and more cake into your mouth until your plate is empty.

You're sitting up in your high chair with a beaming smile in a tiny Wolfsburg kit that Magda knows was given as a present to you. A big birthday badge is clipped to the jersey and a discarded birthday hat is sat on the tray next to your now empty cake plate.

It makes her heart ache thinking about how much of this she's missing.

It's just not the same seeing it all through a phone screen.

"My flight should be taking off in a few hours," She tells Pernille as you entertain yourself by picking up the birthday hat and shaking it," I'll probably get to yours around midnight."

She can't see Pernille with the camera on you but Magda's sure she's frowning.

"We can pick you up from the airport," She says," You don't need to get here on your own."

"It'll be too late for Princesse. She still needs sleep."

"Are you sure? I don't mind. She'll fall asleep in the car anyway."

"I'm sure," Magda insists," It's fine. I've got keys. I'll let myself in."

You drop the birthday hat and pout.

"Oh," Pernille chuckles," What's with the long face, princesse? Did you drop your hat?"

You kick your legs impatiently and point at it, whining. You look like you're about to whine more but Pernille places another slice of cake in front of you and suddenly you're distracted again.

You cram as much cake possible into your mouth, smearing your face with crumbs.

The cake is nice but you do feel a little bit cheated. Momma woke you up this morning saying that Morsa would be here to celebrate with you both but it's rapidly approaching bath and bedtime and she's nowhere to be seen.

That's a little mean of her.

It's even meaner of Momma to put you down in your crib and make you sleep before Morsa got here. They're both quite mean today even though it's your birthday and people should be nice to you when it's your birthday.

You wake up the next day ready to let your displeasure at being lied to known to Momma when she comes to grab you.

You don't get the chance to though because someone lifts you out of your crib with a smile and a soft voice.

"What's with the pouty face?" Morsa coos," Is being a one year old really that bad?"

For a moment, in your sleepy haze, you don't recognise her, a big pout and a grumpy look upon your features. Slowly, you blink awake fully and your pout morphs into a big happy smile.

"There she is," Morsa says," There's my happy baby! Look at you, my happy little one year old."

Your legs kick out as Morsa presses soft, ticklish kisses all over your face.

"I'm sorry I missed your birthday, princesse but I brought presents!"

You know that word. After yesterday, you've decided that you really like presents.

You hope Morsa's brought you some good ones.

You giggle.

"Yeah?" Morsa says," You like that? I've got lots of presents for you to open!"

[siriuslylu]

𝙄 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪, 𝙨𝙖𝙮 𝙞𝙩 𝙗𝙖𝙘𝙠 - 𝗷𝗲𝗴𝘂𝗹𝘂𝘀 𝗺𝗶𝗰𝗿𝗼𝗳𝗶𝗰 - word count: 746

Regulus is not used to sharing his feelings outloud, is not that he doesn’t feel things, it’s just that he was raised in a very closed household, never getting kind words from his parents, not being able to tell Sirius because that was a sign of weakness.

So is not that he doesn’t feel love, is just he’s not used to expressing it loud and proud like James does.

But he’s been wanting to say this for a long time, he’s been holding onto this for far too long, James deserves to know, and he deserves to be able to say it without feeling like he’s doing something wrong.

He knows it’s mutual, but James won’t say it first, because he doesn’t want Regulus to feel pressured, into either feeling it or reciprocating. What James doesn’t know is that he’s very much reciprocated, and Regulus has been biting his tongue for a long time already, fighting his inner demons, trying to push his mother’s voice out of his head making him backtrack every time.

The thing with Regulus is that, when he does show his emotions, he gets all flustered and awkward, and so he’s mistaken for being angry or upset. So it’s quite funny to Evan and Barty when they find him in front of a mirror practicing saying those three words, with a deep frown and a little bit meaner than it should be. In return, they get hexed, but it was worth it since it’ll never happen again in their lifetimes.

So now, here he is, laying on the grass with his boyfriend, late at night, watching the stars. James is asking him about constellations, and Reg decides this is it.

”James”

”Yeah?”

”I-“

But words won’t come out

”I want… I feel…”

”Yes?”

James turns his head, looking at him softly, and the moment he stares back, he feels suddenly calm, because this is what loving James Potter feels like, is tranquility, is feeling safe, and loved, and cared, is feeling like you could do anything in the world. Still, he looks back at the sky and points to his star.

”Regulus, right there, it’s the brightest star in the Leo constellation. It’s also known as “the heart of the lion”, and every year, the sun meets up with it, and we kind of rise and fall together”

He looks at James for a minute, finding nothing but pure love in his eyes.

”You and me, we are not only meant to be together on Earth, but also in the sky, forever, and I’ll always be your heart, and will shine brighter than anyone, to make you feel cared” he looks up again, swallowing a lump because he can’t say it looking right at him, what if he laughs at him?

”Reg…” James says breathless

”I love… you… James”

”Reg” gasps again

“If you don’t…”

”I do! Oh Merlin, I so do!”

”Well then?” getting all nervous and frowning now “say it back”

He hears James laughing at his side, oh he knew this was bound to happen, he-

“Regulus.”

He stops, because he was gonna flee, fight or flight they say, but he could never fight James.

”Look at me”

He does

”Regulus Arcturus Black, don’t you dare tell me you love me and escape from me”

He says grabbing his hand, turning to his side and caressing his cheek as if it’s the most precious thing to exist

”I love you Reg, you’ll always be my entire heart, my brightest star, and I want to rise and fall with you every day for the rest of my life, not just for a while.”

”Really?”

”Really. Would you say it again?”

”No” looking up flustered, James only exhales a laugh, but then “Yes, I love you”

”I love you”

Silence, the comfortable one, the one you enjoy because it’s filled with everything he can’t say just yet, but they both know already, he might not be able to fully express how he feels, but he’s trying, because his boyfriend deserves it and he does too, and he’s allowed to feel, so he turns and leans in, and places the softest kiss, because there’s nothing he loves more than kissing James Potter, except maybe James Potter himself

”I’m so telling Sirius you said I’m your brightest star, he’s gonna lose it”

”Reg! No! Please!”

He laughs before being trapped in his lover’s arms, and he’s shinning when they conjunct, they both are.

[midnight-black2]

hii so like i just like so wnated another kai fic where hes like a heavy masochist if thats okay?

its not like something where hes being punished like thtf more js like a gf whos just naturally as mean as him and shes like doing him like harshly while he loses his shit over it

𝐒𝐇𝐔𝐓 𝐌𝐄 𝐔𝐏

pairing : kai (from voyagers) x reader

synopsis : turns out all along kai only wanted someone who was just as unapologetic as him to properly ruin him

disclaimers : sub!kai, dom!reader, degradation, masochist!kai, mean!reader, fem!reader, riding, p in v, imaginary condom (wrap it before you tap it you guys !!)

note : i know they're on a ship, don't ask me where they got condoms cuz idk. also, i listened to shut me up by mindless self indulgence while making this, so that's where the title comes from. just know this oneshot has nothing to do with the title, really. also sorry it's so short, haven't been finding much time lately, unfortunately.

everything you did or said was incredibly, utterly insatiable to kai. the way you walked, head held high with brimming confidence. the way you spoke, you seemed to have this little twang at the end of every sentence that made everyone fall captive to you and your ways. whatever you said, normally went. why? well, in short, most were a bit afraid of you. you'd never really physically hurt anybody, but it was what you said. backhanded comments, snarky remarks, they all came naturally to you. with kai? even more natural.

that's why he liked you so much.

you were even meaner than he was, and it was pretty rare, especially when you live on a ship in the middle of outer space. he would go absolutely animalistic whenever you inflicted a little pain on him. no matter the time. but especially when you two were fucking.

you had your right hand firmly (not too hardly) wrapped around his throat. it restricted his airway, but god did it feel so good. your left hand was placed on his hips, preventing him from moving. you bounced up and down on him effortlessly as he let out choked groans and whimpers.

"please," kai begged. you quirked a brow, curiosity piqued.

"please what, kai?" you asked, in an (faux, yet convincing) annoyed tone.

"t-tighter please." you weren't quite sure what he meant, until it suddenly clicked.

"you want me to choke you...harder? oh my god you're such a whore," he whined at the name, throwing his head back. you were amused, so you did what he asked. you rolled your hips a little, and watched the way he shuttered.

it was peculiar, to say the least. not many people put up with you like kai did. you were conniving, defiant, and independent more often than not; at least ever since everyone stopped taking the blue.

he smiled, through it all, he smiled. he was genuinely smiling at the pain. a stupid grin plastered across his face as he was being utterly slutted out. you laughed, mockingly, but you laughed. everything you did seemed so condescending.

he loved it.

you finally pulled your hand away from his throat, and he was sent grasping for air immediately.

"looks like you've bitten off more than you can chew, hm?" you smirked down at him, speeding up your body. you squeezed the flesh of his waist unknowingly, as you let out a groan. his eyes opened, and he was quickly overwhelmed by the sight of you. looking so smug, complacent.

"fuckfuckfuck," he murmured out, almost incoherently. you could tell he was getting close.

"you want to cum, don't you?" you queried, a mean smile on your face.

"yes, please," he answered, nodded frantically.

"then beg." he whined for the nth time that day. he hated (loved it) when you made him beg. it felt so degrading.

"please, y/n. please, i need you. so so bad, let me cum, please," he begged, as you bounced up and down mercilessly.

"good enough, i guess," you said, though unconvincingly. "we'll come at the same time. just make it for a bit longer." he didn't even know if he could do that, but God so help him, he would try.

"three," you began.

"two."

"one." and as if a switch turned on, you both came in unison; kai's mouth agape in a silent moan of pure ecstasy. you let out a string of curses, some directed towards kai, some not. hell, you weren't even sure what you were saying anymore.

and kai was certain, that might've been the hardest he'd ever came, ever.

����𝟎𝟐𝟒 © 𝐤𝐲𝐚-𝐢𝐬-𝐤𝐨𝐨𝐥

𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐲? 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞

[1moreff-creator]

Regarding your revised Eden!Culrpit Theory Post:

If you're okay answering this, why do you believe that people who believe Hu is the culrpit have to be reading her actions in bad faith? You said that Eden taking the tape means there's more physical evidence for her being the culrpit so arguments about her putting on a facade come from less of a place of bad faith.

However, Hu's wire is involved with the crime & there's no explanation for how it got there. 'Nico took it' but we don't necessarily know that or how, so there's arguably no less reason to assume Hu could be involved as well.

This isn't meant to be inflammatory either, I genuinely just want to understand what you meant by that; I'm impartial one way or another but I don't understand why you would need to be reading Hu's actions in bad faith while you wouldn't also be doing the same for Eden.

ty for answering if you do, and if not ty for reading anyway. ♥️

Hey! Yeah, honestly, I feel I expressed myself pretty poorly in that section of the post you’re referencing, in fact I’ve decided to edit it because I believe it came off as more aggressive and meaner than I intended it to. So it’s fair of you to ask for clarification.

CW: Eden!Culprit, discussion of murder attempt

Technically speaking, both theories revolving around Hu trying to kill someone and Eden!Culprit require some level of “bad faith reading”, in the sense that suspecting anyone of murder is going to make you look at most of what they say in a negative light. So I was wrong to use that term with Hu. I think a more accurate way of saying how I feel about it (and keep in mind this is just my opinion) is that “the level of scrutiny Hu and her lines are placed under is not justified by the concrete evidence of the case(s).”

That should make my feelings a bit clearer. I see the tape’s disappearance from the gym as near irrefutable evidence that Eden is the culprit, so I’m willing to bend and twist her lines of dialogue to fit the evidence. Dialogue has an openness of interpretation that the tape, in my opinion, doesn’t, though I get why that’s not how everyone feels about it.

However, I don’t quite see an equivalent for Hu. The wire in the Ace crime scene doesn’t incriminate her any more than the turpentine used incriminates Rose, or the letter written to Arei (by itself) incriminates Eden. I can pretty confidently say that either Ace or Eden took the tape from the gym; I cannot confidently say that Hu took the wire to the gym.

Despite Nico being caught mid-murder attempt (and they admit they did try to kill Ace), Hu is nowhere to be seen; none of her dialogue afterwards implies she was there; none of Nico’s dialogue points to her being there (their secret quote doesn’t count, we don’t know if that’s gonna be said this chapter or not); unless there’s some method theory I’m missing here, I’ve never really seen a method that requires Hu to be there alongside Nico, and Nico never denies being the one to take the turpentine, meaning they must have been involved since the start. You get the idea.

You need to somehow get around all of that if you’re going to believe Hu is involved in the Ace case, plus the fact that a lot of her dialogue seemingly contradicts the notion at first glance. Meanwhile, the only assumption Nico!SoloAceAttacker requires is that Nico, somehow someway, was able to take the wire at some point; and given there’s precedent to believe they can and would do something like that (turpentine), I find it quite easy to believe.

Obviously, it’s a matter of opinion. To some people, the wire is a smoking gun that proves Hu’s involvement, the same way I feel about the tape for Eden. And I guess, in that case, I can’t really blame them for reading Hu’s dialogue in a different manner. For me, though, the wire has perfectly acceptable workarounds. And I feel Hu being involved in either crime scene makes far more assumptions than simply saying Nico did everything themselves, which then by Occam’s Razor makes me inclined to believe the latter.

Thanks for the ask, and sorry if anyone felt hurt or offended by my original wording, it really wasn’t my intention.

[noxiatoxia]

Beta Hajime Hinata Sprite Analysis

So I have yet to make part 2 of my big beta sprite post but I want to make this post because...why not.

So, a little context. Today I'll be talking about this sprite:

Because out of all the Hajime sprites that I currently have knowledge on, it's the one with the most complex history.

I won't bore you with reiteration if you've seen my Part 1 post, so please go read that if you want extra context on the existing beta SDR2 sprites. But basically, in a nutshell, DRS used quite a few beta sprites for their swimsuit sprite sets. As such, this is the sprite used for Hajime in this pose, a comparison gif included:

Fun fact about comparing these sprites, is that Danganronpa commonly will change the line art of their sprites, but not fix the coloring layer.

For example, since Hajime's eye was moved further left, the...general prohibition sign, I guess, in his eye is no longer dead center like it was obviously meant to be.

You can see the blue area fluctuates in width on the final sprite (left) while in the original sprite, it was as intended. This is very common. Several other Danganronpa character have this issue. Off the top of my head I can name Nagito, Kauzichi, and Junko who have this kind of color error in one or several of their sprites.

That, aside, please now look at this picture from the Japanese SDR2 PSP manual (which I scanned and uploaded myself - you can find the full manual here).

This sprite is even earlier than the one shown in DRS. Sadly because of the manual's printing quality, it's hard to make out details, but...with a bit of computer magic (blurring the photo and Hajime's sprite) we can better do a comparison.

So, here's what we can tell about the facial differences: his eye was longer, his hair was sharper (including extra black outlines), his mouth was slightly more slanted, his ear was bigger (un-detailed ears are a telling sign of a Danganronpa beta sprite) and his eyebrows looked meaner. In general, I've found many of Hajime's earlier sprites to have been designed to look meaner, likely because conceptually, he was always meant to be a more "assertive" and "masculine" protagonist to counter Makoto, who spoke rather casually but politely in the Japanese version. Hajime on the other hand speaks much more roughly (his rudeness is more akin to how Byakuya talks. This detail was lost in translation though...) so it makes sense his sprites were originally planning to reflect this "meaner" protagonist image.

For fun I attempted to edit Hajime's DRS sprite and put together what this theoretical early beta may have looked like.

Far from perfect but it gives an idea. I also found through editing the sprite that Hajime's torso was sized down in the final sprite. I really only focused on editing his face so some minor details on the shirt were largely ignored.

I promise I'll make that part 2 post sometime this month...maybe.

[mixterglacia]

THIS IS THE PART WHERE LOGAN BITCHES ABOUT CARTOONS

WARNING: VIVZIEPOP CRITICAL, STOLITZ CRITICAL

YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. I don't like this show, and I don't pretend to. Full transparency, I'm meaner in this then any before now. This is also slightly more disjointed than normal because I was directly reacting to the episode it's self.

"I swore I wouldn't dwell on the divorce." MAYBE WE SHOULDN'T BE RUSHING THESE THINGS BECAUSE IT FEELS LIKE HE'S WAITED TWO DAYS. EVEN IF IT'S BEEN MONTHS IT DOESN'T FEEL LIKE IT.

"I'll hear him and not the voice that says I'm not enough" Oh boo hoo bitch. You've seriously done nothing to convince me to feel bad for this stupid fucking asshole. His writing is full of holes and contradictions. It makes him feel like two different people.

"I'll set us free!" Are you quite sure that means what you think it means you stupid fucking ass.

Framed adoption certificate is a nice touch. Very cute.

Blitz is immediately not coming off how they want. I think they're -trying- to imply he has some deeply buried feelings too, but it comes off as "i didn't want this and i still don't want this, why can't it just be normal hookup shit."

"I'll die alone if this goes wrong!!" You have the emotional depth of a teaspoon and are about as interesting as one. Boo fucking hoo. BAD.

NGL this really made their wealth difference hit home. Why the flying fuck is blitz still bordering on abject poverty dude? You should be able to help him advertise send something IDK man, if you really gave a shit, why aren't you trying to actually help him in a genuine way? I'm sure he wouldn't say no if you slipped a hundred bucks or so into the book every so often. I fucking hate it here.

"Would he want me if he was free?" No. Next question. (You've done very little if anything to prove Blitz actually wants strings attached in this.)

"If he's only here as a prisoner what kind of monster does that make me?" Little late to have this realization but I'll take it. Also can we seriously stop downplaying how awful this is for BLITZ to go through? Stolas is severely over represented in Blitz's own fucking show. Why is Blitz so underdeveloped??? Why, dude? The episodes that mainly focus on him are pretty okay, but once Stolas shows up it's all fucking stupid.

If Blitz rejects him (which he should. Look how fucking anxious he is just THINKING about this.) he could lose his entire way of life. No more apartment, probably gonna get Loona taken away. Probably has to resort to prostitution or return to clowning. Stolas just gets to go about his life of luxury.

Why is Blitz's emotional well being such an after thought in this duet? THIS IS NOT STOLAS' SHOW.

"He showed me that I could choose" ...Dude. You have given no weight to swing that line at us. This isn't much of a choice in the grand scheme of things. Stolas and Stella already had the kid. The marriage never had to last. Not from the impression you've given us. He's a toddler deciding he wants chocolate milk instead of regular. We have never been shown he's actually going to lose anything of real value. He's still a prince. He's still got his money. Like are they trying to have him killed, sure but lets be real he's A PRINCE OF HELL. Assassination attempts are like...Tuesday for him.

GOD THIS SONG IS ASS. I will not allow Blitz to be painted as the bad guy here. Fuck Stolas, and fuck the team for trying to make it seem like we should feel bad for him. They both suck. BUT STOLAS IS OBJECTIVELY IN THE WRONG.

Ah yes, The Helluverse special of "let's yeet a stupid ass joke in the middle of plot, completely derailing anything." it has only been a few seconds and it's already going on for too long. Go learn from Bojack or RvB.

...........This cherub bit is throwing your entire lore off. If these idiots are having to do this shit to get by, why are they acting like heaven bound can do whatever they want in Hazbin? If all you meant by that line is the human souls in heaven, you totally screwed up the message there. Your points are murky at best, and you're contradicting yourself at every turn.

...............Are the cherubs mortal now? Like they're flying and glowing but they have to eat???? Huh? I don't think I've ever realized you're showing they eat a lot, but surely you don't actually have to eat as an angel or demon? Surely it's just a choice???? That's genuinely so fucking stupid???? WHY IS THAT EVEN A THING?

WE DON'T NEED FIVE ANTAGONISTS IN A CHARACTER DRIVEN EPISODE YOU FUCKING IDIOT. YOU ARE LITERALLY RUINING YOUR MAIN PUNCH. YOU ARE TAKING AWAY TIME THAT SHOULD BE USED TO ACTUALLY PROVE BLITZ HAS SOME KIND OF FEELINGS FOR STOLAS. BAD.

Honestly the stuff with these five would have been a fun standalone minisode. NOT IN THE MIDDLE OF ONE OF YOUR SINGLE MOST IMPORTANT EPISODES.

Bloody alleyway was a phenomenal cutaway gag. Points.

You really are not making it sound like Blitz likes this at ALL.

"If someone wants to see you less and less? Big red flag." NOT IN A HEALTHY RELATIONSHIP, DUH. He's literally a prince of hell in an affair with a """childhood friend""" who was literally PURCHASED for him. The whole thing is a red flag. Not just this!

You are making it exceedingly clear Blitz's just in it because he think's he'll lose the book. I don't give a rats ass about what micro-development you're going for. You take away time needed for showing that Blitz is conflicted on more than one level to do stupid ass tertiary character shit. YOUR CAST IS OVER BLOATED. BAD.

If you wanted me to feel bad for Stolas, maybe don't show that Blitz has an Angel-esque box of sex toys because he thinks he has to impress him. Stolas should have made it very clear AGES ago that he just wants Blitz. If Blitz is this hung up on needing to impress the damned bird, something very VERY wrong is happening in the bedroom.

If you seriously want us to think Blitz has feelings/cares about Stolas (Not that he HAS to), this sex candle shop would have been a perfect place to do it. "Well, he really likes it when I do this-" "This is his favorite colour." "This is his favorite scent." Blitz clearly knows nothing about Stolas, and both of them are to blame. This relationship is never EVER going to work if they know this little about each other when they've been regularly boning for ages. He should know more about what he likes. "What's the mood!?" "I don't know!" Woof. Full stop. This is never going to work in a real scenario. Womp Womp Move on.

HOW DOES BLITZ NOT KNOW HIS MEASUREMENTS. HOW CAN HE NOT JUST HELL-GOOGLE HIS MEASUREMENTS. STOLAS IS A PUBLIC FIGURE IT WOULD BE KNOWN. HE DOESN'T CARE, ERGO WE DON'T CARE. BAD.

Like he seems to MILDLY know what Stolas likes but this should be WAY clearer. Especially if you want us to think Blitz secretly cares too.

Love Fizz's new outfit. Very cute.

Gonna be real, Fizz and Blitz are seriously adorable. Can Ozzie pick him up too and actually show Blitz what being sexually valued is like? Because clearly he pulled it off with Fizz. Because he clearly enjoys sex and it feels like Stolas is just...using him. Not enjoying him. It's gross and SHOULD feel gross, because it FUCKING IS.

This whole bit with the cherubs makes it feel like we aren't supposed to give a damn about the main plot. That it's just a silly background to TERTIARY CHARACTER NONSENSE. BAD.

So far this confrontation is good as far as the pit of dread it opened in my stomach. I still really don't feel bad for Stolas. I feel bad for blitz. Him begging tore my soul out. It's so obvious how bad this power imbalance has gotten. I refuse to entertain these two any longer. This show needs to GROW UP and get over them, leave it here and I will forgive it.

Stolas should have 100% consulted Blitz before OFFICIALLY PUTTING HIM UNDER OZZIE'S JURISDICTION THAT'S NOT OKAY. Even if he leaves him alone, that can absolutely be weaponized.

"Am I not fucking you good enough?" Doesn't come off as him wanting more. Blitz feels like he's waiting for the other shoe to drop. For the love of the gods stop stringing this POORLY WRITTEN. BADLY RETCONNED. PATHETIC ATTEMPT AT A WELL DONE TOXIC RELATIONSHIP ALONG. BAD. MOVE. THE FUCK. ON.

"I care very deeply and have for a long time" You sure as shit never showed it.

To Those in The Back. ONE GRAND GESTURE DOES NOT FIX A TERRIBLE RELATIONSHIP. This is Mr. Peanutbutter with the library thing. This is Not ROMANTIC. This IS EMBARRASSING.

If he really cared, Blitz would not be living in poverty. If he really cared, he'd make an effort to engage beyond sex. IF HE REALLY CARED HE WOULD HAVE DIVORCED HIS WIFE THE PROPER WAY AND NOT TRAUMATIZED HIS FUCKING DAUGHTER OVER AND OVER AGAIN.

Stolas is a godsawful woobified piece of shit that doesn't have the decency to acknowledge he's the problem, and when he does, has the fucking AUDACITY to behave like a pathetic child. This I was wrong speech is DOGSHIT and has no punch to it because more than half of the episode was TERTIARY CHARACTER BULLSHIT.

Blitz has EVERY RIGHT to see this as a joke. I immediately burst out laughing because YEAH. WHEN HAVE YOU GIVEN HIM ANY IMPRESSION YOU CARED BEYOND GETTING YOUR FREAK ON?

"Thank you for being here for a little while." Oh boo fucking hoo. Get over yourself. "It's just about sex" BECAUSE YOU NEVER MADE IT ANYTHING ELSE YOU FUCKING BOZO.

I am immediately cheering Blitz on in his retort. He's fucking earned it. You're not going to make me feel bad by making them show up in the room from their childhood. Blitz is completely in the right here.

If Stolas really thought so highly of him, he'd be putting in more of an effort. Stolas treats Blitz the way he treats Octavia. Like they're dolls from his childhood. If he wanted to do right by them, he would. He is FUCKING ROYALTY. There is NO reason he can't put in more effort for the people he supposedly loves. You don't love them. You love the idea of them. You can't accept that they aren't the idea in your head. This isn't love. It's abuse.

Fuck you. Blitz has NOTHING to apologize for.

It's like Stolas doesn't seem to think he's the problem. No shit, of course Blitz isn't going to react the way you thought he would. Why are you just THROWING HIM OUT RATHER THAN TALKING TO HIM? BECAUSE YOU DON'T WANT TO ACTUALLY WORK FOR YOUR RELATIONSHIPS YOU STUPID ASS OWL. YOU WANT EVERYTHING TO BE HANDED TO YOU ON A PLATE YOU RICH DUMBASS.

Fuck everyone trying to paint Blitz as the bad guy.

FUCK. YOU.

He's just trying to survive! He has a fucking daughter! A found family! EVERYTHING to lose!

Stolas just gets his fucking feelings hurt. He is the architect of his own undoing. Suck my entire ass. This was easily the worst episode bar none.

The tone was ALL OVER the place, and not in an effective way. The plot moved at a halt and go pace and all the fun bits were BOGGED DOWN by the supposed point of the episode! You can't tell me this shit took all that time, unless you were constantly saying "OOOO YOU KNOW WHAT'D BE COOL/FUNNY?" and shooting your production scheduled in the foot!

The rest of the portraiture being covered up is a very nice touch.

I can't believe you've gotten me to defend BLITZO of all people. But here we are. I guess I'm on his team. (He's an abusive dick, but NO ONE deserves this.)

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

I've thinking about this question… and I want to know your perspective:

At first I though British tabloids were kind of invasive and intrusive, I know Diana died in Paris, but somehow I attached it to the British media…

since this year, i´m not sure after what happened with Frederick and that woman, and how some media behave with Catherine (except for TMZ)... I´m not sure which media (Country) is more intrusive.

Given on your experience, which media/tabloide is worse that others?

You can't actually compare the media and tabloid culture that way. Or at least, I'm not comfortable comparing the cultures in that way because it leads to a really flawed analysis.

First, the tabloid culture of the '90s (which affected Diana) was incredibly different from the tabloid culture of the '00s (Kate) and incredibly different from the tabloid culture of today ('20s).

Second, the cultures between the different countries and their media enterprises is also incredibly different. What American media does isn't what British media does, which isn't what Spanish media does, which isn't what Italian or German or French media does.

In both respects, there's no established baseline standard of practice. And you need a baseline in order to set the scale to define what you mean by "worse." Because all of the examples anon cited are from very different times and from different countries, you can't really compare them to each other. So you really can't compare what Frederick went through media-wise with his affair in 2023 in Spain to what Diana went through in 1997 in France to what Kate went through in 2008 in England to what Meghan went through in 2016 in Canada. (And then you have to account for bias and familiarity; most of us only know the tabloid and media culture in the countries that we grew up in or that we're knowledgeable of. For instance, i know a lot about American tabloid culture because I'm an American and because I came of age on Perez Hilton's internet and I know quite a bit about British tabloid culture because of how long I've been a royal watcher. But I know next to nothing about tabloid culture from the '80s - beyond what I've seen in documentaries - or media from other countries.)

What can really only happen is looking within - e.g., if you look at just the tabloid culture of the '90s or of the '10s, or if you look at just the media in England or in Spain. But again, that requires even knowledge of all the countries and all the media/tabloids, rather than just the ones that you know really well.

I know this probably isn't the analysis or the answer that you were looking for, anon.

Focusing specifically on my own personal knowledge of British and American media and tabloid culture, my theory is that British tabloids and media were more viscious in the '90s. They were checked by the public after Diana's death when the backlash against mass consumption reached fever pitch with the likes of George Clooney and Tom Cruise laying the blame for her death specifically on consumers and paparazzi. So while the British tabloids were licking their wounds and trying to find a new star/celebrity to replace Diana (JFK Jr. worked for a bit but then he died), American media and tabloid culture grabbed ahold of the reigns and became the mean, viscious ones in the '00s by turning their coverage on the young female stars of Millennial Hollywood and being more critically- and gossipy-focused in their coverage. American media continued to be the meaner, viscious, "worse" ones until the mid-'10s, when the rise of social media checked them because social media, or Web 2.0 technologies/user-generated content, meant the famous people could control their own image through their own specifically and specially curated content. This is when we started to see the celebrities partnering with tabloids and paparazzi take prevalence (as opposed to the spontaneous stakeouts of known celeb hotspots) and that's where tabloid culture in the US and the UK is today - it's a partnership between the famous person and the publication or photographer.

I can't comment on Spanish media or how the tabloids contributed to Frederick's affair(s) because I know nothing about Spanish media, Danish media, and the Danish royal family.

[greentrickster]

@caspertheloudassghost How does the original PIDW verse play into this au?

For starters, there's the question of 'is the original PIDW verse real in this setting'? Which is important, because the answer to it lies somewhere between yes and no.

When Airplane first arrived in the space that would become the SVSSS universe, the PIDW universe wasn't real, it was just another story. As to how it became somewhere between real and unreal, well... that, as it happens, was unintentional.

And it was because of the systems.

Because the great god Airplane is very powerful and, after doing the job for so long, can even be described as decently wise... but he's not all-knowing, and he's certainly not infallible.

It has been mentioned that he accidentally made his own system on the meaner side.

He also accidentally made Shen Yuan's system a little too powerful (but it had to be that powerful, to call a soul from another world, it had to be-!), with not quite enough detailing into what it could and couldn't do (he loved transmigration stories as a teenager, but that was so long ago, and his memory for anything but the story isn't perfect-). The punishment protocol where Shen Yuan had to endure Shen Qingqiu's torture at the hands of Bingge? Yeah, that should never have happened, the punishment protocols were meant to be spurs and warnings, not actually traumatizing or torturous. Part of that was from the 'coding' being a little too loose, part of that was that no one expected it to be Shen Qingqiu who stepped up to offer his everything in exchange for a chance that the world could be saved.

But intentions are not actions, and what happened has happened. And the result was Shen Yuan's slightly-too-powerful system creating... let's call it a sub-reality, a place where PIDW was just real enough to be used in the punishment.

And the realest part of it all was Bingge. Because Shen Yuan's system was a bit too powerful and because, for all his monstrosities, Bingge has always been the character that Shen Yuan loved best. And it's such a strange, terrifying power, love, especially in such a world as SVSSS. Powerful enough to make the barely real that much realer. Enough to let this almost-but-not-quite real Bingge try to cut his way out, steal himself a kindly Shizun, grab what he desperately wants with both hands in the only way he ever really learned how, only to be forced back to his own loveless, unfulfilling, not-quite-real world.

How horrible must it be, to be trapped in a world, in a life, that you have only just learned is a tragedy, for it lacks the one thing you desire above all else, have always desired above all else? Where nothing even feels quite as real as that other, kinder, most tantalizing of worlds did? How could one stand it for very long, watching insubstantial people and events play out? How long before the dissatisfaction led one, perhaps, to abandon it all, seek out something, everything, anything, so long as it led to somewhere better than this?

And how long then, I wonder, would it take to travel nine roads?

The Heavenly Officials are the highest ranking, most powerful beings in this world, save Airplane himself. And, for all that he is so much younger, for all that he is still so bitter and spiteful, that includes their newest member.

And there is nowhere the systems can go or access that the Officials can't follow.

Lord Luo finds a man who is not the kindly Shizun of the other world, nor quite the cruel Shizun of his own. He's a little taller, face a slightly different shape, he- the differences between this man and the other two Shizuns remind him of nothing so much as the differences between himself and that crybaby Binghe from the other world. And he does not dress as the Peak Lord of Qing Jing, but in fine robes of tatter-coloured grey white, even as he looks over Lord Luo with a familiarly poison-green gaze. And he does not flinch, even at the sword to his throat. He's a Heavenly Official, and he can see the gaps in the reality making up this fury-feared man before him, the places a knowing hand to reach in to twist and unravel.

But he also knows that the ninth road cannot be found by anyone unwilling to pay whatever price it takes to walk it. So he does what has become second nature to him by now.

He offers his hand.

And, as he has learned perhaps a bit of kindness since he began this new life, "Drop your sword. You will not find the Shizun you want but, if you come with me, I will lead you to a place where you will be loved as you wish to be loved, and it will be real."

And, for all his madness, for all his blackened state, at the heart of Bingge there still remains a young boy who wants nothing more than to be truly loved. He can always summon Xin Mo to him again if he really needs to, and he is no longer in the habit of denying himself anything he wants. So why not? Why not reach for what he desires most and grasp it with both hands, as he is so used to doing?

He does not notice the changes at first as they walk. Indeed, the mist amongst the ninth road's bamboo is just beginning to brighten into sunlight when Bingge suddenly realizes that this man-who-is-and-isn't Shen Qingqiu... doesn't he seem so much taller than he had at the beginning of all this? Or- no, he's not taller, it's Bingge who's smaller, younger than he was, weaker than he was-!

And, with the story of PIDW being what it is, of course he assumes he's fallen into a trap and starts trying to pull his hand free.

He gets bonked on the head with a folded fan for his troubles. It's not hard enough to even really hurt, but the sheer shock of it, of being scolded likes some- some unruly child when he's Luo Binghe, Emperor of the Combined Realms-!!!

"Stop fussing; if I let go now, you'll unravel entirely."

-...what?

The man (who is still holding his hand) gives an extremely put-upon sigh, then turns to glare down at him. "The world you come from isn't properly formed, and as a result neither are you. Luckily, you were willing to give up everything to come with me, because there isn't enough proper 'reality' in you for a normal fully-grown man, let alone one like you. So now you can either come with me and get what you want, or I can let go of your hand and none of this will be a problem because you'll stop existing all together. Now which one do you want?"

Bingge wants bloody, bloody retribution at the moment, but he's smart enough to know not to screw around too much in between-places like the one they're currently in. And he can be patient when it comes to grudges, if he needs to be.

He continues to follow the God of the Ninth Road.

By the time the bamboo is full of sunlight and the end of the road is in view, Bingge is seething and also quite small, perhaps a little older than he'd been when his mother- (no no, don't think of that, never that) -and, while his demonic side is still unsealed, there's barely a thread left of the great power and cultivation he spent his lifetime gaining. And while his memory is intact, even his thoughts feel more- childish, for want of a better word. Younger. As though his mind has changed shape to match his body.

"Beyond the bamboo there is a house," says the god, who is still holding his hand, "If you want the love you crave, go there and tell the people inside that you arrived by the Ninth Road. When you are of age, go to the nearest sect, and accept the offer of the first peak lord who invites you to be their disciple."

And he lets go, and Bingge is alone, small and powerless in a place he doesn't know.

He can't quite help it.

He goes to the house.

(Five years ago, a demon woman walked the Ninth Road towards happiness and family, and it led to the human man who is now her husband of four years. The happiness they have mostly found in each other, for all that they are physically unable to have children together. It is a happiness that will increase at the knocking of a strange mixed-species child on their door, as will their family they have wanted.)

(And, in the distance, near enough to be the closest, but not enough to see, a god comforts a Heavenly Official in Cang Qiong Mountain Sect...)

[xstarkillerx]

you told me that you often want to be in my inbox with “real shit to say” bcos you’d just go to our discord chat instead. and i didn’t realize that i actually identity with it as well. i’m here with “real shit to say”

sex and love and drama addicted anakin skywalker would be turned on by the process of artificial insemination.

it shocks you. not because you’re a stranger to such a standard medical procedure, but because of how starkly contrasted it compares to his usual desires. it’s impersonal. would he not prefer making a baby the way he knows how? fucking it into you?

he moistens his lips and tells you the darker facets of why it agrees with him. how you don’t know what you’re getting when you subject yourself to the procedure. a complete stranger’s sperm being used on your perfect and untainted body in order to create life. who knows if they even gave you the semen of the donor you picked? what if a cruel doctor saw it fit to choose for you? that’s what he would do- in the shoes of a doctor. he’d decide none of these options were good enough for you and cum into a vial himself. fertilize you, completely without your knowing.

BUGGYYYYY!!!!!!! HIHIHIHI hello, hi hellooooo. You said Real shit and by fucking god you meant real shit.

First of all, I love how much this breaks out of what we tyically establish for anakin, because you're right it's impersonal, it's clinical, it's clean, it's everything the he considers completely un-erotic. But, you know our motto, "the question is never 'would anakin do this?' the question is 'how would he do this?'" So, let's talk about it!

cw ahead for: medkink, dubcon fantasy, noncon fantasy, impregnation kink

Honest to god, I feel this this would stem from his own personal mistrust of human medical professionals. Anakin does not like to be vulnerable, so if he's injured and in someone's care he just always prefers medical droids, he trusts them so much more because (for the most part, sans Artoo) they have no will to impose on other people's vulnerable, injured bodies. But then that gets him thinking about... vulnerability, and how much he likes seeing you be vulnerable. I like to think he tried imagining about some faceless doctor doing it and it left a bad taste in his mouth. He hates the idea of them feeling entitlement over your body like that, but him?

It's a rare thing for anakin to step out of his own shoes in fantasy, never really a stickler for day dreaming in that way, not since he was a kid, but he imagines himself as a doctor. He's masked, gloved, standing at the foot of your medical table, half hard at the sight of you in stirrups alone. He thinks about teasing his gloved fingers along your opening, probably cool and dry from being exposed like this. The way you'd jump if you werent expecting it, how you'd squeak the way you do when you're caught off guard.

"It's standard proceedure to elicit lubrication before inserting the apparatus, page 3 of the package you signed," he says. It isn't on page 3 at all, there's a tube of lube meant to go directly on the insemination device on the counter, just out of your eyeshot.

"Right, right sorry. I'm just a bit nervous," you settle back into your position.

He does decently to hide the way his breath is thin and high in his chest with arousal. when he speaks. "That's quite alright, no need to apologize." Stupid, he thinks. Stupid, girl, did you even bother to read the forms? it says nothing of the sort, you're so lucky it's him in this room with you and not some stranger who could be a lot meaner about this than he is.

He eases his finger in, god you're tight. The gloves must feel strange inside you, he doesn't miss the way you try not to squirm. You get wet easily enough, he has half a mind not to call you a slut and roughen up his pace for it. Sticking the apparatus inside you is... maker, he never thought he could get so hard. I can't tell you what it looks like in the SW universe, chrome, sleek smooth, in-fucking-human; watching it slide in goes straight to his dick. When it's deep enough there's gentle whir from the aparatus as it empties his cum inside you. He wishes it were messier, wishes you were gushing with it, who gives a fuck about efficiency if enough of his cum is being stuffed inside you to leak out of your hole. But those are impatient thoughts, the technology will do it's job, he trusts that. Soon enough, he'll get to watch you ache and swell.

This was so much fun, I've never writen med kink before! I'm gonna be so honest, appologies if there are any discrepansies with my literary usage of.. uh.. tenses. I wanted to get this idea down before I lost it. But yeah, thanks buggy!

[dalgursbate]

i wanna tear you apart (shadowheart/lae'zel) (oneshot)

Summary: What if Tav hadn’t woken up when Shadowheart tried to kill Lae’zel?

Rating: Explicit Words: 3,470 CW: for mild knifeplay and bloodplay, dom/sub dynamics, general hatefucking

Shadowheart doesn’t know why she wakes her up. 

She has the upper hand; her dagger is held firmly in her grasp and Lae’zel doesn’t even stir when she moves to crouch above her. Foolish, she thinks, for the fighter to even end up in such a position. To rest so soundly when she should have known that Shadowheart longed for her demise. It would be so easy to swipe the blade across her throat, to watch as she gasped and twitched in the silent throes of death. It’s what Lady Shar would want, Shadowheart thinks (not that she knows, not that she can ever really know). 

And yet.

Something about it feels wrong. Something feels not-quite-right about ending the fighter like that. Not when she’s been so bold, so unbearably loud for days on end. Lae’zel is angry, proud, and annoying, yes, but also unafraid to speak her mind. Loathe as Shadowheart is to admit it, Lae’zel possesses a certain – oh, call it brashness – that she admires. Where Shadowheart winces at inquiries into her past, into the things that presumably make her who she is, Lae’zel instead gladly boasts at every opportunity about the superiority of her own culture. Even if said culture seems, to Shadowheart’s eye, to be more than a little bit repugnant. To put it mildly. But still, there is a quickness in the way she offers her opinion, an unapologetic nature to her that Shadowheart envies. She doesn’t like the idea of that flame being extinguished without even so much as a trail of smoke to indicate that Lae’zel was here, and her being here meant something.

She shakes herself, crouched as she is over the sleeping gith’s wiry frame. It is foolish sentimentality, nothing more. She tries to steel herself, enough to allow the dagger to find its home in the breast of the sleeping woman beneath her, but she finds herself unable to drive the blade home. Instead, much to her own surprise, she reaches out and shakes Lae’zel’s shoulder, just slightly, just to make her finally stir.

And stir she does. 

Hells, did Shadowheart just ruin her one shot at this? Never mind, because Lae’zel’s eyes begin to blink awake, all gold and catlike. Shadowheart swallows a breath that threatens to come out as an anxious shudder, the grip on the dagger tightening as she spits words like an acid arrow at the woman beneath her.

“You had every chance to look the other way, but here we are. You chose this.” She’s reminding Lae’zel as much as she is reminding herself, trying to gather the resolve to do what she came here for. It should be easy, a voice in her mind taunts, and it sounds like her Lady, and that makes the bitter knot in her stomach tighten all the further. You should’ve already killed her.

“Spare me the justifications, coward.” Lae’zel’s chest heaves, breaths ragged and uneven to betray her surprise (her fear?) even as no other muscle in her body twitches. Shadowheart almost admires the control she has over herself,  envies the way she is able to keep so nearly still. The look on Lae’zel’s face is one of pure hatred, raw and undistilled. Satisfaction curls in Shadowheart’s stomach at having elicited it, something warm (hot, her mind corrects unhelpfully) that scratches at her insides like an ill-behaved cat. For a brief, absurd moment Shadowheart wants to taste it, somehow, wants to lean down and steal the expression right off of Lae’zel’s face. Wants to draw that feeling into herself like a warm blanket—only, only the way it would envelop her would be darker. Meaner.

For a moment, she craves the feeling of that hatred settling around her shoulders and into her skin. But then she remembers herself, remembers why she is here, poised as she is with a knife to the githyanki’s throat.

“If anyone asks, I’ll say you were transforming,” Shadowheart grins, wicked and wild. It drops in an instant, replaced by something almost feral. “Don’t expect to be mourned.” And she moves, she does, to end this lurid interlude in her own personal tragedy—but something stills her hand. And it isn’t githyanki psionics, it is no magic with which she is familiar. It is nothing other than her own hesitation that stops her from finishing the job she started.

And Lae’zel, Gods damn her, notices. “Ah, I always knew you were too much of a coward to stay fast to your convictions, istik.” She smiles, harsh and cruel, as she bares her neck further against Shadowheart’s blade. “It would take but flick of your wrist to end me, so why don’t you?”

She pushes herself further against the dagger, and it occurs to Shadowheart that the stupid fighter is bragging. She has a knife to her throat, and she is relishing every second of it, confident in Shadowheart’s inability to follow through with the dance that Shadowheart herself started. But as Lae’zel flexes her neck against the dagger, taunting, mocking, a rivulet of blood snakes its way down her thin neck. As Shadowheart’s eyes follow the slow movement of it down her skin, it occurs to her that maybe she can still turn things back in her own favor. That maybe she just needs to change the game they’re playing.

So she leans down, hovering her lips just inches from the blade that presses itself against Lae’zel’s throat. “Because,” Shadowheart murmurs, heart beating an angry staccato beat against her ribcage even as she tries to betray nothing of her panic on her face, “maybe I just wanted to taste.” And with that, she removes the dagger from Lae’zel’s throat (and when did her hand start trembling?) and leans down to lick at the blood that has ended its journey in the hollow of Lae’zel’s collarbone.

Lae’zel’s reaction is immediate and invigorating. She looks as though she is holding her body still against a shudder, and for a brief moment Shadowheart can imagine that the look in her eyes shifts from hatred to confusion to possibly even interest before that catlike stare settles back to pure loathing. “Your weakness disgusts me,” Lae’zel bites out, but Shadowheart does not think she is imagining the way the other woman’s voice shakes.

Shadowheart had just been trying to regain the upper hand, to unsettle Lae’zel enough that she could slit her throat and be done with it, but there is something to the way Lae’zel reacts that is too delicious for her to not press harder, prod further. She shifts her position from a crouch above Lae’zel, moving down so that she is instead straddling her, and she feels the hot press of Lae’zel’s hips underneath hers.

“I disgust you, huh?” Shadowheart murmurs, fighting back a smirk as she pins the thinner woman beneath her. She leans back down to follow the blood from Lae’zel’s collarbone in the trail that leads up the gith’s neck with her tongue, tasting the other woman’s skin with firm, precise licks. It tastes like someone put a copper piece in her mouth, mixed with something that is at once foreign and salty and mossy. It doesn’t taste good. Shadowheart hopes that, if nothing else, the way she is probing at the wound on Lae’zel’s neck with her tongue hurts. 

It doesn’t seem to. Or, maybe, if it does then it seems that Lae’zel just…likes that. Because much to Shadowheart’s surprise, Lae’zel bites off a noise that sounds like it might’ve become needy had it been allowed to develop fully.

Shadowheart almost finds herself faltering again. She is torn, part of her wanting to relish in the fact that she has Lae’zel right where she wants her, weak and utterly bested, where Shadowheart could end this all so quickly with a neat slash of her blade. But another part of her, perhaps even a bigger part of her, wants to see where this path leads. She needs to know what will happen if she keeps pushing the woman underneath her to react. She ignores the pain that flares up in her hand, a hollow burning sensation that aches terribly, to mouth at the skin her steel kissed moments before.

“This disgusts you?” she asks, repeating her question, as she bites gently at the skin near the wound.

“Yes,” Lae’zel exhales, and Shadowheart can’t see her eyes but Gods, she wants to. Wants to see if her pupils are as blown as Shadowheart imagines they are, wants to see what that even looks like in her weird, alien eyes. Even with desire coloring her voice, Lae’zel sounds firm, authoritative. “Do it again.”

Shadowheart can’t repress the shiver that runs through her at the command, annoyed at herself for the impact it has on her, but nevertheless she bites dutifully at Lae’zel’s neck once more. She follows the movement with a swipe of her tongue over the indents left by her teeth, the taste of skin and alien blood filling her mouth until it’s all she can taste. She isn’t even sure why she does it. She’s meant to be in charge here, she’s meant to use this moment of distraction to make it all the more satisfying when she finally kills the fighter underneath her. And yet, she finds herself obeying the order, almost as if against her own will. This time, she is rewarded with an unabashed moan, the gith under her writhing with pleasure at the sensation of blunt teeth gripping her flesh.

It’s that noise that makes Shadowheart stop wrestling with herself, the way that Lae’zel’s voice goes from harsh and dangerous to practically keening at the barest hint of Shadowheart’s teeth. A small, animal part of Shadowheart’s mind relishes in the sound and a frisson of heat alights her gut once more.

“Harder, istik,” Lae’zel commands, but the way her voice strains out through gritted teeth undermines any power it ought to have. Still, Shadowheart cannot help but to comply yet again. The skin underneath her teeth, taught and corded with muscle that tenses as she bears down, does not feel quite like her own. It is denser, somehow, and yet so smooth that for an absurd moment Shadowheart’s mind likens it to cool, still water. Her teeth are not made for piercing like the fangs Astarion wields, but as she presses down against the shallow wound her knife created she can feel herself digging deeper into flesh. As she does, Lae’zel hisses, and though the gith had been perfectly still up to this moment, a hand moves to bury itself in Shadowheart’s hair, holding her in place. Shadowheart can feel Lae’zel’s legs begin to part underneath her, the gith’s thighs spreading enough to press against the insides of Shadowheart’s calves on either side of her.

Something in the movement spurs Shadowheart to move her own body in response, blindly removing one hand from where it is braced against the ground by Lae’zel’s head to grip her chin instead (and if Lae’zel notices how graceless and fumbling the motion is, she mercifully chooses not to comment). For a moment, Shadowheart simply holds her tightly, before using her grip to tilt Lae’zel’s head back and grant herself greater access to the other woman’s neck. She begins pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along the line of it, punctuating them occasionally with nips and scrapes of her teeth. The hand that isn’t in Shadowheart’s hair glides up to dig talon-like nails into the flesh of her hip, before snaking around to dip underneath the leather of her pants and grab roughly at her ass. Shadowheart finds herself grinding back into the touch and Lae’zel’s hips buck up against her in response, evidently seeking some kind of friction.

“Desperate, are we?” Shadowheart chuckles, but the way her voice leaves her mouth sounds foreign to her, deep and thick with want. She needs Lae’zel to be desperate. She finds she quite prefers the fighter like this, writhing underneath her, the taste of her blood heavy on Shadowheart’s tongue.

“Tchk. Impatient,” Lae’zel barks out, breath heaving. Shadowheart shifts her weight back further and grinds down against Lae’zel again, and Lae’zel pushes her own hips up to meet her. It isn’t enough, the angle is all wrong and there is too much thick fabric separating them for it to be truly satisfying. Shadowheart sucks in a breath anyway, and Lae’zel grunts in an apparent mixture of desire and frustration.

Lae’zel’s "impatience" gives Shadowheart a wicked idea, one that sees her pressing a toothy grin into the skin of Lae’zel’s neck. As quickly as her body is able, she removes herself from Lae’zel’s grip to stand above her.

“Where do you think you’re–” Lae’zel begins, but stops as Shadowheart begins sliding her own skin tight trousers down her thighs. Shadowheart rolls her eyes at Lae’zel’s interjection, but her top soon joins the pile of her pants on the dirt ground, and then her smallclothes a moment later until she stands above Lae’zel as naked as the day she was born. 

“You want me to touch you,” Shadowheart says, and it is not a question. Lae’zel does not move, her eyes boring into Shadowheart’s (and, oh, that’s what her pupils look when blown out with lust). “You’re going to make me cum first.” She is proud of the fact that her voice doesn’t shake as she gives the command, even if it is still dark and coated with want in a way that betrays how badly she needs this, too.

Lae’zel, to her credit, says nothing this time, but her eyes chart a hot course down Shadowheart’s nude body, sizing her up hungrily. Shadowheart lets her look for a moment before moving to place a knee on either side of Lae’zel’s head, straddling the fighter’s face. Her cunt hovers a scant few inches above Lae’zel’s open mouth and it takes all of her control not to just plunge downward. Instead, she hesitates for a moment, giving Lae’zel the chance to push her off in case Shadowheart has somehow misread the situation. Lae’zel responds by pulling Shadowheart down against her tongue with two firm handfuls of her ass. As soon as the first swipe of the gith’s hot tongue brushes against Shadowheart’s folds, twin moans escape both of their mouths.

Shadowheart does not need more permission than she has been given and begins riding Lae’zel’s face in earnest, rocking her hips back and forth to drag her clit over the other woman’s insistent tongue. She can’t stop the little gasps and whimpers that spill from her mouth, even as she desperately tries to keep herself quiet so as not to wake the rest of the camp. Part of her doesn’t even care if she does, and another part of her wonders how they haven’t all woken up already. It’s not like the two of them are being subtle, fucking out in the open air of the campgrounds. That thought hits her in a particularly delicious and humiliating way, thinking how easy it would be for them to get caught like this. She allows herself to moan a little louder.

The pressure begins to build in her rapidly, and part of her is embarrassed at how quickly she is going to come undone at the gith’s touch. But the sensation of Lae’zel’s lips, teeth, and tongue battering the most sensitive parts of her, combined with the nails digging into the flesh of her ass and the positively obscene noises being made as she fucks the fighter’s face, all conspire to send her over the edge more quickly than is dignified. It is rough, and sloppy, and (perfectperfectperfect her traitorous mind keeps whispering) it is exactly what Shadowheart craves in this moment. She reaches a hand back clumsily to begin toying with Lae’zel’s own sex, fingers parting her folds to circle teasingly at the other woman’s clit. 

Once more, Laezel’s hips buck up against her, seeking a firmer touch, but Shadowheart anticipates the movement and pulls her hand back just slightly so that the dance of her fingers over Lae’zel’s flesh stays feather-light. Lae’zel gets the message and pulls Shadowheart down even harder onto her tongue and sucks her clit into her mouth, hard. Shadowheart keens and the knot inside her that has been building all night begins to unravel, and she twitches and shakes as her orgasm overtakes her. She removes her fingers from Lae’zel’s cunt to bury both hands in Lae’zel’s hair as she brutally rides out her release on the other woman’s face. Lae’zel moans wantonly, the sound of it muffled by the press of Shadowheart’s body so fully against her mouth. The look in Lae’zel’s eyes is one of deep satisfaction. Shadowheart huffs a few more shaky breaths, hips slowing and finally stilling above the other woman’s mouth.

“My turn,” Lae’zel murmurs, the sound of it muffled coming as it does from underneath Shadowheart.

“Didn’t anyone ever raise you gith not to talk with your mouth full?” Shadowheart snipes, but she climbs off of Lae’zel and makes quick moves (or as quickly as she is able, legs still reminiscent of an ochre jelly as they are) to strip Lae’zel of her own pants before moving to settle between the other woman’s thighs. She doesn’t bother removing the complicated mess that is Lae’zel’s underclothes, instead just sliding the leather to the side so she can blow teasingly over the gith’s glistening cunt. Lae’zel shudders in response, hands moving to find purchase in Shadowheart’s hair.

“Shut up and use your tongue for something more useful, istik,” Lae’zel growls, and it sends another wave of desire pooling in Shadowheart’s gut. But she refuses to give Lae’zel what she wants so easily, so first she makes a point of biting harshly into the meat of Lae’zel’s inner thigh. Lae’zel does not seem to mind at all, if the way she throws her head back is any indication.

Shadowheart wants to keep teasing her, but more than that she wants to taste the woman in front of her, so she does, tongue parting Lae’zel’s folds so that she can devour her fully. The bouquet of her is at once familiar and strange, heady and almost sweet on Shadowheart’s tongue.

Shadowheart does not remember much, but she remembers how to do this at least, and it does not take long before the fighter is falling apart against her mouth. She pushes two fingers into Lae’zel’s wetness and crooks them, pushing hard, almost as though she is trying to hold the other woman against her probing tongue with her fingers. Lae’zel keens and mewls at the pressure and Shadowheart files those greedy noises away somewhere deep in her mind, somewhere perhaps even Lady Shar will not be able to find them (and as the blasphemous thought crosses her mind, her hand once more begins to ache, sharp and insistent). The hands in Shadowheart’s hair grip so tightly it hurts. Shadowheart does not relent in her assault on the other woman’s sex, determined to watch her shudder and squirm with pleasure. When Lae’zel finally comes undone, her whole body tenses like a bowstring before slackening in an instant, loose and boneless and thoroughly debauched.

Shadowheart fucks her through it, licking her clit and caressing the spot inside Lae’zel that elicits such delightfully lewd noises from the gith. When Lae’zel begins to whine from overstimulation, Shadowheart pulls back and licks her lips.

“Well, then,” she says, her voice finally sounding like her own again. She affects a haughty tone, “That rather felt like a victory to me. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Lae’zel says nothing, but Shadowheart can feel her eyes on her the entire time as she redresses and retreats to her bedroll. In fact, she feels Lae’zel’s eyes on her until she falls asleep.

-------

The next morning, Shadowheart can still taste the echo of Lae’zel in her mouth. She finds that she doesn’t mind it. As their party settles around the ashes of the campfire to take their breakfast, she sits opposite from Lae’zel and notes with pleasure the way the gith’s eyes still seem drawn to her.

Tav clears their throat and with an awkward little chuckle, eyes zeroing in on the cut and surrounding bruises that mar Lae’zel’s neck, says, “So, it seems the two of you had your little duel a bit prematurely. I’m glad to see you’re both still standing. I trust that you’ve resolved your issues, then?” Lae’zel’s eyes leave Shadowheart finally to dart over to stare at Tav, mouth pressed in a thin line.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Shadowheart says airily, a small smile pulling at the corner of her lips. “I think I might still have a few grievances to work through.” Lae’zel’s gaze moves to meet hers, eyes dangerous, and Shadowheart smirks wider.

Lae’zel smiles back.

[teasinterests]

Within my reach.

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I love flying through fics.. ❤️

I know Madara would be much, much, meaner towards Eichi.. but I can’t do it. I want him to have that slight pinch of care a natural Mama would! 🥹

That being said.. This is based off of the “Mission of the spy” scout story in Enstars!

So.. spoiler alert maybe? As I used direct dialogue from the story itself.

Characters: Madara Mikejima & Eichi Tenshouin

Ler! Madara - Lee! Eichi

CW / TW: Death threats, physical threats?, and tickles..

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“Hahaha~ I guess it’s only natural for humans to fall within the devils temptations. ♪”

Eichi hummed to himself as he sat peacefully within the back corner of the library. It was late, but his mind was still active. So as any typical person would do.. Eichi snuck into his old friends bedroom to steal a piece he had been working on. Knowing how much Keito hated Eichi stealing his doujinshi didn’t really bother the blonde one bit. If anything he was more than excited to read a bed time story!

Flipping through the pages, Eichi smiled with content as he gently bounced his leg over his knee. Though in the midst of reading, he soon heard footsteps approaching. Raising his gaze, he was swift to jump from his seat and look around. He hadn’t even heard the door to the library open or close he was so immersed!! It’d be best to hide the fan made doujin quickly before the unknown person saw.. So he turned to the nearest shelf and quickly slipped the doujin in between another pair of books to hide.

“Ooh? Eichi-san? What are you doing out here so late at night?”

Ah.. a familiar voice that he didn’t wish to recognize. Turning from the bookshelf, he forced up a polite smile.

“Mikejima-kun.~ I could say the same thing.. don’t tell me you’re having trouble sleeping just as I?”

He questioned as Madara gave a laugh in response. Truly seeming as chipper as usual as their distance closed.

“Even I need to replenish my energy you know.~ My body is feeling active, yet my mind is empty.. so a good story ought to put the two at balance. Wouldn’t you think?”

“Haha.. so even you get tired. I feel a sense of déjà-vu between you and Morisawa-kun.~

Getting a nice deal of rest is good to aid the body and mind.. as you would say. Though it surprisingly takes a lot of physical and mental strength. One has to be healthy to regain stamina, and, well… the human body has too many restrictions.. I somehow relate to Qin Shi Huang’s pursuit of immortality now.”

Eichi explained with a small sigh of annoyance followed up. Only for Madara to give another small laugh of amusement.

“Aha!~ Well then i’ve got quite the prescription for you! It’s called Cinnabar.. an elixir of immortality brewed from mercury.~”

“Isn’t that what caused Qin Shi Huang’s death? Do you want to kill me, Mikejima-kun?~”

Eichi’s smile remained, despite Madara’s faltering.

“Evil rulers always get poisoned, don’t they?”

The brunette comments with his tone holding everything but amusement.

“What a smart boy!~ It’s a joke for smart Eichi. ♪”

“Fufu.. a funny joke, and yet you aren’t smiling at all, Mikejima…”

Despite the threats, Eichi hadn’t felt any sense of anxiousness or worry. In his mind, Madara couldn’t cause any harm if he knew what was good for him. Though the aura alone was intimidating, he nearly felt suffocated by this mans presence..

“I actually wonder why you’re still smiling.. this place, this distance.. you’re within my reach, Eichi.~”

The blonde couldn’t help but laugh a little from the blatant threat.

“I’m not so naive as to be startled by such behavior.. besides, I see no benefit of you doing anything to me here.”

“Aha~ And if I do? Thieves deserve to be punished, Eichi-kun.~”

Madara says as a smirk soon stretches across his features. Eichi had visibly gone tense, and the shift in expression hadn’t helped.

“Your gaze has been wandering during our entire conversation, Eichi. You out of all people should know deserved treatment is in order for those whom expose things that aren’t meant for the seeing eye.”

The shorter idol gave a heavy sigh of annoyance from Madara’s analysis. No, not even that, he’d been caught red handed.. how unfortunate.

“I was simply in the mood for a good story.~ Though Keito is back in his room now, so it’d be best to return the doujinshi in the morning while he’s out.”

Eichi pointed out as his arms crossed over his chest. Madara’s smirk remained, which sparked a twinge of anxiety within the blonde’s chest.

“So even you feel guilt? I’m surprised.~ Though Double face was formed in order to bring justice to those of misfortune you know.. Buuut i’d prefer not to take things in the.. ‘rougher’ route.~”

He says as he draws closer towards Eichi. Whom in which stood his ground. Struggling not to show any further signs of emotion that he already held.

“Haha.. so what.. does that ruin your plans of beating me up, Mikejima-kun? If you do anything here, Oukawa will surely pay the price in your newly formed unit..”

Eichi pointed out as Madara couldn’t help but snicker once more. The amusement irking Eichi to no end.

“Surely that would be troublesome, but Oukawa can handle his own. You’d be surprised, he’s quite the strong boy.. as for your punishment, I happen to know a thing or two!~”

The brunette beamed oh so innocently before he had reached out to squeeze at Eichi’s sides. The action appearing as if it were the most normal thing to do.

Being so caught off guard by the sudden ticklish shocks, Eichi couldn’t even hold back the yelp that left his throat. Jolting away from Madara’s hands, as wide blue eyes were quick to meet mischief filled green ones.

“Haha! You look like a scared little rabbit! Are you gonna run away, Eichi-kun?~”

Madara questioned as his smirk of amusement remained. Hands raised, he wiggled his fingers menacingly towards the shorter idol.

“Not that it matters anyway, though a good chase would be quite fun.~”

Being threatened by tickles from Madara… Eichi wished he could just drop dead right then and there!! Madara was right though, there was no way Eichi could outrun him.. he’d rather be caught trying to escape than not trying at all though!! Fueling Madara’s game was embarrassing in itself.. nonetheless Eichi was quick to turn and dash behind a table. Rushing forward to grab onto the back of a chair to push down, but with that kick start alone it was already over. A gasp left his throat from the feel of the back of his shirt being grabbed. Now stumbling backwards as he was yanked into the arms to his attacker.

“Ah, ah! Too slow, Eichi-kun! Now you’ve fallen into the lions den!~”

“Mikejim—AAH!?”

Eichi’s complaint was soon broken as fingers dug back into his sides. Expertly squeezing and wiggling.. the blonde was quick to slap a hand over his mouth. Muffling heavy giggles as Madara changed their position to press Eichi’s back against the bookshelf behind him.

“Oh? Trying to stay quiet now? Let’s fix that.~”

The taller idol hummed as he grasped Eichi’s wrists with ease. Hoisting them above the blonde’s head, before pinning them in place with one hand. The expression on Eichi’s face currently was immaculate.. he wished he had his phone on him or something!!

“Haha~ What’s the nervous look for, Eichi? It’s just a bit of tickling! Take it like a man won’t you?”

He questioned as his free hand was brought back down Eichi’s arm. Trailing his fingers before lightly scratching at one of Eichi’s armpits. The blonde in with lurched forward. Feeling the strain in the smaller idols arms as he began to squirm.

“Pfft- ehehehe! I-I’d rather nohohot die by thehehehe likes of yohohou!”

“You’re so dramatic! Embarrassed are ya i’m guessing? Poor, poor, Eichi!~ Maybe if you hadn’t stolen the doujin in the first place..”

Madara says with a ‘matter-of-fact’ tone as his hand alternates between tickling each armpit. The change earning a jolt from the shorter idol each time.

“Ooor maybe if you weren’t so ticklish! Hahaha! Look at you giggling like a child.~ I bet Wataru-kun absolutely loves this!~”

“Sh-shuhuhut uhuhup!!”

The blonde exclaimed between increasingly heavier giggles. His face had even tinged a hint of redness from the mention of Wataru.. It definitely didn’t go unnoticed, but Madara was too focused on exploring Eichi’s ticklishness! His hand now trailed from Eichi’s pits, and down to his ribs. The brunette made sure to cover every inch of Eichi’s sensitive ribcage. Skittering his fingers up and down the right side, then the left. Having to switch the idols hands into the other so he could keep the blonde pinned accordingly when switching sides. It was easier to keep him held up this way anyhow, since he could tell Eichi would have already collapsed from the way his knees trembled.

“Hmm..~ Your giggles are getting louder.. how about here huh? Does this tickle, Eichi-kun?~”

The brunette continued to tease as Eichi’s giggles burst into light laughter. Keeping his head low or turned to the side so Madara wouldn’t see his flustered expression.

The taller idol was skittering his fingers all around Eichi’s stomach now. Amused with how Eichi squeaked with occasional tweaks to his sides, or how his stomach trembled with laughter beneath Madara’s touch.

“If I was going crazy i’d say you almost looked cute.. ALMOST of course!~ Though its no secret that you have the face of an angel. It’s ironic isn’t it?~”

Madara questioned as his hand soon trailed lower to squeeze experimentally at Eichi’s right hip. The reaction nearly startling him as Eichi burst into a surprised squeal. Throwing his head back, and slamming it against the bookshelf behind him on accident. A slight sound of pain escaping him from the mishap.. though his giggles were far more overpowering.

“AHAAHAhahaehe e-ehehenough of this! DOHOHONT YOU DARE!!”

Eichi exclaimed between increasing laughter of nervousness. Madara of course gave a slight pause to make sure Eichi hadn’t hit his head too hard. Not wanting to actually cause intentional damage.. which.. should he care? Probably not, but that wasn’t the point of this. His smirk returned afterwards as his hand slowly returned to Eichi’s hip. Merely pressing his fingers in place to earn further anxious laughter.

“Haha! I havent’t even started yet and you’re already laughing! Lets see.. shall I count? One… two…—“

“NONOHOHO EHEHENOUGH—“

“THREE!~ ✩”

The brunette exclaimed as he released Eichi’s arms. Shooting both hands into place to grab and squeeze at the blonde’s hips. Eichi, unfortunately for himself, broke into a louder squeal than anticipated. Yanking his arms down and shoving at Madara’s hands as he practically slid down the bookshelf.

“STAHAHAHAHAP MIKEHEHEHJIMAHAHAA!”

“Wow!~ I don’t think I’ve ever heard your voice this loud!! Hahaha~ If I stop you better promise to return the doujin, Eichi. Go on, say you prooomise!~”

Madara practically sang as he shot his hands back n fourth. Scribbling his fingers across Eichi’s stomach, then squeezing at his hips and sides. Having to chase the idol to the floor at this point as Eichi laughed and tried curling in on himself.

“IHI PROHOHOMISEHEHE NOHOW STAHAHAHAP!!”

The blonde exclaimed with tears beginning to form within the corners of his eyes. Only once a few coughs were heard had Madara parted his hands from Eichi’s torso. Green eyes watching in slight concern as Eichi brought his hands up to cough into them a few times. Red faced, and hair disheveled, he panted heavily on the floor. A smile still remaining as if it were a stain on his features.

“Alright, alright, you look like you’ve had enough.”

He sighed, remaining crouched beside Eichi as the blonde slowly regained his composure.

“I already said.. i’d return it in the morning prior..”

Eichi huffs as Madara shakes his head. That was true, but if he listened then this fun ordeal wouldn’t have happened! Nonetheless he supposed this was a slight mess he should clean up. Reaching out, he pulled Eichi into his grasp once more. The blonde sending Madara a harsh glare until he was lifted up with ease.

“Aaand.. hup! There we go~ As much as I hate doing this, you look like you’d be down for a while.. so lets just get you back to your dorm, yeah?”

Madara questioned as he began carrying Eichi out from the library. The doujinshi being left behind to retrieve in the morning.. Sighing to himself, Eichi pressed a hand to his chest to feel his heart rate. As much as he didn’t wish to accept Madara’s help either, he was right.

“Just… drop me off around the corner to the dorm. I’ll be able to walk by the time we get there.”

They equally seemed to agree to spend the rest of their time in shared silence. Eichi’s soft panting soon coming to a stop, Madara purposely making sure Eichi would stay awake during their walk. The both of them seemed to be more tuckered out after that little scuffle.. eventually though, Eichi was soon left with a simple glare, and a flashed smirk of amusement for a farewell. Returning back to his dorm, he peered towards Rei whom looked up from his laptop. That of which illuminated the room from the dim glow. Thankfully Aira seemed to be asleep, so the two whispered as they spoke.

“You look like a train wreck.~”

“Just leave me in peace to rest, Sakuma..”

Eichi huffed as he collapsed onto his bed. The sound of an amused chuckle annoyed him, but he was rather quick to drift off beneath his covers. Despite not changing out of his clothes for the night.

The next morning, Eichi was quick to awaken and get prepared for the day. He had to rush back to the library to return the doujinshi he stole from Keito!! Though upon arrival, he was shocked to find that the hand made doujin was gone. Frantically searching for a moment, he cursed beneath his breath. Pressing his head against the bookshelf in annoyance.

“Mikejima…”

[bolandoando]

well they took liberties. tish’s actress didn’t rlly improve and as the lead, if we the audience have no confidence in her skill in telling this story, what can we expect from the rest of the adaptation ? i like fonny’s face but i feel anyone couldve been cast in that role and i wouldve loved him so call me biased. i feel more backstory into their childhood together was necessary, this is a story about life in this neighborhood and their love started before the pregnancy and it wouldve been worthwhile to see their relationship as kids. his mom and sisters shouldve been lightskinned if the dialogue was gonna be kept the same as in the book. its odd to call them yellow if theyre not and it wud explain why they hate and blame fonny for everything and think themselves superior to tish’s family. wouldve loved if we had seen how tish’s parents met, this is a layered love story after all. ernestine couldve been meaner and more commanding ? righteous ? she had a whole speech cut out that wouldve defined fonny’s sisters better for us. fonny’s mom and sisters wiping their hands of fonny shouldve been kept in so we could see how tish’s family was all he had now. interesting fonny’s friend didnt have multiple scenes or the breakdown where he spoke on being r-ped. i just wanted every bit of the story put into the movie bc its supposed to be a rich story, everyone has more than 1 dimension everyone is real in the book and so much conflict is missing in the movie when its limited to just the present issue of fonny in jail. i do not like the flash forward. would their lawyer have suggested a plea deal ? would it have taken 5 years if in the book they finally raised up his bail before the nine months were up ? why take a plea when the prosecution has no evidence but the word of a cop they can prove is dirty and racist. its all wacky and i wanted to feel their love and i didnt really. also i wish the scenes at the mex restaurant had more ppl, she’s meant to be seeing fonny around men, theyre his compadres and he isnt just fluent, he’s i-got-a-history-here fluent in spanish, it’s more casual and teasing and the ppl there are family to him and to tish in a way that guys are family to each other. i wanna understand that film adaptations have to make “adaptations” but no i don’t get it at all, this couldve been a beautiful film and i liked the jazz and the nina simone and the stockstill pictures but it didn’t quite feel like how those moments wanted u to believe the movie felt. idk im most disappointed in tish’s actress but im glad fonnys dad doesnt die in the end, i wanted a moment between him and tish’s dad, where theyre scared and glad to be grandfathers. his relationship w fonnys mom couldve been made clearer w some childhood scenes, its important to see that fonnys dad loved him the most and how fonnys mom never liked fonny really. anyways james baldwin should be revived to write his own screenplays bc i dont feel him in this movie in this script and hes got a beautiful voice for u to not hear it

[harrison-abbott]

GORDO

Gordo had sleep problems all his life. Which was a short life: he lived for sixteen years. When he was young his parents took him to the doctor to talk about how he couldn’t rest. They did tests on him. With paper and they tried medication too. He ‘failed’ the paper tests. And the medication gave him these erratic side effects. So they stopped on those fronts.

 At the age of ten, Gordo’s parents split up. The father left. Within the next six years Gordo saw his Dad four times.

 Gordo got heavily into videogames. And because he could never sleep he explored the internet, at night, on his own, in his silent room. (This was the golden age of the internet; before any restrictions, before anything.) For limitless time he would sail the glorious prickly lights of the web.

 His mates liked the net, too. And there were nerds, with it, too: and taught Gordo tricks and secrets; they had a forum where they sent each other goofy stuff. And they had a group game on the military videogame too. Shooting other people.

 The famous shoot em up game. Gordo was the best at it. He got the most kills.

 He was the best because he just had such an amount of time in which to practise.

 There was one night, when the lads were playing games.

 When they had the forum up and were chatting whilst they killed the men on the screen. Gordo posted up this photo. To the forum – and it wasn’t a meme or meant to be funny – it was real. And the image changed the mood in the group.

 “What’s that, Gordo?” one of the boys typed.

 “It’s something I found. What do you think of it?” Gordo said.

 “What do you mean?”

 “I wanted to show you this. To see what you thought.”

 “That’s not cool, Gordo. Could you take that down please?”

 None of the boys said anything apart from the one guy who challenged the image.

 Gordo got angry. And left the forum. Stopped playing the game also, mid-war.

 And stewed, in his room, embarrassed and ashamed, for days, because they hadn’t liked what he’d shown them. Then he thought up some apology to tell the buddies. He aimed to explain that what he’d posted had just been a joke, and he hadn’t meant to offend them.

 But when he tried to log back into the forum, the friends had blocked him from it. And he was no longer in the videogame group.

 Gordo wondered what to do. At first, the betrayal from his mates seemed the worst possible thing.

Then he began to fret that they might snitch him out – to someone else (who? who!) – who might place him in serious trouble.

 There was nobody to speak to. Gordo only ever talked to his friends about things which bothered him [even if it were just mundane shit at school; the teachers who were mean, the girls who were meaner, that sort of thing]. He could not go and tell his mother about it. She would not understand. And would probably freak out more than he was, would most likely tell him to fuck off, get out, which she’d already done several times, after he woke her up accidentally at night. (“Fuck off! You insomniac bastard!”)

 Gordo couldn’t go to school.

 One morning he just didn’t check in.

 Went into town with his laptop instead. He hung about in a coffeeshop, using the WIFI. He wanted to quit the city. Had a little bit of Christmas in his wallet. Just wanted to bail from this town, which had come to suffocate him.

 Gordo looked up where to get a bus, heading north.

 Then bounced down to the bus station and got on this bus with a nice blue 500 number atop it. And it was twilight when he left the city.

 He stayed on the bus for two hours. With the vehicle rolling in dark countryside. Gordo was only one of three passengers on the bus, and he’d never been in this part of the country before.

 And for almost no reason he could pinpoint, he started to feel sick. Put his bag on. And headed to the front of the bus, where the driver was, with that awful raging threat of bile. Assured he was gonna puke up.

 “I have to get off,” he said to the driver.

 “Huh?”

 “I need to get off the bus.”

 “Why?”

 “Let me off!”

 The driver was a bit scared of him. This looming, demented looking teen behind him. So he pulled over on the motorway.

 And opened the doors and Gordo went out of them. He dry retched on the cold black road. Nothing came out. Was nought in his stomach.

 “You all right, there, kid?” the driver called.

 Gordo didn’t answer.

 He just quit trying to vomit.

 And got up straight, and walked away from the bus.

 The driver got out of the booth and hovered in the air and called to him: asked if he wasn’t getting back onboard?

 Gordo walked and walked. Then stepped off the road and went into the fields.

 The driver stopped trying and drove on.

 Nobody ever saw Gordo again. There was a police inquest into where he vanished, why he did so.

 Suicide was the most probable explanation. They searched the forest where the boy got off the coach to see if he was in there somewhere, but nothing turned up.

 Gordo’s mother died of cancer half a decade later.

 She was his only relative.

 Gordo’s old videogame buddies from school found solace in never mentioning him ever again. Was better to pretend he’d never existed.  

[kalinara]

I actually saw someone try to justify fandom’s disproportionate response to Nate by claiming that it’s because Nate “weaponized mental health”.  And honestly, I’m very skeptical about that as an excuse.

First of all, the Nate hatred started long before the final two episodes of the season.  I personally remember it getting pretty bad around Headspace, when Nate’s behavior was admittedly pretty bad, but definitely not any worse than Jamie in season 1. There were a number of essays on how Nate’s behavior in Headspace was worse than Rebecca trying to destroy the livelihood of an entire team.  And quite a few people who posted in defense of Nate got visited by a passive aggressive person/people who I like to call the “anti-Nate anon”.

One of these people called me a Nazi for defending Nate.  And that was LONG before Nate betrayed Ted.

So yeah, I’m skeptical.

But I’m also skeptical about this idea that Nate “weaponized Ted’s mental health” being the main justification for hatred because if that’s the case, where is the hate for Trent Crimm?

Trent’s situation is different from Nate’s of course.  But Trent is just as involved as Nate in exposing Ted’s personal mental health information to the world.  And while a few people here and there have criticized that, for the most part, he’s lauded as a HERO.

I’ve seen folks (particularly on reddit) talk about how Trent somehow “defeated” Nate’s plans by his text to Ted.  And...how exactly?  The article still went up.  Ted was still humiliated!  And it’s not like they couldn’t have figured out it was Nate.  Beard had already!

Trent is not a hero or savior in this situation.  Sorry.  

Now, it is true that Trent’s article was much kinder to Ted than he could probably expect from any other journalist.  But how much does that really matter, when you think about it?

It’s not like the first journalist to break a story has exclusive rights over it.  Trent’s article didn’t protect Ted from George Cartrick attacking his masculinity on international television.  It didn’t protect him from meaner articles like “Is Ted Dead in the Head?” or “Panic at the Lasso”.  It didn’t protect him from the stares and pointed questions from the people on the street.  It didn’t protect him from having to face his team and APOLOGIZE for keeping his private and personal medical information from them.

Maybe Ted got a half day’s grace period that he wouldn’t have gotten if the first journalist to break the story had been a dick.  Maybe.

There’s this idea that if Trent said no, Nate would have brought the story to another, crueler journalist.  And maybe that’s true.  But maybe it’s not.

Nate, as we’ve seen, can be very cruel.  But it’s not a calculating cruelty.  Nate is very impulsive and very reactive, and when he lashes out, it’s generally because he feels like he’s been hurt.  We didn’t get to see Nate tell Trent, so we don’t know how it happened.  Maybe it was a cold and calculated decision.  Or maybe it was Nate, being Nate, blurting out something in the heat of the moment that he shouldn’t have said.  All we really know is that after the information leaked, Nate looked uncomfortable and guilty, not satisfied or smug.

So maybe, if Trent had said “No, I’m not publishing that”, Nate would have calmed his ass down.  Or maybe not.

But maybe Ted might have preferred that someone else break this article.  Someone that he could be mad at rather than have to protect.

We act like it was this great magnanimous gesture that Trent messaged Ted with the article.  And I think Trent meant well when he did it, but does it really matter?

Ted’s spared the humiliation of reacting to the article in public, sure.  But that’s about it.  It’s not like Trent would have pulled it, if Ted asked.  And the “would you care to comment?” bit is a little backhanded at best.  “I know I destroyed your life, but would you like to say something completely off the cuff, without any kind of preparation, that I can use as an exclusive?”

(I don’t think Trent meant it that way, but still...)

Trent reveals his source, giving Ted an easy way to retaliate against him.  But we know, and he knows, Ted wouldn’t do that.  So this becomes yet another burden that Ted has to carry.  Another secret.  And Trent, because he’s a friend, becomes yet another person Ted has to protect.

Ted can’t even bake a biscuit right at the moment, but he still has to devote some of his already spent mental energy to defend Trent against Rebecca and Keeley.

Trent “redeems” himself at the end by revealing to his boss that he gave his source away.  Arguably, he ruins his own life as penance for ruining Ted’s.  Okay, that’s...  a gesture.  And the romantic in me absolutely appreciates that.

But it doesn’t wipe the slate clean.  It doesn’t really even put them on an even playing field because Trent CHOSE to destroy his career, where Ted never chose to be an advocate for mental health in sports.  Not really.  He’s making the best of a situation that he is powerless to stop.

I am not writing this because I hate Trent Crimm.  I love Trent.  He’s one of my absolute favorite characters.  And I’m a multi-shipper.  I ship Trent/Ted just like I ship Rebecca/Ted or Beard/Ted.  I’d be thrilled if the show went that way.

But I think it says something that Trent has largely, in the eyes of fandom, escaped a lot of criticism, and even been lauded as a hero for allowing a disgruntled employee to use him as a weapon against a well-meaning boss.

If Nate’s irredeemable sin is his betrayal of Ted’s mental health, then he’s not the only guilty party.  And it’s worth thinking about why so much of the fandom is acting like he is.